Juliet McKenna - The Swordsman's Oath

“They’re waiting out beyond the lead wagon. Get some men and circle around to drive them off.”

Rhun left without need of further instruction and Temar headed back toward Lachald’s position. A cart stood abandoned, tailgate swinging and its sacks and casks scattered as its frightened driver had rushed his family instinctively to Lachald’s protection. As Temar galloped past a small figure dashed out from beneath the axles and vanished into the night, some nameless loot clutched greedily to its chest.

“Are you all right?” Temar yelled, relieved to see Lachald’s carriage in a circle with two other carts, the men staying close, swords drawn.

“Get whoever you can across the ford,” Lachald bellowed in a tone that brooked no argument. “We’re too spread out.”

Temar wheeled his horse around and pointed at one of the spotty youths.

“Get to the head of the line, tell them to yoke up and get moving. Wait!” he yelled in exasperation as the lad went to leave. “Tell them to work and move in groups, not to get separated.”

Movement flickered in the corner of Temar’s eye as he turned away from the lad and he caught a glimpse of shadowy shapes circling behind Lachald’s carriage.

“Come on.” He dug his spurs into his horse’s bleeding flanks and fury carried him into a ragged figure whose rough-coated steed had temporarily unseated him. Temar managed to lay a deep slash across the raider’s back before he got his mount under control, but he could only watch, cursing, as the man was swallowed up by the concealing darkness. Every instinct screamed at Temar to go after the robber but he managed to restrain himself.

“Stay here, drive them off but don’t go beyond the firelight,” he commanded the knot of armed men who had belatedly ridden up.

He began yet another circuit of the file of carts and was finally able to get his guards working in effective groups, each defending a section of the line against the harrying raiders. Gathering a smaller troop, Temar moved to concentrate on protecting the carts crossing the ford. Once the vehicles were formed into a defensive circle, the darting assaults soon tailed off, though Temar stayed on a knife-edge of apprehension until the first pale streaks of dawn showed above the eastern horizon. Exhaustion hit him like a mallet when sunrise at last revealed empty grassland all around. He went in search of Lachald.

“What are the losses?” Temar asked, shivering and looking hungrily at a kettle of porridge bubbling over Rielle’s fire.

“None dead, some minor wounds,” Lachald responded curtly. “Some food and supplies taken, and more scattered or spoiled.”

Temar sighed with relief. “We’ve been lucky.”

“You mean you’ve been lucky. If those raiders had wanted to, they could have cut us into rags.” Lachald’s harsh tone was uncompromising. “You’re in charge of the guards and they were a complete shambles.”

Faces turned as Lachald’s voice rose and Temar stood, mouth open, unable to deny the accusation.

“I thought you were supposed to be sending out scouts? Exactly what instructions had you given, in case of attack? Why didn’t you come and tell me at once that the cattle had crossed the river? Do you know where the horses and the sheep have got to? Go and find out!”

Temar turned without a word and found a fresh horse, avoiding anyone else’s eyes. He rode off, finally grateful to the ever present breeze as it cooled the humiliation burning his cheeks.

Getting the caravan moving once daybreak arrived was no simple task. After rides on wagons for the wounded were sorted out and the order was rearranged to take account of the reduced guard, the sun was well over the tree-tops before the beasts and carts were anything like ready. The mule-master, a thickset man with thinning fair hair, nearly came to blows with an arrogant type with expensive boots, now thoroughly muddy and scuffed. I gathered he was the negotiator and was getting agitated about delays that might cost them dear in Relshaz. Eventually Nyle stepped in to make peace, his scowl deterring the pair from any further argument. I watched, amused, but turned away when he saw me looking. He can’t have liked that for some reason, because I soon caught him looking after me, checking my place every so often. By the end of the day, I was starting to get tired of it.

Either word had spread through the undergrowth or we’d finished off the only group of bandits, because we cleared the Heath with no further trouble. We reached the Spread Eagle just as the sun was sinking behind the western hills and the shadows of the trees were meeting over the road. It was a sprawling substantial building of local flint and brick surrounded by a broad expanse of paddocks and barns of solid tarred wood. We could see South Varis spreading itself around the far side of a modest lake, a typical Caladhrian stretch of neat cruck-framed crofts and tidy workshops, all freshly lime-washed in pale colors, lights already being snuffed as the inhabitants went to their beds along with the sun.

Metal-shod hooves clacked over the cobbles and the laden carts rattled through the arch of the stableyard, Nyle and the mule-master loudly demanding service. The thin-faced negotiator dismounted with a sour expression and left his horse to an underling without a backward glance. I watched him stalk off through the front door and heard him calling peremptorily for his usual chamber and a hot bath. Stable hands appeared and helped the new arrivals sort themselves out, voices lifting above the racket of uncooperative pack animals.

“I’ll help Halice with our gear and stowing the gig; Livak, you and Shiv find someone to take care of the horses. Viltred, you can find the innkeeper or whoever’s in charge here—get some rooms before they’re all taken.”

The old mage gave me a sharp look, clearly unused to taking orders, but he headed for the main door without argument. I was glad about that; I wasn’t intending to spend anymore of this trip nursing his self-importance along like a leaking row-boat.

I dismounted and yawned; this was getting ridiculous—a day’s easy ride in clear weather shouldn’t leave me this weary. Still, a good night’s sleep in a decent bed should set me to rights.

“If there’s an ostler or groom spare, see if they’ve seen any unusual travelers.” Shiv glanced around the stableyard.

“Help you, sirs?” A stooped old man followed by an overpowering smell of horses sidled out of a nearby barn. “You’ll need some help, ladies.”

It wasn’t a question and he was staring at Halice’s leg with ill-disguised curiosity.

“No we don’t.” Halice’s reply was understandably curt.

“I think we can manage, if you’re needed elsewhere.” I softened her words with a polite nod; it was important that our beasts were treated well, with the place so busy.

The groom leaned against the doorjamb and treated us to an ingratiating display of sparse yellow teeth.

“No call for me, just yet. You’re on a trip to the south then?”

Livak turned to him with a bright smile, all charming innocence and wide, confiding eyes.

“We’re on our way to Relshaz,” she said, with a nicely calculated touch of breathlessness. “Grandfather has investments there and with both our uncles putting their coin in our cousins came along as well.”

I caught Shiv’s eye to let him know to alert Viltred to this new chain of relationships and looked away fast so that we could both keep a straight face.

The old gossip’s eyes brightened. “What business are you in, then?”

I could see him imagining all the fascinating possibilities— spices, silks, gems, bronzes. Relshaz is the main port for eastern Caladhria and most of the Aldabreshin trade on top of that.