Part 37 (1/2)
”Grab her.”
Four soldiers advanced.
”Now,” Ragnarson said. Leaping, he took out a man who had remained with the Fadema.
Dantice went for the man on her far side instead of the four. Trebilc.o.c.k got another, but quickly found himself in trouble.Ragnarson smacked the Queen to shut her up, turned to help Michael.
Somebody hit him from behind.
He turned as he fell, looked up into a golden mask.
The Tervola had hit him with a wooden statuary stand. ”Finish them!” he ordered.
”This's the man we want. The Marshall himself.”
Trebilc.o.c.k was fencing a man who was good. Dantice rolled across the floor with one of the others. The third soldier pranced around looking for a chance to strike a telling blow.
Ragnarson kicked the Tervola's legs from beneath him, dragged him nearer. The stand rolled away.
The Tervola had the combat training of every soldier of s.h.i.+nsan. And he had staying power, though Ragnarson was stronger. They rolled and kicked and gouged, and Bragi bit. He kept trying to yank the man's mask off so he could go for his eyes.
That usually put a superior opponent on the defensive. And this Tervola was a better fighter than he.
The extra soldier almost got Dantice. But Nepanthe stabbed him from behind, turned on Aral's antagonist, stabbed him too. Aral muttered, ”We're even, lady,” recovered his sword, took a wild chop at the head of Michael's opponent.
Meanwhile, the Fadema recovered and fled.
Ragnarson got a thumb under the golden mask. By then he was sure he was dead. The Tervola had a hold of his neck and he was losing consciousness.
Dantice and Trebilc.o.c.k closed in. The Tervola saw them. The Power was dead.
There was nothing he could do. He threw himself after the Fadema. His mask remained in Bragi's hand.
Dantice helped Ragnarson up. ”That was close. Mike, better make sure of those guys.”
”But....”
”Never mind. I'll do it.” While Nepanthe and Trebilc.o.c.k supported Ragnarson, he cut throats. ”I don't understand you, Mike. It ain't beer and skittles. It ain't no chess game. You want to come out alive, you got to be meaner than the other guy. And you don't leave him alive behind you.”
Ragnarson groaned. Nepanthe ma.s.saged his neck. ”See if any of our people are outside. We'll have half an army on us in a minute.”
Dantice leaned out the window. ”Nope. They're all down the street.”
”You and Michael pile stuff in front of the door. No. Let me go! I'm okay. I'll make something to lower Nepanthe down.”
”Wait!” she protested. ”What about Ethrian?”
Bragi hurt. It made him cranky. ”What do you want me to do? We've got to get out of here first. Then we'll worry about Ethrian.”
She kept arguing. He ignored her. There was a racket in the hall already.A party of Marena Dimura came up the street as he dropped his rope of torn blankets. ”You men. Hold up. It's me. The Marshall. Aral, hand me that lamp.” He illuminated his face. ”Hang onto the end of that down there, and stand by.”
Several Wesson bowmen joined the Marena Dimura. They stood around watching.
”Nepanthe, come here.”
Still complaining, she obeyed. He turned his back. ”Put your arms around my neck and hang on.”
”You'd better let me do that,” Dantice offered.
”I can handle it. I'm not all the way over the hill.” He did leave his sword belt, though, remembering what a hazard it had been coming up.
Going down was a pain too. He hadn't made it halfway before he wished his pride had let him yield to Dantice.
”Hurry up,” said Trebilc.o.c.k. ”The door's giving.”
Dantice started down the instant Bragi's feet hit pavement. He came like a monkey.
”Boy, you'd make a good burglar.”
”I am a good burglar.” They watched Trebilc.o.c.k lever himself over the window sill.
Someone yelled inside. Michael stared, then threw himself aside, barely managing to cling to the ledge.
Men appeared in the window.
”Bowmen,” said Ragnarson. ”Cover him.”
Arrows streaked through the window. The Argonese withdrew, cursing. Ragnarson asked the Marena Dimura captain, ”Where's Colonel Ahring?”
The man shrugged. ”Around.”
”Yeah. Michael, hurry up.” Trebilc.o.c.k had reached the lower ledge. Someone upstairs was throwing things out the window. A vase smashed at Bragi's feet.
Trebilc.o.c.k kicked away from the wail and dropped the last fifteen feet, grunting as he hit cobblestones. ”d.a.m.n. I twisted my ankle.”
”Teach you to show off,” Aral growled.
”Come on,” said Ragnarson. ”Back to the wall. You men. Go on wherever you were going.”
Ahring had left. His men had penetrated the Fadem deeply in several directions.
Runners said some defenders were fleeing the fortress for the city.
Haaken had arrived. He was directing operations now.
”What's happening?” Ragnarson asked.