by Alex Janaway
CHAPTER ELEVEN
In the west the sun sank beneath the line of the trees and dusk was swiftly upon them. The Ashkent ambush party, who were strung out in the woods on either side of the trail, had been in position for an hour. They were along the trail that led from the eastern side of the river about two hundred yards from where it entered the clearing and the bridge site. Forge lay in the dense foliage about midway down the line. By his reckoning it was about time for the Harradan to make an appearance. He glanced up and down the track. There was now little to see but gloomy shadow; only memory could tell him where the men had been positioned. What made it harder was that half of the ambush party was made up of the Bantusai contingent, though, it had to be said, they were particularly well equipped for hiding in the dark.
Earlier they had emerged from the woods about the fort like some tribal hunting party. Well, when he came to think of it, that was exactly what they were. They carried simple wooden bows and clutched wooden staffs that had been shaped into spears. Over their shoulders they had made crude packs that held arrows that, because they were featherless, looked more like miniature versions of the spears. Forge figured they were only good for short distances, but fine for the environment they were fighting in. The Bantusai had also brought a couple of extra bundles of shorter spears, which, they explained, were better for throwing like javelins. These they stacked around the walls of the fort for later use.
As well as the Bantusai, he had Lieutenant Locke and twenty of his own men. The younger officer was about midway down the line of troops. Forge had been tempted to allow Locke to command the ambush by himself but had thought better of it. The young man had become sullen and introspective, especially in the last day or so. In all honesty, Forge had started to lose his remaining confidence in the man. He clearly wasn’t happy with the way things were going and whilst he had not voiced his opposition, Forge could see in Locke’s eyes that he didn’t agree with his decision to stay and delay the enemy. Portal’s words also hounded him. Whilst he still didn’t like the man, let alone trust him, Forge couldn’t help but be swayed by them and the evidence of his own eyes. But, ultimately, there wasn’t much Forge could do about it right now except watch Locke. Hopefully the chance to see some action and fight alongside the men would help to spark some fire in the man.
In anticipation of the night fight ahead, the Ashkent soldiers had taken off their armour and had blackened their weapons and exposed skin with a paste made from the burnt wood of their fires. That way there was less chance of being caught out by reflected moonlight. Their light attire was also necessary because the plan required them to be able to make a swift exit back up the track and over the bridge. Sergeant Mac had pointed out to Forge that perhaps he was not in the best condition to be part of this endeavour. Whilst privately he acknowledged that his sergeant was probably right, he had politely told him to piss off. He wanted to be here just to get a look at the Harradan before the siege started. Although now, in the waning light, he had to admit that that was probably a stupid idea. I won’t see a damn thing in a few more minutes anyway.
Juma and his men would provide some illumination provided by the torches they carried. As Juma had informed Forge just before they set out, the Harradan were expecting to meet him on the path. That way they would know the Ashkent men had been dealt with. Juma insisted that this deception must still take place otherwise they would not be able to achieve the surprise they wanted. He also pointed out that the Harradan would have scouts out, and it was vital that they send word back to the main force that all was well.
Juma and two of his men sat in the path about thirty feet to the right of Forge. Next to the Captain lay Holis Lode. He had agreed to come on this sortie before he and his men left the fort for safer places. Along with him were Juggs, Fuzz and Sleeps. Due to the necessity to move fast it was felt that Arald, and certainly Old Hoarty, would never keep up on the race back to the bridge. Neither man had appeared to be particularly put out by this and happily wished their younger companions the best of luck. The civilians weren’t expected to get into the hand-to-hand fighting but rather to use their bows and crossbows to aid the initial launch of the attack.
“Remember, Captain. Stick to the road when you pull back. Wouldn’t want anything nasty happening to you,” Lode whispered.
“Me neither. What about you guys. Where you heading to after this?” Forge asked.
“Well, me n’ the boys reckon we’ll just head north. Hole up for a while then make our way back to Noel’s Gap.”
“But I thought you said it was destroyed?”
“It is. But I don’t think the Shifter fur trade knows that. I don’t think they would have known about the attack. We make them money. I think the Harradan did it off their own backs. Maybe Duke Burns told ‘em to,” he shrugged. “Whatever. I reckon we can go back to fur trapping again. Times should be good with less competition around. It’ll drive the prices up.”
Forge laughed softly. “Business is always business. Drives everything at the end of the day.”
“Got to make a living. I figure we’ve done almost enough to pay them back for what they did.”
“You have. Thanks to you we can even up the toll they took at your town. A few times over if I have anything to do about it. Whatever happens, thanks for helping us out. I’ll say it now because in a little while things will get a bit hectic.”
He reached out to shake Holis’s hand but the younger man didn’t take it.
“I said almost enough, Captain,” Lode smiled. “You was worried about that far bank.”
“Yeah. Those archers got protection. We won’t be able to get any fire down on them.”
“Well, Old Hoarty came up with an idea. We’ll clear out when you get across the bridge but we won’t be far away.”
“No?”
“Nope, we got a ropeway up from the clearing. Got it tied off under the water. I expect that the hairy arse Harradan might have a look up there for a crossing. But they won’t find it. It’s tied just where it starts getting too rough to cross.”
“How’d you get it up there?”
Holis tapped the side of his nose. “Trade secret.”
Forge smiled. He liked this one more and more.
“When they start firing,” Lode continued, “they’ll probably be too busy to notice us. We’ll try and soften the shower a bit. Then pull out. That’s you on your own after that.”
“More than I could have asked for. Thank your mates for me.”
He stuck out his hand again and this time the trapper gripped it.
“Good luck, Captain.”
Forge nodded and they both settled back down to wait.
A little way down the line Ronin Locke was sweating. He could feel the beads on his forehead and uncomfortable drops running down the length of his back every few seconds. He felt hot and bothered and it had nothing to do with the camouflage on his face or the clothes he wore. He knew he was panicking and he knew why. Until now his experience of combat had been limited. Even his injury on patrol had been so fast and unexpected that he had had no time to worry about it. Before this moment, in all of his time in the field, the concept of closing with another, to kill before he himself was killed, had always been an abstract concept; something to be imagined. Suddenly, for the first time, he was expected to fight up close and personal. In the dark there would be blades flashing out in all directions and there would be men wanting to kill him. All those childhood daydreams of being a gallant hero, where enemies were vanquished and wounds easily laughed off, seemed absurd now. This was for real and it scared the shit out of him.
What made it worse was that he couldn’t talk to anyone about it: he couldn’t talk to his men, that would be showing weakness; the sergeants would consider him a fool; and the Captain? Well he would just laugh in his face and call him a coward. No, he would not get a sympathetic ear from any in the Company. Instead each man was expected to do his duty a
nd die like a good soldier. For that was soon to be their fate. They would prick the ire of the enemy and would then be crushed whilst hiding in their little fort. And what would it achieve? Nothing. Except Locke’s own death. And as he lay there waiting in the gathering dark, crouched amidst the undergrowth, he felt singularly alone.
They didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes later in the deepening gloom Corporal Jonas came jogging into view. There wasn’t anybody who could have mistaken him in the darkness. He slowed down and started looking into the trees. Juma called out and indicated where Forge was lying. The scout came over and pushed his way into the undergrowth.
“They’re about five minutes behind me. An advance party of twenty men. I couldn’t see the rest.”
“OK. Let’s hope Juma’s bluffing skills are up to scratch.”
“He fooled us, boss.”
“Don’t remind me. Alright, pass the word. And get yourself a spot.”
Corporal Jonas nodded and moved off to warn the rest of the ambush party.
As the scout went past them, Juma and his companions lit the torches they had been carrying and then sat back down by the side of the road. They chatted and laughed and hooted without a care in the world. The light of the torches pushed back the dark and shadows and Forge felt a small measure of alarm. It felt like he stood out like a sore thumb and wished he’d made more of an effort to camouflage himself. He took a deep breath through his nose. Calm down you old bastard. You done this plenty times. The light would help to ruin the night vision of the Harradan party and he had confidence in his men not to give themselves away too early. In his right hand he gently held onto a ball of mud, roughly the size of a large apple. Portal had given it to him earlier in the evening after the planning session for the defence of the crossing. The wizard had been asked if he could provide something to create a neat surprise for the ambush. The result had been this lump of muck. Forge had gazed at it doubtfully on taking it.
“What is this, a mud bomb?”
“Treat it gently, Captain. A hard concept for you I know. Do not drop it. When you are ready, throw it. I advise you and your men to close your eyes,” Portal had said in his usual arrogant style. “But that is up to you,” he added.
The wizard had then walked off to work on the fire trench. Apparently he believed he could increase the flammability of the wood, thus making it catch and burn quicker. But it would take time. Judging on his lacklustre performance so far, Forge wouldn’t be surprised if the wizard conjured up a mini bloody rain cloud instead.
He heard the tramp of feet and the occasional soft clang of metal on metal. A few moments later he could make out dark shapes moving down the trail. Juma heard them too and called out. They stopped and a few seconds later a reply was barked out. Forge couldn’t make out the language. It was a rough and coarse. Juma laughed and said something in reply, beckoning them forward. He and his companions stood up. Each of them held their spears, held vertically. Juma appeared to have learnt a fair bit of their language as well at some point. Clever man. The enemy walked onwards cautiously and met up with Juma. More words were spoken and Juma laughed cheerfully. For a moment Forge panicked and thought that the Bantusai might betray them. But he quickly admonished himself for that. In the light he could see the Harradan pretty well. Tall, well- built men with a tough, confident look about them. Most were bearded and had long hair. Real clansmen from the north these guys were. They were dressed in furs and leathers and carried their weapons with ease. Fighting these blokes was not going to be a pleasant experience. On a word from the group leader, one of the Harradan detached himself from the main group and headed back down the trail, no doubt to take word to the main column. The party on the trial were in discussion and it was clear that the leader wanted to go forward. Forge gathered this by his raised voice and insistent hand gestures. Juma, master bluffer that he was, remained jovial and was trying to convince the men to stay here and wait for the rest of the group. He then produced his ace in the hole by offering up the three flagons of ale that he had put to one side. The leader eagerly took one of the flagons and drank deeply. It certainly appeared to appeal to his thirst. This act seemed to convince the man that all was well. His men seemed to be more than happy with this development as they began to share out the drink between them. After a tense couple of minutes Forge began to hear the main body moving up. It was almost time.
A long line of figures were now plainly visible to Forge’s left hand side. As the lead men came level with him that was the signal. He rose swiftly and hurled the ball of mud onto the pathway in front of the warriors. As it flew he turned his head and closed his eyes, fully expecting to be speared for throwing a ball of dirt at a thousand angry clansmen. As the ball of mud struck the ground and spilt apart, a dazzling flash of light burst from the wet casing. It was bright enough for the light to penetrate Forge’s eyelids even though he had covered them with his hands just for good measure. A massed cry of consternation came from the path as the Harradan lead troops were temporarily blinded. The Bantusai in the trees next to him stood and let rip with a flight of arrows. This was supplemented with the fire from Jonas, Lode and his men. Shouts came up from the marching column. This distraction caused many in the scout party to turn their heads in confusion. As the leader turned back to Juma he was taken in the stomach by the other’s spear. The nearest Bantusai caught his two companions equally unawares. Simultaneously Forge’s men crashed through the trees to engage the rest of the scout party. He to pushed his way onto the trail, sword in his right hand and a dagger in his left. He stood between the two groups of Harradan and turned to see the havoc to his left. From behind him came a shout. He turned to see a northman running towards him having escaped the melee ahead. Forge saw a glinting shape raised above the head of his assailant and hastily put his sword up to parry the incoming axe blow. As he blocked the strike, which damn near jarred his arm off, he immediately slammed his dagger into the Harradan’s stomach, the shock causing him to drop the axe. The momentum of the charge kept the northman moving and he cannoned into Forge. The two of them landed in a heap and Forge quickly pushed the other man off. He stood and forced his sword into the man’s neck slicing through his windpipe. He quickly withdrew his sword and looked up. The gap between the two groups would allow them to finish off the Harradan scouts without having to engage the main force. It also meant a breathing space to allow them to hightail it off towards the bridge. Meanwhile the Bantusai were raining confusion with their arrows. In the darkness, the Harradan were not sure from which direction the arrows were coming from and therefore it delayed their mounting a foray into the trees. As more of them fell, the others began to pull back into the rest of the column that was trying to advance and also to ascertain what was going on ahead. It was clear that an ambush was taking place and many were rushing to get into battle. All they succeeded in doing was running into their own men.
When the light ball had flashed and the ambushers had charged out of the trees the world had become a chaotic, screeching, howling place. Locke had made to move along with the other troops to engage the enemy. But in an instant of indecision a plan had formed in his mind, halting his movement. Instead he hunkered down and lay still. As the fighting raged, Locke’s mind raced. This was all madness, all of it. Why should he lay down his life in such a meaningless way? Instead, he could live. And now was his chance. He scrambled up and headed at full pace through the trees, across the path and past the struggling combatants. In the melee he doubted that anyone would have noticed him. He entered the tree line and pushed south for a minute, the sounds of battle receding. He then stopped to catch his breath. He experienced elation, he had escaped! All he had to do was head south for a while and then find a place to cross the river. He would then head back to his own lines, no doubt he would be picked up by friendly troops soon enough. Then all he would have to do is tell them that he was the sou
l survivor from the defence of the river. Tell them that Forge had commanded him to leave his post and carry the message of their destruction back to the Ashkent army. The company was doomed anyway, help would never reach them in time and there would be no-one to challenge his story. He smiled, glanced around him and then pushed on into the dense, dark undergrowth.
Forge watched as the gap grew between himself and the Harradan down the trail. He guessed that they would soon recover and he ordered the withdrawal. He bent to pull out his dagger but found that the man had his hands about the blade and held it in a death grip. Looking up he saw his men had finished off the scouts and were already on their way home. Cursing under his breath he stood and turned to follow them. Shit, but he’d loved that bloody knife, had had it for years. He thundered towards the bridge. Behind and to either side of him he heard rather than saw Lode and his men following hard behind. A few moments later, he saw that he was being overtaken by a couple of them. Inwardly he chafed at that but was too busy breathing hard to articulate. The Bantusai regrouped ahead of him and fired one more volley as he ran past, they did not follow him instead pulling back into the trees on the southern side of the trail. This was to lure the Harradan into following them. Juma had told Forge that their ability to sing to the trees did not end with simple materials. Awaiting the pursuers was a maze a vines and branches that had been woven together by Bantusai magic. Forge would never see the results but Juma had said the trees would snare and strangle those that touched them. He emerged into the clearing followed by the sounds of shouting and screaming from the forest on both sides of the trail as the magic of the Bantusai and the mantraps of Old Hoarty and his mates did their gruesome work. As Forge reached the crossing he had to slow down and wait as the bridge had been stripped to nothing more than a single line of planks and a guide rope, so it was now a bottleneck. As one by one figures crossed over, Forge glanced back at the trail entrance. Waiting there was Corporal Jonas crouched low with his bow drawn. Now he could see black figures running past him as the Bantusai angled back towards the clearing. Forge now took his turn and carefully walked as fast he dared across the plank bridge. He hung on to the guide rope and was glad it was so well secured. He soon reached the other side, ran down the pier and stood there looking back. A stream of Bantusai were now gaining the bank and were immediately turning left heading for the southern end of the clearing. He tried to make out Corporal Jonas from the figures moving along the plank. He then spied a shape detach itself from the trees and run towards the crossing. Beside Forge Juma jumped from the pier, clapped him on the back and ran off to join his men. Their job now was to watch the river to the south. Forge wandered if he would see them again. Corporal Jonas was now halfway across the water. From behind him the captain could see lights and shouting figures coming from the trail entrance. Then a bright bloom of light akin to his own mud creation’s flared out from a point above the trail. He cried out in alarm and shielded his eyes.
“What the hell was that?” he shouted.
He looked over to the five Ashkent soldiers who had been waiting patiently on this side of the bank. These were the only others of his command carrying bows. They too had been caught by flash and were trying to recover their night sight.
“Covering fire,” he commanded.
The men began to loose shafts across the river. At best their aim was approximate; their eyes were no longer able to track movement in the dark. But it appeared to stall the advance for a few moments. Corporal Jonas leant down and heaved the plank into the river.
“Someone’s being clever over there, boss,” he said as he stood up again and sawed through the guide rope.
“Someone figured using our own tactics against us. Wasn’t expecting that.” agreed Forge. That was magic, he thought to himself. That puts a new spin on things.
As Corporal Jonas finished cutting, the Harradan launched another charge into the clearing, their numbers too many to be halted by the five archers. He looked up at Forge. “That’s it.”
“Everyone back to the fort,” Forge ordered.
The seven men left the river bank and headed for the safety of the walls. Behind them could be heard the frustrated cries of the Harradan. They reached the gateway and one by one ducked inside. Forge counted them through. As the last man he crossed the threshold and then ordered the entrance sealed shut. He made his way to the eastward facing rampart. Portal joined him and rested a hand upon the stone.
“It would seem the ruse worked then captain.”
“Like a dream,” he replied. “But I guess you saw what just happened?”
Portal nodded. “They have a magic user with them, Captain. That much is obvious. And they clearly have some ability. I fear that my own will be no match for it.”
Forge glanced at the gaunt faced wizard. Perhaps it was just the lack of light but the man looked tired, exhausted in fact.
“You okay?”
Portal nodded. “I find that my abilities have waned in the intervening years since I first studied magic. To invest power in objects is always physically draining. And for those with but little schooling it is all the more harder.”
Forge picked up on the offhand admission by Portal as to the true, limited extent of his talents.
“I hear you have been at the fire trench for hours. Must have taken a lot out of you.”
Portal did not reply.
“And, as much as I hate to say it, your surprise package did the job. Well done.”
That got a reaction. Portal seemed genuinely taken aback by the captain’s praise.
“It would seem tonight is a night for congratulations. I heard your men talking about my flare. They were impressed. One even clapped me on the back when I had finished on the trench.”
Forge had to smile at that.
“That’s the guys for you.” He jerked his head back towards the courtyard floor where men lounged on the ground, discussing the night’s escapades. “You gave them an edge. Means they have a better chance of getting through the fight. Do that and they’ll love you for it.”
“Something I have little experience of,” said Portal. There was a bitter edge to his voice.
“Go get some sleep wizard. We’ll deal with their magic man as and when we have to. There’ll be more work for you come the morning no doubt.”
Portal nodded to the captain once more and made his way slowly towards the nearest ladder. Forge watched him until he vanished from sight then swept his gaze back over his redoubt.
No light was burning within the courtyard. No point in drawing attention to themselves yet. He could now see a whole lot of lights and shapes milling around on the far side. He was tempted to order his men to send some more shafts over but decided against it. They had precious few as it was, no more than a score each. Tonight’s engagement would already have eaten into that. Sergeant Mac came up to join him.
“Everyone accounted for?” asked Forge.
“Everyone ‘cept the Lieutenant.”
“Really?”
“Yup,” replied Sergeant Mac. “I asked around, nobody seen him. Not during the fight, not after.”
“Damn, I had forgotten about him. Now I think about it, the last time I saw him was when we took our positions for the ambush. I was even thinking about how he’d do just before we attacked.”
“Well, boss, looks like he didn’t do good enough. Probably got himself speared before he knew what had hit him. Never did much like that lad,” Sergeant Mac stated.
Forge shook his head. “Damn,” he uttered and then paused for a moment. “Can’t quite get myself upset over it though, never really took to the guy. Still my responsibility though.”
Mac nodded and decided to change the subject “Doors are sealed shut, Sir. And Lode and his boys have taken off.”
“Right,” nodded Forge, his thoughts of Locke ended. “Apparently, they’re planning one more job on them across the ri
ver before they go.”
“Good lads.”
“Yeah, got balls alright.” Forge sighed. “So that’s it, then. Less than one hundred men to hold off an invading army.”
“Yeah, but they got all the work to do now haven’t they,” stated Sergeant Mac simply.
“Then let’s hope they balls it up every step of the way.”
Sergeant Mac did not reply. Together the men gazed out across the dark night.
Every few minutes for the next hour or so, a cry of surprise and pain would be heard drifting across the water. At that the men of the fort would grin evilly at each other; another hapless northerner had found one of the surprise packages left for them.