by Sam Barone
He made up his mind. Moving away from Kovar’s side of the house, he took a quick glance down at Uraq. The man was crawling away on his hands and knees, the arrow still protruding from his shoulder and leaving a trail of blood drops in the dirt behind him. Eskkar heard Kovar and Nutesh edging along the wall, and knew the time had come.
Hoping to confuse the two men just long enough, Eskkar picked up the ladder and tossed it over the side where he guessed Kovar would be. Then, clutching the bow and two arrows tight with his left hand, he darted back to the side where Uraq had been. Using his right hand to grasp the roof’s edge, Eskkar swung down, landing a little off balance. He went to one knee for a moment, but was rising up when Kovar rushed around the corner with a roar and charged, sword held high, his makeshift shield before him.
Eskkar loosed the arrow, but Kovar drove his shield down, protecting his lower body, and the shaft struck the shield with a thud. But the motion upset Kovar’s charge, and he stumbled, giving Eskkar time to leap aside and notch the last shaft.
Nutesh followed right behind his brother, sword raised high for a killing stroke. Iltani screamed, Eskkar fired, and threw himself to the ground, dropping the now useless bow and rolling once before regaining his feet, the sword coming free from his belt in the same movement.
Nutesh had gotten his shield down in time, but the shaft found a hole in the branches and the arrow passed through and into Nutesh’s side. The man stumbled and fell, landing on the arrow and giving a great gasp of pain.
Eskkar moved away from both of them, watching Kovar. The bandit chief moved toward his brother, who stayed on his knees, cursing at Eskkar. Kovar’s chest rose and fell, and his eyes darted around, looking for his men. He bellowed with rage, as he realized he’d have to kill Eskkar himself.
“Getting old, Kovar?” Eskkar, now confidant, taunted him. He moved toward the bandit, the sword weaving lightly in his hand. “Too much time taking ease with your women.”
“You’re dead, barbarian. Dead right here in the dirt.” Kovar rushed forward with a mighty cut at Eskkar’s head, but he slipped aside. Moving back toward Nutesh, Eskkar had time for one quick swing, striking the kneeling man a glancing blow on the shoulder, and eliciting another scream. Then Kovar was upon him. The swords clashed once, twice, and Eskkar retreated, moving sideways, circling. He saw Kovar still breathing hard. The bandit might be stronger, but his lungs gulped for air.
Eskkar attacked, not wanting to give Kovar time to recover. He struck twice, surprised at the shock that traveled up his arm from the contact. Kovar parried both cuts, and counter-thrust at Eskkar’s belly. Twisting his body, Eskkar stepped back, then charged again, the sword swinging high overhead. But at the last moment, Eskkar slipped the blade to the side, ducking low under Kovar’s counter and swinging at his right leg. The bandit tried to parry, but too late, and Eskkar’s sword cut into Kovar’s thigh just above the knee.
Kovar bellowed like a stuck boar, and took another savage cut at Eskkar’s head. But Eskkar, already down on one knee, rolled away and regained his feet in a smooth motion the injured man couldn’t match. Kovar, too, had gone down to his knees, either off balance or from the wound in his leg. He had to use one hand to get back to his feet.
Eskkar saw his chance and moved in for the kill.
Kovar flung a handful of dirt into Eskkar’s face.
His eyes blinded for a moment, Eskkar ducked back and shook his head. By the time he could see again, Kovar had risen to his feet and closed the distance, his sword coming down at Eskkar’s head with all the strength the bandit leader could muster. Eskkar flung up his sword, the blades clashed, and the shock rose up Eskkar’s arm. Then Kovar’s blade flashed past Eskkar’s left shoulder. Though Eskkar’s sword had deflected the stroke just enough to make the bandit miss, Eskkar’s weapon had shattered a hand’s breadth above the hilt. He staggered back.
Kovar, shouting in triumph, raised his sword and rushed toward his younger foe.
Eskkar took a half-step back, then threw himself forward, underneath the descending blow that would have cut him in half, and plunged the jagged remains of his sword into Kovar’s side.
The bandit’s momentum took them both to the ground, Kovar on top and cursing, while Eskkar struggled to lift the man’s heavy weight off his chest and get free. He let go of the broken weapon, and used both hands to push Kovar away, then rolled to the side. Kovar’s clumsy thrust just missed, and then Eskkar was on his feet, drawing his knife and staying just out of Kovar’s reach.
“Behind you!” The shout came from the roof.
Eskkar whirled around to see Nutesh moving toward him, one hand clutching the arrow still in his stomach, and the other holding his sword. Bleeding badly, he still had plenty of fight in him.
“Eskkar!” Iltani had reversed the sword in her hand and tossed the weapon toward him. Eskkar flipped the knife into his left hand, caught the descending sword cleanly by the hilt, moved toward Nutesh, feinted a stroke at his belly to make the man commit himself, then Eskkar killed him with one savage blow to the neck. Hot blood gushed from the wound, some splattering on Eskkar’s face and arm.
Kovar, still alive in spite of his wounds, managed to get back on his feet. He shouted out in rage, screaming for his men, but none of his followers remained. Cursing, he jerked Eskkar’s broken sword from his body with an oath, and flung it down. Then he staggered away, weaving and clutching his side, stumbling back to his camp.
Eskkar walked over to Nutesh, and ripped the arrow from his dead body. The other man, the one he’d shot from the roof, yielded another. Eskkar checked to see that the shafts appeared sound and the bone tips still attached, then picked up the bow and nocked an arrow to the string, ignoring the blood that dripped off the shaft.
He jogged after Kovar, taking only moments to close up with the bandit. Badly wounded, the man would probably die from loss of blood soon enough. Eskkar didn’t care. Kovar, looking back over his shoulder as Eskkar approached, tripped and fell. When he tried to get up this time, he couldn’t. On his knees, Kovar’s sword fell from his hand.
Eskkar slowed to a walk, then stopped, drew the arrow back as far as it would go, then loosed it. The shaft struck hard in Kovar’s chest. He fell backwards with a sharp gasp, still twitching, but finished. When Eskkar stood over him, the man could barely move.
Eskkar put the last arrow into Kovar’s throat, then stood there and watched Kovar’s death throes. When the body went limp, Eskkar tried to retrieve the arrows. The tip of the one in Kovar’s chest broke off when he pulled it free, so he dropped it. However the shaft from the bandit’s neck came out easily, and would be enough to finish off Uraq.
But Uraq, despite his wound, had kept moving toward the camp. By the time Eskkar got there, Uraq had crawled onto a horse and galloped off, following the trail of the bandit who’d run from the house and also ridden off. The women took one look at Eskkar approaching and started screaming. One of Kovar’s women caught another horse and rode after Uraq, but the rest scattered on foot, their children following, running back into the desert.
Eskkar stood there, looking around the camp. Tents, whatever loot the bandits had accumulated, it all belonged to him now. The one remaining horse had bolted and run off, but the animal halted a hundred paces away, eyeing Eskkar suspiciously.
He whistled at the beast, the same sound he used when feeding and grooming them. Gradually the horse’s ears stopped flicking back and forth, though its wide eyes still watched him. At least it didn’t move farther away from the campsite.
The smell of blood would spook the nervous animal, so Eskkar bent down and scrubbed the blood off both the bow and his only arrow with a patch of grass. He rubbed his hands in the dirt, to cover the blood scent. Going to the small bag of grain the bandits used for feed, Eskkar scooped out a handful and walked toward the uneasy beast, extending his palm so the horse could catch the scent. It took a few moments, but the horse let him approach, extending its neck to take the grain.
; Taking his time, Eskkar let the animal finish the treat before he gathered in the dangling halter rope. Then he gave the surprised horse another handful as a reward before mounting his newest possession and riding back toward the farm.
Holding onto the halter, Eskkar realized his hands were shaking, the reaction to the encounter. He’d heard whispers of such things around the clan’s campfires, how even brave and victorious warriors sometimes trembled after a hard fight.
Tomorrow he would accompany Iltani to her kin, who would surely take her in. A young girl needed family to protect her, and see that she found a good husband. But there would be no place for Eskkar. No dirt-eaters struggling to survive on a farm needed or wanted a cast-out barbarian. He would have to move on. At least he now possessed a horse of his own, and a copper sword.
Then Eskkar realized something else. His first battle had ended, and he’d survived. He’d become a warrior today. And no one, he swore, would ever beat or abuse him again.
The End