Protector - Squire Part 22

"I'll bring it back. Good work, you two. Try to save arrows." Raoul hurried back down the line of men, walking half-bent so he didn't give the enemy a target.

Word came to Dom: the man who had screamed during the second volley of arrows was one of his corporals, Derom. He was dead.

"Stay here," Dom told Kel. "I've got to shift the line so we don't have a gap." He ran behind the rocks as Kel sent her sparrows to keep watch in the woods.

Here they came with the alarm. Arrows flew in their wake, a dark wave that crested the sheltering rocks. Dom, returning to his post, went down face-first. An arrow was buried in the thick muscle between his neck and shoulder. He grimaced and got to one knee; the man on his far side crawled over to help him up.

The rain of arrows stopped. "Nari, get my lord," Kel told the sparrow, watching the trees for Scanrans. Nari soon returned, Raoul behind her.

"Dom's. .h.i.t," Kel said, without taking her eyes from her view. The Scanran archers were putting up a fresh rain of arrows to keep everyone pinned down. There was something about the way they fell that bothered her. I'm sorry, Dom, thought Kel, straining her eyes to see the enemy's movements. I'll go all shaky over you when this is over.

Arrows fell, some of them like rain. They're shooting down, Kel realized. But from where? She fit an arrow to her bow and slowly looked around her rock shield, waiting for movement in the wall of greenery. There. They had climbed the trees. An arrow shattered on the rock just beside her.

She hand-signaled the archers' new positions to the man on her left and to the man who'd helped Dom, then swung her longbow up and loosed. There was a scream, then a crash of broken tree limbs. The archer plummeted to the ground. A second Tortallan arrow dropped another archer; a third fell halfway to the ground, where he was trapped by a tangle of branches.

"Nice shot," Raoul said in her ear, approving. "Take command of Dom's squad."

Kel stared at him. "What about Symric?" she asked, naming Dom's other corporal.

"A good man, but no commander. Dom knows it was a mistake to promote him. Worse, Symric knows. You've got the squad, Kel." Raoul gripped her arm, making sure he had her undivided attention.

"There's a least one giant on our left. I think the foot soldiers will try to rush the center of our line while the giant rushes our left flank. Kel, you've got our right. If they get around you here, we're cooked, do you understand?"

Kel nodded.

Raoul squeezed her shoulder through her mail. "Mithros guide you," he said.

"And you, sir," she replied. This might be the last time they ever spoke. Giants were clumsy, but they were big, and Raoul was just one man.

No, she told herself firmly. The men of the Own won't sit back and let him do it alone. She watched for a second as he went back to his work, then prepared to do hers.

Kel turned. Men from the caravan had crept up while she and Raoul talked. They shifted Dom onto a blanket, and carried him to the scant safety uphill. Kel moved to Dom's position and signaled the squad to gather. The sparrow Nari had gone to scout; Jump had his nose in the air. They would sound the alarm if the enemy moved in.

The men cl.u.s.tered around her, keeping an eye on the open ground in front. Symric, the remaining corporal, watched her with haunted eyes. "Fulcher's got Derom's old place by the river," he whispered. "He'll sing out if he sees anything."

Kel nodded. "Lord Raoul's put me in command," she told them firmly. She thought she heard a sigh of relief from Symric, but she wasn't sure.

"You aren't even - " someone hissed. Kel looked at him: Wolset, a man who talked bigger than he was.

"Shurrup," growled Symric. "Better Kel than me."

She told them Raoul's orders and sent them back to their places, with instructions to spread the line out now that they were short two men. Symric she kept with her. Maybe Raoul thought she could command these men, but she wanted one of them near to advise her, just in case.

Once the men were moving, she turned back to the view and picked up her bow, listening for movement in the trees ahead. Something was not right. She strained her ears and heard the noises of men crashing through the woods, but their sounds were fading.

"They're moving off," Wolset hissed. In shifting to fill the gaps Wolset had placed himself on the corporal's right.

"Shurrup," ordered Symric.

"I'm telling you, they're leaving," argued Wolset. "We can reinforce the center of the line instead of dawdling here - "

Kel had to do something. He'd call for a vote next, while the Scanrans prepared their next move. She had to risk getting shot.

Kel got up and walked over to him. Grabbing his mail and the shirt under it, she twisted hard and yanked until his face was near hers. "Listen, yatter-mouth," she whispered, locking her eyes on his, "shut up, do as you're told. Or you'll have worse than Scanrans to fret over." She tightened her grip as he struggled. "Do you understand?"

Wolset nodded, his face beet red. Kel dropped him. "Next time remember I'm bigger than you," she told him.

The men were sneaking wide-eyed glances at them. When Kel glared, they turned their eyes front.

Jump whined. Kel stared at him - had she ever heard him whine before? - and listened to the sounds in front. The noise of movement faded, as if the Scanrans worked their way to the center and to Kel's left, away from her position. Why? She heard a roar and the clang of battle, but in the distance. She settled down to wait, puzzled, but sure of herself. It didn't matter if the whole Scanran army attacked on the left. Raoul's orders were clear.

Sparrows exploded from the trees opposite and sped across the open ground, screaming. They tumbled to the dirt behind Kel, so clearly terrified that it frightened her. Jump paced and whined, then stood on his hind legs to watch the trees.

"Maybe we should...?" Symric hissed across Wolset, jerking his head to the left. "At least send a man for word?"

Kel checked that her sword and dagger were loose in their sheaths, shifted her warhammer to the back of her belt, where she could reach it easily, and made sure her glaive lay under her hand. Then she shook her head. "Something's out there. These birds aren't scared of much. Neither's Jump."

"It's probably a cat," someone muttered.

Kel ignored that. She and these animals had done too much together for her to discount them now. The mutterer would learn his mistake soon enough.

There - a sound, the crack of breaking twigs, a series of thumps like running feet in the brush. Branches flailed. Kel s.n.a.t.c.hed up the bow and put an arrow to the string, drawing it. She loosed just as the black thing burst from the trees ahead, but the arrow glanced off its head.

Kel gaped. She had never seen anything like this. The long, black, curved shape that served as a head swiveled back and forth on the dull metal body without exposing a neck. The eyes were set deep in the metal, if those dark pits were eyes. The limbs seemed formed of large metal-coated bones - giants' bones? - and fine metal chains and rods that acted like muscles. Pulleys served as joints. There were three joints in each limb between the splays of knife-tipped digits on its feet and hands and the limb's connection to the body. That gave the thing two extra elbows and two extra knees. Its slender tail coiled and whipped, snakelike; it was tipped with a ball of spikes. The whole construction was nearly seven feet tall.

The thing stood erect at the center of the meadow, curved head questing. Could it smell? Kel wondered. A visor that might be lips clacked open, revealing a mouth full of sharp metal teeth as long as Kel's fingers.

The clack woke her from stupefaction. She seized a fresh arrow and put it to her bowstring.

The thing dropped to its fours and leaped, landing on her rock. She dropped her bow to seize her glaive. As the thing pounced, Kel drove the glaive's iron-shod b.u.t.t into the monster's black metal torso with all her strength. The blow dented the thing and smacked it back into her boulder. The monster swiped viciously at Kel - she jumped back, to go sprawling as a branch rolled under her boot.

Jump leaped to seize a jointed metal arm. Kel shrieked, "No!" The dog bit and let go with a yelp, scrambling out of the monster's reach. The four sparrows darted in and around the thing's head. It jerked, trying to follow their flight, razored hands clacking as it tried to grab the birds.

Symric lunged in, sword raised. The thing took his weapon and beheaded the corporal with its blade-fingers.

"Ropes!" Kel shouted, scrambling to her feet, still clutching her glaive. She smashed its b.u.t.t into one empty eye-pit. "Tie this thing up! Ropes, chains, now!"

The thing regarded her, c.o.c.king its head. Kel thought the men had run. She didn't blame them. How could anyone fight this creature? They didn't even know what it was.

The monster slashed at her. Kel dodged the knives and slammed the glaive against its head over and over - the noise seemed to confuse it, which was better than nothing. It flailed its arms. Kel had to keep moving; if she stayed in one position too long, it would have her.

She heard scrambling in leaves: Wolset, his face white with terror, climbed the rocks, a clear target if enemy archers waited in the woods. From the top of the large rock at the monster's back, he tossed a loop of rope over the thing. His rope caught under its head, in the neck groove. Wolset slid down the far side of the rock. His weight drew the rope taut, pulling the monster flat against the stone.

Another rope la.s.so settled over and caught one of the monster's arms. A man from the squad wrapped the free end around his hands and pulled as he backed up, yanking the arm out straight.

The monster slashed at the rope with its free hand. Kel grabbed that hand close to its wrist-pulley and hung on. The monster was horribly strong. Over and over it smashed her against the rock as if she weighed no more than a rag doll, trying to shake her loose. Balancing on one leg, it lashed at her with the other, trying to cut her with its knife-clawed toes. Gasping for air, Kel raised her legs out of the way. Her belly muscles burned with the effort.

A white shape raced past Kel. Jump carried a hank of rope that unrolled as he ran. At the other end one of the men anch.o.r.ed the rope to a heavy tree. Jump leaped over the slashing leg, trailing his rope. Nimbly he ran under the leg and jumped over it again, wrapping the rope around it twice. He galloped back to the man, who grabbed and yanked the rope, drawing the leg straight out to the side, then secured the rope to the anchoring tree. The monster's leg was safely trapped, temporarily, at least.

Another coil of rope, one end trailing, settled across the arm that Kel gripped. Hanging on with one hand, she wound it around the metal-and-bone limb. She tossed the rest back to the man who had thrown it. He gripped it and pulled as Kel jumped clear of the arm. She lurched and nearly fell, her back a thudding, grinding source of pain.

Two other men were on the ground, trying to trap the monster's remaining limb. Letting its full weight hang on Wolset's rope, it had freed the leg on which it stood. Now it hacked with it, cutting a long slash in one man's scalp as he tried to thread a rope through metal bones and rods. He shook blood from his eyes and finished the job, giving the free end to his companion. They separated and ran to tie each end of rope to opposite trees. The thing was secured, for the moment. It struggled like a fly on a spiderweb.

Gasping, Kel reviewed the situation. The thing wasn't beaten, only halted. As it struggled, even the thickest of the trees that anch.o.r.ed its ropes shook. It was slowly pulling Wolset back up from the far side of its rock. If he were shot or if his body crested the boulder, the thing's head would be free. It would be able to put its entire strength into its battle with their ropes. Kel was reasonably sure it would free itself. They had to kill it now. Someone had to get close to it.

She yanked the warhammer from her belt and grabbed a fist-sized rock. "Mithras, don't let me die," she pleaded, and ran to the trapped monster. Turning her warhammer so the long spike faced out, she dug it into the cables and bone of the monster's torso and pulled herself up like a mountain climber.

The men yelled for her to stop. "We can hold it!" one insisted. Kel knew they were wrong.

To the monster that had just tried to bite her she said, "You don't scare me."

The thing turned its head toward her, its mouth on the same level as her face. "Mama?" it asked in a child's voice. The visor opened; razor-teeth snapped. Kel jammed the stone between them. She'd picked the right size: the monster couldn't close its mouth. Kel heard metal grind as it kept trying to shut those visor-lips.

She took a deep breath. Grabbing the cables of one arm with her free hand, she dug a toe into a metal crevice and worked her warhammer free. She raised her weapon and smashed the hammer's spiked head onto the monster's metal crown. It dented - the spike was made to pierce armor. Kel raised the hammer and smashed it down in the same place. The monster thrashed, fighting its bonds.

One more blow ought to do it, she thought. Kel wedged one foot in the slot between the monster's outstretched arm and the boulder. Bracing her knee on its shoulder, she extracted the other leg and pulled it up onto the thing's opposite shoulder. She balanced shakily, freeing both hands. Third time for luck, she told herself, and drove the warhammer down into the thing's head with all that remained of her strength.

The spike caught. Yanking it free, she lost her balance. Down she fell, twisting an ankle and landing flat on her very sore back. She yelped and struggled to her feet.

White steam, or something like it, hissed from the hole in the thing's skull. It formed a pale, wavering shape that cried, "Mama?" in the same voice as the monster. The wind blew the shape apart. The creature collapsed against its ropes.

Kel pressed a hand against her aching side. "You, and you." She chose men who had not been forced to wrestle the thing. They looked fresher than those who had. "Get more ropes on this creature. Wrap it up like a spidren's supper. I don't want it waking to cut our throats." She looked up at Wolset, who had dragged himself to the top of the boulder. "You're promoted to corporal," she croaked. "For understanding that the head had to be trapped. What have we forgotten?"

He blinked at her, then looked at the men. "Weapons, positions, eyes front," he ordered as he slid to the ground. "We don't want the enemy following this thing to us!" He faced Kel as the men scrambled back to their places. "That was right, wasn't it?"

Kel nodded.

"Then, sir - lady, may I ask something?"

"Ask," Kel said, and coughed.

He pointed to the thing as Kel's chosen men coc.o.o.ned it in rope. "Is that enough kraken for you?"

It was dark when men in army uniforms reached them with torches. Lerant came too. "We can stand down," he told Kel. "General Vanget rolled up our friends, including the other giant. My lord already did for one. Dom's going to be fine."

They all sighed their relief. Kel hadn't thought the wound deadly, but it was always good to know.

Lerant goggled at their prize. "What in the name of Torsen Hammersmith is that?"

"Good question," croaked Kel, whose voice was raw. She must have been shouting, though she hardly remembered it. "So happy you asked. Give us another, if you like."

Lerant shook his head. "You get more like my lord every day. I suppose you'll want combat pay for the dog and birdies next."

"They earned it," Wolset told him. The other exhausted men nodded.

Lerant went away, still shaking his head. The squad discovered that the army reliefs had brought soup and bread as well as torches. The soldiers had to be reminded to hand over the food as they stared at the Owns prize.

Kel and her men ate as if they hadn't done so in weeks, feeding Jump and the sparrows as well as themselves. Kel knew she ought to tell the birds to go to sleep, but it hurt too much to talk. She sipped her soup cautiously, letting the warm liquid soothe her throat.

Footsteps made her look up. It was Raoul. His head was bandaged; another bandage on one arm showed a red stain. Kel waved to him weakly.

"My lord bagged himself another giant, we hear," said Wolset with admiration.

"Those big fellows are all alike," Raoul said with a weary smile. "Smash 'em on the toe and they turn into kittens." He approached the monster, now wrapped in rope, and inspected it thoroughly. Then he turned to Sergeant Balim, who had come with him. "Send for General Vanget. He should see this, but tell him I also want Numair Salmalin up here, now. I don't care where he is or what it takes, I want Numair here yesterday." As Balim hurried off, Raoul turned to look at the thing once more. "Tell me, someone," he ordered.

Kel looked at Wolset and nodded. He squared his shoulders and tried to stand.

"Oh, stop dancing, stay sat, and tell," Raoul said impatiently. Wolset obeyed. The others added details as they saw fit. When the report was done, Raoul hunkered down beside the thing and pulled coils of rope aside for a better look. Kel gripped her warhammer; she saw the men reach for their weapons. The monster remained a dead pile of metal and bone, no more alive than the rocks on which they sat.

Finally Raoul looked at Kel. "So here's one of those machines that Myles spoke of." Worry filled his eyes. "What are they cooking, up there in the north?" he asked very quietly. "How many of these things are they going to send us?"

Kel shook her head. She had wondered the same thing.

eighteen ORDEAL.

The Scanrans were not beaten, or even mildly inconvenienced. Kel was in groups that fought them once more before the end of August and once in early September; other squads added four more clashes to the total. Around mid-September encounters with the northerners dropped. There was a nip in the air. Unless the Scanrans chose to stay, this was the time of year to pack their loot and sail or march home.

One morning near the end of September Kel was working on Third Company's account books when Raoul entered the new command hut rubbing his hands. "Frost last night," he commented, pouring a cup of tea. "The leaves will..."

Kel looked up when he didn't finish his sentence. "Sir? Leaves?"

Raoul went to the table that served as his desk and checked his almanac. "Kel, it's the end of September."

"Yes, sir." She wasn't sure why this was important, though his tone said it was.

"How long to finish what you're doing?" he asked.

"I'm nearly done," she said. "Just one more Page."

"Good. You need to pack." Reading her puzzled look correctly, he told her, "We have to go to Corus - unless you've changed your mind about that shield and want to join us. I won't say no if you do."

The words left her breathless. December. Midwinter. The Chamber of the Ordeal. "Oops," she said.

"We'll leave in the morning," he said. He strode out of the hut. A moment later he stuck his head back inside. "I don't want to get rid of you, mind. I could certainly use you. It's just that the realm needs you more as a knight." He vanished again.

Kel heard him call loudly for Flyndan and Lerant.

The next morning Lerant came to the stable as Kel saddled Hoshi. He clapped the girl on the shoulder. "Good riddance," he said. "Don't mess up your Ordeal. If you do and you come back here for a place, I'll have to hurt you."

Kel grinned. She and Lerant understood each other quite well these days. "Now that I've shown you how, look after my lord when he gets back," she retorted, and swung herself into the saddle. Lerant got out of Peachblossom's way as Kel tugged on the gelding's lead rein.

Third Company turned out to see her and Raoul off. They said little, but scratched Jump's good ear, or fed the birds, or slapped Kel on the back. They patted Hoshi, though not Peachblossom. To Kel's surprise, even Flyndan wished her luck Her Yamani training kept her from crying as they rode through the gate, but it was a closely fought battle. If she leaked a tear or two, Raoul pretended not to notice.

Kel enjoyed the ride south. She and Raoul set their own pace, not having to rush to a crisis or dawdle in a dusty train of n.o.bles. They had chosen a perfect time to go: the realm was dressed in fall gold and the air was heady.