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The Bow of Haladan Part XVIII
"Now, ya no lie t'me, Dinet I know ya, know when ya
lie." Kassar sat across a small fire and emphasized his words with the
point of his dagger.
"I wouldn't lie to you." Dinet began. He worked at the rope
which tied his hands together while he spoke.
"Hah!" barked Kassar. "Ya lyin now!"
"I mean, I wouldn't lie, not with that knife pointing at
me." Dinet amended.
"Better." Kassar agreed. "Now what ya got for me? I know ya
got sumthin from ol'Merden, ya give me that for start."
"Sure, sure, but you swear by the wind that you'll let me
go after, and not turn me in anyway." said Dinet.
Kassar spat into the fire, which gave off a hiss. "Damn, I talk
too much. You listen too much to."
"I have the money hidden, I needed a horse to help me carry it.
I'll show you..." Dinet told the old nomad.
"Ya betcha yur ass ya will." said Kassar. "Come on, we go get
horses and get money, ya can stop yur wigglin, I tie them ropes, ya
need'll blade ta cut yerself loose."
Kassar helped Dinet to his feet with an ungentle hand. He
double checked his knot and raised his eyes at finding that the boy had
loosened it, another few minutes and Dinet would have freed himself.
"To damn good with them hands." the nomad said, but quietly,
almost to himself. Dinet heard and smiled but did not reply.
Outside the tent Kassar kept a string of horses, four mares
and a stud, he'd sold the others to some Gran March lord the day before.
He dragged out several saddlebags and an old training saddle that he set
on the smallest mare. "Ya can ride little Fieldmouse here." he said to
Dinet.
"You're taking all the horses?" Dinet asked.
"I'm not plannen on comin back." Kassar answered.
* * *
"Form the line, slingers to the rear!" Fintan yelled.
"What about calling for some help." Kyle asked.
"I doubt any of those will set foot on the bridge till daybreak."
captain Fintan laughed. "Its just us, but I wouldn't turn away any help.
Looks like were going to need it."
The line was almost thirty men across from side to side, a handful
of swordsmen stood behind the first rank ready to take the place of any
who might fall. The slingers checked their packs, some had scavenged
bullets and bags of slingstones from the wounded and the dead or had those
who'd drawn their swords hand over their unused packs. All troopers in
the eighth company practiced with both sling and sword.
A drumming sound grew louder as the hobgoblins approached, the
bridge began to shake beneath their feet, a body laying atop the wall
rolled and thudded to the stones.
"The fools, they'll shakes the bridge apart and send us all into
the stream." Fintan shook his head.
The first rank of hobgoblins came marching into view, orange hair,
red faces, broad chests covered with mail. They carried drawn swords and
heavy shields on their arms, a severed head of an orc painted brightly
across the wood and hide of each boss. In the ranks behind some carried
banners with old fleshless skulls atop the poles, a red sheet of cloth
flapping in the breeze, dark and indistinct, lit only by the light of
a burning wagon near the far side of the bridge.
* * *
(To Be Continued...)