Burning Tower (5 page)

But what harm would it do?
Sandry thought.
Maybe do some good. Couldn't hurt to have some armed Lordkin, at least ones who'd listen. Better the Fire Brigade than anyone else. When they get here, I can go see about Bordermaster Waterman—he'll need help. And the caravan…

 

There was a flash of green and orange at the north end of the square. The kinless artisan who'd been working on the fountain looked up the road and screamed in terror. He pushed his boy up onto the fountain. “Climb! Climb to the top!” Then he ran across the square toward Sandry. “My Lord, My Lord, save my son, save me!”

And five monsters burst into the square. Two kinless were in their way. A flash of green, and the monsters didn't even slow down, the kinless were dead and trampled. The five came on, five abreast, blood dripping from their arms. One monster had a spear in its side, but that didn't seem to bother it.

And swords grew out of their arms. It was true.

“Yangin's pizzle! I never saw anything like that!” Peacevoice Fullerman shouted. “Form up, form up! Lock armor, lads! Lord Sandry! What do we do?” He ran up leading Sandry's chariot. He'd hitched up Blaze and Boots, a stallion and a gelding, both big horses, Sandry's favorites if there was trouble, but the horses were already rearing at the sight of the monsters and the smell of blood.

“Hold on, good boys,” Sandry said soothingly. He leaped onto the chariot. Chalker jumped in beside him. The kinless artisan was right in the path of the monsters.

Birds! They were birds!

They were feathered birds the size of a big pony, armed with blades where a bird has wings, and a beak big enough to swallow a prize hog. A beak full of teeth. The horses panicked, tried to turn away. Sandry wrestled with the reins, hauled them around by main force, and shouted. “Go! Go, you beauties!”

Training held. The horses darted forward toward the running kinless. Sandry brought the chariot as close to the man as he dared, hoping Chalker could handle the situation. Chalker was old, but he wasn't weak. And there wasn't anything else to do. Sandry hauled back on the reins, slowing the horses and causing them to rear.

“Inside, inside, man—get in!” Chalker was shouting.

Sandry felt someone beside him. “Go!” he shouted. They clattered back across the square to the assembled troopers. “Off!”

The kinless man leaped off, shouting thanks and begging them to help his son.

Son.

The boy was high up on the fountain, and the bird monsters weren't paying him any attention. The boy was safe enough. The birds wanted something else. They wanted Sandry.

Or—

“They're after the horses!” Sandry shouted. And they could run as fast as horses too. Maybe not quite. These were fresh horses—panicked but fresh. Maybe—“Go!” Sandry shouted. He led the monsters away from the inn, across the square. They followed. At the far edge, Sandry turned, rode north again. The birds followed.
I'll lead
them back up the road, back to the border station,
Sandry thought. Only he couldn't. The north road was cluttered with people trying to tend to the fallen. For a moment Sandry cursed them for being in his way, but that was unfair; the wounded needed attention.

He rode straight past the north road to the opposite edge of Peacegiven Square and turned again. The monsters followed, five of them, their beady eyes fixed on the chariot.
Now,
Sandry thought. He led them down the square and past the formed-up troopers.

“Throw!” Chalker shouted as they rode by.

“Stand ready! Aim! Throw!” Peacevoice Fullerman shouted. Spears arced out toward the monsters. Three penetrated the lead bird, and it stumbled.

“Throw!”

Another barrage of spears, and that would be all of them. Fullerman shouted to the knot of kinless huddled behind the shield wall. “Get me spears! There's more in the barracks! Steady, lads, don't break ranks! You, innkeeper—get me spears!”

The pretty kinless waitress was the first to understand. She rushed toward the lean-to Fullerman's troops used as a barracks.

“Hurry, lass!”

Her hair bounced as she ran. A pretty picture. “We live through this, she'll make a soldier's wife!” Chalker shouted.

There wasn't going to be time. The birds had followed Sandry's chariot, but when the lead bird stumbled, they turned back toward their tormentors. The Lordsmen drew swords, but without spears they weren't going to be able to hold that shield wall and still fight. The birds would tear through or around the line and be among the kinless—

Dibantot screamed curses and leaped off the fire bell platform. He ran toward the downed bird, still shouting, and hacked at it with his big Lordkin knife. The monster fell in a shower of blood.

Now the others had seen Dibantot. They turned away from Fullerman's line and charged. Dibantot looked around, saw there was nowhere to go, and took a fighting stance. He shouted defiance, a Lordkin to the last, but he never had a chance. He hacked at one and then he was down, speared with those great swords the birds wore in place of wings, his body torn by kicks from their clawed feet. They turned toward Fullerman's group. The pretty waitress and the innkeeper were handing out spears.

“Hold steady, lads! Get behind us, Miss!” Fullerman shouted. “Squad, kneel! Ground your spear butts!”

Training again,
Sandry thought.
Training
. The guardsmen knelt, shields still locked, spear butts to the ground and points held ahead of them. The birds charged. One man screamed in terror and left his post, running away. The others held, and one of the birds impaled itself on a spear. It ran right up the length of the spear to strike down the man who held it. The other three broke past the Lordsmen to pursue the running guard. One leaped onto the man's back, and he was down, torn apart by kicking feet. The birds turned again.

All of the Lordsmen were busy finishing off the impaled bird. Two more men were down, but they seemed to be moving.

Sandry wheeled the chariot and charged at the birds. “Be ready!”

“Sir!” Chalker said. He hefted a throwing spear. “Ready, sir.”

“Now!”

Sandry wheeled the chariot to the left so that Chalker was facing the birds. “Away!” Chalker shouted.

“Go!” The horses had no problems with that order. “Go, Blaze! Go, you beauties!”

“Pulling away,” Chalker said. He took another spear from the rack. “One's not running very well.”

“Need another chariot out here,” Sandry said.

“Firegod's piss, we need twenty!” Chalker said, but there was a lilt to his voice.

He loves this,
Sandry thought.
Come to that, so do I! Hoofbeats on the square, wind in my face, and a monster chasing behind. Fighting fires is important work, but I was born for this!

Wheel again. Lead them around the square. Hope Fullerman has the troops formed up and ready again.
He could spare a moment to look. The innkeeper and his waitress daughter were carrying the wounded inside. Fullerman had the remaining troops formed and ready. Everything was all right. “We'll take a run past Fullerman's troop.”

“Make ready to throw!” Chalker shouted.

“Make ready. Steady lads, hold on. Ready now—throw!” Fullerman ordered.

There was a cheer from the guards, but Sandry couldn't look back. The horses were flecked with foam now, and they were harder to control. “Steady, Blaze. Steady, Boots.” Horses liked to hear their names, and to hear a calm voice from a human. “Steady, you beauties.”

“Another one down,” Chalker said. “Two left, one's wounded, and all that running has slowed them a bit.”

“About time,” Sandry said. “Okay, what?”

“Turn up ahead, and slow down. I'll throw the last spear. When I throw, move again, sir.”

“Right. Good tactics.”
Maybe he knows what these things are?
“Turning. Slow, slow, you beauties, slow.”

The horses didn't want to slow to a trot. They wanted to run flat out. It was all Sandry could do to slow them.

“I'm ready—here it goes. Go, sir.”

The horses leaped ahead without waiting for orders. They could sense the urgency in Chalker's voice.

“Got him!” Chalker shouted. “And here come the Lordkin! They're on the wounded one! Hacking him up!”

“Where's the last one?”

“About twenty feet behind us, sir.”

“Get a rope out.”

“Sir?”

“Rope. I'm going to wheel. Try to lasso it.”

“Don't know how.”

“Blast. Me either,” Sandry said.
But I thought you knew everything!
He continued to lead the remaining bird in a wide loop. “What are the Lordkin doing?”

“Distracting the bird,” Chalker reported. “You can look back.”

Sandry slowed the horses to a walk and looked behind him. The Lordkin were challenging the bird.

“We need it alive!” Sandry shouted. No one listened. These were Lordkin. Ah. There was Ilthern, some kind of relative to Wanshig, young but clearly a leader. “Ilthern! As a great favor, we need that one alive!” Sandry shouted. “We'll pay a bonus.”

That got some attention. One Lordkin stripped off his shirt and waved it at the bird.

“It's confused, I think,” Chalker said. “Too many targets. I don't think them things are any too smart.”

Maybe it will chase us until it's exhausted,
Sandry thought. He wheeled again and dashed past the bird. The sight of the horses set it off toward them, but faster than before, and Sandry had to let the horses run to pull away from it.

“Sir, I can lay the rope in a loop out behind us. When it steps in, you go. It's falling behind, it's not as fast as it was. Tiring out, I think.”

I hope so,
Sandry thought, as he watched the buildings of the square flash past.
The horses are tired, but they've still got some spunk.
“Okay. Get ready. Tell me when to stop.”

“Got the rope…. Got a loop…. Okay, sir, anytime.”

“Whoa!”

The horses were startled. Stop? Here? But he hauled on the reins, and they slowed, stopped, quivering.

“Laid out. Move at a walk; I'll lay out line. Here it comes.”

Sandry wanted to look back, but it was better to look where he was going—He felt Chalker jerk hard on the rope. “Got him! Ride!”

“At a trot,” Sandry called to the horses in as calm a voice as he could manage. “Trot. Go.” He kept light pressure on the reins to keep the horses from pulling too hard.

“It's down, sir.”

Sandry turned hard left, whipping around in a circle. “Wrap him up.”

“Doing that. Here come the Lordkin.”

“We want it alive!” Sandry shouted. Now he could look. The beast was down.

The Lordkin stood back, then one ran in and threw his shirt over the bird's head. Another came up to do the same and was slashed by one of those wing-spears. He fell back, cursing.

“There's Chief Wanshig,” Chalker said carefully. Then he shouted, “Yes, sir!” and leaped out of the chariot with another rope. Chalker ran up to throw the rope over the beast's neck, then hauled in the direction opposite the chariot. “Chief Wanshig, if some of your laddies could help here?” Chalker shouted.

Wanshig laughed and came over to take hold of the rope. A half dozen others joined him.

The bird was trapped.
And now,
Sandry thought,
all I need is a cage to put it in.

“M
aydreo said seven more coming,” Sandry said. “Only five got here.”

“Yes, sir. Maybe they went back to the border station.”

“Waterman's in trouble,” Sandry said. “And there's a caravan. A Feathersnake caravan.”

“Yes, sir,” Chalker said. “I understand, we have to look into all that. But you better let Fullerman change horses first. You'll need fresh. No point in going until you get them.”

Which was true enough. The sudden spurts of flat out running had tired the horses quickly. Better to have new. “See to that, and load up with spears,” Sandry said. “And have Fullerman choose us a good spearman to ride up with us.”

“Right.” Chalker led the chariot toward the stables behind the inn, where the soldiers were clustered around the innkeeper's smiling daughter.

“And hurry!”

 

The square was alive with people. Kinless stood in knots, watchfully eyeing the Lordkin, but speaking in agitated tones. When Sandry came near any of them, they cheered. Some were even cheering for the Lordkin Fire Brigade.

The fountain artisan was talking to Wanshig. “Your men, Lord Wanshig—” He glanced hastily at Sandry, who pretended he hadn't heard. “They saved my boy—I saw them. That man waved his shirt when the beast was running toward the fountain. Ask anything. A new fountain for your meetinghouse? We will build it for you!”

Wanshig looked amused, but he nodded. “Thank you, Master Artisan. We accept.” He turned to acknowledge Sandry. “Lord Sandry.”

“Chief Wanshig. Your men have earned a bonus.”

“Lost four,” Wanshig said. “And two more will be out for months. Lord Sandry, what were those things? I never saw anything like them.”

“Me either,” Sandry said, but then he stopped. Actually, he thought,
I have. Burning Tower was wearing a costume made out of feathers like those when she did her high-rope act. The wagon people must know what those things are.

Wagon train. There were seven more of those birds, and the wagon train was in danger. “What's keeping those fresh horses?” Sandry shouted. “Peacevoice Fullerman, if you please….”

 

The road north to the border was strewn with bodies. The creatures had killed at least a dozen kinless. Further north a kinless woman hugged two children, while a teenage kinless laid a blanket over a body.

“Lordkin,” Chalker said. He pointed to the dead man.

“We'll have to tell Chief Wanshig,” Sandry said.

“Not one of his,” Chalker said. “Flower Market, I'd say. What you think, Yiler?”

The borrowed spearman sucked his teeth. “Yeah, reckon so from the tattoos, but you don't expect to see Flower Market Lordkin killed protecting kinless.”

“You reckon he was doing that?” Chalker asked.

“Had to. Why else would that kinless kid be covering him?”

“Is it unusual for Lordkin to protect kinless?” Sandry asked.

“Used to be you never saw that, but lately it happens in Serpent's Walk,” Yiler said. “But Flower Market is different—”

“Trouble ahead, sir,” Chalker said.

A cluster of Lordkin surrounded a monster. One of its legs was gone at the knee, but the bird seemed able to stand and even to hop forward. Whenever it did, Lordkin would attack it from behind, rushing forward to chop at its remaining leg. Sandry didn't recognize any of the Lordkin, but they seemed to have the situation in hand.

“That's the missing two,” Chalker said.

“Two?”

“Yes, sir. One of them Lordkin was standing on a dead one.”

“Oh. All right—if Maydreo counted right, there's five left.”
And,
he didn't say,
just us to deal with them.
Peacevoice Fullerman would be marching up the road, but only about half of his troopers were effective. Two troopers dead, three wounded. “Let the Lordkin deal with that one, then. How many troops at the border station?” Sandry asked.

Chalker shouted through clenched teeth. It was hard to talk as the chariot jolted over the rutted road. “Standard group if they didn't send for more when they heard a caravan was coming.”

“Would they?”

“Being it's Feathersnake, probably not,” Chalker shouted.

Sandry nodded to himself. That made sense. The border post collected taxes, but it was a welcoming committee too, now that there was actually traffic on the old forest road. Before Yangin-Atep went mythical, the forest fought back against traffic, and the Toronexti who'd held the border station were Lordkin. Lordkin had been no more willing to work at keeping the road open than to work at anything else. There hadn't been real traffic for generations. But the Toronexti were gone, and Master Peacevoice Waterman had become Bordermaster Waterman and would be learning his duties as he went along. Keep the roads open, keep the streams clean and fresh, store plenty of fodder for the beasts. Serve good meals, dishes they wouldn't have found out on the Hemp Road. Don't drive the caravans away—we need the business. Don't gouge on taxes, make this a safe place to stop, and have lots of kinless ready to do any services needed at reasonable prices. Welcome to Tep's Town and Lordshills.

Beyond the tollhouse was a long, narrow road winding north and west through the forest and out to the main north–south trade route. Sandry remembered that Burning Tower called it the Hemp Road. He could still hear her voice. But that wasn't quite it. The section here was called the Hemp Road, but that was part of a greater road stretching far to the north and south, farther than Tower or any of the Bison clan had ever traveled.

The road connecting Tep's Town to the Hemp Road was already known as the Greenway. Between the creepers and the muddy stream crossings nothing traveled fast on the Greenway. Nothing could sneak up on the border post, so there wasn't any reason to keep a lot of expensive troopers out there. The whole Lordsmen army could come to the tollhouse at need. Otherwise, it was sufficient to have enough troops to keep order, a Younglord messenger, kinless stable hands, and some kinless foresters to keep the road clear of vines.

It had all made sense when his uncle explained it to him. But nobody expected monsters! Sandry's whole heart wanted to ride like the wind. But racing ahead would mean getting there with tired horses, and those birds were fast. Sandry took a deep breath and tried to look calm, but he couldn't get rid of the metallic taste of fear in his throat.

 

They rounded a bend in the road, and there was the border station, a brick two-story building with a rail fence corral and brick-walled courtyard, paved road for a couple of hundred feet on each side of the gate. It looked neat and clean, as it was supposed to, but there were signs of a fight: torn bloody clothing near the main entrance, a green-and-orange heap in the center of the courtyard.
Dead bird,
Sandry thought.
Waterman got one.

Someone shouted, and a moment later Waterman came to the upper window opening. His head was bandaged and his left arm was in a sling. Bordermaster Waterman was a decade younger than Chalker, but just now he looked older. “Careful, my Lord Sandry,” Waterman shouted. “There's a whole bunch of them things left!”

“How many did you kill?”

“One, sir, and the Feathersnake guards got one.”

“Three left, then,” Sandry said. “Assuming there were a dozen to start.”

“Hoo!” Waterman sounded impressed for the first time that Sandry could remember. “You killed seven of them things? Hoo-haw!”

“Not just me,” Sandry said. “The Lordkin got a couple, and I had Fullerman's troops to help. Where are the monsters now?”

Waterman shrugged. “They was here a few minutes ago. They smell those horses, they'll be back. Seems like they really have it in for horses.”

“Where's the caravan?”

“Just ahead, sir, on the road up around the bend. You can't miss it.”

“How many effectives do you have, Bordermaster?”

“Three, sir. And no more spears.”

Sandry nodded. First things first, then. He wheeled the chariot toward the dead bird. Two spears stuck out of it, and another lay on the ground nearby. Sandry gestured, and Yiler leaped down to gather the spears. As he did, the dead bird convulsed, and its beak fastened onto Yiler's leg.

Chalker leaped down with a curse and ran a spear through the bird's neck. The beak opened and the head flopped over. Yiler drew his sword and hacked at it again and again.

“You can stand on that; you ain't too bad off,” Chalker said. “But I think we let him deliver them spears to the toll house, Lord Sandry. He's bleeding.”

“Right.” Another lesson learned. Just because the birds looked long dead didn't mean they were. Take Yiler and the spears back to the tollhouse. Stand ready while they open the barred door and let Yiler in.
Do I want another spearman, one of Waterman's people?
Nobody seemed to be volunteering, and Sandry didn't know any of the troopers except Waterman. “Just you and me again, Chalker.”

Chalker grinned narrowly. “Yes, sir.”

 

They saw the birds before they rounded the bend. All three of them, running back and forth. Then the caravan became visible, a circle of wagons. Big rectangular wagons with high wooden sides and gray tentcloth roofs, drawn into a tight circle with little space between them. Men with slings stood on the wagon seats, and men and women with long spears crouched between the wagon wheels among sturdy wooden boxes that exactly fit the empty spaces. Inside the wagon circle was a circle of hairy beasts, shaggy with big horns. They stood in a solid ring, their horns out. Bison. Sandry had never seen one before the first Feathersnake caravan came to Tep's Town. He still wasn't sure he believed they were domesticated animals.

There were horses inside the bison circle.
No,
Sandry corrected himself,
not horses.
They'd be kinless ponies if they weren't so big! And they had horns growing out of their foreheads. Boneheads, one-horns. Some of the seaman traders had stories about one-horns. Could they be true? Everyone said they were true.

“They see us!” Chalker shouted.

The birds were coming.

“It's the horses,” Sandry said. “They want to kill the horses. Ruby! Steady there!” Ruby and Rose, two mares, not as fast as the stallion and gelding team he'd had in Peacegiven Square. “This is going to be tricky,” Sandry said. “Keep an eye out to the caravan. See if there's going to be any help there.”

“Looks like they've got a gate and people ready to open it,” Chalker said. “We could run inside.”

“And be trapped like they are,” Sandry said. “Maybe when the horses tire. The birds have been running; they can't be all that fresh—”

“They look fresh enough to me!”

They did. The birds were coming fast now. Sandry wheeled the horses. Lead them up the road, get them close to Waterman's tollhouse. Lead them to the spears—

“They've opened that gate!” Chalker shouted. “Something's coming out. Something, somebody.”

Sandry didn't dare look. The road was none too straight, and the birds were getting closer, and the mares were terrified—

“It's a girl, riding one of them boneheads,” Chalker shouted.

Now Sandry had to look behind. It was Tower, Burning Tower, long hair tied behind her, trousered legs astride a white stallion with a gleaming horn, her perfect feet bare and appealing as always. She was shouting in a language Sandry didn't know.

And that got their attention! The birds wheeled, abandoning the chase to turn after Tower.
Not too bright, easily distracted,
Sandry thought.
Remember that—they run for the nearest victim.
And they were running after Burning Tower!

“Whoa! Turn! Gee! Gee!” Sandry shouted. He wheeled the horses to the right. “After 'em! Chalker!”

“Ready, My Lord!”

He pushed thoughts of the girl from his mind.
Steady,
Sandry thought.
Steady.
He pulled up close to a bird. It started to turn, and Chalker thrust the spear directly into its chest just where the neck came out. The bird leaped and Chalker let go.

“That's one,” Chalker said with satisfaction.

The bird ran on, squawking horribly, blood gushing out around the spear. Chalker held on with one hand and worried a spear out of the spear pod with the other. “Ready, sir!” Chalker shouted.

Sandry stole a glance. Chalker might be ready, but he was tired, gray, breathing hard, and no wonder.
I should have got another spearman from Waterman. I should have.

“Pull up on him,” Chalker said. “Little closer, sir—”

“Heay!” Sandry flicked the reins. “Go!”