by Sam Barone
Eskkar managed to get more rest than he expected. Bracca woke him well before midnight. When Eskkar felt himself fully awake, he shed his sword, pouch, belt, sandals, and the halter rope from around his waist, keeping nothing but his knife. He slipped the sharp blade from its scabbard. With a final nod to Bracca, Eskkar started crawling down the hillside on his hands and knees, making sure that he never let any part of his body rise above the grass. He carried his knife clamped firmly between his teeth.
To reach the sentry, Eskkar first had to negotiate his passage through about thirty paces of downhill slope. When he reached the bottom, another twenty paces would have to be crossed before he could rush the sentry. Fortunately, the second part of the crawl would be through a cluster of small boulders that should give him some protection from discovery.
Edging his way down the slope, Eskkar moved only one part of his body at a time. First a hand, then a knee, followed by a pause to make sure the sentry hadn’t moved. He never let his weight settle on anything that might betray his presence.
As a boy, Eskkar remembered his father telling him of a similar attack. Hogarthak said it had taken most of the night to creep his way close enough to strike down the sentry. Now Eskkar appreciated his father’s hunting skills and wise words all the more. Eskkar would not let himself grow impatient or make the slightest mistake. The approach needed total silence, and it would take as long as it took.
The warrior had his back to the upper hill, and his attention was focused on the men and horses beneath him. Since the hillside couldn’t be climbed without alerting the camp below, it never occurred to the guard that danger might already be hiding on the hill above.
At last Eskkar reached the bottom of the slope. The warrior had not heard or sensed Eskkar’s descent. That was in part due to the horse herd itself. Not all of the animals dozed at the same time. Some paced around, nudging other horses in their passage. The normal night sounds of insects buzzing and grass sighing in the breeze also helped muffle any sound of Eskkar’s advance.
To Eskkar’s mind, the most dangerous part of the approach had passed. If he’d been heard coming down the incline, the sentry would have had plenty of warning, either to call out, pick up his sword, or even string his bow. Now Eskkar, even armed with nothing but his knife, had drawn close enough to have a fair chance against a surprised enemy.
As he crept forward, Eskkar kept his eyes on the sentry. Halfway to his target Eskkar froze. The warrior’s head was nodding, as he, too, yielded to the long day’s ride. Or perhaps too much wine.
This band of warriors, Eskkar realized, had fallen prey to their own success. Raised from childhood to think of themselves as the hunters of others, they never considered the possibility that they could be the prey. And these steppes warriors, after their long association with the bandits, had become almost as slack. In the Clan, a warrior who fell asleep would be severely punished, though the humiliation in front of his peers would be a far more dire consequence.
Eskkar waited until the man’s head sagged forward again. Without making a sound, Eskkar rose to his feet, took the knife from his mouth, and moved forward. Step by small step, always checking the place he would set his bare feet, he closed the gap between them. Four paces separated them, then three, then two. Suddenly the sentry’s head snapped up, but by then Eskkar had drawn too close.
With a swift movement, Eskkar sprang across the final step between stalker and victim, clasped his left hand around the man’s mouth, and rammed the knife into his neck, just below his ear.
The man’s feet kicked out, and he struggled, his hands rising up to grab at the knife that had ripped through his throat. But Eskkar’s powerful grip prevented any noise from escaping, even as he dragged the flailing body backward. In a moment, the warrior went limp.
Using all his strength to hold the man fast, Eskkar lowered him to the ground and waited until the blood ceased to flow before he withdrew the knife. A soft sigh, a last breath came from the dead man’s lips, but the sound couldn’t have been heard more than a few steps away.
Eskkar pushed the body aside and took the warrior’s place against the rock. If anyone glanced up, they would see the dim shape of the sentry, still at his post. But no one in the camp below noticed, not even the horses. Hot blood had squirted over his arm, and Eskkar reached down and cleaned both his knife and hand of the slippery blood by wiping them on the man’s tunic.
By then Bracca had crawled alongside the rock, carrying Eskkar’s sword, pouch, and sandals. “By the gods, I thought you were going to take all night! But all in the past, that. It was good work, friend Eskkar.”
“Can you see the other sentry?” Eskkar pointed toward the bandit, the one on the far side of the camp. “You’ll have to hurry. The first watch will be ending soon. Stay as far away as possible from the warriors.”
“I’m on my way. But don’t forget me, or I’ll have to join up with the bandits and help hunt you down.”
Eskkar ignored the bad joke. “Signal me when he’s dead. Now go.”
Bracca had already started, moving quietly enough as he descended the rest of the hillside. He took the long way down, his chosen path keeping him at least fifty paces from the sleeping warriors. Once he reached the bottom of the hill, he walked along the outskirts of the camp, weaving slightly from side to side as he progressed. If anyone saw or heard him, they would likely think he was merely one of their own, a man unable to sleep or coming back from taking a piss.
While Bracca moved toward the far side of the camp, Eskkar strung the warrior’s bow and tested its pull. Next he emptied the dead man’s quiver and inspected the shafts. Selecting four of the straightest, he lined them up in the soft earth, next to the boulder. The deerskin case had contained twelve shafts, and the remaining eight he moved to the other side of the rock, leaving them arranged to be snatched up and fitted to the bowstring. Eskkar had already slung his sword over his shoulder, secured his belt, retied his sandals, and fastened both knife and pouch. The halter rope he looped around his neck. When the action started, he would have to move fast, and wanted to leave nothing behind.
From his position, Eskkar knew the arrows would sow death and confusion among the sleeping camp, and give him a far better chance to stampede the horses. He expected that he could loose most of the arrows before the sleeping men awoke and realized they were under attack.
By now Bracca had nearly reached the sentry. Eskkar watched as Bracca stumbled up to the man, who stood and turned obligingly at Bracca’s arrival, assuming that he was being relieved. Two shadows became one, and a few moments later, Eskkar glimpsed Bracca’s face as a dim white blur in the darkness, waving his arm.
Eskkar rose, aimed the first shaft toward the bandit leader and his guards, about sixty paces away. A long shot, Eskkar knew, and he had not used a bow in many months. But at least here he could brace himself, unlike trying to work the powerful weapon from the back of a galloping horse. All the same, he was unfamiliar with the peculiarities of this bow, and he had to hope for the best. Drawing the shaft fully to his ear, he took a deep breath, then let fly with more anticipation than expectation.
The arrow flew high over the leader’s sentry, but stuck a sleeping bandit just beyond. The cry of pain told Eskkar that the strike was not a killing blow, but that no longer mattered. Working the bow as fast as he could, he loosed the next three shafts at the sleeping warriors almost directly below. They reacted faster than the bandits, scrambling to their feet, awakened by the twang of the bowstring and the smack of the arrow into flesh. Yet their first reaction made them glance toward the sleeping dirt eaters, not to the hill above them.
Having done what he could to the warriors, Eskkar ignored them. With four shafts expended, Eskkar took two long strides, positioning himself on the other side of the boulder and out of direct sight of the warriors. He launched five more shafts into the bandit camp, aiming for any group of men.
The last three, launched with less force, went into the horse herd, wound
ing and panicking the animals. The sounds of frightened horses now added to the growing confusion, even as it sent the spooked horses surging against the strands of rope that served as a corral.
Before a man could count to twenty, Eskkar had launched twelve arrows into the bandit camp. As soon as the last shaft left the bowstring, he dropped the weapon and flung himself down the hill, risking a nasty fall. But he knew safety now lay in mixing in with the disorganized bandits. He stumbled at the base of the hill, going down on one knee. But he drew his sword and kept moving.
The camp, jolted from fast asleep to wide awake, responded the way any group of sleeping men would. They bolted upright, then fumbled for their weapons, everyone shouting at once, and all the while trying to comprehend what was happening.
Bracca, on the other side of the camp, added to the chaos. “The barbarians are attacking! They’re trying to steal our gold.” Bracca darted from place to place, changing his voice as he moved. “The barbarians are stealing our horses! Kill them all!”
Bandits stumbled about. Many rushed toward the place where the sacks of loot had been stored. Despite the guard there, men snatched at the bundles, then fought over their possession.
By the time Eskkar reached the bottom of the hill, chaos had erupted in the camp, and he was only one of many shadowy figures rushing about in the darkness. Even as he sprinted toward the horses, he let loose a barbarian war cry, adding to the night’s pandemonium. The horses, frightened by the arrows that had wounded two of them, skittered back and forth, ready to bolt. But before Eskkar, gripping his sword, could reach the closest animal, one of the warriors moved to intercept him.
Nevertheless, Eskkar’s war cry had befuddled the barbarian, who had his own blade in his hand. The brief moment of indecision proved fatal. Eskkar, looming up out of the darkness, thrust his sword at the man’s stomach. The warrior managed to partially deflect the blade, but still Eskkar’s long sword pierced the man’s right arm. Before the wounded fighter could recover, Eskkar, who had never stopped moving forward, lowered his shoulder and knocked the barbarian off his feet.
Eskkar ignored the injured man. Ducking under the corral’s rope, Eskkar stabbed at another animal, driving the tip of the blade into its rear haunch. The horse lashed out with its hind legs, one hoof brushing Eskkar’s shoulder. The animal’s scream of pain started the other horses moving, this time in one direction – away from the danger. Then the corral rope on the far side snapped under the pressure of the surging herd.
Another warrior rushed into the midst of the skittish horses, trying to reach Eskkar. But too many frantic animals blocked his way. Even so, he drew close enough so that Eskkar saw the knife in his hand and the whites of his eyes gleaming in the darkness.
Before the rest of the herd bolted, Eskkar caught the nearest horse by its mane and swung himself astride. Uttering another war cry, he urged his mount and the other horses forward with the flat of his sword, sending them into a full gallop. The first part of the camp to be overrun was part of the warriors’ sleeping place. As the animals galloped through the shambles, Eskkar saw that a body lay unmoving on the ground, an arrow protruding from the man’s chest. One of Eskkar’s arrows had found its mark.
Neighing and snorting, the herd swept into the rest of the camp. Some of the quickest-witted bandits endeavored to halt the frightened animals, waving their arms and grabbing for the horses’ manes. A man carrying a rope jumped in front of Eskkar’s path. His mount took fright and despite Eskkar’s urgings, dug in its front hooves, nearly pitching its rider forward and over the animal’s neck. By the time he regained his balance, Eskkar found his way blocked by two men.
Whether they thought Eskkar might be one of their own barbarians didn’t matter. Seeing the sword in his hand, they assumed he was either attempting to steal their gold or the horses. Eskkar kicked at his mount’s flanks, but the stubborn creature refused to move. One bandit darted in from the side, trying to stab Eskkar in the back. But he twisted away from the knife stroke and struck down with the pommel of his sword, knocking his assailant to the ground. The other man, watching his companion struck senseless, backed off.
Eskkar caught sight of the bandit leader and one of his men rushing toward him. Both had swords in their hands. Eskkar kicked the horse once again, and this time added the flat of his sword to the animal’s flank. That drove the beast ahead once more, but even so, Eskkar knew the two men, attacking together, would prevent his escape.
Suddenly one of the women rose from the ground and threw herself at the bandits’ feet. Both men went down, though the brigand leader quickly regained his footing. He lunged with his blade, but Eskkar managed to knock it aside as he brushed past the man, the path to freedom clear at last. The spirited horse now needed little urging and leaped forward.
Across the campsite, Bracca had never stopped moving since he’d slain the sentry. But all his movements took him toward the center of the camp, shouting that the barbarians were trying to steal their gold. Still, before Bracca could get close enough to snatch up one of the bags for himself, they were all gone, grabbed by the addled and terrified bandits.
One of these men, a bag in one hand and sword in the other, rushed straight toward Bracca. As the bandit drew close, Bracca shrank aside, as if to let the fleeing man pass, then leapt back, thrusting with his own blade, and driving the point into the man’s back. Before the man fell to the ground, Bracca ripped the sack from his grasp as the first of the horses rushed by.
In the confusion and the darkness, Eskkar had lost sight of Bracca, but suddenly he saw his friend running toward him, while struggling with a bulky sack.
The next moment the bag was flung straight at Eskkar, who somehow managed to catch the heavy sack against his chest. Bracca, dodging the wild-eyed horses that threatened to trample him, leapt for one beast that had slowed its pace. Bracca grasped the mane while he struggled to climb onto the animal’s back.
An arrow hissed by Eskkar’s head. Shouts alerted at least some of the bandits as to what was happening. But before anyone else could block their way, the two companions urged their new mounts forward, and in a moment, they’d raced out of the camp and into the darkness.
“Take the sack, damn you,” Eskkar shouted. He swung the heavy bag over to Bracca, who had started laughing and now couldn’t stop. “You nearly knocked me off the horse, you fool!”
The two men kept riding until the bandit’s camp was at least a half mile away. By then the other horses had slowed or turned aside. Eskkar eased his mount to a walk, and then halted. No sense galloping a horse through the darkness, always a good way to injure man or beast. He faced back toward the camp, but heard no sounds of pursuit, only confusion.
“Will they come after us?” Bracca glanced behind him, but could see nothing.
“Not tonight. In the morning they’ll have to recapture their horses first.”
“No one is going to go off chasing after horses,” Bracca gloated, “not and leave the loot behind. By the time they finish killing each other and the survivors figure out what happened, we’ll be long gone.”
Eskkar laughed as well. By morning there might be only a handful of thieves still alive. “I killed at least one more of the warriors, and wounded another.” He heard the hint of pride that had crept into his voice. “The bandits may finish off the rest of them. By then any thieves still standing will be fighting among themselves over the spoils. I doubt anyone will come after us over a couple of horses.”
“And a bag of loot,” Bracca said. “Wonder what’s in it?”
“I hope it’s something worth risking our necks for,” Eskkar said, “and not a pile of cooking pots.”
Bracca reached over and clasped Eskkar’s shoulder. “You were magnificent! Your war cry scared even me. But as soon as I gave you the signal, I started moving toward the bandit leader. After all that walking and running for the last few days, I didn’t intend to leave with just a couple of horses.”
“Well, when the word gets ou
t about all these raids, we’d better be far away. If anyone catches us with the stolen goods . . . we’d better put at least a hundred miles between us and this place before we try to sell whatever we’ve got.”
“That we will, friend Eskkar, that we will.”
Eskkar turned his mount away from the campsite, and Bracca followed his example.
“Stop! Wait for me!”
The piercing words seemed to hover in the night air. Both men whirled around, ready to fight or flee. But the voice belonged to a single woman, not the cries of men giving chase.
Sword in hand, Eskkar stared back toward the camp. He heard the sounds of men shouting, but no drumming of horses’ hooves. In another moment, a dim figure appeared, running toward them. “Wait . . . don’t leave me!”
“One of the women,” Eskkar said. “She must have seen us ride off.”
“Damn the gods,” Bracca grumbled. “They’ll follow her right to our trail.”
“Not at night.” Once again Eskkar swept his gaze over the dark ground. “We would hear the horses.”
The shadowy figure staggered toward them, clutching her bosom as she tried to catch her breath. By now the girl had stumbled almost within reach. She fell to her knees, only a few paces away.
“Take me with you,” she gasped. “Please don’t leave me behind.”
“Find your own way,” Bracca said. He turned his horse around, and started to move off.
“Wait,” Eskkar said. He recognized the girl, the one with the torn shift. And the same one who had slowed the bandit leader. “Come girl, you can ride with me for awhile. I owe you that much, at least.”
Returning his sword to its scabbard, he leaned down, grabbed her by the waist, and lifted her onto his horse. She swung her leg over the animal’s neck, and leaned back against Eskkar’s shoulder. She still hadn’t caught her breath, and her shoulders rose and fell.