by John Booth
If the two men saw a target at the same time and fired together, he could be on them before they could reload. Both were wearing swords, but Daniel was unconcerned about it. He was well aware of his skill with a sword and doubted that these two had any training to speak of.
Gef was a tall, wiry sour faced man who was having a very bad day. He looked at his brother Tom and grimaced in disgust. Killing these traders and robbing them should have only taken a few minutes. If the new boy, Bril hadn’t missed his target, the traders might have surrendered. Now they were daring to shoot back. He only had six bolts left and he knew his brother had four. They had to make those shots count.
Tom was as frustrated as his brother. He had warned Gef that Bril was too young and that there were too many of the damned traders. They had already killed three of them and there were still nine left. This was the biggest group Tom had ever seen and he was sure that at least three of them were mercenaries. Well two of them, as he had killed one. Gef should have left them alone and never started this, but they were committed now, they had to kill them all.
Bril screamed in mortal agony from the other side of the ridge. It was a sound no one could have ignored. Daniel saw that Jalia had broken cover and ran towards the sound. The two robbers he was watching turned and saw her. They moved their crossbows to aim at her.
Daniel stood and shouted as he threw his sword. Sword throwing is a foolish thing to do, as they move slowly in the air and are easily deflected. But Daniel’s purpose was to put the men off their aim. He ran towards them, still screaming like a berserker.
Daniel’s shouting was so loud that Tom and Gef turned towards him, as did Torin at the other end of the ridge. All three men fired their crossbows at Daniel and all the bolts went wide.
Tom saw Daniel’s sword spinning towards him and foolishly put up his arm to deflect the blade. The sword sliced through the flesh on the top of his arm before lodging in his chest. Tom stared stupidly at the sword, one arm pinned to his chest by the sleeve of his shirt.
Gef couldn’t spare the time to see if Daniel’s sword had hit his brother. He threw his crossbow at Daniel, hitting him on the chest. Daniel’s momentum was such that he kept coming though the blow knocked the wind from him.
Gef grinned as he saw Daniel take the blow and he pulled his sword. He didn’t know where Daniel had come from, but it hardly mattered, he was going to be dead in just a few seconds. He swung his sword around in a roundhouse movement, planning to cut Daniel in half with its blade.
Daniel dived at Gef’s legs, knocking the man over and driving the sword from his hand. Tom looked on as his brother fought with Daniel, still wide eyed and frozen in shock. Though the sword had cut both his arm and chest, it had not struck deep enough to kill him. But, as yet, he was unable to move.
Rolling over, Daniel staggered to his feet a little dizzily. Though he was unaware of it, Torin, over on the other side of the ridge, had reloaded his crossbow and was taking careful aim at Daniel’s chest. His finger caressed the trigger as Jalia’s sword sliced off his head. Torin’s head toppled and hit the crossbow, knocking its aim down as his finger, operating on a message from a now unconnected brain, pulled the trigger. His bolt bounced on the ridge, ending up alongside the trader’s bodies on the stones below.
Gef scrambled across the rocks for his sword, which slid down the slope. Daniel turned towards Tom and saw his sword, conveniently sticking out for.
“Thanks for looking after it for me,” he said cheerfully to the supine robber as he pulled the sword free.
Jalia saw Daniel pluck his sword from Tom’s chest and move down the slope to face Gef. She kicked the headless body of Torin down the slope and sat to watch. She always enjoyed watching Daniel sword fight; it was like watching poetry in motion.
Tom used his left hand to tie a cloth around the wound in his right arm. He couldn’t see his brother or Daniel from where he lay, but the pain was more manageable once the wound was bound. His crossbow sat only a few inches from his hand. Tom endured the pain in his chest and arm as he reached out and pulled the crossbow towards him.
Gef walked warily backwards down the slope, forcing Daniel to come after him and risk slipping on the loose stones. Gef thought his brother must be dead as there had been no sign of him. However, as far as Gef was concerned it made little difference, one way or the other, as he was determined to kill Daniel on his own.
If he couldn’t win the fight, he would much rather take the quick death of a sword over the lingering choking of a hanging. He had seen a few of his friends die that way, dancing on the end of a rope and voiding their bowels as the life was squeezed out of them.
Jalia settled into a comfortable position. Torin’s crossbow was to her left as was one of his spare crossbow bolts. Jalia didn’t believe in omens but she did not ignore the practical ones when she saw one. She lifted up the crossbow and tilted it so that most of Torin’s blood ran from it. She wound its handle and placed the bolt on the firing groove before dropping the bow across her lap. It was ready, just in case.
The traders below poked their heads cautiously around the stone blocks they had been hiding behind and stared at Jalia, trying to decide if she was a friend or foe. She gave them a cheery wave. The young man with the hunting bow came out first. He was tall and athletic looking and Jalia thought it a shame he was a fool.
An arrow was cocked on his bow as he looked around suspiciously. He saw Daniel and Gef squaring up to fight and looked towards Jalia who shook her head to let him know that he should stay out of the fight. He got the message, but kept his arrow on his unbent bow, ready to shoot quickly, if need be.
Tom sweated and moaned to himself as he primed his crossbow. The wound in his chest spilt more blood as he strained his muscles winding the handle. The pain was close to unbearable. Tom believed his wounds to be fatal and the only thought in his mind was to take revenge on the bastard who had done this to him.
Gef made a halfhearted strike at Daniel that Daniel pushed away easily with his blade. Daniel knew that fancy footwork was next to impossible on a surface that threatened to slide away with every step he took. Gef walked back onto relatively stable ground and tried to keep Daniel standing on the scree covered slope where he was most vulnerable.
Jalia saw Daniel’s predicament and wondered how he was going to deal with it. She didn’t consider taking out Gef with the crossbow, even though it would have been an easy shot. She killed her robbers without any help and it was up to Daniel to finish his targets.
Gef swung his sword at Daniel’s legs and Daniel overbalanced as he brought his sword down in a swift parry. He fell inwards toward the cliff and scuffed his hand on the loose stones. Grabbing a handful of the stones he threw them into Gef’s face. The reaction dropped Daniel against the stones and he rolled over, bringing his sword around in a roundhouse swing across Gef’s legs.
Two of the stones caught Gef in the face despite him bringing his sword arm up to protect his eyes. He saw Daniel’s continued movements as a blur and tried to step back to avoid the inevitable blow. A boulder behind him blocked his attempt to get clear and Daniel’s sword sliced into his left calf.
Gef felt a wave of pain run up his leg and he staggered as the leg lost all strength. He grunted in pain as he swung his arm to send his sword inelegantly down on where Daniel had been seconds before. Unfortunately for Gef, Daniel continued to roll down the slope and was now a good six feet away. Gef’s sword struck the loose scree with bone numbing force, the shuddering vibrations of its impact running up the sword, causing him to drop it.
Daniel got slowly to his feet. Blood poured out of Gef’s leg and it was clear the fight was over. He doubted Gef would surrender, but Daniel decided to give him the chance to do so.
Tom heard his brother’s cry of pain and he knew his brother had lost his fight. The thought of that was enough to give him the strength to stand up. His chest was wracked with pain as he staggered to his feet. Tom saw his brother leaning against a boulder wi
th blood pouring from a leg wound. If it hadn’t been for the boulder propping him up, Gef would certainly be on the ground. Daniel had his back to Tom and was unaware he was there.
Gef stared up at his brother and saw the wound in his brother’s chest and the blood dripping from his right hand. He saw the crossbow Tom lifted to a firing position. The bastard who had killed them was going to die and that was going to make everything all right. He gave his brother a wink and slowly raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, giving Tom time to take careful aim.
Tom knew he would only get one shot as he raised his crossbow. He lined his aim on Daniel’s back and took a step forward to get a better firing position.
It was only as he stepped forward that Jalia saw him and the danger he represented. She rose to her feet, the crossbow she held swinging into position. She fired from the hip in one fluid motion.
Tonas Mallow was in a bit of a quandary. Alone of the traders, he was skilled with a hunting bow. His father, Hadon, had pushed him forward while they were trapped behind the rocks, telling his son he should save them with his shooting skills. The trouble was that in a bow versus crossbow fight at short range, it is always the man with the crossbow who wins, and Tonas knew that all too well. To please his father, he made several forays out of the rocks and fired off quick shots that he knew had no chance of hitting anyone.
A huntsman needs to be standing with his feet placed correctly and his muscles relaxed to be able to bring his bow smoothly up into a firing position, bending the wood of the bow smoothly before launching his arrow. Since the amazing young woman killed the two robbers on their left, he had been able to assume just such a position. He knew he could kill the remaining robber easily, but the woman had warned him off. It seemed that she preferred to watch her man fight a risky battle on a treacherous slope.
To Tonas’s astonishment, Daniel proved more than capable of taking care of himself. The skill with which he turned the disadvantage of the scree into a weapon was the sort of thing Tonas thought songs should be written about. He relaxed as he saw the robber put his hands up in surrender. Then he saw Tom step forward with a crossbow in his hands.
Without thinking about it, Tonas brought his bow up and fired an arrow at Tom.
Jalia’s bolt flew through the air towards its target. A crossbow bolt is much faster than an arrow from a bow and as a consequence, it flies in almost a straight line. It drove into Tom’s right eye with sufficient force to smash through the back of his skull on its way out. Tom staggered and his finger convulsively jerked at the trigger.
Tonas’s arrow, aimed at Tom’s chest, struck the crossbow and pushed it aside as the bolt was in the process of leaving. It moved the bolt’s point of aim for the bolt to fly past Daniel’s shoulder and bury itself into Gef’s groin.
Gef stared at his brother in horror. He was unaware of where the bolt had hit for almost three seconds as he watched the back of his brother’s head explode and his body fall to the ground. Then the pain of the bolt enveloped him and he slipped down the boulder into a kneeling position, eyes wide and hands clutching at his ruined genitals. He died in that position a few seconds later.
“You never leave a wounded enemy!” Jalia screamed at Daniel. He had nearly died through his stupidity and Jalia was furious.
Daniel spun to face her and then pointed to the right of where she was standing. Jalia spun around to see Bril staggering towards her, his hands holding his guts in place.
Bril recovered consciousness to endless agony, Jalia having pulled the knife from his guts before running towards Torin.
The young man cried silently for several minutes, tears washing down his face. It did not help.
Bril knew he was dying, but he found it was taking far too long. He managed to stagger to his feet, clutching at his guts as he rose. He heard Jalia’s scream and walked towards her voice. He hoped the pain would be over sooner that way.
Jalia pulled her sword and walked to Bril. The young man was hardly a threat as he could barely walk and was holding his wound. Jalia kept her sword down as they walked to within a few feet of each other.
“Please,” Bril gasped. “It hurts so much.”
Jalia stabbed Bril through the heart, turning her blade horizontal so it slid between the young man’s ribs like a knife through butter.
Bril smiled in gratitude as he died.
Up at the top of the slope, on the trail she had followed earlier, Hala appeared on Blaze, with Swift and Jet held by their reins on either side of her mount.
“You were taking ages and I’ve missed all the action,” Hala complained.
“I’m definitely cutting a switch,” Jalia muttered.
17. A Matter of Donkeys
Hadon Mallow watched the two young strangers with deep suspicion. People did not arrive from out of nowhere to save the day. In his opinion, they must be after something. However, the important question was what.
Hadon was forty eight years old, stout rather than fat with a chubby face framed by short curly hair that had faded from black to grey in the last couple of years. He still felt young or he would never have started this dangerous mission.
The leader of the trading party heading for Slarn, he was beginning to regret it. With the Mine Association’s decline, he looked around for new markets and this deal with Slarn had looked like a wonderful opportunity. He was no longer so sure.
He gasped along with the others in his party when the robber appeared with a loaded crossbow. Alone of his party, he was slightly disappointed when his son and the strange woman on the ridge stopped him from killing Daniel. Hadon was sure his group could see off a woman if they had to. She was little more than a girl, from what he could see,
The party had swung around when Daniel pointed at the wounded lad staggering towards Jalia. From where he was standing, it looked as if the youth was begging for his life. When the girl stabbed him through the heart, he had gasped in horror. Hadon noted that neither of his surviving mercenaries looked the slightest bit put out by her actions. Jalia was starting to look worse than the robbers.
Then a child appeared on the road, riding a horse that was far too big for her while holding onto two others. Hadon recognized the horses as the ones on sale in Sweetwater. His mercenaries had tried to buy them and been rebuffed because they had nothing to trade. These strangers must have significant wealth if they could afford to ride such fine horses.
Grilt Born watched Jalia kill the boy with narrowed eyes. He was leader of the mercenaries paid to protect the traders. Of course, he reflected wryly, with Hal dead that meant he was leading Tel, who could be nobody’s idea of a force.
Unlike Hadon, Grilt saw that Jalia spared the boy by granting him a quick death. Many he knew would have left the robber to die in agony. Tel, for instance, would have done just that. Hal was Tel’s twin brother and Tel was at that very moment checking his brother’s body for signs of life. A futile exercise, as it was clear the man was dead, but then, in Grilt’s experience, brothers were prone to that sort of thing.
What bothered Grilt was that he thought he recognized the strangers from the fall of Brinan. Grilt, Hal and Tel had been in the pay of the Miners Association and under the command of Marcus al’Tren. When the Association’s gold disappeared from the impregnable vaults of Brinan, the three had narrowly avoided being sent to their death to search the caves.
He had been up on the city wall when a young man with a commanding voice had made it clear they could retreat or die. It had been winter and the man had been wearing a long cloak and fur hat, but he was pretty sure he was looking at the same man for all of that. In that case, it was all too clear who the woman must be.
“You are in for such a switching, Hala,” Jalia told the girl as she reached for the reins of her horse. Hala’s face paled as she saw Jalia meant it. Hala had barely recovered from her last beating and now she was facing punishment again.
“What have I done wrong?” Hala asked, though she was well aware of what the answer
would be.
“Is this waiting where we told you to?” Jalia snapped at her. “Two minutes earlier and you could have been the target of a crossbow bolt. We told you to wait.”
“I was worried,” Hala protested. “You’ve been ages and I thought I’d come and help you. You can’t punish me for that.”
“Wait and see,” Jalia muttered ominously. “Just you wait and see.”
Daniel put his sword away and picked up the nearest crossbow. He didn’t try to prime it, but he did take Gef’s bolts along with the bag the man kept them in. Daniel was furious with himself. It would have taken only two seconds to thrust his sword deeper into Tom before coming after Gef. Then he would have been safe.
Fights often hinge on decisions like that and Daniel knew he had got it completely wrong, as had Jalia earlier. He was starting to wonder if the two of them had become complacent because they were so accustomed to winning. They were vulnerable without the aid of the ring and dagger and they needed to remember it.
He was not surprised when Hala appeared with the horses. He remembered what it was like to be twelve years old. How minutes could seem like hours when you were worried. Jalia would see it differently, he was sure. Daniel was never certain that Jalia had ever been a child. She did things at twelve that a woman twice that age would hesitate to do. And forgiving was definitely not in Jalia’s nature.
As he approached the traders, Daniel began to size them up. The man with the bow had saved his life, though the whole thing had been a bit of luck. However, the man reacted quickly and accurately enough to earn that luck.
Standing beside the bowman was an older man with grey hair and far too much to eat. Daniel assessed the man as the group’s leader. He had the look that comes with exercising power over men. Standing next to him was a guard of some kind. The guard frowned at him, which was never a good sign.