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She'd ignore the galleys coming out to defend their harbor as long as she could. They weren't as much threat as a mud-bank, and what happened when those frail pine rowing boats met the ironclad would be unpleasant enough without dwelling on it beforehand.
The distant thud of ship's ca
"Go for it," he said.
Eddie reached over from his side of the door into the tower and pulled it open; it was a massive piece of carpentry, baulks pi
His partner slammed the door shut again. Giernas dropped a wooden wedge to the planks of the floor, heeled it home, then secured it with a stroke of his musket butt. The oncoming Tartessians were alarmed now, as the two men plastered themselves to the log wall on either side of the door and threw protective arms over their eyes. Then-
BADDUMP!
The door blasted out from between them, hinges ripped free, and pinwheeled through the approaching soldiers. Smoke and a red flash punched out after it, and erupted through the narrow firing slits that surrounded this level of the tower.
"Go, go, go!" Giernas shouted.
The two rangers plunged through into the interior, eyes watering and lungs coughing at the harsh reek of gunpowder. The trapdoor to the ground floor below was open, but the ladder was gone… too slow anyway. Giernas leaped upward, dropped through it, let his long legs absorb the impact as he was driven into a crouch, rolled forward with his rifle clutched to his stomach, and came up to one knee. The weapon came to his shoulder in the same movement, and he shot the stout gray-bearded man trying to open the door of the sally port between the shoulder blades. The Tartessian pitched forward against the wood and slid down it.
Lighter, Eddie bounced erect and kicked upward, his heel slamming into the chin of a Tartessian who'd come half-erect. Bone splintered; then they were both at the crank of the mechanism that raised the bar across these gates. Another couple of hundred Indian warriors were waiting, but they couldn't get in unless the portals opened.
Eddie jittered about. Pete studied it, Fimbulwinter-cold and methodical; Spring Indigo's fate depended on her man keeping a cool head, and so did his son's.
"Right," he said, pulling back an iron bar and tripping a pawl-catch. "Lay into it!"
They grabbed the bar and heaved; it was made for four men, and inertia fought them for long seconds. Giernas sucked air into his lungs, planted his feet, and pulled with all the strength that was in him-but carefully, carefully, how all the devils in Hell would laugh if he put his back out now!
A long moment when red throbbed before his eyes, and the mechanism went around with a clank… clank… clank-clankclank, spi
"Let's go," Giernas said again. They shoved open the door leading inward into the settlement's perimeter street, darted out.
He didn't think the Tartessians around the gate would be paying much attention. Not when Indians in the guise of tribute-bearers brought out the weapons concealed in cloak and bundle and basket and attacked; nor when the ones skulking in field and grove ran howling to join them. He didn't think they could get the gate closed and barred again by unaided pushing, not before the warriors of the local tribes were inside… and from the sound of it, things weren't going well for them at the riverside gate either.
He and his comrade loped into the little settlement; they stopped for an instant to tear off their Tartessian jerkins and tunics and don buckskin. Getting stabbed in the back by a local who couldn't tell them from an Iberian was a worse risk than being shot by one of Isketerol's men who recognized an Islander.
"Jesus, Chaos and Old Night're loose here," he shouted, as they broke into the main square.
Awnings and goods lay tumbled and trampled; even now a few locals, some slaves and not a few warriors as well, were snatching things up. Their pen ripped apart, a herd of sheep ran about baaaing witlessly, adding a last touch of madness. The big blocky building with the tower seemed to be in Tartessian hands, someone getting them organized, and riflemen were shooting from the windows. Giernas filled his lungs:
"Indigo!" he shouted. Eddie took it up in unison with him. "Indigo!" Christ, how are we going to find her in this?
He saw a blond head across the square-Jaditwara, and Sue with her; they were shouting as well. His eyes flickered back and forth, eliminating the milling tumble and open only for the clue he sought, as he might blank out the forest for the outline of a deer's antlers.
A striped awning lay collapsed across a heap of vegetables, cabbages… It stirred, and a small brown form rose. She was naked to the waist, dressed in a local deerskin wrap… a baby slung behind her…
"Indigo!" he bawled.
Eddie clutched at his shoulder. "Take it smart, Pete!"
The other ranger brought his rifle to his shoulder and fired at the headquarters building. The two rangers across the square did so, too; the situation was shifting-he remembered school days, and a drop into a beaker that made crystals grow with dreamlike speed. Civilians caught in the attack fled; Indians went to ground behind tumbled wheelbarrows and carts or the corners of buildings. A few fired captured rifles at their foes, with scant hope of hitting anything; more waited.
Giernas left his rifle leaning against an adobe wall and sprinted out, jinking and turning, leaping tumbled goods. Spring
Indigo ran to meet him, young Jared's head swaying by hers. He met her, swept an arm around her, half carried her along with his body between hers and the enemy. Bullets chipped divots out of the ground at their feet.
Something struck him like a sledgehammer. He swung half around, and Spring Indigo cried out as much of his weight bore down on her. She staggered, then rallied and held him up; they hobbled back to safety, around the corner, where Eddie gave covering fire and the overhang of a roof sheltered them from the top of the tower.
"You're hurt-
"Are you okay, is Jared-
They looked at each other and smiled for one long instant; despite the shots and chaos and the baby's wailing. Then Giernas’s face tensed and he crumpled back against the wall, one big hand clutching his thigh.
"Give me my rifle," he said, in a voice made curt by pain. "I'll… cover us. Take a look at it. Bandages in the haversack."
The Cloud Shadow people were hunters and warriors; she handed him the weapon before she knelt to rip the fabric open. Eddie kept his back to them, eyes never ceasing their movement. Giernas kept his on the square, thumbing back the hammer of his weapon, though even the gentle touch of his wife's ringers sent tendrils of cold fire reaching up into his groin and belly.
"The blood flows but it does not spurt," she said. "The bone is not broken and the bullet went through the big muscle of the thigh, high up, here. But it must be cleansed soon-dirty cloth carried into the wound, maybe."
"Just-
The last two of their party ran up. "We'd better get out of here," Jaditwara gasped. "The palisade is burning."