Fortune and Fate (Twelve Houses) by Sharon Shinn Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sharon Shinn
whorls and details. Over lunch, they’d pulled back the canvas to admire the top one until the driver got so agitated they covered it up again.
They’d been traveling maybe an hour when she heard the faintest of sounds behind them, and she wouldn’t have caught even that much if she and Carp had been exchanging any conversation at all. She pulled hard on the reins and came to a halt, listening intently. Yes—riders coming at a pretty fast clip, and in a party at least as large as their own.
Her fighter’s instincts prickled with warning, and she had her sword in her hand without consciously thinking about drawing it. “Orson!” she cried out. “Trouble behind us!”
The driver cursed and hauled the horses to a halt, and the other men whirled around, weapons in hand. A few seconds later, the raiding party galloped into view—seven men, all hunched over their saddles, swords at the ready.
This wasn’t going to be like the scuffle at the posting house when she rescued Karryn. This was going to be a fight to the death. No point in holding back. Wen charged forward, low in her own saddle, gaining whatever advantage she could from surprise and momentum. The white gelding was a warrior’s horse, fearlessly flinging himself into battle. They crashed into one of the lead bandits and Wen’s thrust sent the first man to the ground, shrieking and bloody. His horse reared and snorted, trampling him where he lay.
No time to worry about him. She was already under attack from a second raider, and she swung in the saddle to parry a hard blow. Carp and Stef were finally beside her, laying about with their own swords, and then Orson, who’d had the farthest distance to cover, came pounding up. With the first man down, they were evenly matched, at least in terms of numbers. Wen had no idea how good her fellow guards were, if she could count on them to deal their share of death, or if she would have to be responsible for more than the brigand slicing away at her right now. Best to dispatch him quickly and then see which way the battle was going.
Her assailant was huge, practically twice her size, and clearly expecting to demolish her with a high, hard swing. She half parried, half twisted out of his way, and kept traveling forward, burying her sword in his throat. He choked and burbled and clawed at his neck till his eyes rolled back and his hands fell limply to his sides. She yanked her blade free and spun the gelding around, looking for the next place to strike.
She quickly saw that Orson had cut down his opponent, and Carp was holding his own, but the other guards appeared to be overmatched. “Stef!” Orson shouted at her, pointing, and she kicked her horse forward to aid the boy. With her sword added to his, they quickly routed the bandit. He suffered a hit to the shoulder, one to the knee, another to the head, and loosed a string of oaths. Then he swung his horse’s head around and took off at a hard run, droplets of blood spattering the road behind him.
“Should we follow him?” Stef panted beside her.
Wen shook her head. Protect your charge, Tayse used to say. Don’t pay attention to any of the rest of the action. “We help the others,” she said.
But the others seemed to have matters more or less under control. Of the six guards and seven bandits who had engaged, Wen counted four still battling. There were six bodies on the ground, but only four of them appeared to be dead, and none of the corpses were defenders.
“Go see if you can help any of our people who are wounded,” Wen directed Stef, and launched straight at the remaining fighters.
Just the threat of another blade against them seemed to decide the brigands. One called out to the other, and they both pulled back and turned tail. Orson chased them for twenty yards down the road, but, like Wen, he was more concerned with keeping his cargo safe. He trotted
They’d been traveling maybe an hour when she heard the faintest of sounds behind them, and she wouldn’t have caught even that much if she and Carp had been exchanging any conversation at all. She pulled hard on the reins and came to a halt, listening intently. Yes—riders coming at a pretty fast clip, and in a party at least as large as their own.
Her fighter’s instincts prickled with warning, and she had her sword in her hand without consciously thinking about drawing it. “Orson!” she cried out. “Trouble behind us!”
The driver cursed and hauled the horses to a halt, and the other men whirled around, weapons in hand. A few seconds later, the raiding party galloped into view—seven men, all hunched over their saddles, swords at the ready.
This wasn’t going to be like the scuffle at the posting house when she rescued Karryn. This was going to be a fight to the death. No point in holding back. Wen charged forward, low in her own saddle, gaining whatever advantage she could from surprise and momentum. The white gelding was a warrior’s horse, fearlessly flinging himself into battle. They crashed into one of the lead bandits and Wen’s thrust sent the first man to the ground, shrieking and bloody. His horse reared and snorted, trampling him where he lay.
No time to worry about him. She was already under attack from a second raider, and she swung in the saddle to parry a hard blow. Carp and Stef were finally beside her, laying about with their own swords, and then Orson, who’d had the farthest distance to cover, came pounding up. With the first man down, they were evenly matched, at least in terms of numbers. Wen had no idea how good her fellow guards were, if she could count on them to deal their share of death, or if she would have to be responsible for more than the brigand slicing away at her right now. Best to dispatch him quickly and then see which way the battle was going.
Her assailant was huge, practically twice her size, and clearly expecting to demolish her with a high, hard swing. She half parried, half twisted out of his way, and kept traveling forward, burying her sword in his throat. He choked and burbled and clawed at his neck till his eyes rolled back and his hands fell limply to his sides. She yanked her blade free and spun the gelding around, looking for the next place to strike.
She quickly saw that Orson had cut down his opponent, and Carp was holding his own, but the other guards appeared to be overmatched. “Stef!” Orson shouted at her, pointing, and she kicked her horse forward to aid the boy. With her sword added to his, they quickly routed the bandit. He suffered a hit to the shoulder, one to the knee, another to the head, and loosed a string of oaths. Then he swung his horse’s head around and took off at a hard run, droplets of blood spattering the road behind him.
“Should we follow him?” Stef panted beside her.
Wen shook her head. Protect your charge, Tayse used to say. Don’t pay attention to any of the rest of the action. “We help the others,” she said.
But the others seemed to have matters more or less under control. Of the six guards and seven bandits who had engaged, Wen counted four still battling. There were six bodies on the ground, but only four of them appeared to be dead, and none of the corpses were defenders.
“Go see if you can help any of our people who are wounded,” Wen directed Stef, and launched straight at the remaining fighters.
Just the threat of another blade against them seemed to decide the brigands. One called out to the other, and they both pulled back and turned tail. Orson chased them for twenty yards down the road, but, like Wen, he was more concerned with keeping his cargo safe. He trotted
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