Chapter 49

The wind was gusting over the land, picking up bits of dried grass, leaves and dirt as it went. Around us the ground was decorated with dull green grass and the yellow-green growth of wildflowers. I compulsively tightened my grip on my pup as the column of raiders struggled up the winding road with little protection from the elements. The clouds were high and unlikely to unload any rain tonight, but I knew the storm would gather strength over the sea and drop its moisture on the Great Marsh. In this case, I was grateful for no rain while on our mission, although this soil could use the rain; it felt too dry.

The hostile war party's advance scouts had already ridden through the sunken road and over the next hill. I wasn't worried about a dozen Caldavian scouts on their captured draft horses since they stayed in a pack on the road. This column had no true scouts, as they should have, to create a cone of protection around them as they moved. It seemed that our foes were unafraid and self-assured that no roaming force was in the area and since they had just arrived and sacked the fishing village they had assumed that they had a free hand for a few more days. What they didn't know was my group had them under observation, with an additional pair of concealed horsemen on the opposite hill. Those horsemen had only one duty: to count the enemy numbers and their losses from the ambush and then report back to Hajin.

I'd put myself in the middle of our party so the warriors could all see my silent commands. We remained hidden in the forest with our mules down the backside of the hill, far enough away to avoid any stray sounds alerting our foes, with every fifth man left to guard and tend the animals. I could see the angular features of the marine's face next to me, but in the ghillie suit he was hard to see lying on the ground. His body was still and well covered, but he was grinning like a boy at the fair. The hooked-nose, warrior was unconcerned about the two hundred and fifty raiders just within range of our crossbows.

"He thinks the white wizard can do no wrong. Moon Mother let me not make any mistakes," I thought.

We waited and watched as the slow column of men walked by our hiding place. They moved slowly seeking their next target. It was likely the captured villagers told the raiders that the market village for this county was just eight miles away, overlooking the coast upon a cliff with no inlet for them to gain entry from the sea. The market village was on Derwen's neighbor's estate and the raiders would be surprised to find the estate ready for them, with Hajin's additional reinforcements of fifty men and three wolf carts. Our task was to inflict some damage and melt away among the branches of bramble.

I told Hajin not to count on us being present for the anticipated battle with the raiders in the market village. He hadn't been happy with me, but Hajin trusted me with his best men. Half of my party was men that had lived a short time in Juniper Hills and were familiar with my exploits and failings. I felt comforted to have the men with me who had fought the raiders and ultimately saved the female slaves working at the sea-coal site. Hajin called them his "blooded men" and the other trainees treated those warriors with deference and respect. However, even the blooded trainees were junior to Hajin's primary mercenary company in Conquest Point. The men on the mainland had years of experience at fighting. The training company seeds replacements in the Conquest Point Company―due to death or retirement.

The last quarter of the column approached the sunken road. This lot of men was a mixture of young and old and neither had much armor nor many possessions. All of them had pointed helmets, small round shields and spears; a few had leather armor like ours, with an occasional man possessing a long sword. I'd bet the swordsmen were leaders. "Vassals or servants. Not hardened fighters," I thought.

Most of the enemy column had disappeared over the hill when I signaled my men to prepare to fire. After the first shot we would stand and reload the pups for added mayhem. Along the edge of the forest my rangers shifted their weapons into place. I'd selected this spot for the clear line of fire down into the sunken road as the enemy had no cover and nowhere to run. This section of the barren roadway was, literally a death trap. I held my arm straight up and chopped it down in one swift motion. My shot was slightly delayed from the rest of rangers.

The wounded raiders cried out, the dead just dropped as we stood and reloaded. The column stopped, confused, looking at the dead and dying. One of the few men to draw a sword was my next target. My bolt caught him in the chest before he could rally his men. Another dozen raiders died under our assault from the hill. Men ran both back down the road the way they came and up the road attempting to reach the crest and the rest of their column. Not a soul attempted to approach us above them on the hill.

We quickly drew back the crossbow string and fired our third ragged volley at the men running up the road. Those targets were slower than the men running down the slope, as I watched another ten men perish from our attack. The last bolts in the pups hit the raiders as they crested the hill to their fellows, perhaps another six or eight dropped from our attack. We could see a line of helmets forming beyond the crest as the raiders deployed.

"Fall back!" I bellowed.

We ghosted back into the forest and ran for our mounts. My men slid, as much as ran, down the backside of the hill to our mules and we slung our pups over our backs before grasping the reins. The mount holders swung into the saddles first, but they acted as our rear guard, following behind us as we made our escape. We rode down a dry gully towards the sacked village between the wooded hills. I suspected we would be a mile away before the raiders searched our ambush position. Knowing how the raiders treated captives I was determined to save those still alive in the fishing village.

We rode behind the hills keeping away from the local road that connected the fishing village and the market village. Our ambush might cause the mounted scouts to travel back towards their ships to warn the men about us and I didn't want to be harassed by horsemen while my focus was on the slave ships and their captives. While guiding my animal, I considered how best to face down the foes in the village without the raider's scouts pinning me between the two forces.

Our mules looked tired, so I called for a rest when we came across a brook running through a small stand of pine trees. The combination of tall reeds, bushes and trees hid our force from the surrounding hills as we shed our camouflage clothing and packed them in the leather saddle bags on the mules. Our beasts were happy to drink the cool water. I had pushed them hard and the sweat-covered animals were giving off an unpleasant smell. The men moved up-stream and gained their own taste of the water as I sucked on my tube a bit and cleared my dry mouth, the water reservoir soothing my need. My black mule whinnied and pulled at his feed bag.

I unloaded my mule and attached a feed bag of grain to reward it and all the men followed my example, tending their mounts too. We rested on the ground and joked about some morbid events that had occurred during the ambush. The rangers sat around discussing their best shot or funniest injury and we all laughed when one warrior told of his last shot, up the road at a fleeing raider. The man was weaponless, at the crest of the hill, safety just feet away, a bolt entered the man's ass and his helmet fell off. The ranger explained, tears of laughter in his eyes, that the range was extreme and at the last-minute the projectile had dipped to waist level.

The discussion seemed to bleed some tension and stress from me. "We all know one day, it may become our turn to lay face down in the dirt, crying out for our mother. I just didn't know which image from my dreams might be my mother," I thought.

The sun hovered low in the western sky, offering only a couple more hours of daylight as I lifted the saddle I was resting on and fit my mule for the next leg of our journey. All of the rangers followed my lead, not needing verbal instructions on what was required. I called in the two guards we'd sent out, and when they had completed strapping their gear on to their mules we departed. I could sense our location, remembering the aerial view of the area from my dream and I pushed us north. This change of direction seemed to surprise my men but I didn't explain and they knew better than to ask.

After an hour we had looped around the fishing village and approached it from the west. We were tired and the brief rest had just reminded our bodies that stiff muscles resulted from nagging aches produced by the jarring mule movements. None of us wore armor because I had insisted everyone ride as comfortably as possible, so when I tasted the salty-sea air we stopped our column on the reverse-side of a hill; the occasional smell of acrid smoke hit our nostrils.

A visual of the village from my dream was in my mind. My men sensed my renewed tension and watched me closely, as we stood in tall knee-height grass, which moved with slight waving movements towards the north. The unconcerned mules nibbled at the grass.

My gaze swept the faces of the warriors and I said, "Marines, armor up. Manor guards, ghillie suits!"

The red-orange sun was losing its heat and a slight sea breeze cooled the air around us as the warriors readied themselves for action. Muffled voices of shared comments joined the sounds of seagulls in the air. I neither put on my armor nor my camouflaged netting. My black station clothes would suffice for my plan, as they are comfortable and rugged, only diminished by past cuts from my foes. The unique space-aged clothes were somewhat my signature item now among the populace. I stuffed small bags of pellets in my pant pockets and pulled out my red flare gun, the last load of ammunition going in my shirt pocket. My warriors were not familiar with the flare gun and looked at me quizzically. I gave them a reassuring smile while drawing my crossbow for later use.

I approached the marines and said, "You are our reserve. No matter what you hear or how loud the noises, you stay on your mules until I come for you. If this all goes wrong and we retreat, then you will have to defend us while we mount up. We are setting up another trap for the raiders and you are the hammer that will crush their hopes."

Hajin's marines nodded their heads in understanding. The estate guards looked to me for instructions as I picked out one man in a ghillie suit and called him to me.

"If all goes well and our subterfuge works, we will be leaving you to watch the remaining ten mules, from the crest of the hill. I expect you will take part with your mates but when I call them down the hill you will remain," I said.

"Yes, Lord Solon." A flash of intelligence shone in his eyes.

"Here are the plans men. All of the camouflaged men will crawl over the crest of the hill, spreading out like you were trained. I will come over the hill on my mule and dismount among you. You will ignore me. If I am right the raiders will want me and the mule. Do not fire when they approach me. I will kill them. If I am right, another larger group will come for me and they are your true target. The marines will help us take the village after we spring the trap," I said.

A marine responded, "Yes, Lord Wolf." The men laughed at the Juniper Hills reference.

The estate guards staked their mules and moved to crawl over the crest. The marines slapped a fist to their chest in silent tribute to me as we waited for a proper amount of time for the "snipers" to crawl in place and settle. I looked at the sun, the last reddish rays cast on the land.

I rode over the hill, feeling the utmost satisfaction at the competence of the new rangers. Fishing boats filled the small harbor, all of them resting on the far-shore. The tide was out in the shallow cove, the small village surrounded the horseshoe-shaped sea of mud. Five slave galleys were tipped sideways in the center of the mudflat. Across the bay, on the edge of the hill, the eastern side of the village was burned to the ground. Near the stranded fishing boats, groups of villagers sat with ropes tied around their necks with a few crossbowmen walking in pairs around the captured villagers.

Closer to me, another larger group of men sat chained together in five lines, that radiated out like spokes of a wheel and a handful of raiders stood at the center of the hub, guarding the rowing slaves. About five more men guarded the outer perimeter near me, facing the rowers, of which there were about forty rowers in each chain gang. The only externally facing guards were six mounted scouts. The draft horses and riders were across the lane connecting the road to the fishing village. Seeing so many horses was a surprise. "The raiders either got lucky, hit traveling merchants or there are few rich farmers around here," I thought.

"Time to play," I said, dismounting, and waited. The sun was over my shoulder, silhouetting me on the crest of the hill. I took out a spike, knocking it into the hard earth to secure the mule. After taking a deep breath, I let out a sigh, trying to calm my racing heart. I spoke endearing comments to my mule and rewarded him with my last apple.

Shouts at the bottom of the hill caught my attention as the rowing guards at the center of the five lines finally noticed me. I watched the excited raiders make their move, while my paranoid self wondered if my estate guardsmen would tell Derwen about me being so exposed.

Four of the slavers that were watching the lines of rowers turned and immediately moved towards me. The mule was a valuable animal and I was but one man. They probably assumed I'd just stumbled upon them. The angle of the hill made their progress slow, but they wore no armor and only carried short-swords. "More vassals," I thought.

The raiders swung their swords around their heads trying to frighten me and I snapped a nail into the nearest man's eye, the next nearest one catching one in the throat. The last two men paused a moment in confusion, giving me time to snap two nails into their bodies. I hit the shoulders of their sword arms because of my desperate need to stop them short of me. Both of them dropped their swords and ran back down the hill. I removed the pup from its hiding place, drew the string back and clicked a bolt into place from the four-shot cartridge. I carefully aimed and fired, removing first one and then the slaver from this world.

The sound of arriving horsemen surprised me. I'd remained so focused on the immediate threat, I'd forgotten to look at the bigger picture. The six armored horsemen trotted towards me, climbing the hill with ease. The crossbow men in the center of the villages had run to the base of the hill too. I ignored the horsemen and reload the last shot into the pup, the rhythm of the horse's hooves filling my senses.

I looked up to see five of the horsemen falling from their mounts and three of the raiders with crossbows never had a chance to lift their weapons as my hidden men killed them. The last horseman turned, my bolt suddenly protruding from the center of his back. I blinked, only just realizing I'd reacted without thinking. The slaves cheered and a roar of excited sounds reached out to us.

"Call up the marines!" I shouted. A hidden estate guard rose up and ran to the hill-top to call our remaining men. The camouflaged men remained hidden, which sent a wave of pride through me. "They remembered their training," I thought.

With the marines alert and summoned, I shouted to the standing estate guard, "Grab a horse and take up the scouting spot on the road. We need advanced warning of any more scouts or that mass of men."

He ran off after a grazing horse and the marines stepped over the hill.

"Everyone but the mule guard rise up," I shouted. Eight more estate guards stood.

"Marines sweep the village for more raiders. Manor guards run to the road and sweep down and around the back of village for escaping raiders," I shouted. All the men followed my commands while I reloaded my pup. I mounted the animal and descended the hill, watching my men deploy.

The marines moved in pairs among the thatched village homes, carefully sweeping through the tied up people looking for more raiders as I stopped half way down the hill to watch. My estate guards approached the village in a skirmish line, flushing the few remaining raiders towards the burned out village homes where it took only a few moments for crossbow bolts to take the slavers down. The marines in the village began searching homes, so I spurred the mule down into the center of the village and dismounted, tying the mule to a post outside a small stable.

A desperate swordsman darted out of the stable, his wild eyes pinned me in place for a moment. His shout prompted me to roll to the side as he swung a two-handed sword, attempting to cleave my head from my shoulders. I rolled again as the large man thrusts the point of the sword at me. His great muscles swelled with the attempt while I reached into my unzipped fanny pack and drew the red flare gun. The brute was quick and for each of my rolls he closed the distance to thrust his long weapon at me again and again. I prayed to Moon Mother that the pellet bag hadn't fallen out of the miniature railgun. I stopped rolling and fired the gun into his chest. The blast threw me backwards and lifted the raider off his feet, his chest sporting the scattered metal balls. The large man collapsed, his leather armor wrecked as he twitched feebly on the ground. I cleared grit from my eye while I watched him carefully.

A gurgling sound rose out of the man's throat before his body shuddered and he went limp. I caught my breath while lying in the dirt, taking another linen bag from my pouch. I loaded the weapon, stood up and returned the weapon to my fanny pack. The dead raider had confirmed my shotgun theory worked. The emergency device wasn't designed to hold non-standard ammunition. "I'd been lucky that the bag hadn't fallen loose in the struggle," I thought.

Two marines ran around the corner almost tripping over the body. You could see the blood spattered chest, and a growing crimson pool soaking into the parched earth. The pool drained towards his steel cap.

I dusted off my clothes the best I could, and said, "Be careful in the buildings," trying to project that nothing daunted me. I hoped my dull and labored breathing didn't spoil my fraud.

A battered woman emerged from the barn followed by her mirror image. The ebony, teenaged daughter while just as naked, only had a bruised cheek. Neither women said a word but the mother gathered up the heavy sword and thrust it into the dead man's groin. She left the sword in place and rushed to envelop her daughter in a hug and both women began crying. I felt awful and embarrassed at what had happened to them.

I turned to my marines, "Go clear the village. We don't need any slavers left alive." Both men put fist to chest and departed with angry faces.

I left the women to comfort each other. "What can I possibly say," I thought.

I approached the confined villagers. A ghillie-suited man reported in, "Five slavers attempted to escape through the ruined section of the village. We finished them off and most of my men remain guarding the perimeter, Lord Solon."

A woman gasped behind me, I stepped next to the estate guard sergeant before turning to see who was behind me. The battered woman and her daughter had followed me. They both had found dirty shirts somewhere.

"What are you?" The battered woman said to the warrior, the camouflage suit had obviously disturbed her.

He straightened and said, "I am a Wolf Ranger from the Lady Derwen's Estate, in training with Lord Wolf. Ah, Lord Solon."

"He is taking my sniper and ranger stories from our suit making session to heart," I thought.

A set of marines approached us and saluted, "Sir, the village is secure and we killed another seven raiders hiding in homes with women."