Demontech: Rally Point: 2 (Demontech Book 2) by David Sherman Page B
Authors: David Sherman
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passage from Lord Gunny Says came to his mind; When you are in doubt as to the best course of action, choose one and follow it decisively. Inactivity when action is required is the worst enemy of the warrior. Any action, taken decisively, is better than no action.
He made a decision and dropped back down.
“There’s at least a dozen of them,” he said. “There might be more I can’t see. We need to even the odds right away.” He took inventory of his men’s weapons as he talked. Birdwhistle and Meszaros carried short bows, only Kovasch had the more powerful, more accurate longbow. It didn’t matter, they were close enough the short bows could hardly miss. “Wolf, go that way,” he pointed along the streambed. “When you reach the far side of the ambush, attack the man at that end.” He felt stupid giving the wolf instructions, but sometimes—usually, though he didn’t like to admit it—the beast seemed to understand.
Wolf gave Haft a look that, had he been a man, Haft would have interpreted it as, “Are you crazy? And what are you going to be doing while I run the suicide mission?”
“We,” he addressed the men, “will wait for Wolf to attack. The instant he does, we shoot the four men on the right side of their line. With any luck, the rest of them will be so distracted by Wolf’s attack, they won’t notice right away and we can charge and hit them from the rear.”
Wolf nodded, seeming satisfied that he wasn’t being sacrificed, and sprinted up the streambed.
Haft kept giving instructions as he watched Wolf head for his part of the attack. “Kovasch, you’ve got the best bow. Put a couple more arrows into them while the rest of us charge. Questions?”
The three looked at him grimly; they understood the need for this desperate action.
“Let’s get up and get ready. See where you are in our line. Meszaros, you’re on our right side, take the man farthest to the right. Everybody else follow suit. Got it?”
They nodded. Haft slithered back to the bank top. He looked to his sides before drawing his axe and laying it on the ground where he could grab it as soon as he fired; he ignored the bee that briefly crawled on his cheek before buzzing off. The three scouts were readying their bows. Kovasch laid out three extra arrows. Haft aimed his crossbow and waited for Wolf’s assault. Before Wolf reached the end of the ambush line, the people riding on the road fully entered the killing zone. Someone shouted a command and the ambushers rose to their knees and fired arrows. Shouts came from the road, commands and screams.
Without hesitating, Haft fired. He had his axe in his hand and was on his feet racing forward before the quarrel hit its target. Birdwhistle and Meszaros were with him. He heard screaming from the distance, Wolf’s attack on the other end of the line. An arrow from Kovasch’s bow zing ed past, rapidly followed by two more. Then they were on the ambushers.
Haft swung his axe in a mighty overhead arc and buried its half-moon blade in the back of a man who was looking toward the commotion to his left. He saw Birdwhistle race past and thrust with his sword to skewer the next man in line. Meszaros was right behind him and chopped through the neck of the next. Haft dashed toward the next ambusher. That man heard the footsteps coming toward him and turned to look, but it was too late, Haft was already on him and his swinging axe clove its way deep from the bandit’s shoulder into his chest before the bandit could reach his feet—but not before he cried out a warning. Other ambushers looked back and shouted surprise and anger at the attacking quartet. They leaped up to counterattack.
Suddenly, uniformed men rushed up the slope from the road, swords in hand. The newcomers saw Birdwhistle’s uniform and recognized it instantly—its fur and helmet were very similar to their own. They attacked the men Birdwhistle and his three companions were fighting.
Haft was distantly aware that
He made a decision and dropped back down.
“There’s at least a dozen of them,” he said. “There might be more I can’t see. We need to even the odds right away.” He took inventory of his men’s weapons as he talked. Birdwhistle and Meszaros carried short bows, only Kovasch had the more powerful, more accurate longbow. It didn’t matter, they were close enough the short bows could hardly miss. “Wolf, go that way,” he pointed along the streambed. “When you reach the far side of the ambush, attack the man at that end.” He felt stupid giving the wolf instructions, but sometimes—usually, though he didn’t like to admit it—the beast seemed to understand.
Wolf gave Haft a look that, had he been a man, Haft would have interpreted it as, “Are you crazy? And what are you going to be doing while I run the suicide mission?”
“We,” he addressed the men, “will wait for Wolf to attack. The instant he does, we shoot the four men on the right side of their line. With any luck, the rest of them will be so distracted by Wolf’s attack, they won’t notice right away and we can charge and hit them from the rear.”
Wolf nodded, seeming satisfied that he wasn’t being sacrificed, and sprinted up the streambed.
Haft kept giving instructions as he watched Wolf head for his part of the attack. “Kovasch, you’ve got the best bow. Put a couple more arrows into them while the rest of us charge. Questions?”
The three looked at him grimly; they understood the need for this desperate action.
“Let’s get up and get ready. See where you are in our line. Meszaros, you’re on our right side, take the man farthest to the right. Everybody else follow suit. Got it?”
They nodded. Haft slithered back to the bank top. He looked to his sides before drawing his axe and laying it on the ground where he could grab it as soon as he fired; he ignored the bee that briefly crawled on his cheek before buzzing off. The three scouts were readying their bows. Kovasch laid out three extra arrows. Haft aimed his crossbow and waited for Wolf’s assault. Before Wolf reached the end of the ambush line, the people riding on the road fully entered the killing zone. Someone shouted a command and the ambushers rose to their knees and fired arrows. Shouts came from the road, commands and screams.
Without hesitating, Haft fired. He had his axe in his hand and was on his feet racing forward before the quarrel hit its target. Birdwhistle and Meszaros were with him. He heard screaming from the distance, Wolf’s attack on the other end of the line. An arrow from Kovasch’s bow zing ed past, rapidly followed by two more. Then they were on the ambushers.
Haft swung his axe in a mighty overhead arc and buried its half-moon blade in the back of a man who was looking toward the commotion to his left. He saw Birdwhistle race past and thrust with his sword to skewer the next man in line. Meszaros was right behind him and chopped through the neck of the next. Haft dashed toward the next ambusher. That man heard the footsteps coming toward him and turned to look, but it was too late, Haft was already on him and his swinging axe clove its way deep from the bandit’s shoulder into his chest before the bandit could reach his feet—but not before he cried out a warning. Other ambushers looked back and shouted surprise and anger at the attacking quartet. They leaped up to counterattack.
Suddenly, uniformed men rushed up the slope from the road, swords in hand. The newcomers saw Birdwhistle’s uniform and recognized it instantly—its fur and helmet were very similar to their own. They attacked the men Birdwhistle and his three companions were fighting.
Haft was distantly aware that
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