The Squire Page 2

  “Nothing good. There must be a patrol further on holding up merchant traffic. That can only mean they spotted raiders. Keep a sharp eye out now.”

  Col swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and loosened the sword in his scabbard. He was glad for his leather gauntlets. The way his hands sweat he’d be lucky to grip his sword without them.

  A short ways further on they came to a small side road. “Sir,” Col said. “Look there.” He pointed out a set of fresh horse tracks. They must have been riding hard considering how they’d torn the ground.

  Sir Geris eased over beside him. “These are the freshest signs we’ve seen. Let’s check it out.”

  Col guided his horse down the road beside his mentor. They hadn’t gone far when Col heard the faint sound of steel on steel. “Do you hear that?”

  “Yes.” Sir Geris ripped his sword out of its sheath. “Let’s go!” He spurred his horse and raced off, Col right on his heels.

  It didn’t take five minutes for them to reach the logging camp at the end of the road. A dozen men-at-arms battled seven huge boarmen, seven-foot-tall mountains of muscle, covered in bristly hair, with cloven hooves for feet and blunt, three-fingered hands, and the tusked heads of giant boars. The bunkhouse smoldered, but it looked like a group of loggers armed with water buckets had the fire under control. Five others armed with double-bitted axes were holding off another pair of the brutes.

  “Help them!” Sir Geris pointed at the loggers then he turned his horse toward the larger group of boarmen battling the soldiers.

  “Right,” Col muttered under his breath. He turned his horse toward the opposite side of the camp and raised his sword. Col charged at the nearest monster, who noticed him just in time to get decapitated by his first cut.

  He rode on past then wheeled his horse around to make another pass at the second monster. That was the plan at least, until his mare’s hooves hit a slimy patch of mud and slid out from under her.

  He jumped clear before she hit the ground. On the downside that left him laying on his back in the mud with a five-hundred-pound boarman charging at him.

  Col got to his feet in time to redirect a spear thrust that no doubt would have pierced him clean through. He moved back trying to buy time.

  The boarman wielded a spear with a massive iron head that could have served for an ax blade. The beastman snorted, snot and spittle covering its snout and curved tusks. Col barely jackknifed out of the way of a horizontal cut.

  The damn spear gave the monster too great a reach and rendered his sword useless until he closed the distance. He dodged back to avoid another thrust and felt the mud slide under his back foot.

  Ah, shit.

  His legs went out from under him and he splashed down into the mud again. The beast towered over him.

  Col gave a high, shrill whistle.

  His mare came charging into the beastman’s back, sending him staggering forward straight onto Col’s sword. Col wrenched the blade sideways, slicing the brute’s gut open and spilling blood and entrails all over himself. The boarman fell over sideways, dead.

  Forcing himself back to his feet Col raised his sword, ready for the next opponent. Fortune stood with him and the rest of the monsters lay dead or dying in the mud. On the opposite side of the camp Sir Geris and the surviving soldiers stood in a little circle. Tired and shaking, Col let out a sigh.

  Still alive, Light be praised.

  Col took a deep breath and gagged. He might still be alive, but he didn’t smell like it. He bent down and wiped the worst of the gore off his sword with the beastman’s filthy tunic. His mare shied away as he approached her, not that he blamed her.

  “It’s okay, girl. It’s me.” She calmed enough that he could gather her reins.

  It was well that he had them to hang on to as the blow to his back almost sent him into the mud again. “Much obliged, young sir.” The logger that struck him, a big, burly fellow with a scruffy beard and mud-spattered leather clothes, said, “Don’t know how we’d have handled those ugly bastards if you lot hadn’t shown up when you did.”

  “My pleasure,” Col said as the rest of the loggers, all dressed in some variation of the first man’s garb, gathered around to smite him on the back. If they kept pounding him like this they’d do him more harm than the beastmen. “Is there a well or brook around here? I need to rinse off, badly.”

  “No problem.” Two of the loggers hurried off.

  “Col, you all right?” Sir Geris rode up to them.

  “Bruised and needing a bath, but otherwise fine.”

  “Good man. When I lost sight of you I got worried.” He looked down at the two dead boarmen. “You made a good account of yourself.”

  Col was starting to speak when two buckets of icy water gushed over his head. Blood and gore ran down his armor and pooled at his feet. Through chattering teeth Col said, “My thanks, gentlemen, but a little warning would have been nice.”

  The two loggers looked at each other. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  Col laughed.

  “If you’re finished with your new friends we need to get back. The king must hear of this.”

  “Yes, sir.” Col swung up into his saddle. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure.”

  “The pleasure was all ours, young sir. Stop again and we’ll share a pint.”

  Col waved and rode away beside Sir Geris. If their drink was as strong as their pats on the back he’d be in no rush to return. “What did the sergeant-at-arms have to say, sir?” Col asked.

  “They followed wolfman tracks down the road then ran into the boars. The wolfmen got away, but they saved the loggers.”

  Col nodded. “Did we lose any men?”

  “Two took serious wounds, but no fatalities. Light be praised.”

  “Sir, what happened here? I thought the different tribes of beastmen hated each other. If wolfmen and boarmen have started raiding together…” He left the sentence unfinished. If they were working together then all Corinthia faced a serious threat.

  Chapter Two

  They rode into the castle yard at dusk, their return trip blessedly free of trouble. Col and his mentor dismounted outside the stable. Col’s whole body ached from a day of training and fighting. He wanted a hot bath, food, and his bed.

  “You look like hell,” Sir Geris said. “Tend the horses then get some rest. I’m not certain how long His Majesty will keep me tonight, but let’s plan on meeting in the morning in the mess hall.”

  “Not too early,” Col pleaded.

  Sir Geris laughed. “You can sleep till sunup. With all the raiders in the area, I suspect tomorrow will be busy.”

  Col nodded. “See you in the morning.”

  Sir Geris turned toward the castle and Col led the horses into the stables. Not having to get up before the sun would be a treat, though he suspected it would be cold comfort in the days ahead. He didn’t relish the thought of his next battle. Maybe they could find some smaller beastmen.

  “Hey, Jack!” Col shouted. Hopefully the stable boy would be free to give him a hand with the horses.

  After a moment the stocky frame of Jack’s older brother Joey ambled in from the grain store. “Pa sent him on an errand. I can give you a hand if you’d like.”

  “Thanks, Joey.” Col handed him the reins to Sir Geris’s horse and they led them toward their stalls.

  “By the Dark. You look like shit, Col. Smell like it too.” Joey unbuckled the saddle.

  “It’s been a long day,” Col said. He tended his pinto’s tack. “A bunch of beastmen were causing trouble up the road. One of them spilled his guts all over me.”

  “That explains the smell.” Joey slipped a feed bag over the horse’s nose.

  “You’re a good one to complain about smells,” Col countered.

  Joey barked a laugh. “True, but at least the manure pile never tried to kill me. Word around the castle is the beastmen are raising all kinds of hell out there.”

  “Yeah.” Col sighed. “Let’s jus
t say I’m going to be busy for the foreseeable future. Sir Geris says we’re heading out again in the morning.”

  “Just a second.” Joey went back to the small room his family shared at the rear of the stables and a moment later returned with a small sprig of evergreen. “If you can’t get the stink out put this under your pillow. Trust me, it’ll help.”

  Col took the sprig and sniffed it. It had a strong cinnamon scent. He grinned. “Where’d you get Pixie Pine?”

  “Ma found a little patch in the forest. We go harvest a few sprigs once a month. Does wonders for the back room.”

  Col squeezed Joey’s shoulder. It wasn’t a big deal, but the gesture meant a lot. Col didn’t have a lot of friends, but the stable boys were among the best of them. “Thanks.”

  The young men finished their work in amiable silence. When they’d curried and fed both horses Joey gave Col a friendly swat on the back, a mere love tap after the loggers. “You take care of yourself out there. I’d hate to see the only squire I can stand get himself killed.”

  “I’ll do my best. Thanks for the help. Do me a favor and give the horses an extra measure of grain in the morning. I expect they’ll need the energy.”

  “Sure, Col, no problem. See you later.”

  Col offered a weary wave over his shoulder as he started the short trudge to the barracks. He had just light enough to see, for which Col was grateful. He felt so tired he feared he might have missed the door to the barracks. Halfway back he heard the gravel crunch behind him. Before he could turn, someone shoved him hard enough to make him stagger forward.

  Anger and adrenaline blasted the fog from his brain. He spun around. In the dim light he could just make out Callion, slim and elegant in a gray silk shirt and brown brushed leather trousers standing beside a pair of his henchmen, bigger boys dressed in similar if less expensive outfits.

  Why me?

  “Get lost, Callion. I’m too tired for your bullshit tonight.”

  “Well, peasant, I have plenty of energy. Princess Rain informed me of your rudeness this morning and asked me to teach you a lesson.”

  Col straightened up and glared at Callion. “If you’ve got the stones to try something when my back isn’t turned come on.”

  Callion moved toward him, cautious as a mouse sneaking past a cat, while the other two moved to flank him on either side. It would take them all night to do something at this rate.

  He used the time to study his opponent. Callion stood perhaps two inches taller than Col but he lacked the corded muscle Col had gained over the last few years. Callion’s knight mentor held a much lower rank at court than his squire and Callion’s father, the duke, scared him to death. Oh well, time to hurry things along.

  “What’s wrong, Callion, don’t you have the guts to take me on one on one?”

  The young nobleman stiffened and waved the other two back. “I’ll give you a thrashing you won’t soon forget.”

  Idiot.

  Col smiled and waved Callion forward. He obliged and stepped forward with a straight right to Col’s face. Col slipped to the side and caught Callion’s slender wrist and tugged him off balance.

  Callion stumbled forward into an uppercut to the gut that doubled him over and dropped him to his knees. Col grabbed a handful of perfectly combed hair and drove his knee into Callion’s face.

  Callion fell on his bloody face in the gravel. Col put a filthy boot on his neck. “How many times are we going to have to do this, Callion? Your titles don’t impress me. Your fighting skills really don’t impress me. Why don’t you leave me alone and I won’t have to get your blood all over my fist?”

  Col gave him a final stomp between the shoulder blades, leaving a muddy boot print on a shirt that probably cost more than his horse, and then resumed his trudge to the barracks. Behind him he heard Callion struggling to his feet. “Don’t just stand there, idiots, get him!”

  Col turned back. “You two can get your master to the healer or join him in the dirt.”

  The two toadies looked at each other for a moment before the one on the right said, “My lord, we’d best get you to the healer.”

  Col smiled. At least now he knew who served as the brains of the group.

  * * *

  Two days after dealing with Callion, Col and Sir Geris rode out on patrol. They heard talk of trouble down one of the many side roads that branched off the Great Road. A slight breeze rustled the maple leaves above them. The shade and the breeze combined to temper the day’s heat, thank the Light. Fifteen elite men-at-arms rode down the dirt road with them. They wore heavy leather jerkins and carried short, powerful bows along with their swords and shields. They numbered amongst the most skilled and experienced soldiers in the kingdom, and the only reason they hadn’t become knights was a lack of sponsorship.

  “Stay sharp,” Sir Geris said. “We must be getting close now.”

  Col checked his sword for the fourth time and found it still loose and ready. They’d been on the track of a large pack of wolfmen for the past hour. Judging by the fresh tracks, the monsters still had a lead on them, but not much of one. “Do you think they know we’re on their trail?”

  “They must have winded us by now,” Sir Geris said. “Where’s the nearest village?”

  “About five miles up the road, sir,” one of the soldiers said.

  “They’ll never reach it before we catch them,” another said, sounding confident.

  Col wished he felt as certain. A pack of wolfmen this size would do a lot of damage to a small village.

  They continued on for another mile or so before Sir Geris pulled up. “They left the road here,” he said, pointing to the tracks leading into the forest to their left.

  “Why? It must be faster for them to stay on the road,” Col said.

  “It’s faster for us too, mounted we can outrun them in the open. We must be too close for comfort. It’ll be easier for them to keep ahead of us in the woods. Sergeant, take ten men and pursue them. We’ll continue on to the village.”

  “Yes, sir.” The sergeant, a scarred warrior who had been fighting since before Col was born, picked his men. They dismounted and disappeared into the forest.

  As soon as they left the remaining men rode on, leading the extra horses behind them. In the distance ominous howls echoed through the trees. Col shivered. If the beastmen circled around and came at them now they might be in trouble with only seven warriors left.

  Sir Geris must have noticed the concern on his face. “Don’t worry; those men are the best skirmishers in the army. If anyone can come to grips with those monsters, they’re the ones to do it.”

  Col nodded and managed a weak smile. He didn’t feel at all reassured, but he couldn’t do a damn thing about it, so no sense worrying.

  They covered the remaining four miles to the village without incident. The villagers had settled in a pretty spot. Low rolling hills dotted with sheep surrounded twenty daub and wattle huts. A fence about five feet high and lined with wooden spikes surrounded the little village. It might discourage a bear or wolf from wandering in but nothing more. Col didn’t know if wolfmen laughed, but the sight of that fence would do it.

  If the fence didn’t get a laugh, then the two kids standing guard at the gate leading into the village would have done the job. The elder looked about fifteen and the younger not more than thirteen. They carried sharpened sticks and wore what looked like cooking pots on their heads.

  “At least they posted guards,” Col said sarcastically.

  Sir Geris shot Col a warning glare as they came to a stop in front of the gate, which if truth be told amounted to a thin tree about ten feet long with the branches removed. Someone had stuck the ends in the crotches of two posts driven into the ground at either side of the path. “Can I help you, sir?” the elder boy asked.

  “Fetch your headman,” Sir Geris said.

  The younger boy hastened to obey while the elder asked, “Is there trouble, sir?”

  “There may be,” Sir Geris said
in a grim tone. Turning to the remaining soldiers he said, “Get those shepherds down here. We can’t protect them if they’re scattered all over the place.”

  The men rode off into the hills just as a gray-bearded old man shuffled up to the gate, a carved oak cane in his right hand and wearing a much-patched brown tunic. The village leader, Col assumed. “What brings one of His Majesty’s knights to this poor little village?” The old man had a strong voice despite his frail appearance.

  “Trouble, unfortunately,” Sir Geris said. “We’ve been tracking a large pack of wolfmen moving in this general direction. Some of my men continued in pursuit while the rest of us came here to prepare your defenses. We’ll need everyone capable of handling a weapon gathered as soon as possible.”

  “It shall be done,” the old man said. He looked at the older guard and nodded. The boy ran off to gather whatever passed for a militia in this town. From the size of the place there couldn’t be more than a hundred people living there. It would have shocked Col if more than twenty men capable of fighting lived in the village.

  They joined the assembled militia, all thirteen of them, in the village center an hour later. They all carried homemade spears tipped with whatever piece of sharp metal they could find. One of them had a kitchen knife tied to a fresh-cut sapling with a length of frayed rope. They wore thick cloth armor that wouldn’t stop a stiff breeze much less a wolfman’s claws. Three of the men looked younger than the youngest gate guard. If the pack attacked before the other men-at-arms returned they’d slaughter everyone.

  Col barely listened to a no doubt very inspiring speech by his mentor before they disbursed the militia around the village to keep watch. Their remaining men-at-arms took up positions at the gate. Col sat on a stone bench off the village center. Seeming satisfied that he had the village as protected as he could make it with the resources available, Sir Geris sat down beside him.