"Run like hell, Lafe! I'll cover you!" Murphy shouted.
"Right!" Reznick turned and ran toward the wagons. Three of the onrushing horsemen let fly with arrows. Lafe stumbled and fell. He got up, not running as fast. The horsemen were getting closer and closer to him. Murphy fired over his partner's head, full automatic, but the horsemen kept coming. Reznick stumbled again. "Ben, Ben, look after my wives-"
He tried to get to his feet, but there were two arrows in his back. Murphy tried to ignore him, concentrate on shooting, cut down the horsemen before they could reach Lafe, but they kept coming, and one was getting closer and closer and his lance came down, and Murphy shot him four times but the lance came on anyway. Reznick turned in time to see it coming. He tried to dodge, but it hit him full in the chest.
"You mucking bastards!" Murphy slammed a new magazine into his rifle. Agikon came up behind him with three of the archers and they fired another volley. There were only three Westmen left, but they kept coming until Murphy shot them all down.
Lafe Reznick was already dead when Murphy knelt beside him. Ben looked up at the sky, then muttered prayers he hadn't remembered since he left home. He felt something snuffle against his neck and turned. It was Dobbin. The centaur must have broken his tether when he saw Reznick fall.
The centaur bent down and sniffed at the blood on Reznick's chest and face. His half-formed hands patted Lafe's clothing clumsily, as if trying to tidy it. Then he reared, threw back his head, and let out a long, wailing scream. It reminded Murphy chillingly of the legends of the banshee.
21
Ben Murphy screamed curses to the sky. Then he went back to the laager. Dobbin could do as much for Lafe now as anyone. Scratch one man who'd do to ride the river with. The hell with that.
Two archers were holding Walinski. Lafe had worked on getting the arrow out, but he hadn't finished the job. First things first, Murphy thought. Methodically he gave orders. Collect all the enemy's weapons and gear. Retrieve the balloon. Lighten the bogged-down wagon. And keep guard, there might be more out there. When the archers and acolytes started on all that, he had time to deal with Ski.
"It's going to hurt," Ben said. "I got to cut it out of there."
Walinski screamed something.
Ah, quit your bitching, Murphy thought. Why couldn't it have been you? No, that's not fair. Hell. He found a bottle of McCleve's best tucked into Lafe's gear, and brought it over to Ski. "Drink it!" he shouted. "Take a good slug. Right. Another. Now I'll have one, gimme."
He took a drink from the bottle, then added a teaspoon of fine powder. It was made from madweed, and the old woman from the last village had sworn by it. Untested drug, Murphy thought. Probably the wrong thing to do, but what choices have I got? "Here, Ski, have another couple of slugs."
While Walinski drank, Murphy heated an iron rod in the wagon's balloon firepot. When it was red-hot he took it and went back to Ski. "Gimme the bottle-"
He handed the bottle to an acolyte and took a deep breath. Well, here goes He used his combat knife to slice quickly down the shaft of the arrow, cutting open the tunnel it had made. Ski screamed again, and blood poured out. Too much blood. Murphy drew the heated iron rod along the wound. There was a smell of burning meat.
Probably the wrong thing, Ben thought. God knows I've made a hell of a scar. But it's got to be open. Too much risk of tetanus, and maybe the Westmen poison their arrows. Got to be- open and cleaned out and got to stop the bleeding.
He used a Johnson amp; Johnson sterile dressing to cover the wound. There were a dozen in the first-aid kit, and when would there ever be more? And the bottle of peroxide was small, it would all be used treating Ski and the wounded archer.
Ben Murphy felt a long way from home.
The village was about a klick away, and nobody had come out to help them. Murphy gave Walinski the rest of the bottle, and supervised getting the wagon train going again. They'd have to go in without the balloon, one wizard dead and another wounded; if they were going to impress the locals at all, they'd need all their gear. And a story. And meanwhile, somebody had to get word back to Captain Galloway.
The hardest part was getting Lafe's body. Dobbin stood guard, ready to fight anyone approaching.
"We could kill it," Agikon said; but when he saw Ben's face, he shrank away in fear. "Forgive me, lord."
Murphy didn't answer. He tried talking to the centaur in soothing tones. "This is me. I've ridden you a dozen times. I'll take you back to Lafe's wives, but you got to let me have Lafe. Come on, Dobbin, it's all right."
Eventually he whimpered and stood aside, letting Ben and Agikon put Lafe's body in the wagon. Murphy covered his partner with wizard's robes.
The village, was called Irakia, aiid like all high plains settlements it had a wall. This far west it wouldn't really be as much for defense against men as against a native beast called the gunkel, an omnivorous rodent the size of a dog, with an elongated body like a weasel, a scaly hairless tail, and armor plates something like an armadillo. It had sharp claws, big teeth, and a stink spray that wasn't as bad as a skunk but more than enough to keep humans away from it. Unfortunately, the gunkel was perpetually hungry, stupid, and fearless, and it thought humans built houses to store food for it to eat.
The wall had been supplemented by a hastily dug ditch. There was also a watch tower. The gates were shut, and there were no animals in the fields. The watch tower was manned, and through chinks in the wicker areas of the wall Murphy could see the glint of helmets and spear points.
Murphy had put the robed acolytes in the lead wagon, and the gates opened quickly when they came near. A squad of villagers carrying spears and scythes came out to cover their entrance. One elderly man came to Murphy. He pointed to the wizard robes. "Where is your sky-beast?" he demanded.
Aha, they've heard of our travelling magic show. "The Westmen slew the sky-beast with arrows," Murphy said. "And they have killed others, and wounded the master wizard."
"An evil day. I am Panar, chief of this village. You are welcome here, lords, but I fear the Westmen will destroy us all."
Murphy patted his battle rifle. "Though there are many Westmen, still we have our magic," he said. "The Westmen slew two of us and wounded my master, but we have killed all of the Westmen we have seen."
The caravan moved into the village. There was only one street, and the wagon train nearly filled it. The gates were hastily shut again.
Most of the population crowded around them. A couple of pretty girls caught Murphy's eye. Were they interested in having a child with sky-wizard blood? A lot of village girls were, which was one reason Murphy never married. Not like Lafe, who was happy enough with two wives, and what would they do now? They weren't noble, except that Lafe made the locals accept them, and- The chief came back from seeing the gate closed.
"Lord, Bheroman Harkon sent messages three days ago, warning us of Westmen in strong bands. He was leading his knights against them, and summoned the men of our village. Thus we have few fighting men, and could not come to your aid when we heard the battle nearby. Forgive us, lord."
Murphy waved his hands in a blessing sign he'd seen old Yanulf use. "No problem," he said in English. "You are forgiven, and indeed had you tried to aid us you would all have been killed. How many lances does Bheroman Harkon lead?"
"Lord, I do not know how far he proclaimed the ban," Panar said. "I would guess no more than fifty."