Sam Barone: Rogue Warriors 2

Bracca had lifted his eyebrows when he heard that, but hadn’t challenged it. Eskkar was, after all, the expert on barbarians.

“Time to get moving again.” Eskkar pushed himself to his feet. “They’ll probably make camp against those hills north of us. We’d better get there first and see what the land is like.”

About a mile away, a wide patch of green stood out against the brown rolling hills. After the bandits crossed the river, they would want to make camp and settle in for the night before sundown. Likely they would prefer to stay as far away from Yarmo as possible.

The two companions covered the distance at the same loping pace they had used for the last two days.

“This place looks like the perfect place to camp,” Bracca said, as soon as he caught his breath. “Water, grass, even firewood. No doubt every traveler within fifty miles knows about this campsite.”

Water, probably from an underground stream that branched out from the river, had seeped to the surface and formed a pool, surrounded on two sides by willows and date palms. The horses would just fit into a corner formed by two hills, only a few paces from the water. The men would make camp between the stream and the herd. Bracca was right. No travelers, no matter how eager to get to Yarmo, would be likely to pass up such a natural encampment.

“It makes for a perfect place to spend the night, and it will be even better for us.” Eskkar eyes scanned the surroundings. “No more than two or three sentries. One up there, on top of the hill. Maybe another one over there, to guard the approach from the south.”

“We should be able to creep up on them.” Bracca sounded confident enough.

“The warriors will post their own sentry, to guard the horses, and he’ll take his position on the lower of the two hills, to be close to the herd. I don’t think either of us will be able to climb up and catch him by surprise.”

Eskkar pointed to the second crest that butted against the lower one. “But if we hide ourselves on the higher hill, I don’t think we’ll be noticed.”

“The other sentry should be over there, guarding the approach to the camp,” Bracca said, gesturing toward the other side of the water. “He’ll likely be one of the bandits. If I had to stand guard duty, I’d take a position near that rock, so I could sit down and be comfortable. We’ll have to take them both before we can get to the horses.”

Eskkar turned to his friend. “Give me your tunic.”

“What? What for?”

Eskkar had already slipped out of his own garment. Using his knife, he cut the tunic into two parts. The top portion he tossed on the ground, then fastened the remainder of the cloth around his waist. “Hurry. They may arrive at any moment. Might even send a scout on ahead, to make sure everything is safe, and no one else is using the site.”

“Damn you.” Bracca shrugged out of his garb. “I paid good coin for this tunic.”

“It’s practically a rag.” Eskkar jerked the cloth from his friend’s hands and cut that garment up the same way. “You stay here. I’ll slip down to where the horses will be and leave these garments under the brush. That way the horses will catch the scent, and become accustomed to it.”

“What if the bandits see them?”

“Then they’ll think some previous traveler tossed some old and useless scraps of clothing into the brush. But I don’t think anyone will notice. The horses will go in first, and they’ll be between the bushes and the riders.”

Eskkar led the way into the camp site. He scattered the remains of their tunics under the grass, not trying to hide them, but not leaving them out in the open either. The horses would graze there, and pick up the two companions’ scent. After positioning the rags, Eskkar gestured toward the hilltop.

Together they climbed the taller hill. It wasn’t an easy ascent, but they wouldn’t be descending by the same path. The slope to the lower hill looked much easier.

They found a good hiding place among the boulders and some isolated clumps of grass, and settled in. Eskkar glanced toward the east, at the setting sun already hovering near the horizon. Dusk would soon be upon them. He turned his gaze back toward the river.

“Look! There’s a rider coming up from the south.” Eskkar studied the horseman, still more than a mile away. “Rides like a warrior.”

They watched him approach, traveling at an easy pace. His head seemed in constant motion, turning from side to side, as he checked the landscape around him. Nor did he travel in a straight line. Instead he meandered back and forth across the path, searching the ground before him for any tracks.

“Good eyes,” Eskkar muttered. “Knows how to scout the land.”

“Suppose he sees our footprints?” Bracca’s voice held a hint of concern.

“He’ll be looking for fresh horse tracks, not signs of men on foot,” Eskkar said. “Didn’t you notice that we followed the rocky ground when we approached?”

“I thought you were trying to wear down my tender feet, friend Eskkar.”

“I was. But we also didn’t leave much of a trail, friend Bracca.”

“Well, if he spots us, we’ll be like rabbits in a cage.”

“Too late to worry now,” Eskkar said. “Remember, all this was your idea, friend Bracca. Once the bandits arrive and make camp, we’ll see what we’re facing. If they are too alert, we’ll simply stay hidden up here. But if we can take down the sentries, it should be easy to stampede the horses. With a little luck, they’ll run through the camp. I’ll try to hold a horse for you, but if I can’t, you’ll just have to catch one as they go by.”

Eskkar reached into his pouch and drew out the two halters he had carried wrapped around his waist for almost four days. “Try not to lose it,” he said, tossing one length to his companion.

“If anything goes wrong, friend Eskkar, I’ll be caught in the open, and without a horse.” Nevertheless, Bracca picked up the halter and wound it around his waist.

“Do you want to try and kill the warrior on the hill instead?”

Bracca stared at the scout, tall and muscular, drawing ever closer. “No, I’ll let you kill the barbarian.”

Eskkar grunted. He’d known Bracca wouldn’t care for that idea. Sneaking up on sleepy dirt eater sentry was one thing, but a steppes fighter guarding his clan’s horses was another.

“We can’t be sure what will happen once the herd panics,” Eskkar said. “You never know for certain which way they’ll run. If nothing goes right, grab a horse and ride south. If we’re separated, we’ll join up where we met the shepherd.”

For once Bracca had nothing else to say.

Motionless, they watched the scout, a bow slung across his back, ride a complete circle around the campsite. Only then, after reassuring himself that no horses had trod the ground within the last few days, did he ride up to the trees and the little pond of water.

Eskkar nodded in admiration as the warrior slid smoothly from his mount, which he then led to the water’s edge. Man and beast drank deeply from the pool, taking their time. When both had quenched their thirst, the man led the animal over to the trees, and secured his mount to one. Then he turned and started climbing the hill.

“Suppose he comes up here?” Bracca’s voice was a whisper.

Eskkar leaned over until his mouth was close to his companion’s ear. “Then we’ll have to rush him and hope one of us can get close enough to kill him before he gets his bow in play. Now keep your head down and remain silent. Remember, the horse has ears, too. I’ll watch for both of us.”

They settled deeper into the rocks. The warrior halted his climb on the crest of the lower hill, about thirty-five paces away. As Eskkar expected, the man didn’t bother climbing the second part of the hill. The vantage point he’d chosen gave him more than enough height. He sat with his back against a boulder, staring along the trail that he’d followed in.