Demontech: Onslaught

by David Sherman

  Haft didn’t hesitate when he saw the Jokapcul. He threw his crossbow to his shoulder and fired his first bolt before even dismounting—Doli screamed as the crossbow string shrieked next to her ear and the quarrel blurred past her eyes. By the time his first quarrel hit its target, Spinner’s first was in the air. They had taken fighting positions behind tree trunks by the time Spinner’s quarrel tumbled a second charging Jokapcul. Within seconds two more Jokapcul fell forward. Fletcher joined them and added shafts from his longbow in raining death into the Jokapcul. Soon there were three broad arrows in flight for every two quarrels. Holes were opening in the ranks of attacking Jokapcul, but the attacking soldiers were so intent on the small knot of men they were charging that they didn’t notice.

  By the time the Jokapcul closed with the Zobra Guards, another squad was down from quarrels and arrows. The six Zobra defenders who could stand fought fiercely, but their swords were too short to penetrate past the pikes borne by many of the Jokapcul. Most of them fell with fresh injuries by the time the Jokapcul officer saw the man immediately in front of him fall, gurgling, pierced through the throat by an arrow that had barely missed the commander’s own neck. Not knowing how strong the force to his rear was, the commander barked out an order, and his subordinate officers screamed it at their men; then the sergeants bellowed out echoes of the officers’ orders. The Jokapcul broke off their attack and fled from the crossbowmen and the archer who were whittling them down. Missiles felled four more before the Jokapcul reached safety in the trees.

  “Mount!” Spinner shouted when the Jokapcul presented no more targets, and he leaped onto the back of the stallion. “To the rose!” He heeled the horse into a gallop and raced to the aid of the Zobran soldiers.

  The others scrambled onto their horses and flew after Spinner. The horses charged toward the stream, dodging and at times leaping over the thirty or more dead and dying Jokapcul who littered the ground in front of the Zobran Guards. Wolf paused twice to rip out the throats of wounded Jokapcul who looked ready to return to the fray.

  Spinner leaped off his horse and began shouting orders even as he took in the number and condition of the Zobrans. All of them now bore wounds, three too badly injured to continue the fight, and two were dead. Spinner tried not to show his dismay when he realized how few there were. It was not the force he had hoped to join up with.

  “Tend the wounded,” he said to the women. Doli and Zweepee immediately turned to the injured men, tearing garments from the dead to use as bandages. Spinner ignored Alyline as she drew her sword and prepared to fight instead of helping with the wounded. He tethered the horses as he continued giving orders to his small force. “Fletcher, ready your bow and watch for the Jokapcul to come again.” Fletcher nocked an arrow and ran forty paces toward where the Jokapcul had disappeared into the trees. Without thinking about whether he would be understood, Spinner said, “Wolf, scout them and give warning when they start to move.” Wolf barked and padded rapidly along the stream before moving away from it in the direction the Jokapcul had gone. “Haft, hold the left flank,” Spinner said, referring to the side closer to the Jokapcul. Haft moved twenty paces to the left and cocked a fresh quarrel into his crossbow. Using hand gestures, Spinner positioned the two Zobran soldiers still able to fight. He turned to the magician.

  “The Frangerians are come?” the magician asked in broken Frangerian.

  Spinner shook his head. “Only us.” Then, “Do you speak Apianghian? Ewsarcan? Bostian?” and a couple more.

  The young magician shook his head at the name of each language, then named the three languages he spoke better than he did Frangerian. Spinner had only a smattering of Zobran and none of the other two—and he didn’t even recognize the name of one of those languages.

  “What do you have that can help us?” Spinner asked in slow Frangerian. In answer, the magician held up both hands; one hand held another phoenix egg, the other an L-shaped object Spinner didn’t recognize.

  “I fight near.” He raised the strange object in one hand and the phoenix egg with the other. He grinned. “We kill many Jokapcul.” As he talked he fed the demon in his handheld spitter.

  Spinner nodded. As inexperienced as the magician’s robe indicated he was, the young fellow couldn’t possibly be as powerful as he seemed to be implying. But if he knew how to use the things he held, he might make the difference between life and death for all of them when the fighting started again. “Stay by me,” Spinner ordered. The magician stretched himself to his greatest height, which was no greater than Spinner’s, and looked down his nose at this stranger who dared give him orders. Before Spinner could demonstrate to the magician who was really in command, the call of a wolf sounded from upstream. Spinner looked toward it and saw Wolf racing toward them. A squad of Jokapcul infantry, blood lust up, ran close behind.

  Almost as soon as Spinner saw the squad, one of them staggered and fell forward; the force of his fall jammed the quarrel that Haft shot him with all the way through his body so that its head stuck up several inches from his back. Spinner threw his crossbow to his shoulder and took aim at the closest Jokapcul, but a thunderclap next to him made him jerk violently and his quarrel flew wide of its mark. A Jokapcul soldier jerked to a stop, staggered a step forward, and fell on his side. No arrow or quarrel protruded from his bloody chest.

  Spinner looked at the magician, who was holding the L-shaped object out at arm’s length. He held it with both hands on its short leg and pointed its long leg at the enemy. The magician muttered something under his breath, and the object bucked violently upward as it discharged another thunderclap. Another Jokapcul staggered and dropped as though poleaxed. Now Spinner knew that it was a small demon spitter; he hadn’t known they came in that small size. An arrow in his side, a fourth Jokapcul toppled—Fletcher had turned and fired a shaft.

  Nearly at Haft’s position, Wolf spun around in mid-bound so he faced the charge when he landed. He took a step backward to kill his momentum, then sprung at the nearest Jokapcul. He eluded the man’s outthrust pike and clamped his jaws on his throat. The man collapsed, his feet briefly drumming the ground as his hands clutched at his throat. Wolf released him and dashed to another enemy, who held up his sword to block a leap at his throat. Wolf darted under the blade and his muzzle slashed under the apron of the man’s metal-studded jerkin. The man screamed and doubled over, clutching at the ragged wound where his manhood had been ripped away.

  Haft rearmed his crossbow and took down another of the attackers.

  Spinner was finally able to get off an aimed shot, and saw his target pitch forward.

  The action was so fast, had taken so little time, that by the time the officer leading this squad saw the weight of his casualties and barked the command to retreat, eight of his ten men were down. He turned to flee, but a second shaft from Fletcher’s longbow killed him. A bolt from the demon spitter brought down another before the lone survivor reached safety out of sight of the defenders.

  But the flanking attack was only a diversion.

  “Here they come!” Fletcher bellowed as the body of the Jokapcul company, sixty or more men, rushed at them from the trees. Swinging swords above their plumed helmets, the junior officers led the charge as the company’s commander ran behind his men, urging them onward, exhorting the sergeants to keep the men running forward.

  Fletcher loosed two arrows into the main force of Jokapcul who were charging toward him, killing one officer and a pike-wielding soldier before leaping to his feet and dashing back to the stream bank.

  The magician’s demon spitter thundered four more times before the demon popped out and demanded, “Veedmee!” The magician rooted inside his robe for food, then continued the fight.

  Fletcher had time to shoot three arrows into the oncoming mass of Jokapcul, Spinner one quarrel. Haft left Wolf to guard against another assault on their flank and got off two shots. Each arrow and quarrel found its mark, as did all of the magician’s shots; deliberately, more of the marks wer
e officers than men. The magician threw the second phoenix egg, and another officer and more than a squad went down or fled when the bird erupted in fire among them.

  Even so, nearly two score Jokapcul closed with five fighting men, one sword-swinging woman, two more women, a magician who wasn’t a fighter, and a wolf.

  Spinner’s twirling and lashing quarterstaff kept the Jokapcul beyond sword’s reach and slammed several of them to the ground with cracked skulls, shattered arms, or broken ribs. Still, two or three pikes managed to reach inside his stroke to cut him.

  Haft’s axe whirred as he lashed out with it, chopping through flesh and splintering thrusting pikes. Bodies piled around him, yet his flesh was gouged as well by seeking blades.

  Fletcher fought like a berserker, flailing about with his sword, while Zweepee pressed her back against his, protecting him from attack from behind with an awkwardly wielded sword, but she wasn’t able to save him from being brought to his knees by a pike-thrust from the side.

  The two Zobran Guards stood over their wounded companions and brought down five of their attackers, but the wounds they’d received earlier were severe enough to weaken them and limit their fighting ability. They went down under the press of too many blades slashing and jabbing at them.

  The Golden Girl fought with a skill no man would have assumed of any woman, much less one so beautiful, and her beauty caused the Jokapcul to hold back momentarily. That misjudgment cost them three lives. In desperation, an officer ordered all but two to back away and go after the men. He left two men to keep her engaged and prevent her from attacking his other men from behind.

  Wolf darted and dashed about, flying over thrusting blades, flashing under defensive ones, crushing throats through helmet flaps, tearing open what groins and lower bellies he could reach under armored aprons.

  Even the magician picked up a sword and swung it about. He was untrained in its use, but his very clumsiness saved him for a time—no one facing him could anticipate what he would do next, and his blade bit several Jokapcul who tried to fight him as though he understood combat. Finally, the side of a blade slammed into his head and knocked him insensate to the ground.

  Doli ducked and weaved among and under the frightened horses, striking out with her knife at any soldier who came too near. The Jokapcul laughed at her, and turned their attention to those fighting with more serious weapons; they assumed they could easily disarm and capture her when the battle was over.

  And soon the battle was nearly over. A blow to the kidney brought Spinner down, and three swords were poised to chop him to bits. Pikemen formed a ring around Haft. Zweepee lay across Fletcher, protecting her downed husband with her own body. Six Jokapcul faced the Golden Girl, her back against a tree, while a seventh crept around the trunk to wrest her sword from her grasp. And two chuckling Jokapcul closed on Doli. Wolf lay on his side, bleeding, his open eyes unfocused and unaware.

  Then a mighty war cry shook the trees, and the thud of hooves caused the earth to tremble as a behemoth of unbelievable size, mounted on a steed the size of an elephant and swinging a sword larger than a man, charged into the melee and crashed through Jokapcul, sending them spinning and tumbling like tenpins. In hardly more time than it takes to tell, the remnants of the Jokapcul company were in full rout. But the giant on the mammoth horse gave chase and rode them down. Those Jokapcul would fight no more.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-THREE

  “Kind of had a feeling I’d see you again,” Silent said when they were settled in a new spot along the stream.

  The onslaught of the giant steppe nomad had destroyed the last remnant of the Jokapcul company of a hundred men that had assaulted the Guards. Only one man of them lived, and he was a prisoner.

  Silent took charge immediately when the battle was over. He set the women to bandaging the wounded. The men were all bloodied in the fight, but not one of the three women was injured. As soon as each man was bandaged, Silent stationed him in a guard post to watch against the approach of another enemy force while the others were tended to. Even the Golden Girl snapped to when Silent gave orders, and she helped tend the wounded. Spinner wondered whether the fight had broken her spirit, or if she found Silent’s size intimidating. He noted with surprise that she ungrudgingly surrendered some of the garments and cloth she had collected to use as bandages. And she saw to Wolf’s wounds.

  As soon as all the men were patched up, Silent mounted them on horses, including the prisoner, whose arms as well as wounds were bound. He scooped up a couple of massive handfuls of Jokapcul weapons and equipment, including the magician’s kit, and tied them onto his huge steed. The women could walk the short distance they were going, he told them, and then led them on foot several hundred paces upstream in the rocky channel. He carried Wolf curled babelike in the crook of his arm.

  “We need the water,” Silent explained about his chosen campsite. “And we need to be upstream of the bodies so they don’t contaminate it for us. And if we don’t get careless, it’ll be harder to track us.”

  The place Silent found, at a sharp bend in the stream, was easily defensible. The bend’s inner side had a hundred or more paces of open ground, so they had clear fields of fire to rain arrows and quarrels onto anyone attacking from that direction. A high, overhanging bank on the outer side of the bend effectively concealed them from anyone passing in that direction. At the foot of the high bank was a shelf of flat ground wide enough to camp on. At the end of the shelf a strong eddy had cut a deep pool they could use for bathing.

  “When we parted, I said we’d meet again,” Haft said.

  “You did,” Silent agreed. He looked at the group, his eyes lingering briefly on the women. “There’s more of you than the last time we met. You’ve even found yourselves a wolf. I imagine you’ve had an adventure or two.”

  “We have, and we’ll tell you about it,” Spinner said. “But first, how did you come to be where you could rescue us? What happened at the border station? Where did you get that horse?” His voice was filled with awe when he asked the last question.

  “Slower,” Silent said, raising a hand against more questions. “That’s many questions, not one. Ask only one at a time. First I’ll tell you what happened after you left.” He cleared his throat and settled back to tell his tale.

  “As soon as the evening meal was finished, just after you left us, Sergeant Pilco had his men finish building what defensive redoubts they could, then stationed his men in them in case the Jokaps decided to attack immediately after they arrived. Except for me. Me, he placed in the trees behind the cottages, where I was out of sight. Well, shortly before dusk, two companies of Jokapcul, one cavalry and one infantry, showed up, just as we’d been warned. That first night they ignored us. But their officers had them hopping to, making camp and burying the men we’d killed.” He chuckled. “They kept their distance from that dead gray tabur, though. As badly chewed as it was by the imps, they still seemed afraid of it.

  “Come dawn, Sergeant Pilco had his squad lined up at the gate.” He shook his head. “I never saw those Skraggers looking so military as that morning. Anyway, I kept out of sight. The Jokap officer in command marched up to the gate big as you please, with an honor guard carrying those flags of theirs that flop down from a cross piece at the top of the flagstaff, and demanded to speak to the Skragish commanding officer. He had a lot of barks and growls in his speech, which made him a little hard to understand, but by and large he spoke passable Skragish. Not as good as mine, of course, but good enough to understand. Sergeant Pilco said he was in command. The Jokap officer looked down his nose like the sergeant was a bug in his soup, which is a neat trick considering that Sergeant Pilco stood head and shoulders taller than that Jokap. The Jokap told Pilco that he would only talk to an officer, not a sergeant, and Pilco told him there was no officer, he was the commander of that post. The Jokap ignored him after that, acted just like he wasn’t there.

  “That plumed dandy looked all around the Skragish side
of the border like he was looking at an overused midden, then said since there was no officer in command there, it looked like he was in charge of the border. Then he turned to his own men and started barking and growling, and a platoon of cavalry formed on the gate while a couple of infantrymen opened it. Sergeant Pilco objected and ordered one of his men to close the gate. The man tried, but before the man got to it, the cavalry platoon came charging through and ran him right down. Killed him.

  “A battle started. I’ll tell you, those Skraggers put up one hellacious fight. I’ve never seen anyone—except my own tribesmen, of course—fight so fierce. But they were outnumbered too bad. I came charging out as soon as it started, but there just wasn’t enough of me to save Sergeant Pilco and his men. I did my best to avenge them, but those Jokaps, they must’ve been scared of me, because every time I got close to any of them, they flat broke and ran away. We wound up with what you might call a stalemate. I stood at the gate keeping most of them on the Bostian side. The ones who’d already crossed over kept their distance from me, but that didn’t stop them finding everybody else who was there and killing them.” He spat in disgust.

  He shook himself and continued. “The Jokaps had a magician with them. He had a demon spitter like as I never saw before. Looked like that one there.” He indicated the one the Zobran magician had used. “That thing punched a hole right through my shield and burned a line on my shoulder.” He held up the shield, on which a patch was evident. He bared his shoulder to show the scar. “That’s when I decided the Skraggers were beyond needing me to avenge them. So I left.”

  “How did you happen to come this way?” Spinner asked.

  “And where’d you find that monster horse?” Haft put in.

  Silent laughed. “You mean that pony? I had him out to pasture when you were there, that’s why you never saw him. For coming here, well, there’s a big world to see out there, and I’ve never been to Zobra.” His eyes twinkled as he added, “I knew that’s where you were headed, and thought I might find you before you found yourselves a ship.