Book 2 - October's Baby by Glen Cook Read Free Book Online

own, inferences drawn on yesterday's mysteries. "Got your horn? Get up behind me here. She can carry us to the house."
    As they rode, Ragnarson sounded the horn, alternating his personal blast with those for the greathouse. Anyone not already in a fight would meet him there.
    He found a few men there ahead of him, saw a half dozen more coming. Good. Now, where was Elana?
    Gerda Haas came from the house.
    "Where's Elana?"
    "Crazy fool you married, Ragnarson. Like I told Uthe when you did, you'll get nothing but trouble from that one."
    "Gerda."
    "Ah, then, she rode off with Uthe and Bevold and the others. South. Took my Dahl's horse, she did, just like..."
    "How many?"
    "Counting her ladyship and the sentries already down there, nineteen I'd guess."
    Then all the help he could hope for was already in sight.
    Ragnar came running round Gerda, but the old dragon was quick. She caught his collar before he got out of reach. "You stay inside when you're told."
    "Papa?"
    "Inside, Ragnar. If he gives you any trouble, whack him. And I'll whack him again when I get back. Where's Dahl?"
    "In the tower." She scooped Ragnar up and brushed the tears from his eyes. The boy was unaccustomed to shortness from his father.
    "Toke," Ragnarson ordered, "get some horses for me and Chotty. Dahl! Dahl Haas!" He bellowed to the watch-tower, "What you see?"
    "Eh?"
    "Come on, boy. Can you see anything?"
    "Lot of dust down by the barrow. Maybe a big fight. Can't tell. Too far."
    The barrow lay near the tip of a long finger of cleared land pointing south, with the millstream and lumbering road meandering down it. He had been clearing that direction because the logs could be floated to the mill. It was two miles from the house to the barrow.
    "Horsemen?" Bragi called.
    "Maybe. Like I said, a lot of dust."
    "How long?"
    "Only a couple minutes."
    "Uhn." Bad. Must be something besides, a gang of bandits. H is people could take care of that with a flight of arrows.
    Toke came round the house with the horses. The women had started saddling them when he and Chotty had come in sight. "All right, everybody that can use one, get a lance. Gerda, get some shields." He was wearing a mail shirt already—a habit when he traveled—so needed
     waste no time donning that. "And for god's sake, something to drink."
    While he waited he looked around. Elana had done well. All the livestock had been herded into the cellars, the heavy slitted shutters were over the windows, the building had been soaked with water against fire, and no one was outside who had no need to be.
    A girl Dahl's age brought him a quart of milk. Ugh. But this was no time for ale or beer. Beer made him sweat, especially across his brow, and he needed no perspiration in his eyes during a fight.
    "Lock up after us," he told Gerda as he swung into the saddle and accepted shield, ax, and lance from another of the women. "Helmet? Where's my damned helmet?" He had left it with the foundered horse. "Somebody find me a helmet." To Gerda again, "If we're not back, don't give up. Mocker's on his way."
    The girl who had brought him the milk returned with a helmet. Ragnarson groaned. It was gold- and silver-chased with high, spread silver wings at the sides, a noble's dress helmet that he had plundered years ago. But she was right. It was the only thing around that would fit his head. If he weren't so cheap, he'd have a spare. He disappeared into the thing, glared around, daring someone to laugh.
    No one did. The situation was too grim.
    "Dahl, what's happening?"
    "Same as before."
    Everyone was mounted, armed, ready. "Let's go."
    He wasted no time. He rode straight for the barrow, over sprouting wheat.
    v) Sometimes you bite the bear, and sometimes the bear bites you
    Even while still a long way away, Ragnarson saw that the situation was grim. There were four or five men on the barrow, afoot, surrounded. As many more were below, on horseback, hard-pressed. Men from both sides,
     unhorsed, were fighting on the