didn’t resist because he was a burly fellow and I wouldn’t have had the strength to match him. We remained helpless witnesses to the nightmarish scene unfolding before us.
I saw the destruction of the village, the innocent folk being driven half asleep from their beds. Those who attempted resistance were slaughtered in their tracks, and I found myself taken back to that night when the Skeltai had attacked Hammond’s Bend. I was there all over again, feeling the horror and outrage as I watched frightened men and women fleeing for the cover of the trees before being run down and killed before my eyes.
A dark, subtle whisper chanted in the back of my mind now as it had done then, ever thirsty for blood. My bow seemed to burn through the cloth on my back, and almost unthinking, I slipped it off my shoulder. My fingers moved to take an arrow from my quiver. Realizing what I was doing, I hesitated a second. The Fist looked at me questioningly and I knew he too would run to join the fray at a nod from me. I stroked the white feather of the fletching and looked to the carnage below. It was all very well to speak coldly of necessary sacrifices while we secured our noose around the enemy, but witnessing the slaughter spreading out below me, all I could think was that these were my people. I hid like a coward in the distance while they were slaughtered to buy us time.
Well I could buy time too.
I signaled the Fist and together we rose from the grass and charged down the incline, howling to draw the Skeltai’s attention. Noticing our arrival, a number of their warriors turned away from the helpless villagers and advanced toward us. I paused at the foot of the hill long enough to fire several arrows into the nearest of them. My Fist companion ran on ahead of me, a battle-cry on his lips, sword raised to sweep off the head of the first Skeltai to fall in his path. I had to admire him. Not many men would have the courage to plunge headfirst and alone into an overwhelming sea of enemies, but that was exactly what he did. They swarmed over the lone Fist like starving ants and the last I saw of him was the flash of his blood-streaked blade, silvery beneath the moonlight, as they closed over him.
They were too close for shooting now, and I had just time enough to replace my bow with a pair of knives before the first of them was upon me. He threatened me with a long spear and I held up my pitiful knives. I could image only one outcome from this match. I hadn’t expected to be caught up in the fighting or I would have armed myself appropriately.
But suddenly, more shouts echoed through the night and I started, nearly making the fatal mistake of looking over my shoulder to see where they came from. Could Captain Delacarte and his men have come to our aid so soon?
The Skeltai I faced took advantage of my hesitation and drove his spear at my side, grazing flesh as I dodged, a second too slow to avoid him.
While I staggered to keep my feet under me, dropping one of my knives to clutch my burning side, an arrow whizzed through the air and took my opponent through the throat. Now I dared look back up the hill to see a handful of dark figures barreling down toward the fray. I recognized the bowman by his stance, although it was too dark to see faces over the distance. Rot it all! I had told Dradac to hold the others back! Why did no one listen to my orders unless it pleased him?
But it might be just as well they had showed up. I certainly wasn’t making any headway toward a heroic rescue on my own. The first of my men to reach me tossed me his own blade in passing, taking up the spear of the fallen Skeltai, which he then wielded against the coming onslaught with surprising skill. The full wave of Skeltai warriors broke upon us then and I had my hands full defending myself against their long spears and the light throwing axes they directed with amazing accuracy.
One of those axes spun toward me now. I braced for its impact but a careless