Bracca, on the other side of the camp, added to the chaos. “The barbarians are attacking! They’re trying to steal our gold.” Bracca darted from place to place, changing his voice as he moved. “The barbarians are stealing our horses! Kill them all!”
Bandits stumbled about. Many rushed toward the place where the sacks of loot had been stored. Despite the guard there, men snatched at the bundles, then fought over their possession.
By the time Eskkar reached the bottom of the hill, chaos had erupted in the camp, and he was only one of many shadowy figures rushing about in the darkness. Even as he sprinted toward the horses, he let loose a barbarian war cry, adding to the night’s pandemonium. The horses, frightened by the arrows that had wounded two of them, skittered back and forth, ready to bolt. But before Eskkar, gripping his sword, could reach the closest animal, one of the warriors moved to intercept him.
Nevertheless, Eskkar’s war cry had befuddled the barbarian, who had his own blade in his hand. The brief moment of indecision proved fatal. Eskkar, looming up out of the darkness, thrust his sword at the man’s stomach. The warrior managed to partially deflect the blade, but still Eskkar’s long sword pierced the man’s right arm. Before the wounded fighter could recover, Eskkar, who had never stopped moving forward, lowered his shoulder and knocked the barbarian off his feet.
Eskkar ignored the injured man. Ducking under the corral’s rope, Eskkar stabbed at another animal, driving the tip of the blade into its rear haunch. The horse lashed out with its hind legs, one hoof brushing Eskkar’s shoulder. The animal’s scream of pain started the other horses moving, this time in one direction — away from the danger. Then the corral rope on the far side snapped under the pressure of the surging herd.
Another warrior rushed into the midst of the skittish horses, trying to reach Eskkar. But too many frantic animals blocked his way. Even so, he drew close enough so that Eskkar saw the knife in his hand and the whites of his eyes gleaming in the darkness.
Before the rest of the herd bolted, Eskkar caught the nearest horse by its mane and swung himself astride. Uttering another war cry, he urged his mount and the other horses forward with the flat of his sword, sending them into a full gallop. The first part of the camp to be overrun was part of the warriors’ sleeping place. As the animals galloped through the shambles, Eskkar saw that a body lay unmoving on the ground, an arrow protruding from the man’s chest. One of Eskkar’s arrows had found its mark.
Neighing and snorting, the herd swept into the rest of the camp. Some of the quickest-witted bandits endeavored to halt the frightened animals, waving their arms and grabbing for the horses’ manes. A man carrying a rope jumped in front of Eskkar’s path. His mount took fright and despite Eskkar’s urgings, dug in its front hooves, nearly pitching its rider forward and over the animal’s neck. By the time he regained his balance, Eskkar found his way blocked by two men.
Whether they thought Eskkar might be one of their own barbarians didn’t matter. Seeing the sword in his hand, they assumed he was either attempting to steal their gold or the horses. Eskkar kicked at his mount’s flanks, but the stubborn creature refused to move. One bandit darted in from the side, trying to stab Eskkar in the back. But he twisted away from the knife stroke and struck down with the pommel of his sword, knocking his assailant to the ground. The other man, watching his companion struck senseless, backed off.
Eskkar caught sight of the bandit leader and one of his men rushing toward him. Both had swords in their hands. Eskkar kicked the horse once again, and this time added the flat of his sword to the animal’s flank. That drove the beast ahead once more, but even so, Eskkar knew the two men, attacking together, would prevent his escape.
Suddenly one of the women rose from the ground and threw herself at the bandits’ feet. Both men went down, though the brigand leader quickly regained his footing. He lunged with his blade, but Eskkar managed to knock it aside as he brushed past the man, the path to freedom clear at last. The spirited horse now needed little urging and leaped forward.
Across the campsite, Bracca had never stopped moving since he’d slain the sentry. But all his movements took him toward the center of the camp, shouting that the barbarians were trying to steal their gold. Still, before Bracca could get close enough to snatch up one of the bags for himself, they were all gone, grabbed by the addled and terrified bandits.
One of these men, a bag in one hand and sword in the other, rushed straight toward Bracca. As the bandit drew close, Bracca shrank aside, as if to let the fleeing man pass, then leapt back, thrusting with his own blade, and driving the point into the man’s back. Before the man fell to the ground, Bracca ripped the sack from his grasp as the first of the horses rushed by.
In the confusion and the darkness, Eskkar had lost sight of Bracca, but suddenly he saw his friend running toward him, while struggling with a bulky sack.
The next moment the bag was flung straight at Eskkar, who somehow managed to catch the heavy sack against his chest. Bracca, dodging the wild-eyed horses that threatened to trample him, leapt for one beast that had slowed its pace. Bracca grasped the mane while he struggled to climb onto the animal’s back.
An arrow hissed by Eskkar’s head. Shouts alerted at least some of the bandits as to what was happening. But before anyone else could block their way, the two companions urged their new mounts forward, and in a moment, they’d raced out of the camp and into the darkness.
“Take the sack, damn you,” Eskkar shouted. He swung the heavy bag over to Bracca, who had started laughing and now couldn’t stop. “You nearly knocked me off the horse, you fool!”
The two men kept riding until the bandit’s camp was at least a half mile away. By then the other horses had slowed or turned aside. Eskkar eased his mount to a walk, and then halted. No sense galloping a horse through the darkness, always a good way to injure man or beast. He faced back toward the camp, but heard no sounds of pursuit, only confusion.
“Will they come after us?” Bracca glanced behind him, but could see nothing.
“Not tonight. In the morning they’ll have to recapture their horses first.”
“No one is going to go off chasing after horses,” Bracca gloated, “not and leave the loot behind. By the time they finish killing each other and the survivors figure out what happened, we’ll be long gone.”
Eskkar laughed as well. By morning there might be only a handful of thieves still alive. “I killed at least one more of the warriors, and wounded another.” He heard the hint of pride that had crept into his voice. “The bandits may finish off the rest of them. By then any thieves still standing will be fighting among themselves over the spoils. I doubt anyone will come after us over a couple of horses.”
“And a bag of loot,” Bracca said. “Wonder what’s in it?”
“I hope it’s something worth risking our necks for,” Eskkar said, “and not a pile of cooking pots.”
Bracca reached over and clasped Eskkar’s shoulder. “You were magnificent! Your war cry scared even me. But as soon as I gave you the signal, I started moving toward the bandit leader. After all that walking and running for the last few days, I didn’t intend to leave with just a couple of horses.”
“Well, when the word gets out about all these raids, we’d better be far away. If anyone catches us with the stolen goods. . we’d better put at least a hundred miles between us and this place before we try to sell whatever we’ve got.”
“That we will, friend Eskkar, that we will.”
Eskkar turned his mount away from the campsite, and Bracca followed his example.
“Stop! Wait for me!”
The piercing words seemed to hover in the night air. Both men whirled around, ready to fight or flee. But the voice belonged to a single woman, not the cries of men giving chase.