~~~
Thord
It starts, thought Thord, as Rani’s hand dropped and in near unison the hammer fell. Thord moved to the door…One, hammer hand on the handle, two…well I wanted an adventure…three…and off we go…four. Thord pushed down on the handle but the door didn’t budge. It must be locked. This must be the room for the dwarf then. We are a cautious race. Drawing back Thord attacked the door with his hammer. Given time it might have been possible to make a quieter entrance. There is no time. At least the hammer is having an impact on the lock. Around about could be heard yells and explosions and loud screams from a woman. I think that I am hearing faint noises from behind this double-damned locked door. Someone is moving about. Eventually the lock was a wreck and the door could be pushed open. Thord entered to see another dwarf picking up a shield from a peg on the wall.
“You must be Dharmal,” said Thord. There had been time for Dharmal to slip on some armour and grab an axe and now his shield, but naked legs and feet peered out from under the unbelted mail hauberk. A stray thought went through Thord’s head. Given the hairiness of a dwarf’s body, that had to be very uncomfortable.
The two faced each other. I may not be experienced enough for this. I guess that I will soon find out. Both feinted and drew back, neither willing to commit readily. Eventually it was Dharmal who made the first move, advancing in a flurry of attacks. About time he realised that time is on my side. Damn him to an empty mine, this one is a lot better than I am. My little adventure away from home may be far shorter than I wanted it to be.
Thord gave up any idea attacking and moved entirely to being defensive. Really I only need to stop Dharmal escaping to eventually win. Dharmal must have realised this. Blow followed blow, some were turned aside by a shield that was having pieces chopped out of it. Some blows were avoided by Thord’s footwork, but some impacted and, although Thord’s enchanted mail gave some protection, the minor rents and the bruising were starting to add up. I can feel blood starting to flow from several places. It is only a matter of time before he despatches me and gets his chance to escape.
Dharmal seemed to realise this and redoubled the attack. Defence seems to be forgotten. He is just attacking me. Now let us see…Thord was forced down to one knee by a blow. He struck out hard at a low opening. Thord’s hammer met the side of Dharmal’s unarmoured knee under the bottom of the mail and before the shield could get down. A scream came from the bandit leader as the leg gave way, bending sideways in a way that it was not meant to bend in. Dharmal was still screaming in pain as he fell heavily to the side. Thord rose and quickly kicked the axe from Dharmal’s hand before moving back out of a grab range and keeping an eye on the prisoner. I won. A rich mine to tailings, but I won.
~~~
Basil
This is so much better when you have numbers on your side and know what is in the room. One…now I wait. At least Astrid is not here to worry about…two…I hope that the Emperor will understand if Theodora is hurt…three…concentrate now and…four. Basil turned the handle and the light and Basil both entered an empty room. From what was lying around, someone, the Caliphate mage; lived here. He is just not here now. Loud noise erupted from behind him. Great, unless whoever is behind the next door is a heavy sleeper, I don’t even get surprise on my side. He moved up the corridor. Still, we work with what we have. The next door was locked. Damn, this is why we usually take an insak-div with a maul with us on raids. Let me see how good their carpenter is.
He took a pace back to the other side of the corridor, before throwing his shoulder at the door. It creaked but held. That hurt, but there was some give. He tried again. This time there was a perceptible creak, but it still held. He weighed up his options. If the door opened suddenly he might tumble into the arms of his opponent, but the more he waited the better prepared they would be.
He charged the door again. This time it gave a bit. I can hear noise inside the room now through the crack. Again…it almost opened.
One last charge and Basil flew into the room, stumbling and trying to stop his headlong rush. He came to a halt close to the foot of a bed. To his right a man was turning around from a weapons rack with a sword in one hand and a shield on the other. He has not had time to don anything else and it is obvious that he sleeps without clothes. He was tall and broad with a full square cut beard and a dark expression on his face.
“You aren’t a slave!” he exclaimed in Latin in surprise.
It is best to delay things as long as I can. “No and I never have been. I am Basil, and who are you?” He replied in the same language.
“I am—” the naked man started to say. Just then one of the background explosions echoed into the room. “What the…you are attacking us…then die.” He charged at Basil, who only just got his blades up to catch the sword as it swept down, before Basil could free a blade to take advantage of their closeness the sword swept around to snap at his head. Basil got a blade up to block, but still couldn’t use his other sword as it was blocked by his opponent’s shield. The bandit’s longer blade was moving fast, as fast as Basil’s shortswords were and much faster than a broadsword should move, and his opponent was skilled at both attack and defence.
The speed of the sword negated the advantage of rapid cuts that a shortsword normally gave. He is either very, very good or the blade must be magically changed in some way. At this stage being naked is an advantage. The bandit can move quickly around without the hindrance of any coverings. It was only if I manage to hit him that he will have a problem…I show little sign of being able to hit him. It didn’t stop Basil from trying though. The two danced around the room, blades intersecting in metallic clamour. Cuts started to appear through Basil’s padded leather jacket. Basil managed to get one good slice along his opponent’s side—unfortunately he had aimed it as a disembowelling thrust, but the bandit dodged aside at the last moment. None the less it is bleeding and must be painful. The dance continued. It is only a matter of time before I am defeated. The best I can do is occupy the bandit, stop him escaping and hope that someone will come along soon…preferably a mage. Basil tried to keep his back to the doorway. He saw the window on the wall near the bed open. What is happening there? Unfortunately even this slight a distraction was something he didn’t need. The bandit swept his sword up and Basil was too slow to bring a shortsword around in response. The last thing he remembered seeing was the sight of the sword about to hit his head as he desperately tried to block it with crossed blades.
Astrid my—
~~~
Theodora
Theodora stood ready at her door. The dwarf stood at the corner and, between Thord and Theodora, Bianca stood ready. I wonder if the door is locked? I would if I were him. This will need careful timing. Luckily opening locks is an air specialty…and particularly for my monkey sign. This would not take long. She didn’t realise that she was smiling as she began to quietly chant the phrases that she needed. She saw Thord’s hammer fall, but could not interrupt her chant to count. Theodora finished her spell and was rewarded by hearing a soft ‘snick’ noise. So it was locked. She looked up. Bianca was still standing there. She waited until she saw Bianca start into her room before opening her door and starting in.
There was a bed, a desk, bookcases and a cupboard inside. The bed had an occupant, who dozed in ignorance. She raised her first wand. It had powerful air bolts enchanted into it. Unlike my lover, who has to be careful with fire bolts not to start a blaze or cause an explosion that will damage her, air bolts have little in the way of side effects. Theodora struck. My opponent has little chance. That first bolt surely woke him…at any rate it has picked him up from where he lay and flung him back against the head of his bed and his eyes are now open. The second bolt made his tongue protrude and his eyes bulge and his chest almost collapse as his rib bones were broken. The third finished the job and crushed him and blood flew out of his mouth. Theodora cautiously moved over to where he lay.
Suddenly she was under attack. Th
e crow Astrid had talked about was pecking at her head and eyes and raking at her with its claws. Its claws are not a problem, but my eyes are vulnerable to its beak. Luckily it is flying. She batted it aside. It flew away to come back at her and she fired an air bolt. It was only a pace away from the wand and she could not readily miss with a bolt meant to seriously damage a person. The bird gave a rude sounding and despairing ‘squawk’ and ended up flung against the wall as a limp bundle of feathers.
She turned to look at its mage, or whatever he was. He was now stirring faintly. He had a cure in place then. At a range of only two paces, just out of reach, she let loose another bolt at him, aiming carefully. It left his head a shattered and bloody ruin. She waited for a while. I wonder if he has another contingency cure in operation. It doesn’t seem so. He seems to be quite dead and intent on staying that way. She checked the bird. It now lay at the foot of the wall as a feather duster, the mark of its passage a bloodstain on the whitewashed wall. No contingencies on it then. I even have one on Esther. They must really have felt secure in their valley.
Theodora turned and moved quickly towards the door. The sounds of battles echoed through the corridors. She could hear Rani’s smaller bolts exploding around the corner. Theodora moved up the corridor towards Bianca’s door she could hear screaming from that room and then babbling in Latin…I hope that isn’t Bianca…no, the voice is too high a pitch. As she came level with the door Bianca flew out and the two tangled, luckily without damage to either.
~~~
Ayesha
Ayesha moved down the quiet street, keeping to the shadows as much as she could. Luckily the village is in a valley and the moonlight only hits the left hand side of this single street. Quietly she headed past the mage’s house using the veranda for cover. She came down from that. Under my feet in my soft boots, I can feel the worn cobblestones of the street, still there is good footing. No lights show from the inside of any of the buildings and it is quiet. She looked back. I can see nothing that would reveal where the rest of my companions wait. Astrid must have found enough shadow to hide in. Ahead she could see the guard on duty move from the wall and down to start checking the locks on the outside of houses of the favoured slaves sleeping in their own buildings. The sentinel was also going around the sides of the building, probably to check on the bars over the windows. These slaves might be favoured by having their own houses…but they weren’t trusted. The guard was not attempting to hide as they moved around their own street.
I approve of the guard checking everything. It makes them predictable. It will make my task so much easier. In her ears she could hear the pounding of her pulse. I might be acting like a confident professional to the others, but this is, after all, my first real mission. Up to now everything, even if I might have died while I did it, has been training or tests. May Allah, the Strong, be with me. Here it seems that many people, not just my companions, but also the slaves and perhaps others as well, are depending on my actions. It is exciting, but I am feeling nervous. At least my teachers would approve of this task. These people we are attacking are not only heathen, or pagan, or worse, but are also outlaws based near the Caliphate. They need to be quickly brought to Allah’s Judgement, praised be his Justice. As far as I am concerned, and I am sure the imams will agree, this means me. Tonight I don’t need a written fatwa to prompt me to act as I wished.
The guard crossed to Ayesha’s side of the street to begin checking that side. They are wearing mail. I know what I need to do. At least it is mail. It is so much harder to despatch someone quietly if they are wearing a plate torso. She put her fighting dagger away, but kept her pesh-kabz—her stabbing blade—in an underhand grip in her right hand. When the guard was checking the side of a building, she moved quickly towards the building two up from her. She had gained cover before the guard re-appeared. It is a woman, not a man, who I will first kill as I was trained. Astrid mentioned that at least one of the brigands is female and apparently she likes giving pain to at least one Caliphate slave. That confirms what I was thinking before. It can be a pleasure doing business and this perverted and evil woman will die as easily as any man. Unconsciously she was smiling.
Ayesha saw the guard check the lock and move down the side of a building. From the smell it might be a smithy. Ayesha was in the next alleyway. The soft footfalls of the guard became audible. Not noisy, but not trying for stealth either. This is a person who has walked many guard rounds on quiet nights. She is confident of the safety of her village and careless in small things. She is further betrayed by the inevitable soft metallic rustling of chain. It made it easier to tell where she was, whereas I move quietly in my soft boots and supple leather. Ayesha drew further back against the wall at the corner so that she would be passed by as the woman turned in. A pottery downpipe from the roof provided that extra bit of shadow to hide in. She heard a cough, the bandit woman was clearing her throat, and a spitting noise as the steps approached. The woman started a low humming. Did she have to make it so easy? The lane darkened as the guard turned in. I am a part of the wall and just a shadow in the night. In the darker lane the guard is not seeing me, but then, most people do not notice what they are not expecting.
The guard passed and Ayesha slipped behind her, matching her pace as she reached up to the taller woman with her left hand. Allah, the Just, be with me. She quickly covered the guard’s mouth with the hand while, at the same time, she drove the pesh-kabz deep into the woman’s vitals. The blade slipped neatly between the rings, using its shape to open them up and allow her to go deeper into the torso. The guard tried to scream and turn around, hands grabbing for something but Ayesha’s grip was firm and her training good. After she had driven the blade home she rotated the point widely so that it cut a cone through the liver and a kidney before pulling it out and plunging it into the other side of the body to take the spleen and another kidney. The guard’s attempts to get free quickly grew feebler as Ayesha held on and rapid and massive internal bleeding took its inevitable toll. She was soon slipping into unconsciousness. Eventually Ayesha removed her blade and, reaching up, plunged it again into the body, this time at the base of the skull into the spine and through into the brain. The dying woman shuddered once and finally died and Ayesha had to scramble to keep her from making a noise as she fell.
Ayesha let her down and wiped some blood from her hand onto a sleeve before feeling at her victim’s belt. There is a steel ring there with keys hanging from it. She removed this, wrapping it in cloth so the keys would not make noise, and placed it in a pouch in her belt. Moving to the mouth of the lane she looked around. No one is in sight. Ayesha moved out into the street and waved. It seemed forever, but was probably only a few heartbeats before Astrid eventually stepped out of the shadow and waved back. She waited until she saw the rope appear and the first of the group coming down before she moved off, again in the shadows and quietly, to her next target—the guardhouse.
When she arrived she tried the door. It is locked. They have some caution at least. She quietly removed the keys from her pouch. The lock opened on the third key that she tried. Cautiously she opened the door. They had a well-oiled and silent lock on the door, which opened with an almost inaudible noise of well-tended hinges. Looking inside she saw that a globe hanging from the ceiling lit the room. The room had cases of weapons, barrels of arrows, a desk and some benches and chairs just like any other guardroom. A doorway was on the other side. She re-locked the door, being careful to make no noise and leaving the keys in the lock. Now no one from outside will interfere and any noise from there will be muted. Cautiously and quietly she moved to the doorway and looked through. There was another door on the other side of the room and two bunks, one above the other, on each side. Both bottom levels were occupied. That is considerate of them. There was another globe above her head, but it had a night cover over it, something metal and pierced with holes that muted its light so that it did not shine too brightly into the eyes of someone trying to get to sleep. Patterns of li
ght like little stars are playing on the walls and roof as the light faintly stirred with the breeze from my opening the door.
The guard on the left was lying on his side with his back to her. He is snoring. The one on her right was lying on his—or her, she wasn’t sure which—back. Ayesha drew back and exchanged her pesh-kabz for a kindjal—a broad-bladed, parallel-sided heavy dagger with a short point. It was long for a knife and almost a shortsword. She held this underhand in her left hand and moved towards the sleeper on her right. Simultaneously she laid her right hand hard over her victim’s mouth while she drove the kindjal into her head. It is the second woman. A thrust through the nasal gap and straight through the base of her brain severed her spine. Her eyes are staring at me…it is just a dying reflex… her mouth is trying to scream or bite me…I must stifle any possible noise. The body quickly spasmed as the stench of opened bowels filled the room. At least I was told about that. Phew. Heels briefly kicked the bed and one leg ended on the floor. She quickly looked around. The other sleeper is still snoring on. She felt no pity for the guard, merely wiping the kindjal on the bed and replacing it in its sheath before drawing an old-fashioned fighting knife—a kukri—from the back of her belt. This is ideal for the task at hand, but I was taught that you rarely get to use it this way. She took it into her hand in an underhand grip and drew her pesh-kabz in her left hand in an overhand stabbing grip. This sleeper not only snores, but he is untidy. The floor near his bunk is littered with boots, belt, pouches and weapons, all lying wherever they have been dropped. I have to tread carefully. When she was in place beside him both hands moved as one as she stood above the sleeper like an avenging angel. She plunged the pesh-kabz down through the temple into the brain while the heavy bladed kukri she swung in a chopping motion at the neck like a butcher slaughtering a goat. The neck was nearly severed. This time, as he died, the sleeper tried to make a noise. What should have been a truncated scream emerged from the windpipe as a wet and burbling moan. His body tried to reach up before slumping back on the bunk in death. Blood fountained out onto the pillow as the heart pumped its last and Ayesha had to step back quickly to avoid getting splashed.
Engaging Evil (Warriors of Vhast Book 2) Page 7