Demontech: Rally Point: 2 (Demontech Book 2) (12 page)

Dumant sputtered, then snapped, “You are under arrest!” He turned to his men. “Take the arms of these three.” The seven Blood Swords who had gathered around him moved hesitantly to obey, checked when they saw Zobrans and other men, armed but without uniforms, gather close to the two Marines and put their hands on their weapons.

“That’s not a good idea, Captain,” Silent said. He had quietly come up behind the Skragland officer during the conversation and now placed a huge hand on his shoulder. As big as Dumant was, he was almost dwarfed by the steppe giant. The big hand pressed down hard enough on Dumant’s shoulder that his knees almost buckled. “You see, it’s like this. You’re a Skragger. You fought the Jokaps and you lost. If you’d won, you wouldn’t be here in the Princedons with only one squad. Them there two Frangerian Marines? First thing they did was they were the only ones to escape from a city taken by the Jokap invasion. Next, they single-handedly took on and killed a squad of Jokap light cavalry. If that wasn’t enough, all by themselves, they freed a whole lot of slaves held by a Jokap slavemaster. Then, with me and a couple other folks, they fought and killed a whole Jokap troop. They’ve fought Jokaps other times, too, and they’ve beaten them every time they fought. That’s why these other folks joined up with them—they win. On top of that, they’ve got themselves a war wizard—you saw the phoenix egg. Now what do you have to compare with that? You’ve got seven soldiers who fought the Jokaps and lost, that’s what. That little bitty one?” He pointed at Haft, who glared back—Haft might be slightly less than average height, but he wasn’t “little bitty.” “He’s the one who led three other men in the counterattack that broke up the bandit ambush that would have killed you and all of your men. Think about that, then tell me who you think should be in command here.”

Dumant thought about it, but not for long. There were at least two dozen men arrayed against his seven, and the two dozen looked very professional, all of them carried their weapons like men who knew how to use them. And no man’s hand should weigh as heavily on his shoulder as the giant nomad’s did.

“All right, go your way,” Dumant said with little grace. “You Skraglanders,” he looked at Kocsokoz and the other Borderers. “You’re wearing the uniform, that means you are still in the Skragland army. Form up with my Blood Swords. We will leave this rabble. Are there any others? You there!” Some yards away he saw Sergeant Phard of the Skragland Bloody Axes coming toward them. “Report!”

“Sir!” Pfard came to attention in front of the Blood Sword officer. “Sergeant Phard, Bloody Axes.”

“Are there any more of you?”

“I have two squads, Captain.”

“Two squads? Good. Are you the ranking Skragland sergeant?”

“Yessir.”

“Fine, you’re my second in command. Assemble your squads over there with my Blood Swords and these Borderers. You’re back in the Skragland army.” Dumant smiled. With the addition of the Borderers and two squads of Bloody Axes, he would put a quick end to the insubordination here. He didn’t notice the bemused expressions the Borderers turned on him.

“Sir, under normal circumstance I would be honored to do so,” Pfard said calmly.

“What? I don’t care what the circumstances are. Do it. That’s an order, Sergeant.”

“Begging the captain’s pardon, but Sir Haft bears the Rampant Eagle on his axe. I and my Bloody Axes have sworn allegiance to him.”

Dumant gaped at him. “Sergeant, do you know what you are doing?” he asked in a low, threatening voice.

“Yessir. The Bloody Axes have always followed the Rampant Eagle.”

“The Rampant Eagle is a myth, Sergeant!” Dumant screamed, his spittle sprayed Phard’s face. “Now do as you are ordered, or you’ll hang for mutiny!”

The sergeant’s face darkened, though his voice remained calm. “Sir, the Rampant Eagle has led the Bloody Axes to the salvation of Skragland in the past. It will do so again. We follow it.”

Before Dumant could speak, Silent leaned on his shoulder again.

“You aren’t in Skragland now, Captain,” the heavy-handed giant said. “And none of the Skraglanders in this company are Blood Swords. If they were, then you’d have an argument that they belonged under your command, but there aren’t any.” He looked around at the Skraglanders, all of whom were now close and observing. “Do any of you want to go with this man?”

The Skraglanders looked at one another—except for the Bloody Axes, who had already lined up in formation behind Haft. Almost as if obeying an order, the rest of the Skraglanders fell into formation with Sergeant Phard’s men.

Haft stood erect, looking firm, concealing his thoughts. There it was again, the eagle on the half-moon blade of his axe. Whatever it meant, he wasn’t about to let anyone realize that he didn’t know.

Phard looked at Haft and the men behind him, then back to Dumant. “Sir, it looks to me like all the Skraglanders here except your Blood Swords have joined the Bloody Axes.”

Dumant looked at him, stunned by their blatant mutiny. His face turned so red it was almost purple, his hands clenched and unclenched, and his whole body seemed to vibrate. He took two or three deep breaths to get himself back under control.

“That’s mutiny,” he snarled at Phard. “I’ll remember you and these other mutineers. You will answer for it when this war is over.” He spun on his heel and signaled his squad to follow. The seven Blood Swords looked nervously at the other Skraglanders, then turned and followed their commander.

“What about your wounded?” Spinner called after them.

The Blood Swords stopped. One of them said something to Dumant. The officer spun on him. He and the one who had spoken exchanged heated words, not quite loud enough to be understood by anyone more than several yards from their group, then the one who questioned the captain turned his back on the officer and headed back to the Frangerians and their comrades. The other Blood Swords looked at each other, glanced at their captain, then followed the first.

“I’m Corporal Maetog, sir,” the one who had spoken to Dumant said as he stepped up to Spinner and Haft and saluted. “I will see to our casualties.” He saw the others join him. “And we’ll be glad to join your company if you’ll have us.” He looked to Sergeant Phard. “We’ll join the Bloody Axes if the sergeant thinks we’re good enough.”

“We’re glad to have you aboard, Corporal Maetog,” Spinner said. He turned to the Bloody Axes. “Sergeant Phard. Front and center.”

“Gladly, sir,” Sergeant Phard said and marched briskly to face him and Haft. He wasn’t as big as the departed Captain Dumant, but was still big, even for a Skraglander.

“Corporal Maetog, this is Sergeant Phard,” Spinner said in broken Skraglandish. “He’s the ranking Skraglander in this company. For now, put yourself and your squad under his command.”

The two Skraglanders looked each other over and each recognized in the other a worthy leader of fighting men.

“Welcome, Corporal. I’m glad to have you and your men with us,” Phard said.

“I believe we’ll prove ourselves worthy, Sergeant.”

“Over here, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the men.” Phard led the Blood Swords to where the Skraglanders waited to welcome them.

Spinner watched them go, then turned to Fletcher with a look that asked why us?

Fletcher understood the look and shook his head. “Because no one else is willing to accept the responsibility?”

“Twenty?” Alyline screamed in Haft’s face. “You attacked twenty men with only four of you and the wolf?”

Haft mumbled something.

“What did you say?” Alyline clenched her fists at her sides and leaned forward threateningly.

“I said ‘I thought there were only twelve,’ ” Haft said a little louder.

“Only twelve?” she shrilled into his face.

“There were at least forty,” Spinner said. Haft and Alyline started, neither had noticed him come up.

Alyline spun back at Haft. “Forty?” she shrieked. “Forty? You attacked forty bandits with only three scouts and Wolf?”

Haft had enough. He might be somewhat shorter than average, but he was still a bit taller than the Golden Girl. He jammed his face close to hers and rose onto his toes to increase his height advantage. “What should I have done?” he shouted. “Should I have left them unmolested to kill those Skraglanders and then ambush you?”

Alyline rose to her toes to counter Haft’s movement. She began on him again, but her scream cut to a shocked squawk as her feet totally lifted off the ground and she was twirled about—Spinner had wrapped his arms around her from behind and turned away from Haft. He set her down facing away from Haft.

Then he made a mistake—he opened his arms and let her go.

The Golden Girl spun on him with her mouth opened indignantly. She swung her arm with the force of her spin and slapped Spinner’s face so hard the blow rocked him and its report was heard by all the nearby soldiers.

“You touched me!” she shrilled. “How dare you touch me! When I was a slave, any man who could meet the slavemaster’s price could touch me. Now no one, not even you, may touch me without my leave! I don’t give you leave.” She swung at him again, but Spinner grabbed her wrist before her hand reached his stinging face—he was certain his cheek was already red and would soon turn livid.

“Haft did the right thing,” he said softly, the only way he could speak to her. “He had to attack the bandits, he had no time to wait for us.”

“But he and the scouts might have been killed!”

Haft cocked an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you cared about what happened to me,” he said, careful to keep his voice low enough she wouldn’t hear.

“And you could have been killed if he hadn’t.” Spinner looked at her sternly. Or tried to, anyway.

“But . . .”

“Enough of this nonsense,” Zweepee said. She deliberately brushed by close enough to bump Alyline. “We need to attend to the wounded.”

“Wounded?” The Golden Girl looked beyond Spinner to Haft and saw the bloodstain on the front of his shirt. Her eyes darted to the others who had attacked the bandit ambush. Hunter, Birdwhistle, Kovasch, and Meszaros were also bleeding.

“See!” she shrilled, but stopped berating Spinner and Haft. She caught up with Zweepee. “Give me some bandages,” she said gruffly. She took the bandages Zweepee shoved at her and turned to tend Birdwhistle’s wounded arm.

“Lie down,” Zweepee told Haft.

“It’s nothing,” Haft protested, holding a hand over the gash in his belly. “Bandage someone else first.”

Just that fast, Fletcher was standing over him. “When my wife tells you to lay down so she can tend your wound, you lay down,” he rumbled in a much deeper voice than he normally used.

Haft looked up at him—Fletcher was taller than Spinner, who was taller than Haft. “You know, you’re lucky I’m wounded. If I wasn’t already bleeding, I’d break you across my knee for talking to me like that.”

Fletcher laughed. “Lay down and let Zweepee take care of your wound.”

Haft looked down when his sleeve was tugged. “Not you, too,” he growled. Wolf looked up at him around the sleeve he gripped in his mouth and growled back at him. He tugged again.

Zweepee, a tiny woman, reached her hands up to Haft’s shoulders and pressed. “Lie down like a good boy and let me take care of your wound,” she said in the kind of voice a mother uses when tending a young child’s boo-boo.

Haft rolled his eyes, but lay down on the ground. Several bees buzzed about the wounded, as though examining the wounds to see if they held nectar.

Fortunately, most of the wounds were minor though two Blood Swords were dead and space had to be made on a wagon for two others injured too badly to walk. It wasn’t long before the company was on the move once more. The same quartets as before scouted ahead. Captain Dumant of the Blood Swords was nowhere to be seen, unlike his seven men who were clearly happy to be added to the company.

Some time later, Haft became aware of voices coming from the road.

“Why are we stopping?” he heard Alyline demand, her voice was almost shrill.

“Because we’re moving faster than the scouts and we caught up with them,” Spinner replied softly, his voice straining for patience. “The scouts have to stay ahead of us if they’re to do any good.”

“
Pfagh,
they aren’t doing any good now. Look at Wolf.”

Wolf yipped, and jumped in stiff-legged play in the middle of the road some twenty yards ahead of them.

“See? He’s already scouted ahead, he says it’s safe.” She trotted forward and leaned low in the saddle to scratch Wolf behind his ears. Wolf whined in pleasure.

Spinner muttered something Haft couldn’t make out from his position off the road, then called out, “Scouts in.”

Haft swore softly. It wasn’t that he mistrusted Wolf, it was more that he didn’t fully trust the animal. How could a wolf truly know what presented a threat to a human party? Besides, he couldn’t forget that wolves are dangerous animals.

He spun to level his crossbow at the sound of a branch snapping in an unexpected direction, swore again when he saw Kovasch and Meszaros walking toward him through the forest.

“You’ve got to stop sneaking up on me,” he snapped. “Or one of these days I’ll shoot before I know who you are.”

“We trust your quickness of sight,” Kovasch said with a barely contained smile.

“As much noise as you’re making, anybody in a mile would know you’re coming, then I’d have to save you.”

The former poachers exchanged glances, Meszaros offended, Kovasch amused. They’d gotten awfully close to Haft before the Frangerian Marine had heard them.

“Mount up,” Spinner told the scouts when they all reached the road. He turned his head slightly so they couldn’t see the lingering imprint of Alyline’s hand on his cheek. “We’ll go faster if everybody’s riding.”

“Someone can still come in on our flanks. The rest of those bandits are out there somewhere,” Haft replied as he hesitantly mounted the docile mare that had been his since weeks before when they left the border between Bostia and Skragland. He heeled his horse and pulled on her reins then trotted off the road. Birdwhistle followed at his signal. Meszaros and Kovasch joined them when Fletcher nodded at him. Fletcher himself led Kocsokoz, Hunter, and Archer off the right side of the road.