"Let's go," Giernas said again. They shoved open the door leading inward into the settlement's perimeter street, darted out.
He didn't think the Tartessians around the gate would be paying much attention. Not when Indians in the guise of tribute-bearers brought out the weapons concealed in cloak and bundle and basket and attacked; nor when the ones skulking in field and grove ran howling to join them. He didn't think they could get the gate closed and barred again by unaided pushing, not before the warriors of the local tribes were inside… and from the sound of it, things weren't going well for them at the riverside gate either.
He and his comrade loped into the little settlement; they stopped for an instant to tear off their Tartessian jerkins and tunics and don buckskin. Getting stabbed in the back by a local who couldn't tell them from an Iberian was a worse risk than being shot by one of Isketerol's men who recognized an Islander.
"Jesus, Chaos and Old Night're loose here," he shouted, as they broke into the main square.
Awnings and goods lay tumbled and trampled; even now a few locals, some slaves and not a few warriors as well, were snatching things up. Their pen ripped apart, a herd of sheep ran about baaaing witlessly, adding a last touch of madness. The big blocky building with the tower seemed to be in Tartessian hands, someone getting them organized, and riflemen were shooting from the windows. Giernas filled his lungs:
"Indigo!" he shouted. Eddie took it up in unison with him. "Indigo!" Christ, how are we going to find her in this?
He saw a blond head across the square-Jaditwara, and Sue with her; they were shouting as well. His eyes flickered back and forth, eliminating the milling tumble and open only for the clue he sought, as he might blank out the forest for the outline of a deer's antlers.
A striped awning lay collapsed across a heap of vegetables, cabbages… It stirred, and a small brown form rose. She was naked to the waist, dressed in a local deerskin wrap… a baby slung behind her…
"Indigo!" he bawled.
Eddie clutched at his shoulder. "Take it smart, Pete!"
The other ranger brought his rifle to his shoulder and fired at the headquarters building. The two rangers across the square did so, too; the situation was shifting-he remembered school days, and a drop into a beaker that made crystals grow with dreamlike speed. Civilians caught in the attack fled; Indians went to ground behind tumbled wheelbarrows and carts or the corners of buildings. A few fired captured rifles at their foes, with scant hope of hitting anything; more waited.
Giernas left his rifle leaning against an adobe wall and sprinted out, jinking and turning, leaping tumbled goods. Spring
Indigo ran to meet him, young Jared's head swaying by hers. He met her, swept an arm around her, half carried her along with his body between hers and the enemy. Bullets chipped divots out of the ground at their feet.
Something struck him like a sledgehammer. He swung half around, and Spring Indigo cried out as much of his weight bore down on her. She staggered, then rallied and held him up; they hobbled back to safety, around the corner, where Eddie gave covering fire and the overhang of a roof sheltered them from the top of the tower.
"You're hurt-
"Are you okay, is Jared-
They looked at each other and smiled for one long instant; despite the shots and chaos and the baby's wailing. Then Giernas’s face tensed and he crumpled back against the wall, one big hand clutching his thigh.
"Give me my rifle," he said, in a voice made curt by pain. "I'll… cover us. Take a look at it. Bandages in the haversack."
The Cloud Shadow people were hunters and warriors; she handed him the weapon before she knelt to rip the fabric open. Eddie kept his back to them, eyes never ceasing their movement. Giernas kept his on the square, thumbing back the hammer of his weapon, though even the gentle touch of his wife's ringers sent tendrils of cold fire reaching up into his groin and belly.
"The blood flows but it does not spurt," she said. "The bone is not broken and the bullet went through the big muscle of the thigh, high up, here. But it must be cleansed soon-dirty cloth carried into the wound, maybe."
"Just-
The last two of their party ran up. "We'd better get out of here," Jaditwara gasped. "The palisade is burning."
Sue bent beside his leg; Spring Indigo sank back and gave Jared her breast.
"Good job, sister," Sue said. "I'll irrigate and sew later…"
"Later," Giernas agreed; he could feel the sweat pouring down his face; he forced the giddiness away. "Get me a stick or something. We've got to get this thing in hand."
Tunnnngg.
Everyone on the bridge of the Eades flinched involuntarily as another of the heavy cannonballs struck, the vicious whining smmmmack that followed was as unbearable as fingernails on slate. Beneath it went a crunching, grating sound that shivered up through the soles of their feet, the sound of a galley's light pine hull ground into pieces under the copper-sheathed oak of the ironclad's keel. The screams of the hundred-odd men in its crew were present only in thought.
The three portside broadside guns ran out, letting in a brief stab of light before they fired and added more to the choking cloud of smoke. Return fire smashed into the side; timbers groaned and buckled, and one burst in a spray of splinters. Corpsmen rushed forward to bandage and haul the wounded below; crewfolk scattered sand to keep the deck from growing slippery.
"Rudder amidships," Marian said.
Outside the slit the low roofs and seawall of Tartessos showed, rose-pink stone and whitewash and umber tile. There were fires along the docks now, and black pillars rising into the fading blue of the sky.
"Ma'am, two feet in the hold. We've got the pumps unplugged and we're gaining on it."
"Very well," she said.
Below the bridge there was a long grumbling thunder as the bow six-inch rifle was run out. Massive cranked arms opened the portlid and the muzzle came into view. She slitted her eyes against the long spear of flame; her numbed ears ignored the huge thud of its discharge, and she thought she could see the black speck of the shell in flight. The results when the hundred-and-fifty-pound steel forging struck and exploded were unmistakable; the stern of a docked ship vanished, to reappear as boards and timber falling out of the sky. The merchantman began to settle…
"Helm," she said. "Come right to one-four-zero."
"Command?" the helmsman said.
"Right, one-four-zero," she said, louder. We'll all of us be just a bit less keen of hearing from now on. "We've done enough. Time to go home."
Peter Giernas watched as Eddie and Jaditwara lifted Perks from the travois and carried him onto the captured ship.
"Pewks!" Jared cried, stretching out chubby arms. "Pewks!"
"Happier than he was to see me," Peter Giernas grumbled.
He lay back in the chair with his injured leg propped on a coil of thick rope; overhead a sail was stretched across the mizzen boom of the ship they'd renamed Sea-Ranger, giving a welcome shade. The big schooner was looking a lot neater… unlike the Tartessian settlement not far from the riverside; about half of that had burned, including the whole circuit of the palisade. The massive black-oak logs still smoldered, and the great central pole had fallen in the night, like a whip of fire. The smell of burning mingled oddly with the spring freshness of the riverside greenery.
Chief Antelope came up the gangway behind the two Islanders carrying the dog. Perks's ears came up and his tongue lolled happily as they set him down beside his master; Spring Indigo kept a hand on her child, in case his prying fingers found the bandages irresistible. He'd already made his father howl with an unexpected grab, and there had to be some limit to the wolf-dog's forbearance.