“Knock them over! Knock them over!” The shout reverberated above the shouts and cries, the noise of fighting and bawling beasts. “Get as many over as possible!”
“No, leave off. Dragons in the sky! Leave off!” someone else bellowed. “Dragons!”
Abruptly the attackers fell back, scrambling up the bank. Jayge was of no mind to let a single one of them leave alive. He took Nazer’s sword from the wounded man and retrieved his own daggers before he leaped over the debris. He had as much trouble finding good footing on the sliding bank as the retreating raiders, but he slashed and prodded, hoping to strike flesh and bone.
“Dragons? Where? Sear your hide!” Despite the distortion of fury and volume, Jayge recognized the voice. Thella! The raiders were Thella’s! Temma would wish she had listened to him and been more wary. But they were so close to Far Cry Hold!
“In and out! A bronze!” was the answering shout, and Jayge, also recognizing the second voice, missed his next stroke. “Let’s get out of here!”
Jayge could not spare time to find either speaker as he clawed up the slope, his quarry just managing to keep out of reach. He had to catch the man before he could disappear into the forest. There was enough sense left to Jayge to realize that it would be foolhardy to attempt pursuit there, unless the dragonrider returned to sweep the forest. With a desperate surge, Jayge felt the sword slice deeply across the raider’s foot and heard the man’s scream. But the man was suddenly hauled up and out of Jayge’s reach. Jayge, overbalanced by his effort, rolled heavily down the bank, landing on a pile of rocks.
Dazed and winded, it took him a few moments to struggle to his feet. There were cries for assistance all along the train. Jayge saw her then, poised on a boulder that jutted out over the track, surveying the damage her ambush had caused. Then he saw her bring her arm back to throw. The dagger snicked across the tendon of one of Borgald’s beasts, casting it to its knees. Filled with rage at such viciousness, Jayge launched one of his own blades. But Thella did not wait to be someone else’s target. She whirled, leaping up the bank and disappearing quickly from view. And the last of her raiders had gained the heights and were quickly lost up the slope.
“No, don’t follow,” Crenden bellowed from the front of the train. “We’ve got people and beasts to help.”
Cursing at his bad luck, Jayge clambered over dead raiders on his way to the last wagon. Tino was already trying to help Nazer, while Alda was making her way down from the wagon top.
“I got two,” Alda was shrieking at the top of her lungs. “I got two with pans.”
“You better find those pots,” Tino told her firmly. “And fill them from the river. And bring out the brazier. We need hot water.”
“Get the fellis first, Alda, and the numbweed pot,” Jayge said, wondering how Temma could possibly be alive with that hole in her shoulder. Nazer was weak with blood loss from several deep wounds, but he insisted that they attend Temma first. Together Tino and Jayge stanched the flow as best they could until Alda brought them the medicines and proper bandages. Traders were accustomed to dealing with trail injuries, but more serious wounds would require a trained healer’s skill.
“I’ll get the hot water,” Alda said when they had done all they could for Temma and Nazer. Sniffling back her tears, she went off to retrieve the pots she had thrown.
Sorrowful bawling reminded Jayge and Tino that there were other considerations almost as important as Temma and Nazer. Of the two yokes hauling the big wagon, both off-siders were dead, their backbones hacked in several places. Their bodies had, fortunately, afforded some protection to their yoke mates; both were bleeding, but the cuts were superficial. Jayge and Tino could not shift the dead beasts, but they slapped numbweed salve liberally over the wounds of the survivors, poked some fellis into the beasts’ mouths, and hoped that would ease their torment.
It was only then that Jayge and Tino heard Borgald’s loud complaint.
“If the dragonrider saw this, he must help us,” Borgald was shouting, repeating the words like a chant as he bent over his prized burden beasts, patting them here and there, oblivious to the blood pouring from severed arteries onto the gravelly roadway. “Do you see them coming, Jayge?” Borgald raised a bloody hand to shield his eyes from the sun, peering forlornly at the sky.
Jayge and Tino exchanged pitying looks and walked on, carefully avoiding the hand and foot of a man buried under a rock slide. The little milch beasts had been caught by it, too. Jayge wondered if maybe he and Tino should try to round up the animals he had been herding along the track. They would be scattered all over, maybe even slaughtered, along with half the train’s folk and burden beasts.
“Jayge!” Crenden came striding toward him, bloody but relatively sound. “Did that runner of yours come through this? Can you ride on to Far Cry and get help?”
“Maybe this time a dragonrider will help,” Jayge cried.
“Dragonrider? What dragonrider?” Crenden mopped at the cut over his eye. Irritated by the blood dripping down his face, he tore a strip off his shirt and wound it around his forehead. “If you and the runner are sound, don’t waste time.” He paused, bending to examine a dead raider. “Dead. The ones they left are all dead. I saw that woman kill one herself, a man wounded in the leg.” He kicked at the dead man. “No one’s going to tell us anything useful. Ride, boy. What are you waiting for?”
Jayge swung up on Kesso, only then aware that his left leg was bleeding and it felt as if he had taken a wound across his right hip. He grunted as he settled in the saddle, and Kesso willingly darted forward.
No sooner were they around the bend than a figure jumped into the track. Jayge reached for his dagger when the man waved both arms urgently, limping toward him. A wounded raider, escaping from Thella’s kindly knife?
“Jayge, you’ve grown—but I knew you,” the man said, and Jayge remembered the voice that had given the dragonrider alarm.
“Readis, what in all the—” His uncle? One of Thella’s marauders?
“Never mind that, Jayge,” Readis said, hanging on to the stirrup leather, keeping one hand on Kesso’s shoulder to prevent the restive beast from ramming him. “I’d no idea it was Crenden’s train we were ambushing. She told me another name. I didn’t even know you were back on the road again. Believe me, Jayge! I’d never hurt my own Bloodkin.”
“Well, your friends,” Jayge replied, letting scorn edge his voice and seeing his uncle wince,” have damned near done in your sister, Temma. Remember her? I don’t know who else is dead for sure, but we’ve lost almost every burden beast we owned. I counted four smashed wagons at least.”
Readis gave a grim smile. “The only thing Thella fears is dragonriders.” He scrambled up the bank, grabbing a bush to help himself to the top. “I did what I could. I’ve got to catch up. But tell them I tried to stop it once I knew who you were.”
“Don’t try so hard the next time, Readis,” Jayge yelled after him. The underbrush closed in after the hobbling man, and Jayge stared after him. So there had been no dragonrider in the sky! But he had to be grateful for the lie. “Come on, Kesso, we’ve got to get help.”