by J. Thorn
Just sixty seconds after Jonah had broken through the wall, barely half a dozen Cygoa were still on their feet, and they were running for the hills. Some of the Elk started to follow them, but Jonah raised his fist. “Leave them be,” he called. “They are broken and won’t be coming back anytime soon. Not after such a loss. And we have a bigger problem.”
The pursuing Elk warriors stopped and turned back, breathing heavily, exhausted. Jonah pointed up the hill to the road, where the approaching Cygoa warband now marched toward them.
“How many of them are there, do you think?” Declan asked between breaths.
Jonah noticed the young warrior had blood on his face and stepped forward to examine the side of his head. There was a cut there, but it wasn’t deep and would heal quickly if it was kept clean.
“You’ll get a nice scar from that,” Jonah said.
Declan laughed.
Good, Jonah thought. It was good to see the boy laughing in such a grim situation. He has spirit.
“Five dozen of them, I reckon,” came the voice of Rav from behind them.
He was near the foot of the bridge, and stopped to look down at the carnage around him. Some of the Elk warriors had already begun collecting shields from the defeated Cygoa.
Jonah turned and looked up the hill.
“We have maybe twenty minutes,” Rav said. “Before they reach us.”
Jonah nodded and sighed. “Then we better move quickly and rebuild this defensive line.”
Chapter 14
Jonah stood behind the rebuilt shield wall and looked toward the trees, disappointed as he saw the backs of Briar and the other hunters running into the woods.
This was never their battle, he thought. They had only lent their bows to the fight because they wished to be on this side of the breach and on their way home.
But we need to hold this bridge, he thought. Watching the approaching Cygoa force heading toward them, he wondered if that was going to be possible.
We must hold. We have to hold it at all costs, so that the clans and countless refugees that will now follow can travel to the west as the weather turns once more .
He would have to fight and destroy this approaching warband. The numbers, he guessed as he turned his gaze away from the rapidly disappearing hunters to the Cygoa, were not equal. They were more in the Cygoa’s favor but not by much.
And you have the defensive position at the foot of the bridge. But how many did I already lose in that charge? He had no time to count.
Sixty Cygoa was what he estimated, and fifty defenders.
Not so good.
The enemy leader was the tall man at the front, Jonah guessed. The man was flanked by a hunchbacked scout. He took a deep breath and fixed his gaze on the leader as the enemy approached. That was his target.
Take the leader down and maybe their resolve will break.
“Be ready,” Jonah called, but he knew the men around him were already waiting, ready to fight once more.
He didn’t need to warn them but felt that some words may encourage. He paced behind the double line of defenders, holding a shield in his off hand, the axe that had been his father’s swinging gently in his right. He glanced around, wanting to know who was where.
Ghafir was behind them, upon the bridge, readying the only bow they still had with them. Declan stood a few feet away on the other flank. The boy nodded. Jonah could see fear in those eyes, but he was brave and took rank alongside the others that now faced the charge. Gunney was next to him, and Rav also. The three of them huddled behind the first row of shields, their weapons ready.
And so, they watched the Cygoa approach, waiting for them to speed up, to burst into a charge, but at a hundred yards the force stopped. Their leader, the tall man, walked forward alone, one hand raised. A parlay to speak to their leader.
“I’m not sure I would go out there,” said Ghafir. “They may be treacherous.”
Jonah shook his head. “The man calls a parlay. I must give him at least a chance.” Jonah pushed his way through the shield wall and began to walk toward the Cygoa leader.
The leader of the Cygoa approached slowly, his hand still raised, and when they got within twenty feet of each other, both stopped.
For a minute the two eyed each other, not speaking, just checking the other leader, weighing up what they both faced. There was barely two feet of distance between them but miles of cultural difference. Jonah remembered that these people had been persecuted by his ancestors, as recently as his own father, just one generation back. These were the Cygoa, and they hated him.
Here they were again, many miles from the north, from where they fled to escape his people. Were they back to take what they perceived was theirs, or had they been forced to come here by other conditions? Either way, they were obviously intent on stopping him and his people from returning home.
“Go,” said Andmar. Just a single word was all he said at first, pointing back the way Jonah had come. When Jonah didn’t answer, the man spoke again. “Take your men and leave, and there need be no more bloodshed here today. We will leave what has already been done as done. No more.”
“I can’t do that,” Jonah said. “I need this bridge so that my people can return home.”
“Is that so?” Andmar said, grinning. It was not a friendly smile. “And where would your home be?”
“Wytheville and the surrounding forests,” said Jonah. He noticed a smirk appear upon the Cygoa leader’s face as the man shook his head.
“Oh, I don’t think you’ll be returning to those lands.”
Jonah frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Those lands are no longer yours. They belong to the Cygoa, now.”
“They belong to the Six Clans,” Jonah demanded.
Andmar nodded. “Maybe they did, but no longer. You will need to find other hunting grounds. Now, I suggest you turn and cross that bridge and stay on that side of the breach.” He gestured toward the mountains in the north, where Briar and the other hunters fled. “They will be found and dealt with.”
Jonah stood staring at the man, knowing now that no matter what he said, this was only going to end one way. They would have to fight, but he had to try one last attempt to stop that from happening.
“And what if we refuse to leave? What if we hold this bridge?”
Andmar smiled again, then lifted his other hand to indicate the wall and those behind him. “Then we will take the bridge by force and do what is necessary to hold it. These are our lands, now. Taken back from the T’yun in the name of the Cygoa. And we must defend them.”
“So be it,” Jonah said, and he turned to walk away.
“It doesn’t have to go this way,” Andmar said.
Jonah stopped and turned his head to one side, listening. “What would you mean by that?”
Andmar didn't move as Jonah turned, and stood still on the spot, confidently not reaching for his weapons. “You return over the bridge and don’t come back. Then you send an emissary to my leader, Morlan, who now resides in Wytheville. You ask to become a Vassal. He may permit your people lands to hunt and settle. I cannot promise this, though.”
Jonah coughed and turned back to face the man. He felt a burning in his cheeks. Anger. He took a deep breath, vowing not to lose his cool during this meeting. “Give us our own lands? They are not yours to give. They were our lands and remain so. Not only will I not let this bridge go, I will also take back every yard of land that was ours, even if that means spilling Cygoa blood every step of the way.” He spat on the ground and turned and paced away, leaving Andmar standing there.
***
Andmar watched the leader of the Elk walk back to his warriors on the bridge and smiled. The man had balls. He had to give him that. He remembered the tales of the T’yun from when he was a child, when he had been told that they would face the remnants of the Cygoa’s hated enemy, but he had wondered if any of the spirit that the T’yun had held would still exist.
As he watched Jonah
reach the line of shields and push his way through, he stopped smiling.
It would seem so, Andmar thought. He turned and headed back to his men. As he approached, the scout came to meet him, fidgeting with an arrow in the sheath that hung at his waist.
“Well?” the man asked at last. “Will they leave?”
“No,” said Andmar, and raised his voice. “They will not leave. Prepare to charge.” He reached to his waist and pulled out the long blade that hung there, scanning the line of defenders down at the foot of the bridge, giving his men a few seconds to prepare themselves.
But then his patience was gone.
“Now,” he snapped, starting forward, not charging quite yet, but waiting, judging the line of his men as they fell in beside him, speeding up as they began to jog down the hill toward the barrier. At twenty paces, they would speed up, finishing the charge at full sprint.
Now we will see who has spirit, thought Andmar.
Chapter 15
“Steady! Hold the line!” Jonah bellowed, as he stood, feet apart, his axe held behind him and the small shield captured from the dead Cygoa raised in front of him. Two lines of his men held shields behind the makeshift barricade and watched as the Cygoa thundered down the road toward them. Only one warrior on his side of the barricade was moving. Just feet away from Jonah, Ghafir was frantically notching arrow after arrow and launching them into the approaching Cygoa. Three of the enemies’ number had already fallen to that bow, the last taking two others down with him as he collapsed beneath their feet.
Jonah squinted over the top of the shield, eyeing the front line of the enemy as they rapidly approached. They had the advantage of speed in the charge, he thought. But at the bottom of the slope there was a steep upward rise of maybe twenty feet before they would reach the bridge, and he knew that would give his men the advantage of height when the two forces clashed.
Spears, he thought. If only they’d had spears. Hand axes and clubs would have to do. At least the enemy were not bowmen. Briar and his hunters could have helped a great deal in this battle. Now he was limited to one, albeit very skilled, bowman: Ghafir.
The leader, whose name Jonah did not know, had begun the charge ahead of his men, but as they had raced down the hill, Jonah saw the tall man swallowed by the surge of warriors. One Cygoa to his left fell to an arrow from Ghafir, and it was enough to slow the leader into caution. Ghafir, it seemed, had the same idea as Jonah.
Seconds later, the mass of Cygoa smashed through the debris barricade and leapt onto the wall of shields. The tall man was no longer visible to Jonah. He knew that was the man he must kill if he hoped to end the battle, quickly. He’d hoped that their leader would charge ahead of his men, as Jonah would have, but the man must be wise to this—and somewhat cowardly—to hide behind rows of his own men. But then, Jonah thought, is that not what you’re doing right now? Hiding behind your own shield wall?
The Cygoa hit the defenses at full running speed, seemingly not slowed by the slope that led up to the bridge. Some of them stumbled over the makeshift barricade and fell, but most on the front line leapt over the pile of wood and tires and collided with the shields, using the weight of their bodies to smash the defenses, just as Jonah had done.
We should have had more bows, he thought as an arrow flew past him and thudded into the wall that lined the bridge. Jonah couldn’t see where the arrows were coming from but was grateful that it was not a deluge. The scout, he thought. The scout is somewhere out there, among the mass, firing up onto the bridge.
Aiming at him.
It seemed that a quick end to the battle was what the Cygoa also wanted, and he was the target.
When the Cygoa began their charge, Jonah noticed that Ghafir had been ready, arrow already notched and waiting for them when they were in range. Then the hunter began his assault, one arrow after the next. By the time the Cygoa hit the shield wall, half a dozen had already fallen to his bow, and Jonah counted only one miss. Now, Ghafir increased the pace of his arrows, firing over the heads of the Elk defenders in abandon, not really aiming for specific targets. There was no longer a mass of bodies in one charge to aim at, but a mass in combat with his own allies.
One of the Cygoa burst through the shield wall, rolling forward and coming back up onto his feet yards from Jonah, but the man was not quick enough to take advantage of the space he’d gained. Jonah leapt toward him and swung his axe just as the man turned to face him. The weapon slammed into the warrior’s neck, almost beheading him.
The pain of the impact shot up Jonah’s arm. Metal armor, he thought. It was something he’d not expected the Cygoa to be wearing underneath all the thick leather and furs. Jonah pulled on the axe, wrenching it from the man’s body and sending a shower of blood into the air. He rushed forward to join the fray, only to be met by yet another Cygoa breaking through the line of defense.
A few feet away, Ghafir targeted a Cygoa for the briefest of moments, and then fired the arrow. It hit home in the center of the man’s chest as he was about to swing a sword down onto the shield of one of the Elk defenders. Chaos had erupted at the bottom of the bridge, with a mass of Cygoa pushing the shield wall back, collapsing it in places. Jonah saw Declan, Rav and Gunney rush forward to close a gap in the shield wall, Rav wildly swinging a thick wooden club at the three enemy warriors who now pushed into the opening.
Jonah tried to close the gap, push the Cygoa back. He killed two of the enemy in quick succession when they tried to rush him as he made his way into the main mass of combatants. Two more Cygoa tried to overpower Rav, but both fell back, the heavy club smacking into both heads in one wide swing.
***
Chaos was what Ghafir saw, but then he saw something else.
Another arrow whizzed past Jonah, just a foot away, and the leader had not noticed it.
The scout, thought Ghafir. He is targeting Jonah. Just as he had tried to target the Cygoa leader whom he still couldn’t locate in the mess in front of him, even with the advantage of height. He scanned the battle. There were too many bodies crammed together now. Any arrows that he launched would be as likely to hit an ally as they would an enemy.
He scanned further back, thinking to attack those at the rear, briefly spotting the Cygoa leader but then losing him as he tried to gain a bead with his arrow.
Then he saw him. The scout. He had been watching the battle, searching among the ranks of the Cygoa for his nemesis, and had not thought to look wide. On the very edge of his vision, Ghafir noticed movement way out along the edge of the breach, nowhere near the fighting. The scout was thirty, maybe forty, feet out, crouched down low by the split and broken remains of a tree that had almost fallen into the darkness of the breach. The hunchback’s bow was drawn, aiming into the battle, and a moment later another arrow flew and hit one of the Elk in the side of the head, downing the man instantly.
Then the scout aimed once more, and Ghafir could see precisely where he was going. The Elk warrior the scout had taken out was the only man directly in the way of a clear shot at Jonah, who still held a position higher on the ground, trying to get further into the battle.
Ghafir spun to face the scout, drew hard on the bow, and fired just before the scout could let loose his arrow. The hunchback was just about to let fly when Ghafir’s arrow took him in the shoulder, sending him crumpling to the floor, his own arrow flying wide.
***
Yards away, not knowing how close he had come to taking an arrow, Jonah watched as his shield wall collapsed. At least a quarter of his men had fallen in the initial charge, some trampled as the Cygoa broke through the shield wall. Then Rav was at his side.
“We can’t hold here,” Rav shouted. “There’s too many.”
Jonah stared at the carnage below, unable to think clearly.
Rav grabbed Jonah across the chest and shook him.
“We have to back up,” Rav shouted, shaking Jonah once more. This seemed to bring Jonah round.
Jonah cursed. He’d managed to take dow
n four of the Cygoa himself, but he hadn’t managed to get down into the battle, and now he saw that Rav was right.
If you don’t retreat now, the Cygoa will roll over your entire warband, he thought. And it will all be over.
As if mirroring his thoughts, Rav shouted once more. “We need to hold on the bridge, not down there!”
Jonah nodded. And, cursing a second time, he took a step back and bellowed the word retreat at the top of his voice. And he cursed himself once more. His father, Judas, would never have retreated. Judas would have stood his ground and fallen.
But you are not your father, Jonah thought. And your people must live.
Chapter 16
Jonah backed along the bridge slowly, holding the shield out in front of him. Chaos unfolded before him as Elk warriors broke away from the Cygoa, some falling before they could make it very far but most breaking contact and getting out of weapon range before the Cygoa could take them down.
And there was Ghafir, now at Jonah’s shoulder, hammering the Cygoa line with a well-aimed arrow every few seconds. Of course, Jonah could see that the man would soon run out of the deadly missiles and the retreating Elk would lose the one thing that was keeping the Cygoa from an all-out chase. Jonah could almost see the thoughts on the faces of the Cygoa warriors at the front. None of them wanted to be the next target, and that was what was keeping them in their own line, forcing them to leave the Elk warriors to escape across the bridge.
As the retreating Elk warriors rushed past him, he spotted Declan and was relieved that the boy still lived. The young warrior raced to Jonah’s side, with half a dozen other Elk warriors close behind, and then turned to hold the retreating line with him as Jonah backed across the bridge. Three of the other Elk took the line with him, but others ran on, panic in their eyes, their only thoughts to escape the chaos and horror of the battle behind them.
Warriors rushed across the bridge, some passing the defense line, some stopping and joining the retreating shield wall. Nearly all were wounded already. Blood in their eyes. Blood on their weapons. Jonah watched helplessly as one of the older warriors, already wounded in multiple places, stumbled toward them, trying to join the rest of the Elk, but fell forward with an axe sticking from his back, thrown from the approaching Cygoa line.