Chapter 13

Lee watched from the bank, arrow nocked and ready, while I crossed the stream the next morning. He was fast, accurate, and dependable, but that cat had taken a lot of killing, and I wouldn’t be able to contribute much while I was in the water. But I reached the other side without incident and took over guard duty, spear now slung and bow ready with arrow on the string.

Lee also crossed without incident. Still dripping, we left the river behind us, happy to see the last of that place. We had left tracks on both sides, but it couldn’t be helped. We would simply have to remain alert, but there was nothing new in that. Survive or perish was the rule, and vigilance the difference between them.

Routine soon returned; camp in mid to late afternoon, set traps to supplement our shrinking supply of jerky, munch on berries and fruits if we encountered any along the way. We held to our course whenever possible but detoured around the grasslands, remaining far enough back in the forest shadows to avoid the brush around the edges. There were also vines, either wound tightly around tree trunks or occasionally hanging from branches high in the canopy. A precarious existence, I thought; the vine had grown with the tree, but when the anchoring branch broke off or the tree died, the vine would die too.

We’d been watchful for cats, but what we spotted on the third day was at least as dangerous.

We’d been following a deer trail through the woods when we came to a clearing, no more than a small opening in the trees. It was forty yards across at most, I estimated. A few widely-scattered brushy plants grew in the dappled sunlight, and there were also clumps of short grass. We paused to rest before entering the clearing, crouching down and scanning for whatever might be hidden.

The open vista allowed me to see two men approaching. I estimated the distance at a hundred yards, maybe a little more, but it was shrinking. I held out my hand to signal Lee, a slow, minimalist movement. He looked at me, and I held out two fingers. He nodded understanding, so I signaled him to join me. My gestures had been no more than slight movements of my hand. He eased up beside me, still crouched, until we were side-by-side.

I pointed to the men, then glanced at Lee to be sure he’d seen them. He had, and now his eyes were slitted and jaw muscles clenched in anger. There was slight risk of being heard, so I murmured as quietly as possible while trying to avoid the sibilance that whispering makes. “You’ve seen someone like that before?”

“I have seen others,” he murmured. “They have no bows, but they have the long knives.”

Lee had sharp eyes. I looked again at the two men. Like us, they had paused to look around before entering the clearing, and now I spotted the hilts at each man’s hip. They also had small buckler-like shields strapped to their arms, and each wore a breechclout and leather vest. I couldn’t see their shoes, but they were likely similar to what the cabin raiders had worn. Maybe they got their clothing and arms from the same supplier!

I murmured “They’re dressed like the ones we killed after they forced their way into the cabin. Enemies, I’m guessing.”

“They are!” Lee agreed, his voice harsh.

“They’ll cross our tracks if they keep coming the same way they’re going. They’ll know we’re here, which means they might backtrack us and find the cabin. We can’t allow that.”

Lee nodded, and held his bow a little tighter.

The two men stood up and walked into the clearing. I watched as they kept coming, waiting for them to get closer. Their heads turned, eyes always moving as they watched for danger.

They were less than thirty yards away now, well within bowshot range. But our longbows were not intended for shooting from ambush. Their draw weight was too heavy and the draw length was too long. I didn’t care for the idea at all, but we would have to stand up. I made a slow pointing gesture to Lee and he understood; he was to take the man on the right. Mine, the one on the left with a fancy headband, was slightly in the lead.

Stand up, get into firing position as soon as I had steady balance, then shoot. Charge the leader if my arrow didn’t kill him outright, because as close as he was he would be on me if I missed. I signaled to Lee, then pointed to myself. He looked at his target, ready, and I stood up.

It was a simple plan, but it began to go wrong almost immediately.

The man spotted me while I was still coming to my feet. The small shield slipped down his forearm into his left hand, even as he drew his short sword. Both movements were smooth, practiced, and fast! He took up a ready stance, knees flexed, shield toward me, and by so doing he spoiled my aim.

Instead of punching into his chest, my arrow passed through his side. I figured it had missed the gut and probably resulted in no more than a flesh wound. The injury didn’t slow him much, nor did it temper his aggressiveness. He bounded across the clearing, shield up, sword ready, and too fast for me to get a second shot at him.

There was no time to grab another arrow or even unsling my spear! I dropped my bow and drew my knife with my right hand, fumbled my axe from its loop with my left, and took up a ready stance of my own. My left foot was slightly toward him and my axe positioned to block, edge toward him, and my knife held back near my hip. The point was toward him, the edge upright for a gutting stroke—if I could only get past that shield!

Maybe the small bucklers weren’t as useless as I’d thought!

A short sword and buckler is a good individual-combat system for a man who knows how to use them, and this one did. Lee couldn’t help, not until he was certain that he’d killed his man. I was on my own.

My enemy held the sword ready, hilt at his hip and point up to stab as soon as I left an opening. He was balanced, left foot forward, and the buckler was positioned to keep me from closing. It was the perfect stance if he’d been fighting someone armed as he was.

I avoided focusing on the sharp point of that sword. It wasn’t easy, but you must watch the enemy’s body and foot placement! Blades move around and even his eyes can cause you to misjudge his thinking, but foot placement and body position tell you what’s possible for him to do.

I hesitated, but he couldn’t afford to wait; his only choice against men armed with bows was to get in close, attack immediately, and put us down. I was his immediate target, Lee second. But if Lee had killed his partner with his first arrow, he’d be free to circle the two of us and watch for an opening.

Had Lee killed his man?

The swordsman stepped toward me, a pair of half-steps that maintained his stance and position, so I did the only thing I could. I stepped to my right as he moved forward, forced him to adjust his direction and stance. The move changed my stance from right-leading to left-leading, the axe now back slightly to protect my body and my knife extended toward him.

The man backed a half-step, buckler still held forward but now shifted slightly in an effort to protect his torso from the knife that was now closer to his body.

This left an opening, tiny, but it was there! I hooked the buckler with the bottom of my axe and yanked it toward me. He stumbled slightly, unable to resist the axe’s pull, and I switched my stance yet again, still tugging on his shield. This move forced his guard to open wider and I stabbed my knife into his gut. I tried to withdraw the blade, but it stuck so I tried to free my axe from his shield. Pulling it toward me had done what I intended, changing his balance—but with a half-step he’d regained it, and now my axe was trapped. He pushed downward with the buckler and thrust at me with his sword. He’d dropped the point as I stepped forward, so the sword-point went into the front of my thigh instead of my gut.

I felt a heavy push at the time, but no pain; that would come later, if I survived. He’d left me with no more than a bare chance, so I let go of the knife and used both hands to yank desperately at my axe. If I lost the axe too...

I pulled desperately, as hard as I could, and hopped back, briefly dragging him with me. He stumbled again, but this time he dropped the sword and used his free hand to clutch at my knife hilt where it stuck out from his body. I freed my axe but was unable to swing it, so I skipped backward again. But the knife had done its work.

I held the axe ready in my right hand now, bare left hand extended to block, but it wasn’t needed. He was holding his hand over his gut as he fell, still tugging at the knife that had killed him, but his fingers slipped off the blood-slick hilt. Then he stopped moving, and I was finally able to step back and look around.

Lee had another arrow on his bowstring and was watching wide-eyed. He looked at my leg and I glanced down. Blood slicked the front of my trousers, and it had run down into my boot.

For the moment there was nothing I could do about that, and my knife was still in the man’s gut. I worked it back and forth to loosen it and finally it came free. I wiped the knife on his vest and sheathed it, then loosened the belt that held up his breechclout.

I needed that belt and breechclout! I wrapped the belt tightly around my injured thigh, just above the wound, and tied it in place to stop the bleeding, which slowed but continued to ooze. The deerskin clout was dirty, but it would have to do. I wrapped it around the wound and tucked in the ends, forming a temporary bandage, and looked across the clearing to where I’d heard a slight noise.