THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 9
After we caught up to the caravan, a trio of surprised guards intercepted us.
"Lord Ashe," an older ronin said as he bowed respectfully in his saddle. A pair of Folk horse-archers remained behind him - splitting their attention between us and the approaches to the caravan. We were on the edge of some very dangerous territory.
I knew the ronin. "Jeffrey," I said, returning his greeting, "when are you going to settle down and cease your wandering?"
The irony of someone with my history saying something like that was not lost on me.
The ronin smiled. "That's not in me, my lord. Perhaps if I were to meet the right woman... but that's yet to happen."
It was no secret to me that Jeffrey actually preferred the company of other men, so he had no wives or children - and therefore no need for lands. Such tastes are of little matter to the Blood, although it is understood that we have a duty to perpetuate the line of the Old One. There are Blood holders who maintain both wives and husbands, and I'd always assumed that Jeffrey would someday become one of them.
But in the meantime, without the responsibility of a family to care for, the life of a free-wheeling ronin mercenary certainly had its attractions. I was once one of them.
"We wish to join the caravan," I told Jeffrey.
"Of course, my lord," Jeffrey responded with a wave towards the last, dusty, wagon. "I'll notify the captain. He'll want to speak with you eventually."
I nodded and indicated to the others that we should get going.
By early evening, the caravan stopped at a creek to water the animals. That was when the caravan-captain paid us a visit. He was a tall and rangy Redeye, wearing the characteristic goggles of his particular breed of Wilder. However, there was also a very practical-looking short-sword at his side. It looked like it had seen more than a little use.
"Lord Ashe," the caravan-captain said as he bowed. His bow was finely calculated to show respect for my station, while also letting me know that he had a position of his own that should be respected. "My name is Christopher, and I command here."
Christopher was an old name, honoring both the Old Faith of the Folk and the ancient lineage of the Redeyes. There was a time when I would have perhaps found some meaning in that.
Now, it was just a name.
"My thanks for allowing us to join your caravan," I said. "How may I best assist?"
Christopher glanced at the others with me. His eyes lingered on Benjamin and Gant, but dismissed Jessica, Samantha and Sophie.
"If you would take up a position at mid-caravan, that would best enhance our defenses," Christopher finally suggested. Actually, since I was requesting to join his caravan, he had every right to give me a direct order. However, courtesy and common-sense suggested he should avoid that.
"It will be my pleasure," I replied.
"If I may ask, my lord," Christopher added carefully. "I want to make sure there is no confusion concerning your women."
That was a wise precaution. To all appearances, Jessica, Samantha, and Sophie were Folk servants. Caravan teamsters and guards are a rough bunch, and the approachability of servant women is sometimes a matter of "misunderstandings". I didn't particularly want to kill any of my fellow travelers. And the thought of how Gant might react to a perceived threat to Samantha or Sophie was something that should be kept in mind.
"They are to left alone," I replied shortly.
"I will spread the word," Christopher said with a nod.
There were about twenty wagons in the caravan. After the caravan-captain left, we moved up the line of wagons until we were roughly in the midst of them. Thankfully, that also got us out of the worst of the dust that was being kicked up by horses and wagon-wheels.
"I could improvise a courtesan's robe and earn us some coins after we stop for the night," Jessica said as she adjusted the kerchief masks she'd improvised for Samantha and Sophie. The girls were peering about curiously. After only a few hours with the caravan, they were already covered by a light coating of trail dust - and that was only going to get worse.
"No," Benjamin, Gant, and I said simultaneously.
Ignoring Benjamin and Gant, Jessica met my eyes. "Yes, my lord. However, men tell their women - even hired ones - things they wouldn't otherwise reveal."
"I'll keep that in mind," I told her, "but right now, I don't think that's necessary. Besides, I already told the caravan-captain that you're in my company."
Jessica bowed her head politely. Then she gathered up Samantha and Sophie and they took our horses and waterskins down to the creek.
To the north, even over the constant racket of the caravan, I could faintly hear the waves of the Ont Sea crashing against the shore, and the sharp call of seabirds.
"Ah..." I said in satisfaction. "Do you hear that, Benjamin?"
Benjamin gave me a puzzled look. "What?"
"The lack of words. The quiet. The blessed silence. I told Jessica my decision, she asked for clarification, I gave it, and that was the end of the matter."
"It was your decision to marry three exceptionally strong-willed women," Benjamin pointed out.
"You like that kind of woman," Gant growled.
I waved a hand in surrender. "I know. I know."
"And I would not mistake silence for meekness," Benjamin warned. "Jessica is dangerous and we've seen that she can think for herself. I would expect the unexpected with her."
As always, Benjamin's words were wise. I nodded in agreement.
Something seemed to occur to Gant. "My lord, you said we'll try to find Jessica's family. But what about the girls?"
"Their mother sold them." I replied. "I see no point in returning the girls - even if we could even find her. Instead, they'll become a part of my household."
Gant raised a bushy eyebrow that was the size of man's thumb. "They have Creed blood," he observed.
The Creed are the great ancestral enemy of the Blood, and the Traditions are blunt and plain-spoken about their fate. The Blood will someday rid the world of the Creed - that is both our destiny and our duty. However, some confuse the Creed with those descended from the victims of the Creed. Gant had been on our world long enough to see that.
"I'll deal with anyone who misjudge my hospitality," I told Gant.
Gant ponderously nodded his massive head. My answer seemed to satisfy him.
Benjamin wasn't participating in our discussion. Instead, he was gazing into the woods to the south of us.
"Trouble," Benjamin told us quietly.
I glanced towards the creek. At a large pool, just south of the track, the caravan's horses and oxen were drinking their fill. Upstream from there, waterskins and canteens were being replenished. Jessica and the girls had arrived at the waterhole just seconds ago, yet they were suddenly heading back. Our waterskins were empty and the horses were restive because they hadn't been allowed to drink.
Jessica's eyes met mine and I could see the urgency in them. Like Benjamin, she had also sensed a threat. The Spider-Folk are particularly talented at that sort of thing.
Gant reached for his club as Benjamin drew his swords. I rapped my knuckles against the side of the wagon. One of the wagon's two teamsters - a female Blood ronin - was keeping an eye on their wagon while her partner watered their draft horses. Benjamin's weapon draw had already grabbed her attention, but she looked at me.
"We're about to be attacked," I told her. Her eyes flicked away from me and then glanced in the same direction that I was eying. Given the wind, there was a particular length of the woodline that was optimally upwind from the many sensitive noses in the caravan. A Blood worthy of the name keeps the wind-blind direction always in mind.
Then there was a savage shout, and Creed warriors began pouring out of the trees.
The caravan-captain had horse-borne pickets between the caravan and the southern expanse. The guards shielding the fore of the caravan quickly found themselves engaged. Snarls, howls, and the screams of angry and frightened horses filled the air. Folk archers arced arrows into the oncoming Creed. Teamsters and guards began moving in that direction.
The teamster who was with us leaped from her wagon and dashed towards the melee. The situation down by the creek became confused as the watering animals suddenly panicked. Many of the available teamsters were trying to deal with that, while the others were fighting the Creed.
Gant took a sure step towards the fight. His club was held across his body, ready to either parry or swing.
"No," I told Gant. He paused, looking uncertainly at me.
"It's a feint," I explained to him.
"Yes," Benjamin agreed. He was gazing towards the back of the caravan. "The main attack will come from there."
Jessica, the girls, and our horses finally rejoined us. The horses weren't trained war-animals and the noise of the battle, combined with the alarming scent of blood in the air, was making them skittish.
"Protect the girls," I told Jessica. She nodded. Samantha and Sophie were wide-eyed, but both moving with sure and precise calm as they began tying our horses to the iron hitching-rings on the back of the wagon.
Then Benjamin, Gant, and I began moving back along the line of wagons - towards the actual threat. Behind us, at the front of the caravan, we heard the characteristic roar of a Redeye energy blast. Christopher was doing his part in the fight.
Two Blood ronin, their claws extended, were racing past us - towards the fight. I hooked one by the arm and turned him about. He angrily made to strike at me, but I slapped him first. He fell back several paces, a shocked expression on his face.
"Come with me," I ordered. My voice was neither harsh or entreating - I simply spoke as if I expected his obedience. The ronin hesitated, nodded, and then joined with us. His partner had run on, but quickly doubled back, swearing loudly as she joined us. Overhead, a bow-carrying Angel also paused in her movement forward, and then began circling above us. She wasn't sure what we'd seen.
At the back of the caravan, Jeffrey, his archers, and a motley band of teamsters with bared claws and an unorthodox mix of weapons were waiting in a thin and wary line. Jeffrey was tensely watching the tree-line. Guarding the back of the column was Jeffrey's assigned task and he was doing it. He shot me a grateful look when he saw us approach.
Just as my band joined Jeffrey's, the Creed main attack began swarming out of the trees. Unlike the smaller force of their fellows at the front of the caravan, they came at us in complete silence.
And there were a lot of them. We were badly outnumbered.
Our archers began firing. Arrows sleeted into the Creed, but with little apparent effect. It would take more than one or two arrows before a Creed fell, but they weren't going to give us that much time. They can cover ground very quickly.
Jeffrey rode through our line and rammed his horse into the leading Creed. The mass of the horse overwhelmed the Creed and slammed him to the ground. Jeffrey's horse trampled the downed Creek as Jeffrey slashed at the next Creed with his claws. Meanwhile, Jeffrey's horse screamed as the half-crushed Creed clawed at it's belly.
I led a small force out of our wavering line of archers. It consisted of myself, five Blood, and Gant. Benjamin was with the archers. I would like to say I had a plan, but the only instructions I'd been able to give amounted to, "Kill the leader."
As plans goes, it was a sound one, but it suffered from a lack of detail. Jeffrey had the right idea - we had to get a line of skirmishers between the Creed and the archers. Otherwise, the Creed would make short work of the archers and then fall on the rest of the caravan from behind.
The first Creed I encountered was a youngster of no more than fifteen summers. He was faster than his comrades and that put him at the fore of the Creed advance. I glimpsed only a few aspects of his appearance - blond hair in long braids, ragged trousers, jagged designs painted with dried mud and blood onto his bare chest, a human finger-bone necklace, and the darkness of his fingertip claws.
His orange eyes momentarily reminded me of Samantha and Sophie.
Then he heedlessly leaped at me - and I decapitated him with a crossed-claw swipe. His head parted from his body in a wild splash of blood and his body spasmed as it slammed to the ground. I kicked the head out of the way so it wouldn't get underfoot.
A dozen or so yards behind the dead boy was the leader of the Creed band. He had abandoned silence and was bellowing orders in an effort to deal with our interruption of his ambush. Our only real chance was to kill him and break the will of the Creed charge. Unfortunately, there were at least a half-dozen Creed between him and our small force.
An arrow - fired by the Angel overhead - appeared in the chest of the next Creed in front of me. He gasped in more surprise than pain, but that moment of delay gave me the time I needed. I took his arm off just above the elbow and dodged past him. The Creed made a grab for me with his remaining hand, but a blow from Gant's massive club smashed him across the battlefield. Jeffrey - on foot and bleeding from multiple claw wounds - appeared at my side and raked open the face of another attacker. The Creed stumbled away, vainly trying to clear blood away from his eyes.
Since Gant, Jeffrey, and I were in the lead of our fighters, the Creed converged on us. We went back-to-back as we defended ourselves. More arrows appeared in the bodies of our attackers - mostly fired from our extremely accurate over-head Angel. There was a white-hot spark of pain as a slash opened my thigh. I responded with a thrust that went through my attacker's chest. Twisting my wrist as I withdrew my claws, I shredded the Creed's heart. Blood spurted from his mouth as he fell away, but then another Creed immediately took his place.
We were being surrounded, but that was acceptable. I had no personal plans for killing the Creed leader, but I did want to draw the other Creed away from him.
The Creed leader was still bellowing orders when Benjamin and Jessica leaped over us and onto him. In mid-jump, Jessica threw a pair of daggers that impacted into the Creed's shoulder and upper arm. Benjamin had his short-swords out. Even before he hit the ground, he'd jammed one sword into the leader's stomach and the other through his upper chest. Then Jessica and Benjamin landed in a typical wallcrawler crouch, on opposite sides of their target.
Jessica was behind the Creed leader. Another dagger appeared in her hand and she thrust it into the leader's lower back and ripped sideways. The leader's legs gave way as she severed his spinal column. Benjamin pulled one of his swords loose and opened the leader's throat. As the leader collapsed to the ground, Jessica jammed her dagger deep into one of his eyes.
Despite the loss of their leader, the fight was still raging. However, I could tell that the Creed were becoming hesitant.
Then a red energy blast smashed into the Creed in front of me, pulverizing him and throwing his rag-doll body back towards the trees. The caravan-captain was leading a squad of his guards to reinforce us.
That was enough for most of the Creed - they broke and ran.
But as always with the Creed, there were some who were too deep in bloodlust to understand they had lost. We sent them to their doom.