"Move quickly," she urged. "Leave that and go!"
Her face was grim, and none disobeyed her. Most of these people, far behind the main group, were already in debt to her for their lives, and she had managed them well from Passdale, making sure they kept moving and yet did not go so hastily as to cause harm or injury to the young and elderly. For a day and a night without sleep she had been encouraging them, settling arguments, organizing food parties, and tending the hurt and mournful amongst them, imploring them not to camp, but to press on, to keep moving toward Janhaven. For some reason, perhaps in the absence of her husband, they looked to her for leadership, men and women alike, and in her they found it, indeed.
"They are coming," she said loudly as she strode eastward toward the threat. "So they have broken through our fighters. Get off the road! Leave your things! Move up the slopes! Spread out! They cannot follow you far into the trees for they dare not leave their horses. Here! Take this child! Now run!"
At the very rear of the train, a small cart rolled along, driverless, as it had since leaving Passdale. The little donkey pulling it merely followed those ahead in an unhurried way, oblivious to the pressing danger from behind. Mirabella had no idea who owned the cart or the donkey, but she had earlier placed a few things there under some blankets, items from her home, account books from the Common House, a pile of clothes, and the clay jar from the upstairs strongbox. Now, as the Redvests came into sight around the far bend, she drew out from under the blankets a long, slightly curved sword with a fine narrow blade. Without breaking her pace, she continued down the middle of the road to meet the horsemen, the blade held in her left hand, as she undid the ties of her overcloak and let it fall to the ground. She had not taken time to change her clothes, and still had on the fine gown she wore at the festival, now dusty and dirty. The Redvests were less than a furlong away, coming fast and hard. She stopped to wait for them. She looked up at the sky, and it occurred to her what a beautiful day it was, cool and crisp. She gripped her sword before her with both hands, closed her eyes, and inhaled, tasting the autumn air like a deep draught of clean white wine. In the moments left to her, she cleared her thoughts and prayed in her own native tongue, beseeching the gods of her ancestors and the Ruler of All Gods to hear her.
"Great has been thy bounty upon my household and steady thy workings upon my blood. Long has been the peace of thy grace upon my adopted people. Hear me now, in this moment of need. Bring back to me skills long unused. Bring forth the strength of mine ancestors into my blood. Let their hands grip my sword and their spirit beat within my heart! Bring them to me, and let them aid me in this trial for the protection of the children of my people! Hear me, O Lord of Creation, as thou dost all who call upon thee!"
That brief moment stretched out, for, to the Elifaen, time moves more densely than for mortals. When Mirabella opened her eyes, they were dark with calm, like still pools of green water in the shadows of the forest, and all movement seem slower, clearer to her. Even the sound of the horses seemed to struggle to reach her. Her pale face was flushed, and the breeze gently floated her scarlet hair about her head as if she was under water. She felt the spirit of her ancient lineage course through her body, bringing deadly resolve. Her lips swelled with determination as fury welled up within her, forging cold rage, ready for release. Turning her left side to the attackers, she held up her sword above her right shoulder, her hands finding their grip. The sight of her, in the middle of the road, alone and confident, dismayed those in the lead, and their horses revolted in fear of her, kicking and bucking, their riders cursing to control them. But on they came, in greater fear of their masters, foam flying from their muzzles, and their furious riders holding their swords high at the ready.
"Give me strength!" cried Mirabella as she slashed upward taking off a horse's head and halving the rider's torso. Ducking and whirling, she swept aside opposing blades encircling her, removing another rider as he tried to recover. She cared not whether horse or man, she let none that passed within her reach move farther with life still in them, and great chaos she caused in their ranks, with horses stumbling over the newly fallen, and men being trampled and crushed. Yet, many there were that came, and many swept around her terrible butchery, her cold face spattered and her green gown glistening with their warm blood. She never stopped moving, and she hardly noticed the whisper of dozens of arrows flying past her head and into the attackers. Horses and men screamed alike as they went down, crushing others of their kind. But still more, infuriated at the loss of their comrades and having lost their own mounts, now rushed at Mirabella who, showing no sign of mercy or hesitation, met them coming.
• • •
Sheila ran. The effort to keep the horsemen from the retreating people had failed, costing many lives and hardly slowing or reducing the ranks of the enemy. It was a brief intense skirmish, by blade, lance, and arrow, and Ullin hoped to draw off the force to stand and fight there in the Narrows of the gap. But the Redvests knew their business and smashed through with few losses. Sheila could hear the heavy feet of Ibin behind her and Ullin, farther back, urging the others on as he gained on her. But her lungs were pumps of air and Barley folk had no equal to her on foot. In one hand she held her sword and in the other her bow, but they hindered her not. She could feel the heat of the road through the thin soles of her boots and the dust of the Redvests still hung in the air. Glancing back, she saw Ibin with his long bloody lance being passed by Ullin, who had thrown away his bow and empty quiver and now raced with only his sword, jabbing up and down in his hand as his arms beat the pace of his stride. Behind them more men and boys came, all with the same look of desperation on their faces, a mixture of pain, panic, and fury. They ran and they ran, some crying out in the anguish of their failure, others slowing with the loss of blood. But Sheila, Ullin, and Ibin kept on. Sheila heard a crash and the snapping of branches from the wood on her left, and then strangely dressed men on horses erupted onto the road fifty yards ahead. The sight and noise of this grim threat brought her skidding to a sudden halt. Seeing Robby among them, and Ashlord, too, her heart was lifted. With renewed strength and speed, she sprang toward them. Behind her, she heard Ullin give a cry of joy, and Ibin called out Robby's name, but the riders did not see or hear them and were quickly lost to sight. On they ran, now with some new hope, and as Sheila rounded a bend, she dodged the remains of men and horses scattered along the road in a great wreck, some of the horses attempting to stagger to their feet, and one Redvest tottering around in confusion, as if looking for his missing arm.
On she ran, through the grisly remains, hearing the thud of iron behind her as the wounded Redvest was dispatched. She saw a cloud of dust ahead, with shapes moving about within it, some red, some black, some brown, others blue and green, but none with any distinctive form, like a boiling soup churning about, and the bang of iron and steel and the rattling cry of death came to her ears. Ullin was close behind her when they entered the confusion. There she found wild men with colorful clothes fighting ahorse and afoot against the Redvests. As she worked a soldier to his death, she had a glimpse of Robby, swinging a powerful baton with one hand and jabbing his dagger with the other. Ashlord, she saw, lunging with his straight sword, and there was a wild-eyed boy fighting in the most dishonorable way, laying low man after man, and a crazy long-haired man waving a great feathered hat in one hand and a cutlass in the other, singing a bawdy song as he killed. Arrows flitted into the crowd and met their end in red-cloth while horses reared, twisted and fell. Ullin fought with dagger and sword, in a calm and businesslike way that was efficient and final. Ibin crashed into the fray, knocking one Redvest, horse and all, over onto another. Most terrifying of all was Mirabella, her hair the color of the blood that covered her arms and legs, her lithe body kicking one man in the chest as she shattered another's jaw with her sword hilt, in the same graceful and fierce style of fighting that the Dragonkind man had displayed. Suddenly there was a lull as some of the last Redvests fell, while others tr
ied to flee.
"Spare none!" Ullin cried, pointing at one running down the road. Immediately the terrified man's back was filled with a half-dozen arrows. "Let none of them return! If our people are to be safe, the Redvests must fear this road! Let no enemy who comes this way ever be heard of again!"
A cruel order it was, for some of the Redvests were young and handsome, but the anger of the Passdalers and Barleymen could not have spared any, regardless of orders. One young Passdale boy was kneeling over a dead Redvest, stabbing the slain man over and over, tears running down his freckled cheeks, until Ullin stayed his hand.
"He is no more," he told the boy. "Do not dishonor yourself by defiling the dead." The boy looked up at Ullin, then buried his face in his hands, sobbing. Ullin himself was not immune to the carnage, but he controlled himself and turned to the living, sheathing his sword and dagger.
"See to the wounded! Gather the horses and collect the weapons. Robby, it is good to see you!"
Ullin heartily shook Robby's hand and gave him a one-armed hug. Mirabella was right behind him, crying with joy at the sight of her son.
"Mother! Yes, I'm fine. What have you heard of Daddy?" Robby asked, hugging her. Mirabella shook her head, but smiled weakly.
"Nothing," she said. "By all accounts, he got away. And if any man can make it to Formouth and warn Prince Danoss and Ruling Prince Carbane, your father will. But it is too much to hope to see him very soon, even if all goes well."
Then there was Sheila, hanging back and looking on, her face grimy where the dirt of battle mixed with her sweat and her streaming tears. At last, she and Robby found each other's arms, and they held each other for a long time, his own tears now falling on hers.
"It's been awful!" she sobbed. "It's all awful! Oh, I'm so glad you're here!"
"I do not know who you are, sir," said Mirabella to Makeig, "but we are indebted to you."
"I am Martin Makeig, at yer service ma'am," he bowed with a flourish of his hat. "An' at the service of any who may be enemies of the Redvests. I an' me men are Tracians, too, but loyal to Prince Lantos, who is ousted an' exiled an' mayhaps be dead for all we know."
"Without you," Ullin said, pushing through the crowd gathered around Mirabella and Makeig, "this day would have been another dark one for Barley. I am Ullin Saheed, of the House of Fairoak and Tallin. And, by the way, your prince was alive and well when I spoke to him in Glareth only a few months ago."
As Makeig and his men made themselves known, Billy Bosk, his mother, and many boys and women came up, carrying the bows they had used against the Redvests.
"We came as quick as our feet could carry us!" Frizella said to Mirabella. "But the road is still choked with our people. Mr. Furaman himself is tryin' to come along with wagons for the wounded."
"He was plannin' on makin' his deliveries yesterday," Billy said, "but was held up by business. That's lucky. He'd a been taken by the Redvests for sure, 'long with all these weapons meant for the Militia."
" 'Fraid he's got no horses to spare, though," Frizella Bosk added, looking around. "But I reckon we've got some, now."
"You should not be on your feet," Mirabella said to Billy, giving him a grateful hug. "But I'm glad you are."
Billy shrugged, but then saw Robby and broke away to hurry over to him.
"Excuse me!" he said to Sheila, still with her arms around Robby. Robby grinned as Billy took his hand.
"It seems like one of us is ever gettin' beat up," Billy said.
"We have to do something about that," Robby smiled back, nodding. They laughed and hugged, and Billy winced.
"Oof! Now I know what ye felt like after them wolves," he said.
"I think I'd rather have the wolves, myself."
"Well," Billy hesitated, his eyes gleaming. "I thank ye, Robby Ribbon, for me life. An' I'm awful glad to see ye again."
"MetooRobbyI'mgladtoseeyoutoo!"
Robby was lifted off the ground as Ibin hugged him from behind in a completely joyous gesture.
"Easy! Easy, big man!" Billy said, waving at Ibin to put Robby back down. "That ain't no sack of taters!"
"Sorry."
"Good to see you, too, Ibin," Robby said. "Billy, I heard about your father. Is there any chance at all that he made it away?"
"Don't see how, from what I've pieced together. An' I ain't heard nuthin' 'bout yer ol' man, neither."
"And what about Raenelle?"
"She's missin', too, got separated, along with Geever an' some others. But Mum thinks an' we hope she might've made it away to'ard Newstone. Mebbe from thar, she could've made it on to'ard Tallinvale."
"Oh. Well, what of you? You don't look so good, even considering this fight," Robby said, looking at Billy's bruised and cut face, the swollen lip, and the bloody bandage around his head.
"Got a fierce bangin' in me head," Billy said, putting one hand on his head and one on his side, "an' it hurts somethin' terrible to laugh. But I reckon I'll mend."
"And where's Anerath?"
"Oh, Ullin hitched him up to a cart of young'uns yesterday," Billy told him.
"Oo, I bet Anerath didn't like that too much!"
"I reckon not, but was needed, an' ol' Anerath's a fine one for doin' what's needed, ain't he?"
The Redvest dead were dragged together and stripped. Makeig insisted that everything be taken from them beforehand, even their clothes, saying they might be put to some use. Their bodies were put on the side of the road, while those of Barley were laid in a hastily erected barrow in a clearing not far off the road. The surviving horses were rounded up and many, including Ullin and several of Makeig's men, rode back to the Narrows to re-establish their rear protection there. They took with them a small cart of weapons, including strong bows and hundreds of arrows for a weapons cache to be made, along with other weapons and supplies provided by Mr. Furaman. Ullin spent most of the day there, seeing to the construction of strongpoints and places of ambush to be at the ready. Makeig and the rest helped the refugees move on into Janhaven, reaching the town by sunset. Already the place was packed with wagons and makeshift campsites scattered all around the small town. The Post Station was buzzing with people thronging for news that the Post Riders might be bringing from far parts, but few who had routes to the south ever arrived, and the others from the north and west had little to share. The town itself consisted of little more than a blacksmith's, a small tavern, and a few tiny shops, including a butcher's and a carpenter's shop. Around these huddled many small cottages, occupied mostly by the families of the Post Riders and Furaman's workers. On the other side of Janhaven, the road forked, one way continuing westward into the mountains while the other bent south between the mountains and foothills. Along this road, nearly a mile from Janhaven, was Furaman's Stockade, a heavy wooden fortification large enough to contain several storehouses, a bunkhouse for Furaman's men, and another building that served both as the counting house as well as a meeting place. Also within the walls were Furaman's own separate cottage and several barns and stables for their horses and wagon teams. Outside the stockade were additional nearby cottages, and the area was teeming with people, mostly refugees seeking protection and shelter. Furaman's men kept them out of the stockade, fearful of looting, but they shared food and set up large cooking fires outside the stockade walls to feed any that were hungry.
During this time, Robby picked up bits here and there about the events in Passdale. Obviously, the news of Redvests broke up the festival immediately. He learned that his mother had quickly arranged for wagons to move as much of the store's goods as could be loaded. At the request of her husband, she took into another wagon all of schoolmaster Broadweed's books and all of the books, maps and ledgers within the Common House as could be gathered, including the just completed census books. When Passdale fell, Ullin, Ibin, and Sheila formed with a band of men and boys and even a few women to act as rearguard and slowly moved away from Passdale, falling back only enough to let themselves regroup for the next wave of Redvests. At first, the R
edvests seemed in no mood to pursue, as if they wanted captives more than victims, and much of their effort seemed directed at consolidating their hold of Passdale. Less than a league from Passdale, the Redvest pursuit ended. The Passdale fighters caught up with the others and hurried them along for the rest of the day and night, through the gaps and passes toward Janhaven. Then word came from scouts that Redvest horsemen were coming, and the men rushed back to the Narrows, which was, as its name implied, the narrowest gap in the hills that the road passed through, bordered on each side by steep banks some twenty feet high. There Ullin and his fighters sought to take positions to stop the Redvests, but it was too late to make adequate preparations.
Robby learned about these things from Sheila and Ibin, between necessary interruptions of pushing broken wagons out of the way and trying to find the families of separated children. Sheila was needed to tend wounded, and Ibin was enlisted to help chop and gather wood for fires. Robby was recruited by his mother who was trying to account for those among their citizens who were missing. They went from group to group, wagon to wagon, and camp to camp all about the roads and fields around Janhaven well into the night, talking to all they met and writing down names of the present and missing. Ashlord spent some of his time with Furaman and Makeig, then he rode back to the Narrows to fetch Ullin to Janhaven. He found the Kingsman and Winterford standing at a campfire in the middle of the road. The two were discussing the idea of making slings made from saplings at the heights above the Narrows.
"Oh, yes, sir. We've used 'em to good effect on several occasions," Winterford was saying. "Capt'n Makeig taught us how. Ye'd be surprised what a little sapling is able to toss."
"It's a good idea. I'd say go ahead and get working on it, since you seem to know what you're doing," Ullin said. Seeing Ashlord, he went to meet him, moving through the men busy building their fortifications. They had already made barricades of logs crisscrossed with sharpened poles that now blocked the road from Passdale, which Ashlord was examining.
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