Sam Barone - Rogue Warriors 2

The sun dropped lower, until it touched the horizon. Eskkar remained completely still, his head buried in the grass, barely able to glimpse the man below. Bracca, an arm’s length behind, peered between some rocks at the path leading from the river. Suddenly the warrior turned his head, and Eskkar shifted his own gaze to the south.

A long line of mounted men, many of them leading pack animals, had ridden into view. Eskkar had to wait until they’d almost reached the camp before he got a full count. Twenty-seven men, fourteen pack horses, and another eleven horses roped together. Those numbers surprised Eskkar. He hadn’t thought the dirt eaters possessed so many animals.

The bandit leading the column halted a hundred paces from the watering hole. The scout rose to his feet in a smooth motion, and waved his left arm. The leader called something to those behind him, and the column resumed the journey. At the same time, the warrior abandoned his position, and descended the hill.

“The scout is going down, Bracca.” Eskkar kept his voice low. “I count four more steppes warriors, plus the scout.” Eskkar experienced a moment of satisfaction as he remembered killing the bowman in the tavern. That meant one less dangerous opponent now.

His friend took his time studying the men as they rode in, jumping down from their horses, their excited voices rising up, and everyone talking at once.

“By Ishtar, they’ve brought some women with them,” Eskkar said. “Must have captured them in the last few days. Otherwise they would have slowed them down.”

Four women rode on two horses, clinging to each other and to the horses’ manes as the animals were led into the center of the camp. The bandit leader moved toward them, and spoke to one of his men. The underling nodded, and one by one, pulled the women from the horses, laughing as he did so. Three slumped to the ground, all resistance gone. The fourth, her shift already ripped away from one of her shoulders, struggled against her captor. She kicked at him, but with her feet bare, accomplished nothing more than angering the man. He grabbed her long brown hair and yanked her off the horse. Laughing, he ignored her flailing arms and threw her to the earth. Gesturing with his finger, he said something to the women, then strode off to speak to the leader of the band.

“Probably haven’t been raped yet,” Bracca said. “There wouldn’t be any fight left in them if the men had already taken a few turns.

“They’re in for a long night,” Eskkar said. “They have a lot of men to satisfy.”

“Forget the women. Look at all those pack animals!” Bracca couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. “Can you imagine how much gold they’re carrying?”

“The bandits don’t seem to have many sacks on their mounts,” Eskkar said. “All the loot must be on the pack horses, to be distributed by the leader. I’d guess most of those pack animals will go to the warriors as well. They’ll likely start dividing the goods right after they set up camp and eat.”

“No, I think not,” Bracca said. “Why start trouble tonight? No matter how you divide the spoils, some thick-headed oaf will complain he’s receiving less than he deserves. If their leader has his wits about him, he divvies up the plunder in the morning. Then he and his picked men can just ride away, and leave the others behind him, still arguing about the size of their shares.”

Eskkar decided Bracca was probably right. “Well, the loot means nothing to us. We’ll have to wait it out, and see what they do tonight. We can’t try anything until the middle of the night.”

It didn’t take long before he and Bracca found out about the contents of some of the sacks. Not all the pack animals carried loot. Two horses carried wine skins, and these were soon being passed around. Camp fires were lit, and before long smoke trails wafted on the warm evening air. The bandits had not bothered to hunt any game, so each man ate whatever he had stashed in his pouch.

“I’ll wager that none of them has drunk any spirits for days. That will make the wine even more powerful,” Bracca remarked. “Look, even the barbarians are drinking.”

Eskkar wondered about that. “These warriors, they must be outcasts, cursed by their clan. Otherwise they would never take wine in the company of dirt eaters.”

“From what I’ve seen, the bandit leader isn’t drinking much. He’s had a few swallows, but he and his guards must be planning to stay sober.”

The man commanding the raiders, a broad-shouldered man with a dark beard, had two brawny guards who stayed constantly at their leader’s side. Under the leader’s direction, all the captured spoils were gathered in the center of the camp, beside his blanket. Another two men took guard positions over the loot. Obviously the bandit chief didn’t intend to let his men near the fruits of their raiding until tomorrow.

Nor, apparently, did he intend to share the women. The four now huddled against the captured goods, looking miserable even from the hilltop.

Eskkar wondered about that. “Is he keeping all the women for himself? A good leader would take one and give the rest to his men.”

“No, he probably intends to sell them as slaves in Yarmo. He knows they’ll fetch a better price if they’re not battered and bruised.”

“Better for us if he takes the four of them himself,” Eskkar muttered. “He’ll sleep all the sounder.”

With so much gold in sight, Bracca had no interest in the women. “He’ll have at least one of his men awake and guarding the spoils throughout the night. That might change everything.”

“One guard, probably a warrior, up here on the hill, directly over the horse herd.” Eskkar, too, ignored the women as he let his mind continue to work out the situation. “Another to guard the sacks of gold, and one to watch the trail to the south. So at least three guards, with a change around midnight. If there are any more, I don’t think we’ll get away with it.”

“Your plan to slip in among the horses and stampede them might not work then,” Bracca said.

Eskkar nodded, though in the deepening darkness his friend didn’t notice. “Don’t give up yet. But there may be another way, Bracca. Let me think about it.”

Below the two observers, the bandits continued their celebration long into the night. The wine skins were soon drained and tossed aside. Even so, many of the bandits remained squatting close to the camp fires, boasting of their deeds and what they would do with their share of the gold. Words and phrases floated up even to top of the hill. More than a few of the brigands staggered about, already feeling the effects of too much wine.

Finally the weary crowd began to settle down for the night. The last of the wine skins lay empty, and the revelries finally ended. Soon afterward, the loud talking gradually ceased. One by one, the bandits spread their blankets and collapsed to the ground. Now the sounds of snoring competed with the voices of those few yet awake and gossiping among themselves.

“Look!” Bracca’s whisper showed his excitement. One of the warriors had started the ascent up the slope. “The sentry is coming. Let’s hope he doesn’t decide to climb up here for a look around.”

“He won’t.” Eskkar’s voice held more confidence than he felt. If the man did, they’d be discovered. Even if they killed him, Bracca and he wouldn’t get off the hill alive.

However the steppes warrior, not the one who earlier had scouted the watering hole, took up his position on the lower hill, leaning against the same rock that the advance scout had selected. This man carried a bow and quiver of arrows in his left hand, and he set these down on the ground beside him. After one careful look around, he unsheathed his sword, and thrust that into the earth, ready to his hand. The warrior’s position placed him almost directly above the horse herd. Beneath him, and close to the horses, his warrior companions prepared their own sleeping ground, at least twenty-five or thirty paces away from the nearest dirt eaters.