Jon Sprunk - Shadow’s Lure

Snarling in the darkness, he gave in. “All right. Move your squad down to set up a screen along the north road.”

“Really?” she asked, excitement peaking in her voice. “Don’t worry. We know what to do.”

“Don’t get too close to the walls. And keep your eyes open.”

She turned away. “Don’t worry! North road. Got it.”

“Don’t engage unless you have to,” he called after her. “And don’t be afraid to withdraw if…”

Caim let the words fall away as Liana ran up the slope. A waste of breath. She was too damned eager to jump into the fray. The others in her unit were no better. Pale moonlight reflected on their spear points as they marched past. Two dozen women, ranging from girlhood to wedded matrons, in homemade armor. He’d given them what training he could in the short time allotted to him, utilizing the first drills Kas had ever taught him: how to make a strong stance, to hold a spear against a charge, to attack and move safely. Was it enough to keep them alive?

The sounds of fighting were dying down, but fires had sprung up inside the compound. Small ones, but he’d told the men not to burn anything until they were ready to pull out. Someone was getting out of hand. As a nightfisher cried out, Caim made his way down the ridge.

The gate was open by the time he arrived. Actually, it was half torn off its posts. Aemon and Dray, their faces bound up in gray scarves, stood sentry. They saluted as he approached; Aemon in earnest, Dray less so. It was something the men had started doing the past couple of days. Caim didn’t like it much, but he wasn’t sure if he should discourage it, either. At least they weren’t calling him “sir.” Yet.

He found his lieutenants, Keegan and Vaner, in the main yard beside a group of bound soldiers. Caim had wanted Killian with them, but the veteran chose to remain at the castle. Perhaps it was because of his age. Or maybe he could see what was coming. Caim couldn’t blame him. Keegan’s face was pale in the torchlight. Blood dribbled from a shallow cut across the bridge of his nose.

“Report.”

Keegan started. “The outpost is secure.”

“Injuries?”

“Only one is serious,” Vaner said. “Feoras took a spear through the leg, but it’s a clean wound. Should heal up fine.”

Caim eyed the soldiers on the ground. “What about their side?”

“Ah,” Keegan paused. “Two dead, and another might die before morning. I know you said to avoid that if we could, but-”

“Some things are unavoidable. Go on.”

“Okay. There are a few soldiers holed up in a shack in the southeast corner. We couldn’t get inside.”

“So you started fires to smoke them out,” Caim said.

Vaner glanced at Keegan. “Someone said they saw a man inside wearing Eviskine colors. A couple of the boys went against orders.”

“Have you found their commander?”

Keegan shook his head. “Only a sergeant so far. He’s the one in bad shape. He wouldn’t surrender.”

Vaner started to add something, but Caim missed it as a stabbing pain sliced through the center of his chest. For a moment, he thought he had been shot by a crossbow again. His vision dimmed. Keegan and Vaner looked at each other. Caim didn’t have the breath to speak. As the agony receded, a harsh tingle ran down the back of his neck. Something bad was coming. Caim glanced northward toward the direction of the disturbance. The sky rumbled overhead, but there was no smell of moisture in the air.

“Are you-?” Vaner started to ask.

Caim bit back against the pain. “Get everyone back up the ridge now.”

“What about the prisoners?” Keegan asked.

“Leave them!”

Caim pushed past them and staggered toward the north side of the outpost as fast as he could manage. The walking got easier, but it wasn’t until he was halfway across the compound that he remembered Liana and her women were stationed on the north road. Right in the path of the disturbance. He broke into a run.

He passed Oak heading back toward the courtyard with a long crate under each arm.

“Caim! I found a whole house full of-”

“Find Keegan and get out of here!” he shouted over his shoulder.

When Caim reached the wall, he leapt without slowing. The palisade was built of sharpened, eight-foot-tall stakes. As his hands closed around the tops of two logs, Caim heaved himself up. What he saw on the other side drove an icy spike into his guts.

The night had come alive. It lapped at the wooden barrier and flowed around it like an amorphous beast seeking entrance. Glints of metal gleamed in the blackness-warriors with swords and spears racing to surround the walls. Caim drew his knives as he dropped down on the hard ground. The darkness swirled with shadows. They approached him like a pack of tame pets, rubbing against him, whispering songs of death and ruin in his ears. He fought the violent urges rising inside him as he moved out into the gloom.

Sounds came at him from every direction. Caim was torn between caution and the need to find his troops before it was too late. He almost tripped over the body of a grizzled soldier, his leather breastplate dotted with a dozen deep punctures. Spear wounds. As Caim moved on, a fierce shout was his only warning as a swordsman leapt out of the dark at him. Caim leaned out of the longsword’s path and stabbed the soldier in his side. He twisted his blades free as the soldier slid to the ground and kept moving. Another soldier appeared. Caim glided past a falling battleaxe and smashed the man in the temple with a knife butt. As the soldier shook his head, Caim saw the pale flesh of his enemy’s neck exposed above the breastplate. The longing to attack, to kill, sizzled in his brain. He hamstrung the soldier with two vicious slashes and kicked him to the ground. His pulse thrummed in his ears as he stood over the man, who groaned and clutched his ruined legs. Kill him. They deserve no better.

A choking grunt turned Caim around. He lifted his knives as a tall, long-limbed man staggered toward him out of the murk. Caim crouched to leap, but checked his attack when he recognized the face. Oak’s hands were folded around the spear point protruding from his stomach. Rage, red-hot and steaming, bubbled up inside Caim. He reached out to help until a soldier in an iron cap came up behind Oak and slid the blade of a dirk under his russet beard.

Caim yelled as he knocked the knife from the soldier’s hand and slashed him across the face. The man held his face and screamed. Unmoved, Caim punched both knives through the soldier’s boiled leather shirt and spilled his steaming bowels onto the snowy ground. The killer collapsed beside Oak’s body, both of them curled up like sleeping children. Growling-at the soldier, at himself, at the gods perhaps-Caim turned away.

He found the road and hurried down its hard-packed snow-and-gravel surface. Cries rose to meet him. There was a sinister whoosh, followed by the wet crackle of shattering bones. He sprinted at full speed through the gloom, straight into the path of a galloping brown blur. Caim threw himself to the side and was spun partway around as the warhorse’s broad chest barreled into his legs. Something bright and lethal whistled past his head. As Caim regained his footing, the horseman wheeled his steed around and came back for another pass, a long cavalry sword held over his head. Caim leapt before the horseman could close, darting in low on the soldier’s left side. His suete cut deep into the meat of the soldier’s thigh. Intending to swing around to the other side, Caim ran around behind the animal.

Then he was airborne.

The breath rushed out of his lungs as he landed in a shallow ditch beside the road. Pain rippled across his left shoulder and down his ribs from the impact of the warhorse’s hooves. The horseman had turned and was closing again. Caim tried to lift himself up, but there was no time. His arm was stiff; his legs felt like boards of lumber. The soldier leaned over in the saddle, his sword raised to kill. Caim hissed between his teeth.