Demontech: Gulf Run (39 page)

“Bows!”
Spinner shouted. Everyone who carried a bow readied it and nocked an arrow, waiting for the command to fire.

“Volley, fire!”
A volley of arrows flew from the edge of the thin forest at the Jokapcul line, but the volley was so ragged most of the Jokapcul easily avoided the arrows.

“Demon spitters!”
Two of the swordsmen of the Zobran Pikers sheathed their swords and unlimbered the demon spitter tubes they wore on their backs. They took position and began to aim, but before they could fire, a crack of thunder came from the Jokapcul line and one of them flipped backward, sending his demon spitter tube spinning away.

The Jokapcul knight commanding the defense had finally remembered the small demon spitter he carried on his belt. It was the first time he’d used a demon weapon in combat, and he was impressed that it had done what it was supposed to do. He looked for and took aim at the second piker aiming a tube.

“Someone get that tube!” Spinner shouted. He didn’t want to leave the demon spitter there, not knowing if the diminutive demon who lived in it might decide to leave if it was ignored. He saw one of the Prince’s Swords snatch the weapon up and yelled at him, “Feed the demon!”

The swordsman looked uncertainly at Spinner. He’d never handled a demon spitter and didn’t have any food for the demon, but Spinner was already directing the piker and archers to fire at the officer with the small demon spitter. So he darted to the downed piker and rifled through the pouches on his belt until he found the canister of demon food. He plucked a pellet from it and rapped his knuckles on the tube’s tiny door. The demon popped its head out and snapped,
“Wazzu whanns?”
then gleefully snatched the food pellet and ducked back inside.

Arrows flew from side to side, and both lines were punctuated by the thunder of demon spitters. The Jokapcul commander was overconfident and missed his second shot. But by then the piker had already fired into the Jokapcul line and the eruption of demon spit had thrown down five broken, bleeding men. Others fell on both sides with arrows protruding from them. When the Jokapcul saw they were outnumbered and losing men, their line began to waver.

Spinner saw the Jokapcul pikes and spears wavering and men looking like they were ready to run. He gathered himself to call for another charge, but Geatwe’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“Lord Spinner, we are too close, we can’t get up momentum before we hit them.”

“Why not?” The Jokapcul were only fifty yards away, but Spinner didn’t understand that for a cavalry charge to be effective, everyone in it had to reach the enemy at the same time. They needed to come to speed together, and fifty yards wasn’t enough distance for them to build the speed to gallop side by side.

“Send the foot, they can do it now,” Geatwe said. “Have the horse cover them with arrows.”

“All right,” Spinner said, though he still didn’t understand.

Geatwe began shouting commands, and the infantrymen with bows handed their bows and quivers to horsemen without. Then Geatwe gave the command and the swordsmen charged under an arc of arrows flying at the Jokapcul.

The Skraglander Borderer named Takacs shimmied down the bumber tree so fast he almost lost his grip on its ridged trunk and fell.

“Captain,” Takacs said excitedly, “they are fighting at the far end of the camp!”

“What?” Phard looked to the west, but he didn’t expect to see anything. He looked north of west, wondering where Sir Haft was, worried that something must have happened to him. The attack on the west end of the camp shouldn’t have started yet; the Bloody Axes who carried the message to Lord Spinner should not have reached him before Sir Haft joined Company A—unless something had happened to Haft.

“Did you see any sign of—”

“Sir Haft comes!” Takacs interrupted, looking past his company commander.

Phard turned and blew his breath out in relief.

“Is everybody ready?” Haft asked without waiting for Phard to report.

“Yes, Sir Haft. And the fighting has already started.”

“What?”

Phard gestured to Takacs, who said, “Sir Haft, I was up that tree. The Jokapcul have formed on the far end of the camp and are fighting Lord Spinner’s force.”

“They formed up?” Haft asked in surprise, to give himself a few seconds to think. “Have they broken?”

“They looked like they were holding.”

Haft’s mind spun. The Jokapcul should not have been able to get into formation; they should have been taken completely by surprise. Then he realized the two Bloody Axes who went to tell Spinner hadn’t had enough time to reach him yet—somehow, the Jokapcul had discovered them.

“Are all of them there?”

“It looked like the entire troop, I didn’t see any guards among the prisoner cages.”

Haft took a deep breath. “Infantry stay here in the blocking position,” he told Phard. “Cavalry charge west.”

“Immediately, Sir Haft,” Phard replied, and began giving orders to his platoon commanders.

“Get my horse,” Haft ordered Takacs before he had time to dwell on it. The battle was several hundred yards away. As much as he disliked horses, he could reach the fight a lot faster on horseback than on foot.

The knight commanding the guard troop exalted when the Zobran foot soldiers began their charge. It was exactly what he wanted them to do. He roared out a sharp command and his troop countercharged. The shield of arrows from the Zobran horsemen passed harmlessly over the Jokapcul.

The Jokapcul were in fairly good order; they ran on a good line, the archers dropping their bows in favor of swords and spacing themselves to alternate with the pikemen and spearmen in the line. Just before the points of the extended pikes and spears met the charging Zobrans, the Jokapcul stopped, planted the butts of the long weapons on the ground, and aimed their points at the onrushing bodies. The swordsmen stopped as well and readied themselves to cut down anyone who made it through the wall of points. Not every pike or spear met its target, but enough did to seriously weaken the charging Zobran infantry. The Zobran line broke up as soldiers swerved to avoid the pikes and spears, their solid line fragmented into a series of short columns that attempted to squeeze between the long handles.

The pikemen and spearmen dropped their long arms and drew swords to strike at the sides of their attackers. Company B’s horsemen had to stop shooting arrows for fear of hitting their own men when the Jokapcul charged. Now they raised their bows again, but were able to loose only a few shafts before the infantry spread out and blocked their fire once more.

“Around behind them!” Spinner shouted, and heeled his gelding to race to the right and circle behind the Jokapcul. Then the world jerked and he flew from the saddle. The earth rushed up and slammed into him. Then blackness.

The Jokapcul knight saw the young man shouting orders and fired his demon spitter at him. He watched the young man’s horse flip forward with blood flowing copiously from its shoulder, and saw its rider fly forward to land hard on the ground. The young man bounced once, then lay still and broken. The Zobran horsemen near enough to see froze at the sight of their fallen commander. The knight cried out in jubilation as awareness of the loss spread through the Zobran horsemen. He barked out more orders to his fighters, and they redoubled their efforts to drive back the swordsmen they were engaged with.

Captain Geatwe leaped from his saddle and used his sword to slice through the throats of the badly wounded, kicking the gelding to stop its thrashing so it wouldn’t kick Spinner. Then he knelt at Spinner’s side.

“Lord Spinner! Are you all right, Lord Spinner!”

Spinner didn’t respond; he continued to lay limp. Moving quickly, Geatwe straightened Spinner’s arms and legs and rolled him onto his back. Spinner was breathing, but his jaw hung slack and his eyelids almost closed over his eyes, showing only white.

Geatwe straightened and yelled, “Healer!”

“I’ll fetch him,” said Wudu, now the commander of the Prince’s Swords. He ran to find the healing magician who accompanied Company B.

The Jokapcul fighters, seeing the Zobran leader down and his horsemen in growing disarray, shrilled out and fought harder, pressing the swordsmen back. The knight pointed his demon spitter at the Zobran officer kneeling over the body of the leader and pressed the lever again. The impact spun Geatwe around and threw him to the ground.

Seeing this the Jokapcul fighters pushed harder yet. The Zobrans had been about to win their battle but were now fighting, and losing, a desperate holding action. The only advantage the swordsmen now had over the Jokapcul was the clear footing behind them. In contrast, the Jokapcul had to step over or on the bodies of the fallen, and their feet slid and slipped on the bloody ground. The knight screamed a victory screech.

The Skraglander Bloody Axes and Kingsmen raced in a mob through the prison camp. They ignored the huddled prisoners, paid no attention to the beseeching hands thrust through the bars of cages, their entire attention focused on reaching the battle at the camp’s far end. Bouncing and poorly balanced in his saddle, Haft slowly slipped from the front of the mass of horsemen to the rear. Frustration was added to his feeling of urgency to reach Spinner and the battle.

From his position in the lead, Captain Phard was the first to see the battle. The height of his horse allowed him to peer over the heads of the struggling men on foot. He saw the Zobran horsemen milling about, contributing nothing to the battle. He didn’t see Spinner anywhere.

“ON LINE!” he roared, and reined his horse back to a canter.

Quickly, the Bloody Axes formed on him, and the Kingsmen spread out to the sides.

“CHARGE!” He aimed his horse at the knight, easily distinguished by the plume on his helmet.

The seventy-five horsemen slammed into the backs of the Jokapcul. They pulled their horses up and the horses kicked and bit at the Jokapcul as their riders swung swords and hacked with axes.

The knight heard the thunder of hooves behind him and spun about. His jaw dropped when he saw the Skraglanders. Where did they come from? he wondered. But he was well-trained, and automatically pointed his demon spitter and pressed the lever. A Bloody Axe flipped backward off his horse and landed with a thud. The knight started to aim at another horseman when he caught sight of the fearsome rider charging straight at him with a murderous axe held ready for a killing blow. He tried to swing his arm around to shoot at that threat, but was too late.

Captain Phard swung his axe and cleaved the knight from left shoulder to right hip. Then he almost fell from the saddle when his horse reared to kick at the backs of Jokapcul fighters. Phard quickly regained his balance and chopped into the back of an enemy soldier who had just become aware of the new threat.

Haft’s mare continued galloping when the rest of the horsemen slowed to get on line, and he reached the Jokapcul a mere half length behind the Bloody Axes. His axe chopped down, rose, chopped again, sending out sprays of blood each time.

Then the battle was over; the Jokapcul were all down.

Haft stood in his stirrups, looking at the edge of the trees. “Spinner!” he shouted. Where was Spinner? He couldn’t see him! And where was Captain Geatwe?

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

“Spinner!” Haft shouted as he clumsily jumped off his mare. He dashed the few yards to where Spinner lay on his back, the healing mage who accompanied Company B kneeling over him. Behind the mage, where he could turn around to tend to him, lay Captain Geatwe. His surcoat and shirt had been removed and he was lying on them. An aralez stood on his chest, delicately licking at a gaping wound in his shoulder.

No aralez stood on or near Spinner. Instead, the healing mage worked his hands over the downed Frangerian, manipulating here, prodding there, rubbing in another place, lifting Spinner’s eyelids and looking closely, as though peering into his soul.

“What’s wrong?” Haft demanded, dropping to his knees at Spinner’s side. “How bad is he hurt? Is he going to live?” He grabbed the magician’s shoulders and shouted, “Tell me he’s going to live!”

“Quiet!” the healing mage snapped without looking up. He continued his examination without pause.

“What happened to him? Where is he wounded?” Haft’s eyes roamed Spinner from crown to toe and back. Spinner’s chest slowly rose and fell with his breathing, but Haft saw neither wound nor blood. “Was it a magic attack? Is there a demon weapon that doesn’t leave marks? Tell me! Speak up, what’s wrong with him?” he babbled.

“Get him away!” the healer snapped into the air, still without looking up or pausing in what he was doing.

“Come, Sir Haft,” Captain Phard said, clamping his hands on Haft’s shoulder and lifting. “Let the healing mage do his job.” Haft protested but was too shocked to strongly resist the bigger man who pulled him away.

“But—But, Spinner—”

“The healing mage is doing everything he can,” Phard said. “Let us see to the others.”

“The others?” Haft asked weakly, turning to Phard.

“The others.” Phard nodded at the soldiers who were gathering bodies; wounded and dead, friend and enemy.

“The others!” Haft said strongly. He saw the injured being laid in the open and their wounds bandaged by other soldiers. There were so many.

But he wasn’t just a junior Marine now, he was a
commander
—with Spinner down, he was
the
commander. The commander had responsibilities. He couldn’t let his concern for individuals—not even for Spinner—distract him. And he had to take care of the things that Spinner would have been responsible for. He twisted his shoulders from Phard’s hands, straightened himself, and marched to where the wounded were being gathered.

“Send to the caravan,” Haft told Phard, who caught up with him. “I want all the healers here to tend our wounded.”

There was no pavilion, just a swath of bare ground in the shade of the trees. Haft stopped and briefly spoke with each of the wounded, told them how well they had fought and that they had won a great victory over the Jokapcul. He tamped down the part of him that was glad all the wounded were Zobrans, Bostians, and Penston Conquestors from Company B—none of the Skraglanders from Company A whom he’d brought into the fight were among the wounded.