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The Bow of Haladan Part XXII
"KAAAASSS-SAAAAAR!" Dinet screamed. He sawed at his reins but the
mare had the bit between her teeth and galloped hard to stay even with
the others. The stallion held back, he took the lead but set his pace to
match that of the slowest mare. The others did not try to outrace the
stallion, but kept at least a heads length behind.
Dinet did not like to look ahead, he mostly kept low against the
mares neck and watched the road go racing by, but he turned back and
glanced at the path behind them. A dark shape, large and very low to
the ground swallowed the trail, Dinet was alarmed. The shape was
indistinct it seemed to change form as it moved, its outline growing
wider, then thinning out.
They reached a moonlit patch of road, no trees nearby to block
out the silver light. Dinet turned his head again and now he could see
that the shape had a dozen heads and myriad legs, not one beast at all but
a wild pack of wolves, running bunched, filling the path from side to
side.
The wolves weren't close, they were falling behind the racing
hooves, but they had no intention of giving up. Dinet shouted to Kassar
again, the old nomad looked his way and grinned, enjoying the chase even
if he was the prey.
"Kassar, curse you, Kassar!" Dinet yelled. "We're heading back to
camp!"
"Hah!" Kassar snorted. "Go ask them wolves ta let ya pass!" he
shouted back. "Wolves or camp, yer choice!"
* * *
"I am Sturve, captain of the thirty-third auxiliaries." the
old warrior said speaking to Waddard, Kyle and the three monitors who
survived the battle at the bridge. He was a man of average height but
wide build, growing wider with age. His hair once black was now more than
half gray, and cut short as was his grizzled beard. Like Waddard he had
one arm in a sling, a leather cast reenforced with the blades of broken
swords was on his arm. Blood still stained his clothes and beard, a broad
cut ran across the bridge of his nose and trailed along his right cheek
below his eye, disappearing within his hair.
"You are the survivors of the eighth, well you have been assigned
to me." he began to pace, and talked to them as he meandered back and
forth. They stood on the far side of the bridge, the troopers had
dismantled the wall and now rested on the overgrown field beside the
road.
"I thought to have you spread throughout the thirty-third, but that
would never work." Sturve shook his head. "Instead it is the fifth that is
to be disbanded. Their captain and sergeants did not survive, and the men
are more demoralized than my own. No, you will still be the eighth, the
company that took the wall, but under my command till your captain heals."
He stopped and faced them, looked them over slowly.
"I was not able to do what Fintan did, but I will try. My men
could not do what you did, but with you beside us, they will try. I will
take my replacements from the fifth, you sergeant Waddard and sergeant
Kyle, will have the remainder to beat into shape. I want two understrength
centuries, Waddard you have the experience, and Kyle has the luck, you are
both brave men and both can lead. Will there be any problems?"
"Not from me." said Waddard.
"Not from any of the eighth." said Kyle proudly.
"Good. Your packs are being brought up from where you left them,
along with a handful of wounded who are at least fit to march if not to
fight." the captain told them. "I will send your new men over, make
sure to split them up. They have a bad taste in their mouth from the
fight, its not so bad for the recruits, but you may have problems with the
seasoned men, some may be jealous of your success." Sturve put his good
hand on Waddard's shoulder, then on Kyle's. "Gentlemen, your entire
company has my respect, you now have quite a burden, this reputation you
are building, it will make life hard."
"Is that a prophecy Sir." said Kyle.
"No, that is a promise." Sturve laughed. "We all have much to do,
and we will be marching again by noon, we are near to Hochoch, there will
be more fighting without a doubt, and worse." The captain left them and
went back to where the remnants of the fifth had been gathered, a beaten
disheveled lot.
"The eighth lives!" Kyle yelled, Waddard and the monitors all
cheered.
* * *
(To Be Continued...)