Howl of Blades

by J Glenn Bauer

  “Run!”

  He lengthened his stride, arms pumping as he pulled away from the two trailing Vascon.

  In the next breath, the horsemen rounded the walls and bore down on the gates, their eyes dark slits beneath lowered helmets, teeth bright between screaming lips.

  The Vascon at the gates heaved them closed and a moment before they shut, Maleric threw himself through the gap, forcing Beaugissa to dodge away from the naked blade he held outstretched.

  The gates slammed shut and two men raised a stout log to lock them together. As they did so, a cloud of dust spewed from under the gate and through every open join and warped log. The gates were suddenly being pushed open as the attackers dismounted and drove into them with broad shoulders and brute force.

  “Spears! Spears to the walls!”

  Beaugissa’s voice rose above the commotion.

  Rappo stood a moment longer on the wall and watched the two Vascon that had followed Maleric set upon from every side by fast riding warriors. One moment they were standing and the next they were down. A horse reared back from where they had been, its forelegs chopping the air, hooves covered in the gore that had been a man’s head.

  Snarling, the Masulian flew down the ladder and sprinted for the quiver of throwing spears he had set down before ascending. He thumped aside men and women struggling to understand how a still morning could rupture in to bloody violence so rapidly. Snatching the quiver up, Rappo raced back to the ladder and climbed it to press between two warriors armed with hunting spears. One tried to push aside the wiry Masulian and was rewarded with a knee in the groin.

  “Out of my path you hairy bastards. I can kill them from here while you watch like cackling hyenas.”

  Before the other could react, Rappo had drawn the first spear and without hesitation, placed it through the neck of a bearded rider. He had another spear out and over his shoulder when one of the enemy hurled a spear at him.

  The battle for the gates grew bloody as blades were thrust through the widening gap and every other place a blade could be slid through. A Vascon reeled back, slack jawed and pale. Others growled at him to fight until a plume of red blew from his mouth. He lifted a hand to his chest where a red-lipped wound bubbled.

  Men and women clambered onto the walls on either side of the gate, some with bows, others with slings. The Vascon were recovering their wits and rallying.

  Too late. With a mighty roar, the attackers heaved the gates inwards, allowing more of their number to leap through the widened gap, spears thrusting and swords hacking.

  Rappo, above the crush of bodies, chose his targets, not wanting to waste a single spear. There a warrior knocked backwards by Maleric presented his chest and Rappo’s spear whipped through the air to strike between his chest plates. Another attacker struck a Vascon sentry on his helmet, sending the man to his knee. The attacker roared in victory and lifted his spear high, preparing to drive it into the sentry. Rappo’s spear sprouted in the man’s unshielded armpit and he fell away, blood flooding from his mouth.

  The Vascon were being driven back from the gate, their numbers too few, their surprise too great. Those on the walls found their missiles striking only shields, the attacking warriors holding them high.

  Maleric and Beaugissa fought side by side, their resolve and skill sending the enemy flowing past them to either side, seeking easier prey.

  A warning cry followed by the hack of blade on flesh had Rappo spinning on his heel. A handful of the enemy warriors had already climbed the ladder to the wall and were advancing on the Vascon archers and slingers. A woman, stone in sling, cursed them and let fly her missile at the foremost warrior. The man ducked behind his shield and allowed the stone to crack into that instead of his face. The moment the stone spun off into the distance, he roared and leapt at the woman, his spear plunging for her breast.

  The warrior behind her, son or nephew, wrenched her aside and received the spear between his ribs. Snarling, he jerked it from the grip of the attacker before falling from the wall to crash into the hard-packed ground a man’s height below.

  Rappo took the opportunity to target the warrior who had let go of the spear in time to stop himself toppling from the wall. He threw hurriedly, but was rewarded when the spear took the warrior in the hip and putting him out of the fight.

  The four remaining enemy warriors laid into the Vascon, using their shields to batter away stone and arrow and their spears to kill.

  Rappo leapt from the wall and landed a dozen paces from where Maleric was baiting a cautious swordsman, feigning an injury or exhaustion. He had no sooner rolled to his feet when the first riders galloped through the gates. Until then, the attackers had all dismounted outside the gates in order to force them open. Now that the enemy held the gates, the rest of their men were coming in on horseback, adding to the dust, noise and questing blades.

  He was forced to dive beneath a swinging sword blade and then roll away from a spear thrust. Hooves thundered around him and wide eyed horses screamed down at him.

  A hand closed around his upper arm and he was hauled out of the maelstrom into a wedge of Vascon warriors all of whom had their armour on. Leading them were Maleric and Beaugissa.

  “We have to take the gates or we will be feeding birds before noon.” Maleric’s eyes were dark, his jaw set. “Stay between us and put a spear in any bastard that tries to stick us.”

  Rappo nodded. He could do that and proved it a heartbeat later when two riders charged through the gates straight at them. Their height made them easier to target over the Vascon’s head. His first spear whistled past a bearded rider’s ear, the second took him under his chin.

  Beaugissa darted forward and slid on her thigh beneath the blade of the second rider. She screamed her hate at him as she stabbed her spear up through his buttock and deep into his liver.

  Their group shoved forward, dragged the dying man from his mount and slit his throat. Rappo pulled Beaugissa to her feet and Maleric passed her spear to her.

  “Take his horse. I will take the other and we will be the hunters.”

  Rappo grinned as he grabbed a fistful of horse mane and leaped onto the horse. Beaugissa followed his lead, mounting the other. Together, their spears fended off attacks on the exposed flank of the Vascon wedge. With Maleric at its front, they hacked and fought their way to the gates. There the warriors laid down their lives one by one as they tried to close the gates in the face of the enemy.

  They had begun with nine warriors and two were felled making the dozen paces to the gates. Two more were killed at the gates in quick succession by a giant of a man who fought with a heavy spear in each hand.

  Maleric challenged the warrior with a wicked slash at his neck that shaved whiskers from his beard, but left him unharmed. The warrior spun, his speed of foot and hand astonishing Maleric and the Vascon warriors.

  Maleric’s lips peeled back from his teeth and he nodded his respect. Spears blurred as the warrior descended on him and Maleric braced his shield and swung his sword.

  Rappo tried to back his mount up to get clear of the melee and hurl a spear into the giant attacking Maleric, but found himself pressed in by Vascon warriors backing away from the whirling thunder that was Maleric and the enemy giant.

  More dismounted enemy warriors attacked from outside the gates and those already within the walls pressed them from the rear. Beaugissa swung her spear with a snarl, whipping it at a warrior’s face. The man ducked aside and received only the trace of a slash across his cheek. He touched the wound, examined his red-tipped fingers and gave her a threatening grin.

  “You are going to scream for a long time before I gut you, woman.”

  Hearing the man’s words and his fellows’ laughter filled Rappo with hate. He had just three spears left and dared not try to bring down the giant battling Maleric for fear of hitting the Gaul. Instead, he targeted the warrior advancing on Beaugissa who was kicking at a man dragging at her foot.

  Rappo rose to his knees on his m
ount and drew back his spear arm. The horse was of Iberian stock and not trained to his way of riding. As he loosed the spear, it flinched under his knees and his throw went wide. Now Beaugissa was surrounded by five enemy warriors, none of whom had any intention of killing her at once. The screams rising from among the village huts was a testament to what was in store for her.

  Chapter 15

  Water splashed high about the horses as they plunged through the shrunken river, shedding arcs of color in the early morning light. Gaining the other side first, Caros turned his mount westward and raked his heels down her flanks. Behind him, Neugen’s horse lost its footing, pitching him over its neck to land at the water’s edge. Caros heard his shout and reined in.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Caros, did you not see this?”

  Neugen gestured to the lip of the river bank above him which was churned and broken.

  “No, but whoever it was passed recently. If it was Berenger then he is well ahead of us. We need to ride faster.”

  Neugen, a frown set between his eyes, regained his mount and swore, pointing at its forelegs.

  Caros studied the animal’s lower legs, seeing tracks of blood weeping through the mud. It moved without discomfit now, but might quickly go lame if Neugen pressed on. They exchanged a desperate look, knowing they had little choice. Neugen dragged himself onto the mount’s back.

  “I will follow as fast as I can. Ride ahead, Caros.”

  Neugen’s words faded away and his mouth hung open. Caros sat perfectly still, the muscles of his jaw bulging with tension, his eyes hard and unblinking.

  From out of the trees set back from the river’s edge, a hundred or more Gauls had appeared, many of them mounted, all of them grim-faced and armed.

  Artur stood still and silent in the center of his dwelling, head bowed and lips moving. From beyond the rough stone walls the sounds of mayhem and pain carried to him. He smiled, his warrior heart swelling with the joy of finding battle one last time. Ending his prayer of thanks to the gods, he lifted his war helmet and fitted on his head, pressing it down onto the leather and flax cap he wore. With fingers made nimble again by the prospect of battle, Artur knotted the leather thongs of the helmet beneath his chin.

  Rappo howled in fury, two spears clutched in one hand and his other hand still buried in the mount’s unbrushed mane. An enemy rider hurtled past him, sword flashing, and he was forced to fold himself neatly to avoid losing his head. Sitting up, he urged the horse after the rider and it responded eagerly. He eased the mount to the left, pressing with his knees and turning his fist in her mane. Again the mare responded as he wanted. He turned her again, almost making her dance a circle on her hind legs, to avoid a group of enemy riders circling a huddle of Vascon villagers caught in an ever-shrinking vortex of hooves, teeth and blades.

  Giving his war cry, he wielded his spears and sent the excited mare hurtling towards Beaugissa’s tormentors. His voice rose to a howl as he neared the enemy warriors and loosed the two spears in quick succession. A warrior arched his back, mouth open in a silent scream before slumping to the ground.

  Beaugissa took the opportunity to attack, rearing her horse so its hooves clove the air before her attackers. Their attention split between avoiding the lethal hooves slashing at their faces and the oncoming rider ululating like a demented shade, they did not notice her slide from the mount’s back. Leading with her spear, she swiped it low, dragging the finely-honed blade through the knees of two warriors in one stroke. As they staggered back cursing, the third warrior glimpsed only a brief flash before the blade plunged into his throat, driving up into his skull.

  Rappo swung off his horse, his left hand still firmly in its mane, and drove the heels of his sandals into the stomach of a spearman. The blow folded the warrior and sent him gagging to the ground.

  “Rappo! The other!”

  The remaining warrior leapt at him; spear held low. With a grunt he twisted and lashed out, striking the warrior in the jaw. A heartbeat later, Beaugissa gripped the man’s heavy collar and plunged her short knife into his throat and under his arm for good measure.

  Neugen turned his mount back to the river, ready to flee the savage looking Gauls.

  “Hold!” Caros spoke, his voice like a blow, stopping Neugen in his tracks. “Wait here.”

  He guided his mount over the river-washed rocks and up the crumbling bank, the muscles of its haunches coiling and thrusting to gain the ground above. Caros kept his eyes on the Gauls as the horse worked beneath him, riding it like it was an extension of his body.

  The Gauls on either end of their lines circled around, clattering onto the rocks along the river, closing around he and Neugen.

  “I am Caros of the Bastetani.”

  A Gaul with features cut into flat, hard edges around flint sharp eyes, edged his horse in front of his fellows and walked it down their line. His hair, tied into braids and colored orange with clay, hung down his broad back and his bare chest was daubed with handprints.

  “You must be looking for your fellow warriors, Bastetani! They have left you behind and taken their bloody knives to the Vascon.”

  “We found a body of one of your people. A woman. It was not our blades that killed her.” The Gauls were growling, their eyes yellow with hate. Caros swallowed hard. “We came seeking a lost girl! We are not the ones who killed the women.”

  “You are from the south. The men who killed my people are from the south.” The Gaul cocked his head. “So today we kill you. Tomorrow, your fellows.”

  Caros could smell the press of hostile men and women closing on him. Their weapons were poor; mostly clubs and a scattering of spears. He wished that Maleric had accompanied them. The big Gaul might have been able to convince them that Berenger was their enemy as well.

  “The name of the man that leads the killers is Berenger. He is my sworn enemy. Not you. Not your people.”

  “Caros! Say something they will believe!”

  Neugen cursed as he was hauled off his horse and screamed in terror before several heavy blows rained down, silencing him.

  “Your friend did not even use his spear.”

  Caros stared at where Neugen had disappeared among the massed Gauls, his face draining of color.

  “Because he is a good man concerned for a missing child.” Caros snarled, lashing out with his heavy sandal as a Gaul reached for his leg, kicking the man in the teeth. “I though, have lost any sense of goodness.” He drew his sword and swung towards the leader of the Gauls, ready to die hard.

  The Gauls held their positions though and Caros cursed them until he noticed an escalation of murmuring to their rear. A disturbance saw the mass of warriors parting for a pair who came towards him, their eyes shaded to better see. He snarled at them when they pointed at him, shouting to their fellows and causing more commotion.

  “Do you not recognize them, Bastetani?”

  About to curse them all again and begin hacking, Caros paused and looked more closely. They were the parents of the boy he pulled from the water.

  “Ah, so you do know them.”

  “I saved their son from the river. I and a woman of the Vascon.”

  The Gaul called to his people, his voice ringing clearly over their protests and arguments. He turned back to Caros.

  “Your friend has a knob or two on his head, but is alive. The boy you saved is my son.” The Gaul rocked his head from side to side. “Now we know who you are, Caros of the Bastetani.” He glanced west and then back at his people, some of whom shook their heads angrily. “Know that I am Telmo of the Tarbelli.”

  Caros saw those wearing scowls were a minority and hope began to burn bright in his chest. The Gaul turned back to Caros and pointed a hand to the west.

  “The Vascon woman holds your heart between her teeth.” He grinned knowingly at Caros who flushed. “Her village is attacked by those who killed our people. Since she and you helped to save my son, I offer you our aid this one time.”

  Caros wanted
to turn his horse and race back to the village. The desire to find Berenger and slice the skin from his body, to hang him on a cross, was almost overpowering.

  “The village… it still stands?”

  The Gaul brought his horse up close to Caros.

  “Not for very long.”

  Neugen was helped onto his mount by a dozen suddenly amicable hands and he gave Caros a dazed glare. Caros slid his sword back into its scabbard and turned his mount westward.

  The Vascon were broken. Their best warriors had been outside the walls where they had died vainly. The mediocre warriors had died trying to retake the gates. Those left were farmers, crafters and unblooded youths. They fought with clubs or staves and they held the narrow streets between the small dwellings.

  Artur stepped among them dressed as a champion, his helmet a beacon. Gone was the stoop, the trembling hands and weak back. His eyes glinted and his gray hair shone.

  When he called his people, they rallied at his shoulders and stepped forward with him to face their enemy. Twenty men and women led by a man past fifty summers.

  They swept through the streets, cornering and killing two of the enemy and flushing the rest into the open ground before the gate. Here, where the dead lay sightless among broken blades and cracked shields, the enemy warriors turned to face Artur and the surviving villagers.

  Rappo and Beaugissa joined four wild-eyed and bleeding Vascon who had lived through the carnage at the gates. Together they retreated into a tight circle with walls on three sides. Dust filled the air and along with the smoke from fired thatch, served to keep them hidden.

  Through gaps in the haze, they saw Maleric knocked back by the giant warrior. The Gaul regained his balance only to step onto a discarded shield which tripped him. He went to his knee, chest heaving and sweat dripping freely from his hair.

  The giant advanced on Maleric who pushed himself upright and braced his battered shield.