ordered the group forward. Heels dug into his horse’s flanks and he charged down the road toward the town at the back of the group of soldiers. After Curtis’ band broke away, heading into the forest to one side, he counted no more than thirty men remaining, only twenty of them Legionnaires, the rest commoners.
He had a moment for his stomach to roll in apprehension, to notice that the others had already drawn their swords-
And then they were passing the outskirts of the town, cottages and buildings appearing along the sides of the road amongst the trees a moment before the forest gave way completely and they broke into the wide commons.
The flagstones were littered with bodies, but otherwise empty.
Arrows shot into the group instantly, the man next to Jayson crying out as one took him in the shoulder. He spat curses as he wrenched the shaft free without slowing. Through the clamor of the horses’ hooves on the stone, he heard Gregson bellow, “Over here!” and saw a flash of movement from the direction of the stable yard.
Terson swung toward the lieutenant, the rest of the men following in a tight, disordered group. Gregson stood at the door to the stable’s barn, two other men holding the doors wide open. They charged through into the straw-scented shadows within, the barn barely holding all of them. Jayson twisted in the saddle as men drew the doors of the barn closed behind them, scanning the people within, searching for Corim. He saw the two merchant men from the trading companies, a woman with two children clutched close to her side, Ara from the tavern, and an assortment of other men and women, maybe seventy townsfolk in all. Someone close was muttering, “This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening,” the litany repeating over and over. Jayson tried to turn his horse but the quarters were too cramped. In frustration, he yelled out, “Corim! Are you here?”
“I’m here!”
Corim thrust through a huddle of women and elderly men to one side, fighting his way to Jayson’s side.
A heaviness around Jayson’s heart eased. “Thank Diermani,” he muttered.
“Report,” Gregson ordered as soon as the barn doors closed.
Terson shoved his way to the front of the barn. Nearly everyone quieted, hushed and panicked voices falling silent to listen.
“I’ve sent Curtis and a small group up to the promontory to deal with the archers. The rest of those who’d managed to gather at the summons are here.”
“You didn’t see any other Alvritshai? No other attackers besides the archers?”
“None.”
Gregson frowned. “There must be another group somewhere nearby. They wouldn’t have archers watching the town otherwise.”
“Perhaps we spooked them by ringing the bell,” Ricks said to one side.
Gregson glanced around at the townsfolk huddled in the stalls and loft of the barn. “If that’s the case, then we’d better get everyone out of here as soon as possible, before the main force arrives.”
This brought frightened murmurs from everyone, the unease of those still on their mounts transferring to the animals as they jostled against each other.
Ara pushed to the front of the group. She carried a scythe in her hand, and Jayson noticed that many of the others had makeshift weapons gathered from the barn. “What about those who sought shelter in the taverns or the other shops? And where do you think we’ll be going? This is our home. I’ll not be leaving without a fight.”
A few of the men grumbled agreement.
“Cobble Kill wasn’t designed to be defended,” Gregson barked, before the murmurs had grown too loud. “Our only real advantage is that no one can approach it easily through the forest. They’ll likely come by the roads, but we can’t hold those with the hundred people here, only twenty of those trained Legion, the rest with scythes and pitchforks! We couldn’t hold them even with the entire town gathered-men, women, and children!” The grumbling quieted.
“We have to flee,” Gregson continued. “There’s no other choice. Terson, we’ll use those mounted to protect the rest of the townsfolk as we leave. I want everyone to gather in the center of the barn, the horses to either side. When we open the doors, the Legion will go out first and then the rest will follow. Take the southern road. Did everyone hear? Take the southern road once we’re out and keep on going! Don’t stop for anything-food, clothing, nothing! Our only chance is to reach Patron’s Merge. Their town is walled and is protected by the rivers.”
At the fear-sickened murmurs that followed and the sudden shifting of bodies as everyone tried to follow directions, punctuated by curses and low sobs, Gregson nodded, then drew Terson, Ricks, and a few of the other Legion to one side. Jayson had been jostled close enough to overhear.
“We need to forewarn the surrounding towns,” the lieutenant muttered. “As soon as we get free of Cobble Kill and hit the crossroads, I want Tirks and Vanson to break off and head toward Ulm’s Kill and Farriver. Warn them and order them to continue spreading the word.”
“What do we tell them?” a blond-haired man said. He couldn’t have been more than twenty.
Gregson frowned at that. “Tell them Gray’s Kill was razed by an unknown group, and that Cobble Kill has been attacked. Tell them dwarren and Alvritshai have been sighted, along with some other creature that we’ve never seen before. Tell them whatever you Diermani-well please, Tirks, but get them to arm themselves! I don’t know if these are bandits or raiders or something worse, but they need to be prepared.”
Tirks didn’t react to Gregson’s gruff tone. Gregson scanned the fidgeting group of townsfolk behind the restless horses, then caught Jayson’s gaze. Jayson’s heart suddenly quieted. Gregson appeared calm and controlled, and he felt some of that calmness seep into him. Even though the Legionnaire’s expression was grim, it was still confident.
Jayson drew in a steadying breath, let it out slowly. He was still trembling, his body tingling and on edge, but he’d regained some of his composure.
He turned to catch Corim’s attention, leaning down over the saddle when his apprentice moved closer. “Stay with the Legion, no matter what happens.”
Corim nodded, his face serious but lined and anxious. Jayson noted he carried a knife, but said nothing.
Everything was changing, moving too fast. A strange energy filled the confines of the barn, the too-sweet scent of straw now overlaid with a stench of fear and the warmth of too many bodies. Jayson wiped sweat from his forehead.
“Ready?” Gregson bellowed.
Jayson spun back to the barn door. The Legion had dispersed, remounted, and were now spread across the front of the group. Four of the townsmen had taken hold of the doors, ready to swing them open. Someone had given up his horse to Gregson. Everyone who had swords had drawn them. Jayson reached around and pulled his free with a grating snick and held it awkwardly as his horse shifted beneath him, snorting and stamping its hoof. He swallowed against the lump that had risen in his throat, tasted the straw dust in the air, the scent of fodder and horseshit.
Then Gregson nodded toward the men at the doors and they shoved them open wide.
Blinding sunlight streamed into the front of the barn, but Jayson kicked his horse forward as the Legion burst through into the yard beyond, fanning out with practiced movements, allowing room for the townsfolk to pass between them. Gregson roared, “Move it! Come on, run, Diermani curse you!” and the people surged forward, one of the children shrieking, another sobbing with his head buried in his mother’s shoulder where she carried him on her hip. All of the men on horseback shouted and urged them forward into the sunlight. Jayson found himself shunted to one side just outside the barn doors, waving his sword high, pointing toward the main street, shouting nonsense to keep everyone moving. He saw Corim pass, the boy’s eyes wide-
And then the arrows started. Shafts spat into the group, four of the townsfolk and three of the riders felled in the space of a heartbeat. Jayson’s heart faltered, his throat locking, as one of the women screamed.
The entire group lurched forward in a wave of panic. He saw someone fall, get trampled underfoot, heard the Legion roaring orders and cursing at the same time as more arrows snicked down from the heights.
Suddenly, Gregson was beside him yelling, “Go, go! There’s no one left in the barn!”
Jayson kneed his horse after the townsfolk, saw them break through the yard onto the street, spreading out on the road, nearly all of them turning sharply to the south, toward the garrison, arrows flying down like black rain. Three men broke away and headed north toward the bridge, one of the men on horseback screaming for them to come back. Two arrows took the rider in the back; he slumped over, his mount panicking and charging forward. One of the three men fell, a shaft jutting up from his leg. His scream sliced through Jayson’s gut like a knife.
