Songs of the Dancing Gods

Their leader, a big man, dressed in black jerkin and leather boots and carrying a crossbow under his arm stepped forward. Joe could swear he could count the fleas on the man.

“This here’s a tollgate,” he said in the light tone of a man who is totally in charge. “You got to pay a toll to go on.”

“I see. And you are with the government?”

Several of the men sniggered at that.

“Yeah, we collect for the guv,” the leader responded, and there was more sniggering.

“Uh-huh. And how much do you collect?”

“All we kin git,” one of the others said, chuckling evilly.

Joe slid off his horse in a casual way, at one and the same time shifting his swordbelt to the proper position.

“Now, why don’t I believe you?” Joe mused aloud, almost taunting.

“You can believe this, foreigner,” the leader responded. “There’s six of us and you got just you and the bitch.”

Mia slid off her horse to the other side, coolly reaching into a saddle pocket and picking up a small throwing knife, which she deftly palmed. Even this naked, without even the hair, it was possible to hide things if you just stood right and moved right.

Joe looked them over. The leader was fairly near; no problem. Three of the other five looked pretty relaxed; they would waste precious time bringing any kind of weapon to bear. The one with the loaded crossbow aimed straight at his chest was the immediate problem. He calculated position, trying to insure that he had the proper angle and that nothing else would be in the way. Mia had moved closer to the men but out of the line of fire and stood there kind of sexily, but tense.

“Six is a problem,” Joe admitted. “Five is much simpler. But, of course, you give me no choice. It is give you everything and live, or refuse and die.” He had his hand on the sword hilt now, and he could feel Irving’s anticipation, its energy, even sheathed, feel its power uniting his arm and its dwarf magic.

“That’s the choice.”

“I think I choose that you all die,” Joe responded, and the answer caught the leader off guard for a precious fraction of a second. Joe leaped and the great broadsword sang and sliced clean through the leader’s neck, sending his head, still with a bewildered look on its face, high in the air.

At the same moment, Mia smoothly threw the knife into the chest of the man with the cocked crossbow. He screamed and bent over and the bolt shot harmlessly into the ground several feet from anybody.

Reacting to a two-pronged attack, the remaining four split, three fanning out against Joe, swords drawn, while one, with a maniacal leer, came right at Mia. She waited patiently for him, then, at almost the last second, leaped and kicked him straight in the chest, sending him backward while she whirled and retained her balance. The man she’d struck was hurt badly, probably with crushed ribs, but he was getting to his feet. She ran at him and gave him a kick to the side of the head; then, spying the crossbow bolt in the ground, she reached down, pulled it out, and plunged it into the man’s neck.

Joe faced the trio, waiting for one to get brave enough to close.

“Come on, come on,” the big man invited them. “I haven’t got all day. I want to be in town by dark!”

“Big talk!” one snapped. “There’s—”

”Three of you now,” Joe finished. “We’re halfway done and I haven’t even had any fun yet. If you stay like this too much longer, my girl’s going to have an easy time plugging each of you in the back and I won’t even get to fight!”

There was a sound like a giant rubber band being sprung at high tension and the middle man screamed, then pitched over, a bolt in his back.

The other two backed up nervously. “Okay, Mister, okay! Call it off!” one of them cried. “No toll for you!”

“You don’t get off that easily,” he told them. “You insulted my girl. She doesn’t like anybody calling her a bitch but me. And I don’t like ragtag bandits.”

They both threw down their swords. Mia, who’d had enough time to reload and recock the bow, looked very disappointed.

“All right! All right! We give up! Just let us go!” one of them pleaded.

Joe sheathed his sword but called, “Mia, keep them covered. Shoot the first one who so much as scratches his fleas and I’ll have time to take the manhood from the other one!”

“Your wish is my command, Master,” she responded, never enjoying that line more than now.

Methodically, never taking his eyes completely off the pair, he rifled the headless corpse of the leader, coming up with two small bags. Straightening up, he quickly looked into them and found, as he’d expected, one had coins, the other gems. He turned to the pair. “Now, the first thing you are going to do is tear down that barricade,” he told them.

“Yes, sir! Yes, sir!” they both said, going to it with a vengeance. Within minutes, they had it reasonably cleared.

“Now—where are your horses? Your horses! Where?”

They pointed to the trees, and he went over to Mia and took the crossbow. He never liked them; one shot and then you had nothing, but if he couldn’t take one of these idiots barehanded he didn’t deserve to be out here. “Mia, go get the horses and any belongings you find that won’t have to be burned,” he ordered. She went, and soon came back, leading the horses two at a time.

“See if you can tie off all six to ours,” he told her.

”You ain’t gonna leave us with no horses!” one of the robbers wailed. “We couldn’t get no place afore dark on foot!”

“Two grown men afraid of the dark,” he mocked. “If you’re that scared, you can make the border before sunset with a good pace. Do you good. And, by that time, you’ll have no problems thinking up a good story for the nice men there. And it’ll be a doozy, I bet. Take off all your clothes!”

“Why, you can’t ask us to do that! It’s against the Rules or somethin’!”

“Ain’t fair,” the other agreed.

He laughed. “You boys want a code of honor, you better head way south,” he told them. “Haven’t you got it yet? I am robbing you!” He uncocked the crossbow almost inviting them to come at him, and tossed it away, then went again to his sword. “Now, which is it? Your clothes or your manhood? I wonder if a man could make it back to that entry station that way without bleeding to death?”

They raced each other to get it all off.

He gestured at the two men, who looked even worse in the buff than they looked in those clothes, then at the road back the way they came. “Now, run!” he ordered. “I’m going to count as high as I can, then I’m gonna pick up that crossbow and fire it right down that road.”

“How high kin you count?” one asked.

“I don’t know. Let’s see, I got one finger, two fingers…”

They were off like a shot, making a hilarious sight running down that road, and even Mia laughed at them as they quickly were out of sight.

“Anything but the horses?” he asked her.

“Saddlebags, Master. A couple of crossbows, extra bolts, and a fair amount of Marquewood silks. Also two dead men. It appears we were not their first victims of the day.”

He nodded. “Well, pack up what you can. Can you tie up the horses so we can take them all in? They’re pretty average looking but they ought to bring some money.”

She went to do that and he looked around at the four dead bodies. He felt terrific! His old confidence was completely back. And yet, he realized, he’d only been responsible for one of them directly and another by misdirection. Mia had done most of the work and as good as any fighter he’d ever seen.

Mia was soon back. “All set?” he asked her.

“But for one thing, Master,” she responded, running to the first man she’d killed and removing the knife, then cleaning it on his tunic.