horseback, and he blocked every stroke with skill that bespoke of years of practice. Stroke fell upon stroke, and Esk kar’s opponent moved effortlessly. Esk kar’s rage began to fade as he felt his arm growing weaker. Forcing himself to ignore the tiredness in his arm, he lunged at his opponent.
The sarrum of the Alur Meriki pivoted as he brushed the point aside, and countered with a stroke so fierce it drove Esk kar back two steps. The blows kept hammering at him, giving him no time to counter. Esk kar’s arm began to tremble and he knew his opponent sensed it as well. The man increased his efforts, his mix of thrusts and cuts coming faster and faster, never allowing Esk kar time to recover.
Esk kar felt fear rising up. Any moment now and a stroke would catch him off guard. The heat raged at his back, all — enveloping now. He retreated another step, but a wagon wheel burned hot against his shoulder and he knew he’d run out of room. Already Esk kar had to use both hands to parry the endless blows that arrived with the force of a woodsman plying his axe.
Grunting with confidence now, Thutmose — sin swung his blade at Eskkar’s head but at the last moment aimed at Esk kar’s shoulder. Esk kar’s counter nearly came too late. He barely managed to get his sword in front of his chest, its tip bumping against the burning wagon. The two blades met with a clang and a shower of sparks, and then the unthinkable happened.
Thutmose
— sin’s sword shattered against Esk kar’s new blade. The weapon’s failure caught the warrior by surprise for a single instant. Esk kar pushed forward, ramming his hilt into Thutmose — sin’s head, knocking him backward and off balance. Thutmose — sin’s heel caught on a wood scrap, and he fell flat on his back, stunned, his sword dropping from his hand.
Gasping, and with the last of his strength, Esk kar lowered his sword’s point and lurched toward his blood enemy, ready to thrust the blade savagely into the fallen man’s chest.
Before he could avenge his family, an explosion blew Esk kar to the ground, a wave of searing heat passing over him. The wagon behind him, pushed into the flames only moments earlier by Esk kar and Grond, had contained more than just wood for shields. Unnoticed, half a dozen jars of oil rested beneath the wood, and the fire set by Esk kar’s men had finally reached them. The clay containing the oil had cracked from the heat, adding a flood of fresh oil to the roaring inferno that turned the cart into something beyond his comprehension.
A blast of fire shot up into the night, as burning pieces of the cart flew in every direction. All fighting stopped in an instant, the men knocked to their knees or flat on the ground, forgetting their enemy to look in awe at the writhing flames climbing into the dark night sky. No one had ever seen or heard anything like it before.
Stunned by the blast, Esk kar felt Grond helping him to his feet. Eskkar, mouth sagging, still clutched his sword. A dozen paces away, he saw Thutmose — sin being dragged to safety in the opposite direction.
The flames from the oil cart had collapsed from their height, but the other fires raged on, merging and growing ever hotter, with the roar of the combustion increasing until Esk kars thought his ears would burst.
Tellar, his sword gone and blood dripping from one arm, flung his good arm around Esk kar’s waist. With Grond carrying most of the burden, they stumbled away from the firestorm.
Another Alur Meriki appeared out of the darkness and raced at him, his sword high. Esk kar, still dazed and unable to react, saw Grond raise his weapon, but suddenly the man tripped and fell, nearly at Esk kar’s feet. An arrow protruded from the man’s chest. Esk kar caught a glimpse of Myandro notching another arrow at the far edge of the fire. Esk kar heard without comprehending the clash of other swords at the edge of the blaze. His back felt scorched. Grond shouted something, his blade reflecting fire and blood from the flames, as the bodyguard pulled Esk kar into a run.
At the same time two more of Myandro’s archers arrived, loosed their shafts, then fell back with the rest of Orak’s men, rushing into the darkness and leaving behind the angry shouts of the warriors.
Esk kar’s head began to clear as he lurched along. The cooler air away from the conflagration helped restore his strength. He shoved Tellar away as the weakness in his legs lessened, but Grond’s grip stayed firm on his left arm. Esk kar staggered along, trying to lengthen his steps.
They ran for their lives, Grond pulling Esk kar along until his captain hit his stride. Moving as fast as they could over the uneven ground, they had no breath for words. As they reached the top of the hill, Esk kar pulled himself loose and stopped. He took a quick glance behind him.
A fiery mass lit up the sky. Shouts from angry warriors mixed with the roar of flames that illuminated dozens of Alur Meriki who had reached the burning carts. Some tried to pull wagons and wood away from the inferno, while others searched for the raiding party.
Grond jerked hard on his captain’s arm and Esk kar turned back to the darkness. Orak remained more than a mile away. They’d covered barely half the distance when the fearful sound of hoofbeats gave their legs a fresh burst of energy. The terrifying vision of what happened to men on foot, caught from behind by mounted riders, flashed into Esk kar’s mind.
They raced on, Grond and Esk kar slipping farther behind the others.
Esk kar’s heart pounded in his chest and his legs trembled with exhaustion. His breathing came raggedly. Two nights with little sleep and the hard fight took their toll. Grond moved behind him now, his hand on his captain’s back, urging him along.
Orak’s walls, outlined against the moonlight, were growing in size and the ditch couldn’t be more than two hundred paces ahead when Esk kar saw a line of men rising up in the darkness. He slowed, thinking the barbarians had gotten in front of them. Then he heard the welcome voice of Gatus calling to them. Esk kar lowered his head and kept running, ignoring the piercing pain in his chest at every breath.
They reached the line of soldiers, passing between men who stood with bows drawn to the ear. The moment they passed out of the line of fire, Gatus shouted. “Loose!”
Twenty arrows whistled into the night.
Esk kar stumbled and nearly fell, but Grond, still at his side, caught his arm. The big man had remained behind him the whole time, protecting his back, when Grond could easily have outrun him. Now he resumed his grip on Esk kar’s arm and pulled his captain along. Behind them, the archers sent two more flights of arrows into the approaching horsemen before they, too, turned and fled for the safety of Orak’s walls. The rescuers soon caught up with Esk kar’s weary party. All reached the ditch together, jumping down into the mud, the loud slap of feet revealing their position.
A loud voice from the tower reminded the archers to shoot only at men on horseback. The ditch became a horror in the dark, and Esk kar heard arrows whistling overhead. Men fell facedown in the muck, cursing, scrambling up only to pitch forward again as the treacherous footing and darkness slowed them down to little more than a crawl.
Finally reaching the base of the wall, Esk kar leaned for a moment against it, unable to see anything as the structure blocked out the feeble moonlight.
Next to him Grond swept his hands along the rough surface, found a rope, and wrapped it twice around his captain. Another instant to knot it, and Grond shouted to those on the rampart above.
Esk kar ascended as if by magic, his sword shoved tightly under his arm, until hands seized his shoulders and pulled him into the safety of Orak. Moments later Grond arrived, pulling himself up as soon as he saw his captain reach the top. Esk kar lay on the parapet, trying to catch his breath.
Arrows whistled overhead or plinked against the wall. At least some of the barbarians had pursued them to the ditch. Orak’s archers soon drove them back. The flames from the burning carts rose over the low hill and provided enough light, even at that distance, to outline anyone on horseback. By the time Esk kar pulled himself to his feet and looked over the wall, the last horsemen were riding back out of range, heading toward the pyre of flaming carts.
The sight of the fire rising over the hill amazed Esk kar. In his whole life, he’d never seen such a burning. Flames thrust their way high into the night as if to set the heavens afire. The enormous store of wood, dried by the fierce sun and fired by the black oil, produced a blaze impossible to put out or even approach. The barbarians would probably save some carts and shields, but at least half, maybe more, of their precious wood supply was being consumed.
The raid was worth it, Esk kar decided, then caught himself. Better to see how many men had died before he started gloating.
“A pretty sight, isn’t it, Captain?” Gatus’s words sounded calm enough.
Gatus stood at his side, mud — covered from head to foot. The comical sight made Esk kar grin-before he
