The Assassin's Edge (Einarinn 5) (48 page)

Vaspret signalled and the rest of the men ran up to vanish inside the gates. Halice watched the distant fire, noting a sharp cry within the stockade followed by sudden hysterical weeping, both sounds silenced moments later. The first of Vaspret’s men reappeared, encouraging the more able prisoners, no need to impress upon them the necessity of speed and stealth. They vanished into the black night before the first cries came from a sentry, the startled man silhouetted by the fire at his back. As Vaspret’s men dragged and carried more of the prisoners away, commotion boiled up among the pirates’ shelters and tents. Vaspret was the last out, an unconscious woman slung over one shoulder.

Halice made a silent bet that she had been the one threatening hysterics. She took a few paces forward, drawing herself to her full height, sword catching the light as she lofted it for all the world like some hero from a ballad penned by a minstrel who’d never so much as lifted a dagger. The pirates were coming on now, some hesitating as to whether they should head for her or the stockade. Minare made that debate irrelevant as the mercenaries lying in wait unseen crashed into the raiders, taking full murderous advantage of their surprise.

“How are we doing?” Halice shouted to Vaspret as he passed her. The time for silence was emphatically past as the clash of steel and cries of pain roused Muredarch’s entire contingent.

“Just hold them off till we can get to the boats.” Vaspret halted as he heard battle cries more suited to the Lescari wars.

“If we can.” Halice watched as pirates by the huts and tents began massing for a more coherent attack. They hastily abandoned that ambition as a new attack came howling in to scatter them.

Vaspret chuckled. “A good man, that Darni.”

“Too good to leave out of this fun.” Halice slapped Vaspret’s unburdened shoulder. “Get those boats loaded.”

Vaspret vanished into the darkness and Halice heard a resounding voice bellowing, the mighty figure of Muredarch appearing for an instant in the light of the watch fire. With him to rally them, the raiders regrouped with more speed and efficiency than she’d have liked.

She looked to see how heavily Minare’s men were engaged and tried to judge how Darni’s troop was faring from the familiar noises of battle raging on the far side of the encampment. It was time to spite Muredarch before he got his men rallied for a counter attack.

“Withdraw!” Halice bellowed. Minare’s men and women kicked and hacked with redoubled ferocity to free themselves. Mercenaries ran past her, taking the most direct line to the unseen boats. Pirates cheered and jeered, some running ahead of the rest, naked swords silver slashes in the darkness as a few of Kellarin’s men lagged behind, their lack of experience telling.

“To me!” Halice yelled and a handful of mercenaries instinctively swerved to join their commander, racing back to fall upon the foremost pirates.

The first lost his head entirely to a sideways sweep of Deglain’s broadsword, his blood showering the startled Glane. The boy let his sword point drop and was nearly run through by a second raider who’d seen enough death not to mourn his erstwhile comrade. Peyt’s thrust pierced the pirate’s shoulder and sent the man stumbling backwards. Glane slashed with an edge of panic and the man dropped screaming and pawing at his shattered jaw and a gaping gash in his neck. Peyt finished the man with a thrust through one eye, standing on the corpse’s chest to pull his sword free and leaving a bloody footprint clearly visible on the dead pirate’s pale shirt.

“Come on!” roared Halice as Glane stumbled towards her, eyes rimmed with white, blood soaking all down one side, shaken beyond reason by the claustrophobic mayhem of battle. She ran to grab him by the arm, dragging him along. “Are you hurt?”

“They killed Reddig,” the boy gasped. “Cut him open like a hog.”

“Move before they do the same to you.” Halice shoved him towards the shore, turning back to see more pirates charging across the open ground, Muredarch’s shouts driving them on.

A deadly hail rained down. Some died before they hit the ground, shafts clean through heads and bodies. Others collapsed with shrieks of pain, clutching legs or arms torn by razor sharp arrowheads. A second volley came hissing out of the darkness of the far side of the strait as Rosarn and her archers drew down a storm of arrows between the raiders and their unexpected foes. Here and there, crossbow bolts knocked those unlucky enough to present tempting targets clean off their feet.

“Vas!” Halice yelled. “Are we done?” Rosarn wouldn’t have too many arrows left by now.

Vaspret’s reply was lost as a new commotion erupted on the far side of the landing. Halice couldn’t make out what was happening. “Allin!” She backed towards the longboats, balancing speed with the need to not fall on her own arse.

“Yes?” Allin appeared at her side, her voice quavering.

“Time to try that new trick of yours,” said Halice, voice calm and reassuring as she held out her hand.

Allin drew a deep breath. She gripped the mercenary commander’s fingers with surprising strength and that same obscure sensation crawled over Halice’s palm before sinking deep into her bones.

“Thanks.” Halice raised a hand to block the glow of the watch fire and stared into the darkness on the far side of the landing. “Oh, piss on that!”

“What is it?” Allin’s voice was tight with fear.

“Men were sleeping on Den Harkeil’s hulk and the
Tang
. They’ve cut Darni off from his boats.” Halice broke off to knuckle her eyes as fire arrows arched across the strait.

Vaspret came running up. “That’s Ros done, Commander and we’re ready to go.”

Halice nodded. “Back to the boat, lass.”

“What’s happening to Darni’s troop?” The mage-girl didn’t move.

“Get behind me.” Halice held her sword ready as her troop retreated to their boats. Pirates moved closer, wary now. Caution would hold these ones for a few moments longer, Halice judged. All the foolishly bold were dead or bleeding on the scarred and stained turf.

“He’s retreating into the woods and we’re leaving.” All colour was leached out of the curious half vision the magic bestowed but Halice had watched enough skirmishes to understand what she saw. It was the obvious thing to do and Darni had the sense to see it. What Halice couldn’t see was the uneven ground at her feet with the magic enhancing her sight and she nearly fell. “Undo this spell,” she barked.

The startled wizard slapped Halice’s face. Ignoring the sting, the mercenary grabbed Allin and ran with her for the boats, the little mage taking two or three paces to every one of Halice’s. They scrambled into the last boat still on the shore, the others already out in the strait. Sobs and heartfelt, exhausted gratitude mingled with the brisk shouts of the mercenaries organising themselves.

“Is everyone accounted for?” yelled Halice as their boat pushed off. A chorus of confirmation from banner sergeants answered her.

“They’re coming.” Rosarn’s archers stood in their boat to loose a final volley of arrows as pirates came running down to the waterline. Yelps and curses were lost beneath the splash of oars biting deep into the water.

“Get your stroke even!” shouted the banner sergeant furiously. “Where’s that wizard?”

“Here!” Allin scrambled through the boat, hands on all sides urging her forward, to the prow.

“Back to the
Dulse
!” Halice bellowed. The longboats surged forward as Allin’s magic outlined their path through the rocks and shoals.

Halice looked back, eyes narrowed, but all she could see was confusion around the pirate settlement, fresh wood thrown to rouse slumbering fires, sporadic cries of anger and rebuke ringing out across the waters of the strait. Beyond, she could just make out the crashing of bushes being hacked down.

“Did he get them away?” Vaspret was using a bundle of soiled linen to wipe blood and hair matted with greyish smears from his sword blade.

“I don’t hear anyone cheering.” Halice slid her own unsullied weapon back into its sheath. “I’d say so.”

“When did you last get that dirty?” grinned Minare.

“That’s what you scum are paid for,” Halice retorted with pretended outrage. “I earn my gold with my brains.”

“Your beauty wouldn’t earn you a lead Lescari Mark,” agreed Minare. “So, is it a price per head or one fee for the lot?” He gestured at the prisoners huddled in the bottom of the boat.

“Did we get them all?” asked Halice.

Minare shrugged. “All but a handful. A couple were too far gone to bother with and a few just lost their heads and ran away from everyone, friend or foe.”

“Any idea about hurts or losses?” With the elation of the escapade fading, Halice’s immediate concern was now her troop.

“Reddig was gutted. Other than that, it’s just the usual scars and breaks.” Minare threw the stained rag over the side where it floated for a moment, white on the blackness of the water. “Reddig was a good man even if he was only a weaver. D’Alsennin better pay us full blood price for him.”

“Halice!” Rosarn stood in the prow as the archer’s boat drew alongside. “Get young Allin to spread her spell around so we can see it. We’ve not got Larissa.”

“What?” Minare looked up from picking gore out of the binding of his sword hilt. “She was supposed to stay with you.”

“Where in curses is she?” cried Halice.

“She went ashore with Darni.” Rosarn spread her hands. “What was I supposed to do? Try to stop her and get fried for my trouble?”

“D’Alsennin’s going to be none too pleased about that.” Halice heaved a sigh. “Usara neither.”

“When was the last time any assault went precisely to plan?” Minare was unconcerned. “We just have to make it work for us.”

“True enough, as long as Darni got his men and that fool girl of a wizard clear away into the woods.” Halice caught sight of Allin’s beseeching, horrified face at the other end of the longboat. She ignored it as she applied herself to the question. As long as she had the answers before Temar, she could keep the upper hand, always an advantage for a mercenary.

Kehannasekke, Islands of the Elietimm,

10th of For-Summer

I hope Olret’s holding his own,” Ryshad muttered.

“He’s certainly giving Ilkehan something to worry about, by the looks of it,” I commented.

We lay side by side, peering through the grass topping the dune closest to the sprawling village below Ilkehan’s stronghold. The keep itself stood aloof on a rise in the ground, highest point for some distance in any direction, every approach cleared of cover for an advancing army. That didn’t matter, I told myself firmly; we weren’t an army.

“As long as those are reinforcements because it’s going badly for Ilkehan, not additional troops to help him carry his victory on into Rettasekke.” Ryshad kept his spyglass steady.

A metal-barred, solid wooden double gate was opening and a column of black-liveried men marched out with the mindless discipline that Ilkehan terrified into his people. All were armed to the teeth and beyond. The pervasive lack of wood and metals in these islands wasn’t inconveniencing Ilkehan to any noticeable degree. “How many’s that gone today?”

“Close on a cohort.” Ryshad’s satisfaction reassured me. “All the fewer for us to trip over.”

I dug myself lower into the sand. The coolness below the top layer was welcome after a long hot day crouched beneath the merciless sun now finally sinking to the horizon. “Still, at least we weren’t hiking through the desolate heart of the interminable island any more, walking from first light and all through the uncanny dusk, slipping past isolated settlements dotted among the barren hills, taking infuriating detours to avoid the desperate-looking bands that gave the lie to Ilkehan’s boast that his lands gave no exiles a refuge. I licked dry lips and wished for some water but we’d emptied our bottles a while back. ”How much longer do we wait?”

“We’ll let that lot get clear first, shall we?” Ryshad’s eyes shone dark in his blue-tinted face, bristles adding their own shadow to the overall Eldritch effect.

The column marched down to the harbour, cowed villagers ducking their heads before those most thickly studded with signs of rank. I wondered idly what earned these bullies their studs. One for each killing? One for every innocent tortured? “Can you see any gorgets?”

Ryshad brought his spyglass to bear. “One at the front, silver. Another at the back, silver.”

“Two less enchanters to worry about.” That was something at least.

“As long as Ilkehan doesn’t decide to lead his men into battle for a change.” Ryshad watched through the spyglass as the column waited for boats to ferry them out to larger ships anchored in the deep water of the inlet that bit into the coast just here. “I wouldn’t fancy trying get to him through that lot. How many adepts you think he had to start with? How long does it take to train them?”

“He can’t have had that many, surely?” I was looking for reassurance. “And it’s not the number that counts, it’s their strength with Artifice.”

“We haven’t seen any golden gorgets.” Ryshad took the glass from his eye to smile encouragement at me. “Guinalle seemed to think he’d sent his best to Suthyfer.”

“Let’s hope she’s right.” I stifled a groan of frustration. “I wish we could just get on with it.”

“You sound like ’Gren.” Ryshad returned to looking through his spyglass. “Why don’t you go and keep watch with Shiv?”

“You’re trying to get rid of me,” I accused.

“That’s right.” A fond smile took the edge off his words but he didn’t take his eye off the distant keep. “You’re distracting me. Go and talk to Shiv.”

I scurried backwards down the dune. We’d found this hollow with considerable relief after a tense night of sneaking along this shoreline but I’d be very glad to leave it just as soon as Ryshad and Sorgrad decided we’d learned all we could by watching and agreed it was time to act. All this waiting just gave me time to consider all the things that could go wrong with this plan and wound ’Gren up to an ever more dangerous pitch of frustration.

I crept carefully up the banked sand to where Shiv lay, chin on hands, eyes alert.