Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

I dove behind the wagon and looked around the corner. Braylar had already closed the distance to the tower, apparently unmolested, and he was standing over the Hornman still on all fours just outside the door. The Hornman looked up, three bolts sticking out of him, clearly doomed but not yet believing it, and he shook his head, and put his hand on the door, reaching for the handle.

Braylar’s long suroka was out then. He grabbed the Hornman by the hair and drew the blade across his throat in one quick motion. Luckily I didn’t see the wound, but the blood spattering on the door told me Bray lar wouldn’t need to strike twice. The Hornman fell onto his stomach, fingers sliding down the door before his hand came to rest on the bottom.

The two Syldoon from my wagon joined him there, dropping their crossbows, drawing their swords and bucklers. Braylar wiped his suroka clean on the dead man’s sleeve, sheathed it, and pulled Bloodsounder off his belt along with his own buckler.

Overhead, three Hornmen turned their attention on the group of riders galloping toward them and loosed arrows. One was leaning over the crenellations to try to get a shot at the Syldoon at the door, and the other two were keeping the Syldoon at the rear wagon pinned down, with several arrows thunking into the side or tearing through the canvas. The Hornman in the arrow loop was shooting wildly, and missing widely.

The Syldoon in the rear wagon were sending bolts back, and the Syldoon racing toward us were shooting as they galloped as well. Several struck the stones of the battlements, sending dust and small stones raining down, one flew just above, and another found the Hornman who had exposed himself trying to shoot at Braylar and the soldiers at the base of the tower. He fell back behind the battlements and didn’t pop up again.

Two Hornmen came running awkwardly at a crouch out of the stables, swords in hand, but they clearly hadn’t been expecting combat, as they had no shields, and carried a long bench for protection. But between the Syldoon on horse and those shooting from the wagon at the rear, neither Hornman got to the tower before bolts made it past the wood and into flesh. One stumbled and fell. The other slowed, tried to cover him with the bench, and took a bolt in the neck for his trouble.

One of the Syldoon tested the door and shook his head at Braylar. The horsemen reined up and threw their legs over their horse’s heads, dismounting and hitting the ground in a fluid motion, with Mulldoos and Vendurro among them, dropping the crossbows and running forward, falchion and sword in hand. The other two stayed back and ducked behind the barn as they loaded their crossbows again-it truly was amazing how quickly they managed that-and along with the pair of Syldoon shooting from the wagon behind me, they kept the archers nervous enough that they couldn’t loose arrows with impunity.

Braylar yelled something and three of the Syldoon ran out to grab the long bench the two Hornmen had been using to shield themselves.

One of them got shot in the shoulder, but they managed to make it back and the crossbows provided some cover. Two Syldoon started striking the locked door with the bench. Had the tower been designed to resist a serious siege, that front door would have been too thick to withstand a makeshift ram like that, but clearly the Hornmen never imagined they would be attacked. The wooden door didn’t splinter, but the Syldoon were able to knock it most of the way loose from the hinges before the bench fell to pieces in their hands.

One Syldoon pushed the door in as far as it would go, and two arrows flew out of the gap, one striking him in the arm, the other sailing off and past the group.

The Syldoon dodged to either side of the door as several more arrows zipped out. Braylar whistled behind him, and the two Syldoon in front of the tower ran over, spanning their crossbows as they came. The archers at the top of the tower used the brief respite to shoot more frequently and would have pinned the running Syldoon to the ground but the two Syldoon behind me loosed their crossbows again. One of the archers fell behind the battlements screaming and the arrows stopped long enough for the Syldoon to run to the base.

Mulldoos moved his buckler in front of the open door as three more arrows came out, one clanging off the steel, and then the Syldoon with crossbows stepped in front of the door and shot into the interior of the tower. Braylar led the charge as he forced the door out of the way, buckler up, Bloodsounder at the ready, the others following him at a crouch, with the two in the rear dropping their crossbows and pulling out their sword and axe.

I looked up at the tower and didn’t see any archers, so I assumed they ran downstairs to meet the threat that had invaded, but one archer behind the arrow loop must have seen me peering around the corner of the wagon and shot at me. The arrow thudded into the side of the wagon a foot from my face, splinters striking my cheek, and I ducked behind again, cursing my stupidity and wondering at his. Clearly I was the least threatening threat around-I wondered why he hadn’t run down the spiral stairs with the others, or at least kept shooting at the pair of Syldoon behind me who were shooting back.

Half-hidden, I heard shouts from inside, a scream, a grunt, and the noises receded. The door was still open, half hanging, but I didn’t want to look too long as there was no telling if the Hornman was still hidden behind his arrow loop, just waiting for me to expose myself.

The air felt colder than it had all day, but that still didn’t stop the sweat from coming as I waited. Then I saw someone up top again. The Hornman circled the rooftop of the squat tower like a trapped animal, as if he might happen upon an escape that hadn’t immediately presented itself as he raced upstairs. Seeing no new exits at all, he drew an arrow from the quiver at his waist and nocked it, retreating from the trap door on the roof until his back was against the crenellations on my side of the tower, having completely forgotten about the Syldoon with crossbows below.

The Hornman yelled something, maybe a warning to the Syldoon first through the trap door, and drew his bowstring back. But then he must have realized his situation was untenable, and any arrow he loosed would be his last-there was nowhere to go, and apparently he was the last Hornman standing. The Syldoon behind me shot at him, both missing high, but then the Hornman had enough-he threw his bow and arrow down and raised his arms above his head, clearly surrendering.

Three Syldoon joined him on the roof, Mulldoos among them, his falchion already edged in blood. The Hornman said something as Mulldoos took two strides toward him, and started shaking his head when he saw the pale Syldoon raise his weapon.

And then-maybe seeing the total lack of mercy in the eyes of the man in front of him, maybe overcome by pure panic-he threw himself over the edge rather than be struck down, hanging from a crenellation before Mulldoos appeared above him, and then releasing the stones and falling through space.

He landed on his legs, and I heard a loud crack as he crumpled under his weight and lay there groaning, his leg broken, and from the horrible angle underneath him, badly.

Mulldoos shook his head and then the Syldoon disappeared back into the tower. A few moments later they all filed out. One was wrapping a makeshift bandage around his arm, and another was limping a little, but they seemed to have survived the assault with no other serious injuries.

I stood up and walked slowly toward them, giving a wide berth to the Hornman on the ground with the bolt in his chest, still wheezing and alive, but eyes closed, his entire tunic soaked in blood.

The Syldoon were chatting amongst themselves, one joking about how the Hornmen needed to train a little harder to resist an actual attack. I overheard Vendurro say, to no one in particular. “Holy hells. That went to shit in a huge hurry.”