Champions of the Apocalypse (23 page)

“Damn!” swore Synne.

She didn’t have long to worry about it though as another jumped inside. Whipping her sword from its sheath, she stabbed it into his chest and smashed him down to the floor. She stood up and delivered another stab to his heart, finishing him in a single efficient movement.

“I need to burn the last wagon, have you got fuel?” she asked.

Jonas was stunned by the brutality she had exhibited, more so by the fact that she hardly seemed to even notice what she had just done. Her black corset was cut and marked, and dripping with blood down the front and side. Her left leg was bleeding from two parallel cuts just below the thigh.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Me, yeah, come on, fuel?” she asked impatiently.

“Uh, we’ve got lamp oil, why?”

“Get two people to come with me. I need as much oil as they can carry.”

 
Without waiting for a reply, she turned to the end of the wagon and prepared to climb over to the next one. As she moved, she could see how the two wagons were joined together. It was a simple set of iron joints that were sprung. Where they joined was a large metal pin and chains running parallel to it. She made a mental note as her plan took form in her head and then pulled herself up into the next wagon. It couldn’t have been more different to the first, there were bodies everywhere and at the end a vicious battle was taking place between about the same number of warriors. She rushed forward, finding Thrax leaning against the side, pulling a chunk of metal from his ribs.

“What’s happening?” she asked whilst examining his wound.

“We pushed them back three times, but the last group have been trying to stop us getting to their engine. Before we got there they did something to the wheels down there,” he said as he pointed to where the axles would be under the wagon.

“We tried to board their engine and disable it somehow, but they still have twenty or so fighters at the rear.”

Synne grabbed the metal shard and tugged it out. Thrax groaned as it withdrew but the relief afterwards was almost instant.

“They’ve got some kind of weapon that fire these serrated metal shapes. We lost two men to them, before we fell back to our wagon. Now we’re mainly fighting with projectile weapons. It’s a real stalemate.”

As if to emphasise the point a volley of bolts flew close by and embedded into the frame of the wagon. Synne grabbed his chin and turned him to face her.

Ulric appeared from behind the cover of several bodies. He was holding a small crossbow in each hand. Taking careful aim, he used the first one, dropped it and then used the second before ducking back.

“They’ve jammed the brakes, we’ll be stationary in minutes. Have you tried to free them?” asked Synne.

“No good, the gear is smashed. We’d need an hour to fix them. Pass me that,” he replied as he pointed.

Synne followed his gaze to a small crossbow on the ground. She tossed it over to him. The weapon was already loaded, presumably dropped by somebody earlier in the battle. Synne noticed a shadow looming from the engine as one of the Raiders managed to leap onto the wagon. Ulric aimed the weapon carefully and pulled the trigger. It hit the man neatly in the forehead and he was immediately out of the fight.

“Nice!” she shouted.

A hand appeared, tapping on her shoulder. She turned to Thrax and Ulric, pointing at the arrival of the reinforcements.

“Look,” she said as she pointed to Jonas and the two defenders that were carrying a small barrel of oil each.

“We can burn the wagon, get everybody back into the first and knock out the pins.”

“The pins?” asked Ulric.

“Ah, yes, I see!” said Thrax as he pulled himself up from the ground.

“Everybody back to the first wagon, now!” he roared.

The small number left needed little encouragement. As they moved back, they continued putting down crossbow fire into the engine behind them and the silhouettes of the Raiders as they continued trying to get access to their train. Synne cracked the lid of one of the barrels and started to pour the oil all over the floor of the wagon. She nodded to the other two men to do the same. In less than thirty seconds, the oil was drippings all over the middle section of the wagon.

“Come on!” she said and ran to the front of the wagon, where the remainder of the defenders were retreating to the next wagon. Thrax helped them across until it was just Jonas left on the last wagon.

“Get across!” shouted Synne.

With everybody clear, Jonas checked one last time and then jumped. As he moved two bolts thudded against the woodwork and another hit him hard in the shoulder blades. He hit the end of the wagon and would have been dragged underneath if it hadn’t been for several of the defenders grabbing him and dragging the wounded man inside.

Synne watched him go and started to jump across to check him before remembering the danger of their situation. Thrax was now back on the first wagon, being handed loaded crossbows from the others, he leaned down and handed her a heavy looking hammer. A woman was busy loading in fuel to a thick wooden bucket nearby whilst another waited with a burning torch. Synne looked down to the pin and then swung the tool. It struck the pin with a groan and moved a few inches. She lifted it and struck again. With a clunk sound, the pin dropped out. The gap started to widen before the chains took up the slack. Synne was about to strike one when it snapped under the strain and was quickly followed by the other.

“Now!” shouted Ulric who was still loading and firing the crossbows.

One of the women threw the wooden bucket with its burning fuel across the gap and into the rear wagon. As soon as it struck the woodwork, it found the fuel and in a violent flash the entire structure vanished in flames. It was still intact but the flames spread fast, quickly obliterating the view they had of it or the engine behind. Either the engine was damaged or they were slowing down to trying to escape the burning wreckage. Either way they were clear.

The remnants of the train hurtled south and into the craggy rocks of the valley. With their pursuing train slowed the cavalry turned back to aid their comrades.

“Good work, Synne, we’re safe,” said a pale but happy Jonas.

“Cainon escaped,” she said quietly.

“He’ll be back and soon,” said Ulric who then turned back to the flames and smoke of the distance train.

“We have to be ready for him,” said Thrax menacingly.

The large iron whistle fitted on the side of the steam engine blasted through the open plain to indicate the arrival of the train. A short distance ahead, were the smoke columns of the town and the Trading Post of Horizon. The ground all around was flat, save for a few small hills and outcroppings of trees. As they moved closer, Synne was surprised to see several long lines of people and men on horseback.

“Hey, Thrax, I think we’ve got trouble!” she shouted.

Thrax was sitting in the single remaining wagon, crammed in with the survivors of the violent battle. Next to him was Jonas who was now even paler than before.

“What is it?”

“Come and have a look.”

He lifted himself up with a groan and then lumbered forward to the end of the wagon. With an effort, he climbed the tender and then dropped down to the cab.

“Hurry up, Thrax!” called Synne.

He pulled himself up the ladder and to the high fighting platform above the engine where Ulric and Synne were stood.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Look,” she said.

Thrax held onto the railing as he looked off to the south. The Trading Post was now only a few hundred feet away and the train was slowing. Stretched out between the buildings in a thin line were hundreds of people. It was as though a crowd of people was lined up and waiting for their arrival. He scanned to the left and then to the right before spotting a banner. Looking more closely he spotted a small group of men on horseback near the centre of the group. He sighed and then looked back to Synne with a relaxed expression.

“Looks like my students did their work,” he said.

“Students?” asked Ulric.

“I asked Bara to send my students to get help and it looks like they succeeded. Look at them. See that flag,” he said, as he pointed of slightly to the right.

“I see it,” she said.

“Well, don’t you recognise it?”

“It’s the symbol of the League,” answered Ulric, before realising what he had just said.

“They are here?” Synne asked.

“It looks that way,” replied Thrax.

The screeching from the train became deafening as the breaks locked on the engine and after what seemed like an age, they came to a halt just a few feet past the platform. The engineers let out a great deal of steam from the tired, overworked engine. No sooner had it stopped, were the passengers jumping overboard and moving towards the Trading Post and the crowds. Thrax and Synne climbed down whilst others helped pass down the wounded Jonas. As they started to retrieve the wounded, a number of people came over to help. One of them, wearing a rough uniform and armour approached them. Past the platform were the outer buildings, shops and storage sheds used by the inhabitants of the Trading Post. It didn’t have its own palisade but it did have half a dozen watchtowers scattered along the perimeter and each one was manned by several people. The towers carried heavy mechanical crossbows, each one far too heavy to carry in battle. On the ground and spread out into a thin line, only two deep was the assembled army. Most were on foot and there appeared to be no uniform or standard of equipment. Some carried spears or swords, others carried crossbows and even more seemed to be carrying farming implements.

The man in the armour stopped in front of them. He was hardly an athlete and his armour looked uncared for, but carried none of the marks or damage you might expect from equipment worn in battle. Thrax made an unimpressed noise as he stopped and nodded to the group. He turned and pointed to the assembled army.

“We received word that the Brotherhood was sending an army down here into League lands. This is the muster for the north. Tell me, is it true?” he asked.

“Who are you?” asked Synne.

“Jackson, Commander of the border fort, sixteen miles west of here. I’m responsible for the defences in this sector on behalf of the League.”

He took a step closer to Synne before noticing her sword, still bloody and still in her hand. He stepped back, feeling a little less confident of himself.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“Synne, daughter of Lord Galan!”

“Galan? You are the daughter of the Lord of Haven?” he asked with a look of surprise on his face.

Ulric moved just a few inches closer but his presence was substantial. Jackson, though still arrogant, lowered his head a little.

“Indeed she is, and this is Ulric, the rightful heir of the city,” said Thrax with a strong tone in his voice as he indicated towards Ulric.

Ulric examined the man and was not impressed with what he saw. The man had seen far too much time either on horseback or resting, than training with his men. A typical League man, a talker not a fighter, and certainly not a man to be trusted.

“Why are you here?” asked Thrax.

“Two of your students rode to our outpost yesterday with news of the trouble. My commander ordered all available forces to congregate here to defend the outpost against a Raider attack,” he answered.

“Raider attack? Are you joking? The force up there is led by Cainon of the Brotherhood and his forces number in the hundreds, maybe more,” he said angrily.

“Why is your commander not here?” asked Synne.

“He has headed west to get reinforcements from the other League cities,” explained Jackson.

“Isn’t that what messengers are for?” asked Synne.

“Yeah, I think you’ll find he is heading west as fast as he can because he knows exactly what is coming,” explained Thrax.

“It is no wonder that our northern border was more vulnerable that we expected. The truce with the Brotherhood has been broken and even worse, it looks like the League border forces have been taking bribes,” said an angry Ulric.

“Bribes? No, we would never take bribes from Raiders,” pleaded an even less confident Jackson.