Demontech: Gulf Run by David Sherman Read Free Book Online Page A

once past the refugees and wagons clogging the road, they’d form up. As he neared the end of the caravan he heard the distant, muffled clash of weapons and shouts of fighting men. He swore under his breath, angry that the noises of the people and wagons behind him had blocked all sound of the conflict to the rear.
    Well before the ten Bloody Axes reached the sound of fighting in the forest, they were riding two abreast on the sides of the road and had their battle-axes ready in their hands. Phard slowed to a trot and turned his short column under the trees. A wild sight met their eyes—close to three score gray-armored Jokapcul lancers, nearly half of them on foot, milled about in undisciplined packs, surrounding pairs and trios of defenders, fighting so closely that they interfered with each other’s weapons.
    Who are they? Sergeant Phard wondered, startled by the sight of strangers battling the gray-armored Jokapcul. He saw a Border Warder back-to-back with one of the strangers and knew whose side they were on.
    At a one-word command from their leader, the Bloody Axes formed into two ranks, five abreast, facing the nearest fight, and broke into a canter—the trees were too dense to allow a gallop.
    “GET THE GRAY!” Phard bellowed, and bent low to side-swing his axe into the neck of a dismounted lancer who was about to plunge his sword into the man backed against the Border Warder. His horse slammed loudly into a lancer’s horse and staggered it, almost unhorsing its rider. The two Bloody Axes flanking him bowled over two more of the Jokapcul surrounding the Border Warder and the stranger, and bones snapped sharply under their trampling hooves. The following rank hacked at the lancers still upright. The two defenders took instant advantage of the Jokapcul confusion to skewer two lancers who’d been knocked down, cutting off their panicked barks. In seconds all but one of the lancers who had attacked the two were down. That one dropped his weapons and sped away, so disoriented that he fled deeper into the forest instead of toward the road. The Border Warder snatched up his bow and shot the man in the back.
    “With us!” Phard ordered the two men he’d just rescued.
    The Border Warder had enough Skraglandish to understand the command and ran behind the horses. The stranger didn’t understand the words, but followed the Border Warder.
    Bellowing battle cries, the mounted Bloody Axes crashed into the seven lancers swarming around a trio of defenders and scattered them. Phard swung his axe at a Jokapcul struggling to retain his seat on his staggering horse. The blade hewed off the man’s arm, sank deep into his chest, and flung him to the ground. Another Skraglander swung his axe in a high overhead arc and brought it down on the helmet of a horseless Jokapcul, the force splitting it on a diagonal, half of the foe’s head shooting away. The half-headless lancer remained on his feet for a long moment, jabbing automatically, aimlessly, with his sword, before he folded to the ground.
    Two mounted lancers and one on foot broke away and sprinted to the next group while Phard and his squad finished off their two remaining companions. The three Jokapcul screamed warnings, and most of the lancers surrounding two Border Warders and a stranger wearing colorful clothes turned to face the new threat, which gave the others room to reach in and cut down the man in motley. The Border Warders shifted back-to-back and continued to fend off their attackers.
    Eight lancers, five on horseback, faced the charging Bloody Axes. One of the dismounted lancers darted forward between two of his mounted mates and dropped to one knee with the butt of his lance planted on the ground at his knee. The horse his upraised lance point was pointed at saw the danger and shied violently to the left—but the animal saw the threat too late and its momentum slammed its shoulder into the weapon. It screamed as its right foreleg collapsed, and it rolled,