Olan Thorensen - Cast Under an Alien Sun

“We’ll give a good account of ourselves, but they’ll still probably win. We just don’t have enough men.”

Yozef’s mind was split. One part wanted to run and not stand and give advice he had no qualifications to give, but the part controlling his babbling was ascendant. “Maybe not fighting out in the open, but there are plenty of people here who can fight behind barricades.”

Denes whirled back to the abbot. “Abbot, you and your staff get all the oldest people and children into the farthest and most secure rooms in the basements. Then everyone able enough to stand and fight in place, get to the courtyard.”

The abbot stood and stared glassy-eyed at Denes.

“NOW, ABBOT!!” Denes screamed.

Sistian blinked twice, then hitched his cassock and took off running, yelling for other brothers and sisters.

Denes shouted for the clustered men to shut up and listen. “If we try to hold the walls, they’ll break through easily. Even if every adult, man and woman, joins us on the wall, there’s too much of the wall to defend and react to their attacking at different places. Once they’re over the wall in even one place, it’ll be over. We need to get them where they’re at a disadvantage.

“Here’s what we’ll do—build a continuous barricade around the edges of the courtyard, then leave the main gate open and let them pour through. They might not be able to resist if they see we haven’t closed the gate. When they enter the courtyard, we can fire at them from behind the barricade. If they reach the barricade, they’ll have to climb over and be vulnerable.”

“What if they don’t take the bait?” asked a rough-looking man toward the rear of the group.

“Then we’re back to defending the walls as best we can, with everyone who can hold a weapon,” Denes replied grimly. “I think we’re dead in that case. We’re also dead if we try to lure them into a trap and they don’t take the bait. We’re dead if they take the bait, and we can’t hold them in the trap. The only way we’re not dead is if the trap works and we hold them, so that’s what we’ll do.”

Neither the questioner nor any of the other men were happy with Denes’s reply, but no one offered another option.

“Filtin, Seflux, Wilfwin—” Denes named seven or eight men, “split up everyone and go into the building and bring out everything that moves and might provide some protection. Build a barricade in front of all the buildings. Grab every able-bodied adult to do the same. Gather everything. Tables, chests of drawers, chairs, boxes, pews from the cathedral, beds, mattresses—anything. Carnigan, you take ten men and head for the barns. There are wagons and carts there. Bring hay bales and anything else useful. Once the wagons are unloaded, turn them on their sides as part of the barricade. And Carnigan, is the armory open?”

Carnigan nodded toward the steps of the cathedral, where lay piles of weapons. “Most of the weapons are there.”

“Send people to bring the rest out and tools from the garden sheds and barns, anything that can be used as a weapon.”

Denes stopped speaking. The men stared at him, some waiting for more instructions, some confused by the plan, and some stunned at the events.

“NOW, PEOPLE!!” Denes screamed again. “WE MIGHT ONLY HAVE FIFTEEN TO TWENTY MINUTES BEFORE THEY GET HERE!!”

The cluster of fifty men exploded, men running in all directions, leaving only Denes and Yozef. “Stay with me,” said Denes and ran to the southern wall, climbed a ladder onto the rampart, and pointed a small telescope seaward.

Yozef, his heart racing, throat constricted, hands trembling, stumbled after Denes, thinking, Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit .

“Sons of whores, may dogs eat the balls of the Gods—” Abel Adalan ran through every curse he knew in three languages. He and his foul humor stood on a large sand dune, as the next longboat loads of men jumped into the surf and moved up the beach. His anger resulted from his view of longboats loading the last men off the ships, men who were supposed to be ashore already. It would be another ten minutes before those final boats reached the beach.

The Benhoudi were the problem. Despite their previous experience on successful raids, they simply weren’t as skillful or disciplined as his own men. He then used some of the same curses on himself for not having the Benhoudi loaded first.

Abel rejected starting inland without the full complement of men. The plan that had been drilled into the men involved all four hundred fighters. To change now would only cause more confusion. Narth’s damnation on the Benhoudi! The delay would give the islanders more time to prepare and was liable to cost them more casualties, yet from the looks of the village and the abbey, the pickings were too rich to pass up. All he could do was send the hundred men assigned to sweep the village on ahead and wait to move on the abbey when all of the Benhoudi were ashore.

From the abbey wall rampart Denes could see a body of men, he estimated eighty to a hundred, trotting toward the village. Scattered Keelanders still ran and rode for the abbey or headed inland. He hoped everyone would be out of the village when the raiders arrived, though he feared there would be stragglers—people who, because of age, illness, sleep, stupidity, or whatever, would still be in the village. There was nothing to be done about them. He had to focus on the hundreds within the abbey complex.

“What about the people in Abersford?” Yozef asked. “Aren’t they coming for the abbey?”

“They’ll come,” Denes said in a flat tone. “Those who can. Many who don’t will flee inland. Hundreds more.”

Yozef’s shirt was soaked in cold sweat. So what the fuck am I doing here ?

Panic fed his urge to run and hide, but there was a detached part of him, as if he had two minds. It was the second one that came to Denes’s support.

Yozef put a hand on Denes’s shoulder. “You said yourself what the most likely outcomes are, and this was the only one you believe has a chance.”

“What if they don’t take the bait? I’m taking a terrible risk with everyone’s lives if they don’t,” Denes choked, his commanding demeanor gone. He didn’t notice Yozef.

They both were silent for a moment, then Yozef said, “Lure them toward the gate. Give them something to chase.”

Denes whirled and leaped off the rampart six feet to the ground, then raced off, yelling at someone. Yozef scrambled down the ladder and followed.

Denes was talking to a group of men, one of whom was Cadwulf. “I need a few men to give the raiders someone to chase into the courtyard. They’ll need to fire at the raiders as they come close to the abbey, then run back, but close enough to let the raiders be right behind.”

The grim men looked at one another. What Denes asked would get some or all who volunteered killed. All of the men raised their hand, including Cadwulf.

“Not men,” blurted Yozef. “Have them chase women.”

Several of the men glared at Yozef and started to protest, but Denes spoke first. “Better! They won’t fire at women they want as captives. Better yet if they are young and healthy looking.”

“They need to be fast and not panic,” cautioned Yozef.

“Cadwulf,” ordered Denes, “be quick and try to find about ten young women willing to do this and who you think can run fast enough to get back inside the walls before the raiders catch them.”

Cadwulf nodded, gave Yozef a troubled glance, and ran off.

By now, the barricades were taking shape. People of all ages and sexes carried and dragged furniture, pews, boxes of who knew what, chests, beds, tables, chairs, and everything movable out of the buildings, stacked them on top of previous objects, or dropped them for others to position, then raced back for more. Carnigan drove a flatbed wagon up to a large gap in the developing barricades, jumped onto the bed, and threw off bales of hay that must have weighed a couple hundred pounds each. Men and women dragged the bales to plug holes in the barricade.