Western Shore ac-3

by Juliet E. McKenna

  'They certainly seemed to understand the plan quickly enough.' Risala sighed.

  'If I took their meaning aright, they would expect the cave dwellers to cross the river and kill the women and children here while the warriors are away.' Kheda didn't hide his distaste.

  'Do you think they'll be able to defend this place?' Risala looked across to the older men and half-grown boys gripping battered spears and those leather-cased bows that Kheda had rejected as too untrustworthy.

  'If we do our job properly, they shouldn't have to. Besides, the women are ready to run and hide in the forest again.' Kheda rubbed the pale grease up under the sleeve of his tunic. 'I hope this stuff washes off.'

  Risala surprised him with a faint grin. 'There's soap on the Zaise?

  'And clean clothes,' Kheda agreed fervently. He rose to his feet, holding out a hand to Risala. 'Be careful. I shall want you alive to wash my back for me.'

  'You're the one who needs to be careful,' she said tartly as she took his hand and stood. 'I'll be back well beyond the wildest slingshot with our valiant wizards.'

  Which must surely be the safest place for you, even if that black dragon shows itself.

  'Try to make Naldeth think twice before he does anything too impulsive.' Kheda raised a hand to beckon to the mages. All the wild warriors watched alertly as the two fair-skinned wizards walked across the enclosure.

  'Have you any notion where the black dragon might be?' Kheda asked them without preamble.

  'No.' Naldeth was still looking mutinous, his bloodshot gaze more off-putting than ever.

  'Let's hope it's gone looking for easier meat.' Kheda tried for a grin.

  'I wouldn't count on it,' Velindre said darkly.

  Kheda decided not to pursue that. 'If this all goes horribly wrong, do your best to get yourselves away through magic or whatever other means you can, all three of you. If we get separated, you can scry for me later as long as you're sure it's quite safe to use a spell. Otherwise, hide for a day or so in the cave with the Zaise, but only as long as it's safe to do so. That's where I'll make for, if I possibly can.' He looked at each of them. 'If I don't turn up, set sail for home.'

  'If we can't devise any means to find you,' the mage-woman said mildly.

  / suppose that's as close as I'll get to agreement. And I'll just have to trust you can keep your hoy there in hand.

  'Then let's be about it.' Settling his sword and hacking blade securely in his twin-looped belt, Kheda walked away.

  The savage warriors instantly gathered around him, more than one glancing enviously at the warlord's weapons. Those who'd shown most aptitude over the day or so's practice with the crude bows held them proudly, quivers of new arrows slung over their shoulders. The rest held spears and clubs, each with at least two weapons, sometimes more, a bantering edge to their incomprehensible words. Some men twirled slings idly in experienced hands, bags of pebbles tied at their waists. All were deferring to the scarred spearman, both newcomers and those who'd originally dwelt in the village.

  Where did you go, my scarred friend, while your fellow hunters were making their bows and learning to shoot them? Were you recruiting all these others?

  Kheda dismissed the irrelevance as they headed out of the enclosure. The warlord set as rapid a pace as he dared in the heat. The wild men matched him easily. As they passed through gaps in the spiny barrier, the older men left on guard called out encouragement before dragging the vicious thorns back together. The women waited in a silent group around the broad hearth, most faces impassive, a few betraying apprehension. An excited child earned an unduly sharp scolding from a tense grandmother. Once beyond the barricade, the savages spread out to negotiate the thistly plants and the thickets of spiny fingers.

  The mages followed a few paces behind Kheda, Risala at his side for the moment. He glanced at her as they reached the open expanse dotted with the swollen barrel

  trees with their ridiculous crowns of inadequate branches. 'You don't have to come,' he said quietly.

  'Who's going to keep those two barbarians honest if

  I don't?' She looked ahead, jaw resolutely set. 'Besides, I

  won't risk not knowing what's happened to you. It's not as if there are any omens as to the possible outcome.'

  Kheda had found no answer to that by the time they reached the edge of the steep slope down to the river valley. He searched the gently waving fronds of sparse

  grass for any sign of movement. A dark shape appeared and his hand went to his quiver. The scarred spearman raised a hand and called out softly. An answer came from the indistinct figure and Kheda saw all the spearmen nod to each other, reassured. A handful of men emerged from the tall grass and beckoned the rest down the slope, their faces eager. As the main contingent joined them, the scouts reached for gourds of the pale-yellowish grease, smearing themselves as the whole force hurried on through the thick tussocks.

  'If they were scouting, why didn't they colour themselves earlier?' wondered Risala.

  'Perhaps doing so is some declaration of war,' Kheda suggested.

  'Perhaps it's some kind of talisman.' Risala looked down at the clay cracking on the dry skin of her hands. 'Their wizards painted themselves after all.'

  'And most of those who attacked Chazen.' Kheda shook his head. 'There's no point in guessing. We still know nothing of their customs.'

  Crossing the grasslands, Kheda's view shrank to a few paces ahead and to either side. Looking back, he tried to determine if the wizards were still together. They were but he soon lost sight of them. Trying to keep track of the disparate groups of spearmen making their way through the grasses also proved impossible. The wild men were

  practised at moving with minimal sound or disturbance to the tall tussocks. Only the scarred spearman stayed close. He urged Kheda on with a jerk of his head, dark eyes as hard as the sharpened black stones that studded the club he carried.

  Kheda tried to judge their speed to measure their progress across the plain. The thinning grasses as they arrived at the river bank still took him by surprise. He looked up and down the river to see Naldeth some distance upstream peering through the sparser concealment. The mage jumped down onto the muddy margin of the sluggish water and rapidly summoned up a walkway from the depths. The wild men pressed forward to run across this path and hide themselves once again in the grasses on the far northern side. Kheda scanned the sky apprehensively.

  'They're splitting up,' Risala observed.

  'It seems we did all understand the map I drew earlier.' Grim satisfaction took the edge off Kheda's trepidation.

  The scarred spearman jumped down to the mud and Kheda followed, Risala close behind. The undercut edge of the far bank was already broken down by the hands and feet of the men gone before them. Kheda stood tall to try to make out the cave-dwellers' rocky outcrop. It was still hidden among the fringe of forest beyond the sere plain. The scarred spearman clucked his tongue with irritation and forced the warlord down with an unforgiving hand. Risala was already crouching low. As the yellow grasses filled his vision, a rush of water made Kheda look round. With all the wild warriors safely across the river, Velindre was making her way along the silty path. Naldeth brought up the rear with the muddy waters swirling around his sandalled foot and his steel one as the river reclaimed its course to the sea..

  Kheda took a moment to clasp Risala's hand. 'Stay with them now, please.'

  As she slipped away backwards, the scarred spearman pushed Kheda on. Wild warriors on all sides were running faster now, sacrificing stealth for speed. A dun-coloured bird sprang up from the tussocks with a shrill cry of alarm and a rattle of wings. A horny-backed lizard dashed across Kheda's path, a thick mouthful of grass still clamped in its jaws.

  Lizards that eat grass?

  He had no time to ponder this puzzle as the scarred spearman drove him on with a shove in the small of his back. Kheda sweated uncomfortably beneath the greasy ointment disguising his face. His tunic clung to his back and a cloud of tiny
black flies clustered around his head. The scarred spearman drew level with the warlord, heedless of the insects crawling around his own eyes and nose. He was intent on the trackless grasses ahead. Kheda noted that the vicious grass blades were scraping at the grease coating his arms and legs but didn't appear to be drawing blood.

  So it's protection in more ways than one.

  Grateful nevertheless for his cotton tunic and trousers, Kheda pressed on, trying not to slow as the thick vegetation snagged his bow and quiver. Realising the ground was starting to slope gradually upwards, he risked standing a little straighter every few paces to search the rising forest ahead. Soon he could make out individual twisted nut trees and the pale-green sprawls of the fat spiny plants. The tussocks gradually thinned and disappeared, and they had reached the open space separating the grassland from the trees.

  The wild men were running flat out, intent on their destination. Kheda spotted a contingent who had cut a diagonal path veering eastwards through the grasses to emerge some way ahead, deeper inland. The scarred spearman pushed past Kheda and the warlord followed,

  the breath pounding in his chest. As he ran, Kheda pressed one hand to the neck of his quiver, ready to pull out the first envenomed arrow. The rocky outcrop reared up above the treetops. Mouth dry, Kheda scanned the hollows and shadows for any outline of the lurking dragon.

  All you mages have to do is keep the beast off our backs. Then perhaps we can make this a rapid victory with the fewest possible deaths on either side.

  Shouts broke out up ahead, startled and belligerent. Kheda heard the distinctive flick of bowstrings and the churr of inexpertly fletched arrows. Fearsome yells cut through the confusion as the fight spread among the trees. Slowing to a walk, Kheda carefully drew one poisoned arrow from his quiver. Wild men rushed past him, intent on joining the battle. Nocking his shaft, Kheda held the bow low, the lethal arrowhead angled away from himself. The scarred spearman looked back over his shoulder, grunting a clear question.

  'Go on.' Kheda conveyed his meaning with a jerk of his head. The wild warrior didn't hesitate, hefting his spear up over one shoulder. The warlord took a moment to get his bearings and edged along the shallow slope. As the trees thinned, he saw the open space in front of the bottommost caves. The cave dwellers were mostly lurking in the shadows. A few were crouching behind the barricade of thorny branches they were used to defending from the predatory birds.

  So much for drawing the enemy out into the open and scattering them with an arrow storm. Will Naldeth believe me when I tell him every Aldabreshin warlord knows that plans are generally the earliest casualties in any battle?

  Arrows hissed through the air and clattered against the stone. Few found targets but the shock of such an unexpected attack clearly disconcerted the cave dwellers. Those in the shadows drew further back and those trapped

  behind the thorn barrier cowered lower. The village spearmen shouted and jeered triumphantly.

  Those bows give our side confidence. That'1l count for something. If I can pick off anyone who looks like a cave-dweller leader, that'll count for more.

  Looking carefully, Kheda soon identified a man among those hiding behind the thorn barricade who was urging his companions back in the caves to action. The savage half-stood and shouted, waving his spear. Cave dwellers clutched spears and clubs and edged forward into the sunlight. Before Kheda could get a clear shot at the shouting man, the newly fledged archers waiting in the tree line loosed another flurry of reckless arrows.

  The shouting man ducked hastily back down and the would-be relief force retreated back into the shadows. Taunts from the trees accompanied a second cascade of arrows, this time directed at the thorn barrier. The twisted branches brushed most of the missiles aside but some penetrated to provoke cries of pain. Angry yelling from the heights of the rocky outcrop drowned out a shouted exchange between those pinned behind the outer defences and whoever might be commanding the frustrated warriors in the caves.

  Kheda watched intently, his poisoned arrow at the ready. Slingstones came raining down from the uppermost level of caves. The vicious hail tore at leaves and twigs, bouncing off branches and tree trunks. The defenders surged out of the lowest entrances, hurling spears at the attackers, who were now hastily retreating back among the trees.

  Kheda saw that some of those fleeing for the safety of the caves were wounded, arms and legs pierced by the stone-tipped arrows. Few of the village archers were shooting with overmuch accuracy but with so many arrows in the air, some had inevitably struck unprotected flesh.

  Two men dragged a third towards shelter who had a shaft wedged deep in his back. More arrows pursued them despite the best efforts of the slingshots in the heights. One man fell crazed with pain as he ripped an arrow from his thigh. He stared numbly as his life's blood gushed scarlet from the ragged wound and then collapsed to lie limp and still.

  As a fresh shower of arrows clattered ineffectively against the rock face, Kheda let his white-fletched arrow fly. The apparent leader of the men behind the barricade had drifted too far from the safety of the thorns. The inadequacies of the makeshift bow meant that Kheda didn't strike the man in the chest as he had hoped. Instead, the stone head penetrated deep in his belly. The cave dweller looked down, face twisted with rage. Then the pain struck him and he gasped. Kheda waited, his heart pounding. The cave dweller fell to his knees, hands hovering around the arrow. Men risked themselves to drag him back behind the thorn barricade. The cave dweller was past caring, his blank eyes staring up at the sky as his companions seized his nerveless hands, his slack legs sliding through the dust.

  Village spearmen shouted exultantly from the edge of the trees, running forward, clubs raised in one hand as they flung their spears with the other. The cave dwellers defending the thorn barricade rose up to meet them, throwing their own shafts of fire-hardened wood. The slings in the uppermost caves sent down more lethal stones.

  A flash of white feather told Kheda that Risala had seen some incautiously exposed foe and, sure enough, a moment later a corpse plummeted from the heights. He tried to find her along the margin of the forest. A haze of mage-light revealed her standing beside Naldeth and Velindre, the wizardry lurid in the shadows of the trees. A low

  growling made the air shudder. As one man, the village spearmen skidded to a halt and scrambled backwards for the illusory shelter of the trees.

  The dragon.

  Kheda felt a tremor in the ground beneath his feet. Mouth dry, he looked up as stones and dust began to fall from the top of the outcrop. He searched the broken edge for the dragon drawing itself out of the rocks. There was nothing there — or at least no sign of the black dragon's magic. The noise grew louder and men in the heights began to scream as the walls and floors of the caves broke apart beneath their feet. Men and women who had thought themselves safe in the lower levels began to cry out as the disintegration spread, sending cascades of shattered stone falling all around them.

  The shards didn't drop to smash on the hard ground or break the limbs and skulls of the hapless defenders beneath. Kheda saw stones as big as his hand floating down like leaves slipping from trees in the dry season. Men and women from the heights were falling, but not to their deaths. Buoyed on clouds of dust with breezes snatching away their despairing cries, they tumbled slowly through the air, arms and legs flailing. They landed, some harder than others, within the thorny barricade where they cowered sobbing or simply lay frozen with fear.

  Stones continued to rain down from the crumbling cliff. Piling in drifts like storm-driven leaves, they formed thick mounds blocking the mouths of the lowest caves. Panic-stricken shouts could be heard within, muffled as the walls grew higher.

  Initially as startled as their foes, the village spearmen soon recovered themselves. Shouting exultantly, they emerged from the trees where they had so rapidly retreated, brandishing their weapons. Bolder than the rest, the scarred spearman hurled his spear at a cave dweller

  who had just staggered to his feet
. A coil of wavering dust coalesced into a solid arm and plucked the weapon out of the air. Tightening around the wood, it snapped it into useless splinters. The sharp crack echoed back from the broken cliff face, the only sound in the stunned silence.

  Naldeth and Velindre walked forward. Kheda returned the white-fletched arrow he was holding to his quiver and went to join them. No one else moved. Risala stayed standing prudently behind one of the thicker twisted nut trees. Slinging his bow over one shoulder, Kheda drew his sword and summoned up his most authoritative, intimidating scowl for the scarred spearman, who looked inclined to test the dusty magic with a second spear.

  He looked from Naldeth to Velindre. 'What now?' Kheda asked caustically.

  Amusement lifted one corner of the magewoman's mouth. 'What do you propose?'

  The young mage's face hardened with defiance. 'We won't countenance a slaughter.'

  'So I see.' Kheda glanced upwards. 'Can we expect a dragon to come and argue that point?'

  'No,' Velindre assured him seriously. 'We wouldn't have risked this if there was the slightest hint of a beast anywhere close.'

  'I suppose that's one way to knock the fight out of them.' Risala approached the three of them. Wild men and women watched her, the village spearmen and the stunned cave dwellers alike all waiting, wide-eyed. 'Some advance warning would have been welcome.'

  'I felt there had been enough disagreement between us over these last few days,' Velindre said composedly.

  Risala waved her words away. 'How are you planning to deal with the tree dwellers, so we can get to the Zaise?'

  'How do you propose to avoid a massacre starting as soon as we leave here?' Kheda looked around to see the

  frustrated violence on the village warriors' faces. 'All these cave dwellers will most likely die now. Some might have escaped to hide in the forest in the confusion of the battle I was expecting to fight.'