by Bryn Colvin
Rina was by far the smallest of them and, although she had been bleeding for some months, she still had a childlike quality to her features and her stature was small. With whispered instructions Liss had her friend remove what little armour and weaponry she wore. A girl might pass unnoticed where armoured young men would immediately draw attention. It was a risky ploy, but Rina was eager to make her mark on the day and took no persuading. The others clustered around the small door as the diminutive girl opened it and stepped through. They braced themselves for signs of violence, but the town beyond had not yet roused itself. Waiting for her to return made the time grind by far too slowly, but at last the door was pushed open and, at a word of encouragement, the remaining five of them slipped in and looked around in wonder.
Great dwellings of wood and stone towered over the street, blotting out most of the sky and making them feel enclosed. None of them had ever seen the like of it before. Shuttered windows peered down at them, making it obvious that they could easily be attacked from above. Liss glanced nervously at her companions, wondering what should be done. In the distance, a bell began to ring, clattering against the peaceful dawn. There were cries from distant streets and sounds of panicked stirring soon emitted from the houses around them.
“The main assault has begun,” Liss murmured, even though she knew the others in her hand would realise this.
Her mind raced. She had no instructions to follow beyond this point. Should she begin her own fight here, breaking down the wooden doors to challenge those within, or should she stay and hold the gate for those who came after? The small door was too solidly built for easy sabotage. Finding what cover she could for them behind a low wall, Liss ordered slings out. They had not brought bows, fearing to damage them in the water. For a long time the street remained empty, but then men began to emerge, hurriedly dressing themselves and running for the walls with whatever they had. Liss saw that the townspeople bore spears and bows as tall as those who carried them, not the short weapons her people favoured. She wondered how far one of these huge weapons could send an arrow and with what force it might impact. The thoughts this prompted did not reassure her.
After a while the flood of local people, mostly men, had dwindled until they came only in ones and twos. Liss lifted a small stone, realising that there were all too few to be had in this peculiar street. Standing, she loosed it, watching it arc against the morning light and impact on the shoulder of one of the slower fighters. By the time he turned, she had ducked out of site, but Erit’s skilful shot found the man’s exposed temples and he crumpled. They took a further two men with their slings.
“We should go for the houses,” Erit said, “more cover, better pickings.”
Thinking of the loot and prestige to be gained, Liss nodded.
The first door they tried was locked against intruders, but Blade, the tallest of her boys, hoisted Erit onto his shoulders and, between them, they forced a shutter open on one of the windows, revealing a darkened room beyond. Erit scrambled in and Liss heard some unintelligible speech from within, followed by the dull clunk of metal on metal. They waited, keeping a watchful eye on the empty street. Erit’s face appeared at the window.
“That’s two to me now,” he said, grinning.
With some scrambling and hauling, they were soon all inside, staring about and getting used to the gloom. It was much like the interior of a tent in many ways, save that things hung from the walls in great numbers. Liss had no idea what half of them were for. She pocketed a few small objects, picked at random and headed for the door.
Killing was something that they had all been trained to do. They knew well how to use the small knives they carried and the lethal slings. Aside from hunting, which none of them felt really counted anyway, they had not taken lives before. It proved to be easier than Liss had expected, not that she had ever imagined she would find it a difficult thing to undertake. People died only too quickly. A few cuts or blows to the right places would make anyone fall and none of the people they encountered at first were even expecting to be attacked, which made them simple prey. Still, killing unarmed people was something she considered little better than hunting other defenceless things and Liss knew they would have to do better if they wanted to make their mark. One woman tried to fend her off with a large saucepan, but Liss dodged her easily and slipped a knife beneath her ribs before taking the necklace she had worn.
They found two children huddled together in a large wooden box, weeping and trembling with fear. Liss eyed them critically. Old enough to work, she supposed, young enough to forget. Those were the slaves her father liked best. He avoided those who might cause him trouble.
“We can’t take them with us,” Storm said, joining her beside the chest.
“True.”
“We could tie them up and come back for them,” he suggested.
“What if someone else finds them first?” Rina asked.
Liss smiled, pleased that she had thought about this before they set out. During the long hours of waiting she had collected feathers. Everyone would know that a crow feather meant she had prior claim and no one would dare to cross her for fear of her father’s wrath. She removed one from the small bag she carried and held it up, grinning. The others nodded, seeing the wisdom of it.
“I can see why Gron put you in charge,” Blade said. “I’d never have thought of that.”
By the time they had taken what booty they wanted the streets echoed with the sounds of war. Those behind them had broken through from the river and Math’s warriors were conquering the walls in several places.
~*~
Math was one of the first onto the walls, thrown into fighting as soon as he had both feet on the sturdy defensive curtain. He hardly thought; action came instinctively to him from long years of practise. Thrusts and blows moved him as though some other, more knowing, force had command of his body. He was unstoppable. Math was death incarnate and any who tasted his blade would fall. This was the myth of his making and he usually lived up to it well enough. There was a definite scheme behind his fighting, as he worked his way round the wall in the direction of two men who had caught his attention. Their arrows had injured and killed more fighters than he had expected to lose and he needed to stop them before they did further damage. He could tell that considerable effort was being made to protect them and he could see, all too clearly, why.
Sliding on blood-slick stone and fending off a stream of fighters whose inexperience was matched by their grim determination, he gradually drew closer to his quarry. So engrossed were the two men in their lethal work that they did not notice him until he was dangerously close. One long, powerful bow started to turn in his direction, a deadly arrow grasped for. Math had no-where to go—the walls were narrow and the fall considerable. A second of indecision would have killed him. He lunged for the man, feeling his blade bite home as the dying fighter crumpled against him. The second bowman turned then, an arrow nocked and ready. Math moved as fast as he could, trying to place the dead man in line for the blow and get himself out of the way. At close range, no bow needed drawing fully to kill. He did not expect the shock of pain as the arrow struck him, pinning the dead man in his arms to him and making him an easy target. The bowman reached for another arrow and Math knew that if that one took flight, he would die.
Ignoring the searing pain in his chest, Math raised the dagger he carried in his off hand and threw it in the direction of the bowman. His shot was not sufficient to kill, but impacted on the man’s shoulder, making him stagger back. The arrow went wide. Gritting his teeth, Math used his remaining blade to break the arrow that had wounded him, freeing himself from the weight of the dead fighter. With the arrowhead still lodged between his ribs, he ran down the second bowman, hacking the injured man’s guts open before he had time to draw for another shot. Breathing heavily, Math turned, assessing his situation and looking for further signs of danger. There were none. The walls were breached and his men fought in the streets below, herding th
e remaining inhabitants towards the centre. From his vantage point he could see they had some sort of keep or tower, but this did not trouble him. With the walls taken, the town would fall soon enough—he had seen it all many times before.
Squatting down, Math allowed himself some time to recover his breath and to examine the weapons the two men had carried. They were bows, much like the ones his own people used, but, while theirs were no longer than a man’s arm, these were easily twice the length, standing as tall as those who drew them. The force with which these could send arrows had been terrifying—anyone who was hit, fell, although he did not know if they had all died. These two skilful men had cost him dearly, but he wanted their weapons for his own and wondered if there might be others stored in armouries nearby. He had never seen an arrow pass through a man’s body before and, now that he had time to think, the mere idea of it alarmed him. Had the bow turned against him been fully drawn, no doubt the arrow would not only have penetrated the man he had killed, but would have punched through his own chest and destroyed him instantly. As it was, he had a nasty wound that would need attention. He wondered then how his daughter had fared in her first real fight and if she would survive the day.
~*~
The houses were complicated and disorientating. Their many levels, rooms and outhouses, cellars and attics were confusing enough to those used to the single level of a tent. In addition to this they afforded innumerable places in which people could hide and, after an armed boy cornered Rina in a room, they learned to be cautious. If Erit had not been close behind it might have been the end of the young fighter.
Liss’s hand scoured the buildings as best they could, surprised from time to time by people they had not expected—some armed, some not. After a while, they learned where to look and the brief fights grew easier. They killed the adults systematically and bound what children they thought worth keeping. It was arduous work and, by midday, exhaustion was starting to take its toll. They rested for a while, raiding a storeroom for food and eating hurriedly, warily, alert to the danger of an assault. Liss could taste blood on her fingers, mingling with the moist, sour foodstuff she had chosen. Her companions were as fatigued as she and needed time to rest. Outside, the work of suppressing the town continued, punctuated by occasional cries and shouts of those who were being slaughtered.
“It would take forever to get all the goods worth having from here,” Arl observed, as he cleaned blood from the handle of his axe.
“I don’t think I can carry any more without it slowing me down,” Erit said.
“I didn’t think anyone could own so much,” Rina commented, speculatively.
“What do you think your father will do?” Erit asked, turning to face Liss.
“I don’t know; he hasn’t told me.”
If he had, she was not certain she would share this with her small company.
“Have we done with this place?” Blade asked.
“There’s something at the back, little buildings like they have in the villages. You can see them from here, look.”
Rina directed their attention out of the window to the cluster of outhouses huddled behind the main establishment. They might have livestock there, or stores, Liss supposed. Either way it was well worth looking. She wondered if there was any way she could claim a decent portion of their finds for herself before the older warriors came in to take their share of their spoils.
What they found when they ventured through the small courtyard, were four low buildings, all looking unremarkable at this first approach. The biggest of the four was largely an empty space, with several small heaps of items that, even to their eyes, looked like junk. In the second of the low buildings they discovered an aging man who had clearly been waiting for them. The house had been empty, suggesting that anyone else living there had already fled. His face was blank. Liss had seen this before, but it still unsettled her it. The dark haired, swarthy people native to this landscape often faced death with a peculiar indifference. In a quick glance she took in the blue swirling marking on his cheek, the simple, functional wool garments he wore, the ragged grey hair and the single claw worn on a chain at his neck. She supposed he was a servant—he was dressed simply enough. Some of them had far more elaborate and less practical costumes that suggested indolence. Math had told her about people who lived for leisure and attired themselves accordingly, growing their fingernails long to prove that they never so much as brushed their own hair. He made no secret of loathing such behaviour.
The cornered man eyed the group of young fighters thoughtfully and waited. He appeared to be unarmed. Blade glanced to Liss for approval and then strode forward confidently, only to find himself thrown to the packed earth floor by a blow from a weapon none of them had seen. With remarkable speed, their opponent had lifted a long stave from the debris around him. The wood flicked through the air, whistling as it went. Blade backed away to a safe distance, winded and unsettled. The rest of them closed slowly, with more caution and respect now that they had seen the old man fight.
The outbuilding was small and the way forwards made narrow by a broken table and other lumber. Liss and Storm took the lead, their axes biting the air and searching for flesh. Liss felt her own blade knocked aside and from the corner of her eye she saw that Storm’s axe had been wrenched from his hands by the expertly wielded staff. A second blow sent the young man reeling and, before she had time to react, the other end of the stave had landed a sharp blow on her shoulder. It was as much as she could do not to drop the axe and she stepped back instinctively. Risking a glance back, she saw Rina poised beside the broken table. She realised what her friend was about and launched a fresh attack with all the force she could muster. Her axe bore down upon the stave, seeking to pin the wooden weapon and render the wielder vulnerable. To her right, Storm lunged in armed only with his small knife. Rina sprang lightly over the broken table, a knife in one hand. With the other, she grabbed at a hook in the ceiling. She swung out, kicking the man squarely in the face before she dropped onto him from above. The staff clattered to the ground and Liss straightened up, letting Rina finish her kill.
“Good work,” she said.
She wondered if she could remember enough of the staff fighting to use it herself. It looked effective, when she would have though a mere piece of wood could not have worked so well against a pair of metal blades.
“There might be others hiding,” Arl pointed out.
Liss nodded.
“Worth checking the pickings here,” Erit suggested.
Liss could tell that her friend was tiring and agreed, knowing he needed the time to recover. Arl was the only one still fresh after the encounter but he was less than eager to press on. Frustrated, Liss made her way outside. She supposed what they were doing was necessary, but it was dull and unremarkable. She hankered after a bigger prize than any of the houses had so far afforded them—one that would win her father’s praise. Rina had claim to the staff and that would take some equalling. Liss felt she needed to prove herself worthy of the authority she had been given and had, at the very least, to do something better than finding a weapon. She moved from the low building to check the remaining two outhouses for anyone who might be hiding. Arl and Storm followed on her heels and peeled off into one low building.
“Hey, Liss, come and see this!” Storm bellowed.
“What is it?” she shouted back.
“Drink and lots of it. A whole storage room full of drink.”
“I’ll be with you in a bit.”
That was a notable find, she realised and it would win them prestige, but it did nothing to advance her personal status. Their excited voices had drawn Blade to join them and, as she reached the doorway of the last building, she heard him call to her as well.
“Come and see this!”
“Soon,” Liss replied, not really interested in gloating over someone else’s find.
A flash of movement caught her eye and she peered round the doorframe. The door was partially open, but s
he could see little in the gloom beyond. Using the handle of her axe she pushed the door open, keeping her body shielded behind the wall of the building. Nothing stirred in the gloom beyond and, when no missiles seemed forthcoming, she risked stepping in. Moving as quietly as she could Liss was poised to attack should the need arise. The hairs were rising along her arms and an odd, prickly sensation caught hold of her. Stooping, she entered a long, low building, conscious that she would make an easy target silhouetted as she was in the entranceway. An opening in the roof cast a narrow stream of light into the otherwise gloomy place. Liss could just discern the figure of a woman, her posture passive and unthreatening.
“Liss.”
Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but the young fighter shuddered none the less, hearing her name uttered by a stranger’s mouth.
“What do you want with me?” she asked, keeping her voice low so that no one else would hear it.
Thus far they had killed as quickly as they could, but this woman knew her name and the desire to understand how and why, overwhelmed all training and reason. Liss backed up slightly so that her shoulders were touching the doorway. No one could approach without her knowing and the unsettling woman was her captive. Despite these precautions and the obvious advantages she had, Liss still felt ill at ease and she kept here ears alert to signs that would indicate another of her company approaching.
The local woman stepped into the light then and the wan beam of sunlight illuminated her long pale face, partly shadowed by a wealth of braids as dark as Liss’s own. Her dress did not resemble that of the local people, clad in sombre colours as she was, with a straight dress over tight trousers. She lacked the blue tattoos most of the others favoured. She was far too dark to be one of Math’s people for, aside from a handful of children like Liss, Math’s followers were all pale, with fair hair and light eyes. Recognition cut through the girl like a blade and she felt her body grow limp with shock.
“Are you going to kill me?” the woman asked simply.