Sarios began directing islanders, some of whom entered the tunnel and some took up arms and came to join the defenders while the rest were sent into the undergrowth behind to wait until the area was clear and safe. The people were still moving, some stepping into the tunnel, as Brendan burst into the open, his sword covered in viscera and the still shape of Marco over his shoulder. He ran straight over to the nearest islanders and dropped Marco into their arms.
“E’s still breathing sir” he gabbled to the general, as he hefted his blade and stepped into line with the rag- tag unit of rebels and prisoners.
Kiva nodded and raised the bow as the battle crossed the thicket and entered the clearing. Athas was swinging his sword with tired arms, but a determined look on his face; next to him, Darius was bleeding from the forehead and paused regularly, his sword flailing defensively, to wipe the red veil from his eyes. Tythias, leaving a trail of blood from his severed arm, fought like a wildcat on the periphery, with Mercurias, Ashar and two other Pelasians, all of them together struggling to hold back the guards, who’d been whittled down to a ratio of perhaps two or three to one.
“At ‘em lads!” bellowed Kiva as he unleashed the first bolt from the small crossbow. Remarkably, perhaps, given his general lack or skill and current unsteadiness, the bolt dug into the shoulder of a guard. The man gasped in surprise but never managed to curse, as Ashar Parishid, exiled Prince of Pelasia, jammed a sword into his gut as he staggered.
Nervously, the armed islanders moved into the fight, coming around the sides to join Ashar and Tythias, where they fought to prevent the defenders being outflanked. Three were cut down as they joined the fight, and one of their assailants, grinning with glee at his victory was taken in the chest by Kiva’s next shot.
Reloading, the general watched as the odds continued to lower as his own men, the three surviving Wolves, and their allies did what they were best at. Watching, he fired one more shot, which narrowly missed its target, thrumming off into the darkness harmlessly, and dropped the weapon to his side.
“Stop!” he bellowed at the top of his voice.
The effect was strange and instant. The fight petered out with a last ringing blow and both groups, roughly evenly matched, stood tensely watching each other, their weapons raised. Kiva cleared his throat again.
“The fight’s over! More than a hundred of your men have fallen to around twenty of ours tonight. Do you really want to join them?”
Silence reigned as the guards eyed their enemy suspiciously, interspersed with sidelong glances to their own friends. Kiva frowned.
“There’s no reason to die now. You’ve fought as hard as you could and there’s no disrespect. But we
Again the sidelong glances said more than a thousand words as the silence built to a deafening roar, broken finally by the dull thud of a sword hitting turf. As if they’d been waiting for a signal, the guardsmen threw down their weapons and there was no mistaking the look of relief that crossed most of the assembled faces. Kiva sighed gratefully.
“My men will escort you to the kitchens where you will be temporarily imprisoned. I have no doubt that your master will be back to collect you soon enough, and you may even manage to break out of the place before dawn, but not before we are long gone. There’s plenty of space and seating and a lot of food, so you won’t starve.”
He made a gesture to Athas, who prodded one of the guards gently with the tip of his sword. “Come on boys.”
Kiva cleared his throat again as the unarmed men were herded back toward the palace by the unit. “I’d avoid the shrimp broth, though!”
Someone behind him laughed.
The moon had already been high in its arc when Athas and the rest had rejoined Kiva and the islanders and they’d all made their way to the second hidden jetty. It had taken only a few moments for them to locate the disguised doorway and to make their way down to the dock. Two more boats of almost equal size to the first wave had awaited them and Kiva had heaved a great sigh of relief as the last islander climbed aboard and they set sail.
The sea was fairly gentle despite the reefs lurking below the surface all around and Kiva sat at the prow of one of the two boats, keeping a careful eye on the swirling waters and the occasional eddies of foam that betrayed the more prominent dangers. Before the boats were more than a hundred yards from the entrance to the dock, travelling around the shore, the other three vessels carrying the rest of the islanders came splashing gently along in the pale moonlight to meet up with them. Kiva leaned forward further forward, peering into the moon-dappled darkness.
“Minister?”
Sarios returned the call from the lead boat of the other flotilla. “Caerdin. What now?”
Kiva frowned. “You or I to lead the boats? I can’t imagine anyone else knows the routes like we do.”
The minister laughed lightly. “After twenty years of having your head battered with swords I think I’d rather trust my own memory, general. I’ll take the lead.”
With a nod, Kiva sat back heavily against the boat’s side and looked around him as the five-boat flotilla manoeuvred into a tight group at the minister’s instruction. Brendan sat at the other end of the boat, his features twisted with a look of concern and the still form of Marco propped against him. Mercurias and the Pelasian medic together were prodding at his side with worried glances. Kiva tried to see more of what they were doing above the gathered heads of the refugees and clicked his tongue in annoyance.
“How is he?”
Mercurias snorted. “Well, he’s not good. If we get him somewhere stable and quiet soon, he’ll probably make it, but I’m not convinced he’ll ever be a soldier again. He’s lost a lung at least and he’ll probably wheeze and slow down for the rest of his life.”
The Pelasian medic nodded his agreement as he peeled more clothing aside from the wound. Kiva sighed and sack back once more. Another casualty to add to the long list. For two decades the Wolves had taken only minor losses but in the last few weeks they’d come down from twelve to five and one of those would never fight again. Some days the future looked hopeless. Strange really how he used to be comfortable with bleakness and gloom; had lived with it for so long, but in these last months thanks to Quintillian and the islanders, he’d begun to care again. Shame really. When you had no hope, there was nothing to lose, but now the loss of even a civilian prisoner was weighing heavily on his mind. He looked up to see Mercurias watching him.
“
Kiva shook his head. “Forget about it. Maybe I’m just a quick healer.”
“Pah!” Mercurias turned back to Marco’s side.
Kiva turned to look at the next boat, bobbing along behind and slightly to one side. Tythias sat aboard gazing at a different boat, smiling, as doctor Favio tended to his severed arm with as much patience as an army medic. A smile crept across the general’s face once more; the Lion Riders had a good captain in Tythias. The man had suffered some impressive wounding on the island, matching anything he’d had in the past, losing an arm and yet he’d never looked happier that he did right now, covered in scars and still dripping blood. Kiva didn’t need to turn around to see what it was the one-eyed captain was smiling at; or rather, whom. All in all, though tonight had seen its share of loss, given the odds and the conditions they’d been more successful then they had any right to be, and Kiva had no real complaints. He did wish they’d been able to take the bodies of Jorun, felled by a guardsman’s javelin, and the dozen Pelasians and islanders that had never made it to the shore, but the boats were loaded down enough as it is.
Somewhere in one of the other boats, a man started to sing an old folk song about a sailor lost at sea. With a relieved smile, the general relaxed back as he listened.
The journey through the reefs was long and treacherous; more treacherous than Kiva remembered. The sun’s rays were already tentatively brushing the horizon as the lead boat ran up on to the gravel beach with a crunch. Slowly the occupants stepped out, stretching their cramped legs and loosening their muscles. For many of the islanders this would be the first time they’d ever set foot on the mainland and there were grins and expressions of wonder abounding.
Kiva smiled as he watched a young girl with her arm in a sling crying with worry at this whole new world. Her
