Demontech: Rally Point: 2 (Demontech Book 2) (29 page)

Before he could remember what the Introductory Wayfinding instructor had said, the four Lalla Mkouma emitted piercing shrieks and bolted to him.

“Wh-What? What’s w-wrong?” he stammered as they clambered onto his shoulders and wrapped their tiny arms around his neck. One squeezed her face against his jaw and wiggled her shoulders, her diaphanous gown lengthened and spun out to envelop him and her mates. All four Lalla Mkouma and the mage vanished an instant before the first terrified, fleeing Eikby Guardsmen burst from the forest.

Spinner bent low alongside the right side of his gelding’s neck and slammed the end of his quarterstaff into the surprised face of a Jokapcul lancer. The enemy soldier flipped backward out of his saddle, blood followed in a sparkling red arch from shattered flesh and bone. Then Spinner was through the first ragged line of enemy cavalry, but had no time to look around and see where Silent and the others were or to assess the situation—another line of horsemen was coming at him, screaming and harshly barking battle cries. He flipped his body to the other side of his horse’s neck and the lance point that would have sunk into his chest from the top of his shoulder merely gashed his arm. He swung his staff in a horizontal arc against the back of the lancer who’d just missed killing him, but the blow wasn’t hard enough to unseat the cavalryman.

The lancer threw all of his weight into yanking back on his horse’s reins, making it stagger as it skidded to a stop, but the horse didn’t fall because the lancer leaned sharply to balance the horse’s stagger. He twisted hard and the horse heeled around, then he kicked the horse visciously in the flanks and bounded in pursuit of Spinner who, upright, had just crushed the throat of a swordsmen in the third line of Jokapcul cavalry. The Jokapcul lancer screamed a challenge as he kicked his horse into greater speed and leveled his lance at Spinner’s back. He screamed once more, briefly, as a blow from a monstrously large sword clove through his side all the way to his saddle.

“On me!”
Silent roared as his huge horse leaped over the falling Jokapcul horse and the halves of its rider. More than twice the size of the Jokapcul horses, his mount plunged into them and sent three crashing to the ground and crushed the chest of one fallen rider with a hoof. The mighty horse reared and lashed out at a swordman who tried in vain to wheel out of its way, kicked back and crushed the thigh of another and several ribs of that swordman’s horse.

Five Skraglander horsemen, swinging swords, axes, and a war hammer, rallied to Spinner and Silent. The seven lay about with their weapons, and every Jokapcul in range fell bleeding and broken. In seconds, no riders were left opposing them. The din of ferocious battle came from the direction of the clearing.

“Charge!”
Spinner yelled, and led the way to the fighting.

“Here they come!”
Haft shouted when the line of Jokapcul lancers burst into the cleared land, to run down the fleeing Eikby Guard. The horsemen wore a different color armor than the soldiers they’d already defeated, but he paid that no attention. His side toward a charging lancer, he braced himself and held his axe back over his right shoulder. At the last instant he ducked under the lance point and swung horizontally. The half-moon blade hit the horse low on the shoulder and took its leg right off. The horse screamed as it tumbled to the ground, throwing its rider hard into the trunk of a tree. The
snap
of bone as the lancer hit the tree sunk deep enough into Haft’s subconsciousness that he automatically knew that one was no longer a threat. He instantly turned his attention to a Jokapcul who was trying to free his lance from the back of an Eikby swordsman.

In three running steps he was on the lancer, his axe clove the lancer from shoulder to pelvis. Fortunately a half of the lancer’s falling body deflected a lance aimed at Haft and the dead lancer’s arm smacked the charging horse’s legs hard enough to throw it off stride and its rider, off balance from the hit on his lance, struggled to stay on his saddle. Haft swung backhanded and the spike that backed his axe’s blade sunk into the lancer’s back. The lancer cried out in pain and lost first his balance, then his head when Haft chopped at his neck.

Then the two sea soldiers from the Easterlies were with Haft, and they formed an outward-facing triangle, able to fight in all directions without fear of an attack from the rear. Three more Jokapcul and two of their horses were killed before a lucky thrust got through and took down one of the Easterlies’ sea soldiers.

Through it all, Jokapcul officers barked commands, commands echoed by their sergeants. Most of the Jokapcul continued their pursuit into the open, only those who couldn’t easily evade the men who resisted them stopped to fight. None of those Jokapcul lived.

The battle in the trees was fierce, but brief. Spinner and the few horsemen with him reached Haft and the other men on foot seconds after the last Jokapcul disappeared into the trees to the north.

“Gods, how many?” Spinner asked as he looked about at the bodies. Most were Jokapcul cavalry, but many—too many—wore the uniforms of Skragland, Zobra, Eikby, or no uniforms at all.

“We can sort them out later,” Haft said. “Let’s go!” He began trotting north.

“Form up in squads!” Spinner shouted. “Horse, stay with foot!”

They passed scattered bodies on their way to the northern edge of the forest. All were Eikby Guards, nearly all killed from behind. None of the bodies was Jokapcul. They burst into the open and confronted even worse carnage.

Fletcher tried to stop the flight of the Eikby Guards but they ignored him. In a futile attempt to outrun the Jokapcul, nearly all the guards had dropped their weapons. The farmers gleaning the battlefield didn’t know what the guards were running from, but most were infected by their panic and so they joined and ran too—the rest just stood where they were, wondering what was wrong. Fletcher stopped trying to halt the flight when the first Jokapcul charged into the open. He noted the different color of their armor and immediately knew they were a different unit from the one Eikby’s defenders had just defeated. There were hundreds of them, and they came in waves that extended beyond the width of the battlefield. He wasted no time or effort wondering where they came from, but drew his sword and resolved to take as many of them with him as he could before they killed him. Five Jokapcul closed ranks and came straight at the lone armed man who stood in their way.

Xundoe gaped at the running guards and the charging Jokapcul. One passed close enough to spear him with his lance but didn’t even glance his way, making him blink in surprise before he realized the Lalla Mkouma had made him invisible. He suddenly understood he could fight with little danger to himself. Where he crouched, he was closer to the forest than Fletcher was. He saw five lancers close ranks. Without thinking, he reached into one of his packs and pulled out a phoenix egg. He twisted its top and threw it in front of the charging quintet. The egg burst open and the phoenix arose, unfolding its wings, and incinerated the Jokapcul, who were too close even to realize their danger. He groped in the pack for another egg as he looked around for another gathering of Jokapcul, but the horsemen weren’t stopping, they continued their charge toward the nearly unmanned defenses and the town beyond. Some of them flew from the saddle when their horses stepped on caltrops and fell. Xundoe stopped his search for another phoenix egg and drew his small demon spitter. He would make sure the thrown Jokapcul wouldn’t rejoin the battle.

A short distance away a lancer speared a farmer as casually as a boy gigs a frog. The sight infuriated Xundoe. He aimed his small demon spitter, the demon spat, and the lancer toppled from his horse as brains and blood spilled from his cracked skull. He looked around, another Jokapcul was heeling his horse after killing a farmer. He aimed, thunder cracked, and a rose bloomed on that Jokapcul’s back. The horseman sagged, fell forward, and tumbled to the ground. Then all the Jokapcul except those who had been thrown were beyond the field, heading into the town. Fires began to blossom in the outlying houses. Xundoe ran about searching for downed but live Jokapcul.

Fletcher was the only other man left standing on the battlefield, a dead Jokapcul lay at his feet and a riderless horse casually munched grass a few yards distant. Farmers dead and dying lay about the battlefield. Corpses of guards and farmers were scattered as far as the defensive trench; the mage couldn’t see what lay on the ground beyond that.

The company’s fighters who had gone into the forest after the Eikby Guards came out from under the trees.

Haft barely took in the carnage of the immediate scene, his attention focused on the Jokapcul horsemen speeding into the town. Without breaking stride, he raised his axe above his head and screamed, “After them!”

From atop his horse, Spinner saw the Jokapcul killing and burning their way into the heart of Eikby more clearly than Haft did. “Hold!” he called out, and heeled his horse ahead of the footmen. Haft kept going and screaming for the others to follow him.

Spinner reined in and turned in front of Haft, blocking him. “Stop!” he shouted.

Haft skidded to a stop. “They’re getting away. We have to catch them before they burn down the whole town.” He stepped forward and reached out a hand to the gelding’s shoulder, to push the horse to face into Eikby. Spinner knocked his arm away with his quarterstaff.

“Listen to you, you’re already out of breath. We can’t chase after them. They’re mounted and moving too fast. Everyone will be too tired to fight when we reach them.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Spinner looked to the northwest. “We have to see to our own people first.”

“But the town . . .”

“We can do more for the town by getting organized first than by wildly chasing after the Jokapcul and getting killed because we’re too winded to fight when we reach them.”

Haft yelped when he was suddenly lifted from his feet by Silent, who had come up behind and grabbed the back of his cloak.

“Spinner’s right,” the giant said. “Chasing the Jokapcul is folly. We must get to our people first. Then we fight.”

“Look around you,” Spinner snapped, “we’ve been too weakened to charge right into a fight.” The company had begun the fight with about a hundred and ten soldiers and other fighting men in the trenches. Of the nearly one hundred who survived the initial assault to follow the Eikby Guards into the forest, fewer than seventy had come out again. None of the four dozen Eikby Guards was present except among the dead that were sprawled across the battlefield.

Haft stopped struggling in Silent’s grip when he saw how few of them there were. “You’re right,” he said reluctantly. Silent put him down. Haft glared over his shoulder at the giant but didn’t say anything.

A few farmers who’d somehow survived the charge began to rise and look expectantly at the fighters.

“Where’s Xundoe?” Fletcher suddenly asked. “He was going through the Jokapcul equipment looking for magic. Now he’s gone.”

“Here I am!”

“Where?” Startled, they looked around. The farmers began edging nervously away.

“Right here!” the mage said. “Oh, the Lalla . . .”

An instant later he appeared. No thunder, no lightning, he was simply standing right where his voice had come from. Four diminutive women figures sat on his shoulders, hugging his neck. Silent gasped, the other three stared. The farmers looked about wildly for a place to hide.

Spinner was the first to regain his voice. “Where did you find them?” he blurted.

Haft was less than half a beat behind. “What, do they always come in fours?” He and Spinner had taken four Lalla Mkouma from the slavemaster’s men-at-arms at The Burnt Man Inn.

“The Jokapcul had them, I found them in their equipment,” Xundoe explained. “And other things. I found a—”

“Never mind right now,” Spinner said hastily. “Gather everything you found; we have to get to our people.”

“Right. I have all this.” He waved a hand at the three packs and the hodekin’s cage and shuffled over to them.

“You!” Haft called to four farmers who were sidling away. “Help the mage with those packs.”

“Spinner, Haft,” Fletcher interjected, pointing toward the town. “Look.” A line of Jokapcul cavalry had turned away from the center of Eikby and were heading toward their lightly defended campsite.

“Horsemen, let’s go!” Spinner ordered as soon as he saw them. He heeled his gelding and galloped in a circle around the outside of the fence. Three Zobrans who had fought on foot mounted three riderless horses that hadn’t wandered off and chased after the others.

“Get these,” Haft shouted. He grabbed one of the demon spitters, three of the Blood Swords grabbed the others. “Let’s move!” he shouted and put his words to action. The fighters followed.

The farmers Haft ordered to help with the magic items tried to take advantage of the distraction to run to the forest. Xundoe saw them and cried out, “Stop or die by magic!”

One of them looked back and saw the mage pointing his small demon spitter in his direction.

“Don’t kill me!” the farmer shrilled and dropped to his knees. The other three heard the cry and looked over their shoulders. They skidded to a stop and dropped to their knees in supplication.

“Get back here and help me as Master Haft told you to.” The farmers reluctantly scrambled back. Three of them hefted the packs they were directed to but the fourth stared, ap-palled, at the hodekin cage.

“Don’t drop the packs and don’t open them,” Xundoe said in what he hoped was a command voice. “And none of the magic will harm you.” He herded the farmers as fast as they would move toward the bivouac.

In their haste to reach and defend the campsite, nobody noticed that Nightbird and the other healers who had conscripted the hidden, unarmed farmers and tradesmen for litter bearer duty to move the wounded to the camp hadn’t begun to move yet.

Ninety Jokapcul cavalrymen, mixed swords and lances, cantered toward their target. All of the fencing had been laid out to defend against an attack from the forest, not the town. The bivouac was open to the town—open to the enemy. Corporal Maetog saw the Jokapcul coming and ordered everybody to the other side of the fence. They scrambled madly; children, women, the wounded. Maetog had but fifteen fighters, including himself—nine of his own Blood Swords and five Eikby Guards—not enough to hold for long against ninety Jokapcul. But having the fence between them would prevent the approaching horsemen from crashing through at speed. And the tents and wagons would break up their charge, stagger their line so they wouldn’t all reach the fence at the same time. Maetog saw horsemen rapidly coming around the fence from the south. The Jokapcul would arrive first, but the camp and the fence might delay them long enough for the help to arrive before the battle was lost.