Chapter 9: Raiders

I stayed near the front, but on Luiger’s orders, we spread out. I was going to do my best to follow the original plan, despite whatever the mercenary said. Shave and Trench joined me up at the front, both wielding spears. Trench was the farthest forward along the boardwalk, then Shave, then me. Romance, Elf, and Ticks were behind us. Romance with his shield and sword, Ticks with his axe.

But Luiger was in front of us all, riding atop his horse. If nothing else, he was brave. But it didn’t make him any less stupid.

I tried to bunch up closer to Shave, but one of the mercenaries on foot said, “Get back, Dupe, and follow the captain’s orders!”

At this point, the orc riders were too close, and it was too late for me to break off. I’d deal with the consequences later, but Shave needed my help.

The orcs’ giant foxes were the size of horses. They yipped and snarled as they bounded along the boardwalk. The orcs atop them were thinner and lankier, and they barely wore anything. Loincloths, some shreds of fabric, a few lamellar pauldrons and a half leather cuirass. All of them wielded crude spears.

“How strong are they, Sarge?” I asked Shave.

“Irons,” he replied. “But their fell-foxes are big and strong. Keep your guard up.”

Luiger snapped his reins and drew a sword from his hip. It was a short, one-handed blade, not a great warbrand, but it was clean and sharp. His horse galloped forward to meet the riders. “Come, yelloweyes! Let me earn my pay!”

He swung at the nearest rider, nearly taking its head off, but the orc leaned to the side and kept charging. A second fell-fox leapt, its jaw wide, and it tackled Luiger off his horse. I didn’t see what happened to him after that.

Trench knelt and thrust his spear up, impaling a fell-fox in the center of its chest. With a shout, he heaved it over his head and slammed it down on the boardwalk behind him. The boards shuddered and quaked.

Romance darted forward, plunging his sword into the beast’s neck while Shave impaled the rider’s heart.

A third fell-fox and its rider charged around the other side, and I was the only thing standing in its way. I presented an open target for the fox, until its claws swiped toward me. I had to make sure the beast didn’t try to jump over my spear. As its dirty claws raced past my throat, I lifted my spear and stabbed the beast in the neck.

Dying, the fell-fox splayed forward. Its thrashing fang caught the edge of my chainmail hood and hooked on, dragging me down to the ground. I nearly slammed face-first into the boardwalk, and all the wind rushed out of my chest. The chainmail did little to stop blunt impacts.

I ripped myself free from the fell-fox’s tooth, wrenching myself back, and lifting my spear just in time to deflect the rider’s jab. The orc on the fox’s back stabbed at my head, but I deflected his weapon with the haft of my spear.

But the orc had drawn a dagger. Unconcerned for its own safety, it charged, trying to stick me in the gut.

Before I even had a chance to test my chainmail, Ticks slammed his axe into the orc’s head. The orc fell limp and tumbled off the edge of the boardwalk, then splashed into the bog. Within seconds, all that remained were a few swaying reeds.

“Orcs don’t fear death, soulstealer,” Ticks told me. “Be careful. They’ll throw themselves on your spear if it means taking you with them.”

“Thanks,” I replied.

“Heads up!” Elf shouted. He’d taken up the longbow, and he loosed an arrow, knocking a rider off the back of a fell-fox. But the beast was still charging—aiming right for Lady Sage’s wagon.

I darted in, plunging my spear into the fox’s flank, but it wasn’t deep enough. The fell-fox turned on me, its maw slathering. It growled, then pounced toward my neck, teeth poised to bite into my throat. I whirled my spear to the side, using a strike Shave had taught me, and knocked the fox’s teeth off-course. It bit into my shoulder instead.

The chainmail took the worst of it, holding the teeth back from piercing straight through and ripping off my arm, but it still broke my skin. At first, there was only an intense pressure, like I was a balloon just begging to be popped, but the pain proceeded afterward. Lances of it curled through my flesh, biting my bones, and I shouted.

Elf had dropped his bow and was using an axe to hold back an orc, and Ticks was in trouble. A fell-fox had pinned him a few paces away from me.

Rage bubbled up inside me. If only we’d kept our original formation, none of this would have happened. This was all Luiger’s fault.

I had just enough wit to drive my spear into the fox’s shoulder, enough to make it loosen its grip, then, yelling with anger now, I rammed my spear into its eyes. Wet humours splattered my face, and there was no time to wipe them away.

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Blood dribbled down my arm. I gripped my spear tight, but the wood was getting slippery. My own blood beaded beneath my fingernails.

I couldn’t get a good position to kill Ticks’ assailant. But I just needed a few seconds. First, I wedged my spear into the mouth of the fell fox that had pinned Ticks. Then, I darted back and snatched up the longbow that Elf had abandoned. There were three arrows stuck into the boardwalk beside him, and I ripped one out.

Pulling the string back, I fired it at the rider of the fox who had pinned Ticks. The arrow grazed the orc’s hand, which hadn’t been my intention, but I fired a second one, and it caught the orc in the shoulder.

One last shot. I darted to the side, as much as I could, until I teetered on the edge of the boardwalk. Even if it made it hard to draw, I had a better angle on the fox. I fired an arrow, letting it sail forward. It sank into the fox’s neck, and the beast fell limp atop Ticks.

Charging forward, I cast aside the bow and ripped my spear out of the fox’s limp jaw. With a shout, I rammed it into the reeling rider’s chest. Black blood splattered the side of my face, and warm liquid burbled onto my hand.

Panting, I turned around, looking for any more targets. Nothing. All of the orcs were dead.

First, I looked back. Nothing had reached the wagon, but one of the mercenaries on foot had died—and Elf had taken a cut across the forehead trying to save him. Then I looked forward.

Luiger had survived, by some miracle, but his horse hadn’t. I scowled, wanting to march over there and do something. I didn’t know what.