Clan and Crown

There was another flight of arrows. The Drantos Guards archers yelled and brought up their crossbows. Walinski was screaming his head off, clawing at the arrow in his face. He'd dropped his rifle. Murphy threw himself down into the wagon box and peeked over the edge, his rifle ready.

"What the hell do we do?" Reznick shouted.

"How the hell should I know?" Ben answered. There weren't any targets. Murphy squinted, estimating the distance to the trees. Two hundred meters, near enough. He whistled. "That was long bow shot!" he shouted. "Even for Tamaerthans!"

"Damn straight!" Reznick answered.

Murphy thought about the implications. One of Captain Galloway's high cards were those Tamaerthan archers. Used in co

More arrows fell. By now everyone was behind a wagon or under cover, and nobody else was hit. Curious, Murphy thought. The horses and oxen pulling the carts hadn't been touched. Not even Reznick's centaur. Dobbin was cowering behind Lafe's wagon, whimpering the way the animals did when something threatened them and they couldn't fight or run away.

About my own situation. Can't fight and can't run. Things were quiet now, but-"It's a horse raid," Ben called.

"Yeah, that's what I figure," Lafe answered. "Somebody wants them beasts alive."

Murphy strained to see into the forest, but there was nothing visible. "Hell, maybe we ought to let 'em have 'em."

"Not Dobbin, they don't."

"Probably don't want him. Just want the horses and oxen. Probably too smart to want a centaur," Murphy said.

"Now you lay off," Reznick said. "But we better do something here. Want me to look at Ski?"

"Yeah, in a minute. You stay down just now, first things first. Move them carts! Murphy shouted. "Go around me! Laager those damn wagons!" Just because the lead wagon couldn't move didn't mean they couldn't make a wagon laager. Murphy nodded in satisfaction. Agikon had caught on, and was bringing up the other carts. At least they'd have some cover A dozen light cavalrymen burst from the woods. They rode crouched low against their mounts, most of their bodies invisible behind their horses. They didn't look like anyone Murphy had ever seen.

"Westmen!" one of the acolytes shouted.

Murphy snapped down the battle rifle's bipod and rested the legs on the wagon seat. Ski was still screaming, but Murphy put that out of his mind along with everything else except his sight picture. Aim for the rider, but low enough to hit the mount if you miss. Get a good sight picture. Squeeze off a round. The first rider fell. Ben shifted targets. On the second shot both horse and rider went down. The rider leaped free, but Lafe Reznick's burst took him in the chest. Ben looked up long enough to wave thanks.

Shift aim again. Keep it smooth. Another down. Three shots for the fourth. Don't rush it! Concentrate. New sight picture The nearest enemy was no more than twenty meters away when Murphy shot him off his horse. Then, suddenly, the Westmen were riding back toward the woods. Murphy picked off one more rider, and a last one seemed to fall out of the saddle in sheer surprise.

Then there weren't any more targets. One of the downed riders tried to get up, but a crossbowman took care of him. Two more Westmen rode from the woods and grabbed a loose horse while Murphy was changing magazines. Then things were still.

Not quite, though. Walinski was still yelling his head off. One of the acolytes was trying to hold him while another looked at the arrow piercing from near his left eye down across the cheek to come out at the neck. It was a bloody mess, but it hadn't hit a major artery or Ski wouldn't be able to yell.

"Lafe! Go look after Ski," Murphy yelled. "But be ready to cover me. Agikon!"

"My lord!"

"Take Lord Walinski's rifle. Keep watch on the trees."

"Aye, lord."

The acolyte handled the H amp;K with confidence. Captain Galloway didn't encourage training locals to use star weapons, but out here in the marches you needed all the help you could get.

"The rest of you stand guard! I won't be long." I hope. Going out in the open is probably stupid, Murphy thought. But I'd best see what I'm up against, and maybe get some information the Captain can use.

Murphy knelt by the six dead men while Agikon watched the forest. The closest man had a bronze sword, a thing he'd seen only in shrines to Vothan farther north and east. It was long enough to be used from horseback, and had gold wire wound around the hilt.

The rest of the men were armed with short spears or light lances, and long wicked hornbacked compound bows, almost too big to use from horseback, only they sure could. They also had knives. Most had no armor, but one was wearing a mail shirt obviously made in Drantos. They didn't have much clothing, breechcloths and a rough wool cloak, but just about every one of them had something of gold: an armlet, or a brooch, or just gold wire wound loosely around his neck.

They were all muscle and bone, and it looked as if they hadn't enough to eat for a long time.

So these were the Westmen. Not many ever saw them. They lived in the unexplored high plains beyond the Westcarp, and few who'd entered their territory ever returned. Not that there was anything to go up there for.

The last man lay too near the trees, and he could just lie there. Ben Murphy wasn't about to get that close. But as Murphy turned away, the man leaped to his feet. He started to run toward him, but after a step he fell again. Ben whirled and leveled the rifle "Mercy, I beg you!" the man shouted. "I am not one of-one of the Horse People!"

"What the hell?"

"Mercy!" He stretched out on the ground, reaching toward Ben, crawling painfully toward him. "Mercy!" he screamed again.

Think fast, Ben. Maybe a trick. But He went over to him. The man was bald, no better dressed than the Westmen-and he had no weapons at all.

"Who the hell are you?" Ben demanded.

"A priest of Vothan! Take me to your wagons, before the Horse People come to kill me!"

"Maybe. What were you doing with the Westmen?" Murphy demanded.

"I was priest of Vothan, at a shrine outside Margilos." The man spoke haltingly, with good grammar but hesitating sometimes. "A fool of a merchant from the-south wanted a guide, to lead him to the-the Westmen, that he might trade for gold. The chief priest thought that a good thing, and ordered me to go, for I had been to the top of the Scarp in my ordeal. But when we went again, the Horse People sacrificed the merchant to Pirin the Thunderer and made me a slave."

"So what the hell are you doing here?" Murphy demanded.

"The chief of the Red Rocks thought I brought him war luck, and now all the Horse People are coming down from the Westscarp. Above, all is heat and drying streams and death."

"Holy shit," Murphy said. "They're all coming down?"

"Those who can," the priest said. "So they brought me with them, slave and translator. I thought you evil wizards until I saw the blue robes of Yatar among you. Then I threw myself from the saddle and lay on the ground in hopes the Red Rocks would believe me dead. But I think my leg is broken."

A cool customer, Murphy thought. And a damned lucky find, a man who's been up there with them horse archers for years. "Okay, Baldy, let's get you to the wagons." And away from them trees, which give me the willies. "Here, get up, lean on me. You'll have to hobble."

It was slow going. When they were halfway to the wagons, Lafe Reznick came out to help. "What did you find?" he asked.