A Wizard in War

5

Coll broke loose from the knot of men, slipped into the trees, then trotted as fast as he could over the old, familiar game trails. He wished he could go faster, but dared not—a storm might have washed away soil to expose a root, or a fallen branch might block the trail; he would get there faster, and in better shape to fight, if he went slowly enough to see what lay ahead. At least the enemy would have to stay on the road as they fought one another, though he knew that any who managed to break away, as he had done, would probably know the woods as well as he. When they were boys, they had paid little regard to the border between the two estates, running back and forth between villages to visit, and the king’s serfs knew the trails as well as the earl’s.

He burst into the village to find it silent, cold, and empty; no children played between the silent huts; no women sat in the village square, gossiping while they carded and spun. Every door was closed tight, every window shuttered.

None of it deceived Coll for a moment. just the year before, he had himself barricaded the cottage and hidden when the alarm had sounded; he knew how the peasant folks strove to survive when the soldiers came. The only question was whether they had hidden in the woods this time, or indoors. He ran to his mother’s but and pounded on the door. “Mother! Open! It’s Coll!”

There was no answer. He told himself not to be surprised, that she couldn’t believe his words. He kept knocking, crying, “It’s Coll!”

Was that a step he heard behind the door? Perhaps, but more clearly and more loudly came the roar of fighting men and the clash of steel. Coll spun about, to see the earl’s men tumbling into the village, racing for the false security of a hut and a door. Hard on their heels came the king’s men, kicking doors open and smashing them down, running into the huts to drag out screaming women and children—and the occasional soldier who had managed to hide.

Coll knew what would happen to those women when the king’s men were sure they had defeated all the earl’s men—for the king had been crafty; these were men from the north he had sent to attack here, not local boys who knew the villagers. He took his stand by the door, and as a king’s man came running up, shouted, “None here—the hut is empty! Search the next!”

The man nodded and sped away—but three earl’s men spun toward him. “Empty?”

“Let us in!”

“Aside, king’s man, or die!”

A halberd swung down at Coll’s chest.

He blocked it with his spear, spun the butt into the man’s stomach, kicked the next attacker in the knee—but was slow leaning aside from the third’s spear thrust, and the blade gazed his shoulder. It jarred into the wood of the doorframe, though, and slowed the man long enough for him to realize whom he was fighting. “Coll!!?”

“The same, Wand! And if my mother’s hut is empty, I’ll eat its thatch! Go find some other place to hide!”

“But what are you doing in…”

“Go! Don’t you hear me? Run for your life and hide!” Wand swallowed thickly and said, “Tell me later!” Then he turned and ran, dodging away among the huts.

Behind him, the door opened a crack, and his mother’s voice said, in disbelief and wonder, “Coll?”

“Yes, Mother.” Coll risked a quick glance. “Are you safe?”

“For now, yes.” Tears choked her voice. “And Dicea?”

“Safe, Coll,” his sister’s voice said, amazed and wondering. There was a shadow of movement behind his mother. “Stay inside and bar the door, then. I’ll keep the king’s men from coming in!”

“But you’re a king’s man yourself! How?”

Three men in earl’s livery rounded a nearby hut and ran pell-mell toward Coll. They didn’t see him yet. “I’ll tell you later! Bar the door now—these will need more than talk!”

“Bless you, son!” his mother said, and the door slammed shut.

The earl’s men saw a lone king’s man standing in front of a hut. Their eyes lit with relief and revenge-lust; they shouted and charged Coll.

They were all strangers—from the south, most likely. Coll swung aside to his left, beating down one spear as another thudded into the door. “For the king!” he cried, and struck his spear shaft against the nearest soldier’s throat, then cracked the butt into the forehead of the second man as he struggled to yank his spear loose. But the third had taken the time to leap around both, and Coll saw the spearhead ramming straight toward his belly. He twisted aside at the last instant, and the spear only scored his ribs—but a hard fist came around and exploded in his face. The wall struck his back, and all he saw was a field of exploding lights against midnight blue. He staggered, flailing his spear out of sheer reflex—but when the stars faded, he saw the earl’s man hovering in front of him, waiting for a chance for a clear blow. Behind him, a knight rounded a but with half a dozen earl’s men behind him. “The murderer!” he bellowed. “Kill him!”

Coll’s heart sank, for he recognized the voice, and the coat of arms on the shield. It was the knight who had sought to take Dicea, the knight whose men he had killed!

But he struck with his spear, stabbing and swinging, and downed three men before the others struck him a stunning blow. He fought to hold on to consciousness in spite of the roaring in his ears, fastening his attention on the hard hands that yanked his arms up behind his back, bowing him over, for the pain helped him stay conscious while the stomach-lurching swirl of colors faded. It did, and the roaring dimmed; he found himself staring at the ground, the shouts of anger and fear and the din of swordplay filling his ears. He threw himself back and upright, feeling something, someone behind him crushed against the hut wall, heard him cry out—but none of it meant anything because, wonder of wonders, there was Sir Gar in his mail shirt, hammering at the earl’s knight with his broadsword. Coll knew it was Sir Gar because his shield held his device—blank, matte metal, except for a black armored horse’s head in the center. Behind him, Sir Dirk wheeled his horse and wheeled again, slashing at the men-at-arms with his rapier.

Behind, but quickly before. The soldiers cowered back, spears uplifted to defend themselves, and Sir Dirk swung his horse about to come charging down straight at Coll! The soldier behind him shouted and dodged aside, letting go of Coll, and the serf tried to step aside, but he stumbled, and the horse was coming straight at him …

At the last second, Sir Dirk pulled back on the reins, and the horse reared, whinnying protest. It swung about sideways, dropped down, and Dirk reached an arm to Coll. “Climb aboard, quick!”

Coll could only stare in amazement for a moment. Then he leaped, catching Dirk’s arm and clambering up onto the stallion’s rump. Turning, he was amazed to see Sir Gar’s sword flicker in past the knight’s guard, stabbing into the crevice between arm and breastplate. The knight cried out in pain and fell from his horse.

Coll stared in disbelief as Gar turned to him, his face grim under the steel cap, his eyes burning.

Coll found his voice. “You slew a knight!”

“No,” Gar told him. “He’ll recover.”

“But he’s a knight!”

“So are we,” Dirk reminded him.

“Oh.” Coll blinked, gazing at the fallen knight, feeling very foolish indeed. “Yes, you are, aren’t you?”

“And, after all,” said Gar, “he is the enemy.”

The door opened a crack, and four frightened eyes stared out. The younger two widened enormously at the sight of Gar.

Dirk drew up alongside Gar. “Who have you there?” Coll turned in surprise, saw the open door and the wide young eyes that had swiveled to stare at Dirk, and pivoted back to tell his masters, “My family, sirs, or what’s left of it—my mother and sister, all that I have.”

“More than some men have.” A shadow crossed Dirk’s face. “But you can’t stay here to guard them, Coll, which means they can’t stay, either.”

Coll’s heart sank as he realized the truth of the knight’s words. If he stayed until the battle was done, someone was bound to report him as an outlaw. He would be taken to the gibbet and hanged. If he left, though, his mother and sister might yet be prey for the soldiers.

Mama decided the issue for him. “He speaks truth, Coll, and we gathered our few belongings as soon as we heard the battle had started. We didn’t get away in time, though. Come, Dicie! Say good-bye to your home, child, for there may not be anything left of it, if we ever come back.”

Dicea stepped out the door, tears starting to her eyes; she stepped back and regarded the hut once, long and lingering, then turned to the future, looking up with wonder at the two stalwart knights who sat their horses above her. Coll stared at her face and felt a surge of relief—the eagerness with which she gazed at the men, the light that danced in her eyes, assured him that the knight had not come back for her after Coll had escaped. Perhaps he had been too busy with the hunt, and she so unimportant to him that he hadn’t bothered to return.

“However did you make such friends as these, Coll?” Dicea breathed.

“Sheer luck,” he grunted. “They saved me from an ambush before I had a chance to try to rob them.”

Dirk laughed, and Gar smiled. “We had need of him, lass, for we are from far over the sea, and know little of your land. Your brother has, at least, given us enough knowledge to make it possible to find employment.”

“As knights in the king’s army?”

“The very same,” Gar assured her, “and no one will be surprised if we disappear for a little while in the middle of a battle.” He looked up at Coll. “Where shall we take them?”

“The greenwood, of course.” Coll was amazed that the man could even ask the question. Surely the merest dolt could see that an outlaw had the choice of only two places where the lords’ law didn’t run: the forest or the wastelands, and the forest was much closer.

Or could it be that in their distant homeland, there were no places for outlaws to flee, and no need of them?

He put the thought behind him; it was too dizzying, too impossible. He reached down to take the heavy sack from his mother, but Gar said, “No. You may need your hands free to fight.”

“I carried you for nine months, Coll,” his mother assured him. “I can carry this sack for an hour.”

Dicea regarded him merrily. “You wouldn’t think twice about my hauling a basket of wet wash this heavy, but at the sight of a sack, you leap to carry.”

“All right, haul your own blasted bag,” Coll grunted, but he was secretly glad of the excuse. Gar was right; the clash of arms and the shouts of soldiers sounded all about them, mingled with the screams of serfs caught between the two forces. He ushered his mother and sister before him. The knights rode to either side, swords bare, shields high.

They came out from between the huts, and the fringe of battle caught them like a whirlwind. Coll backed up, facing away from his mother and sister, buffeting soldiers away with his buckler, taking quick glances behind to make sure he was still with the group. He saw Gar and Dirk hewing and thrusting with their swords, then turned back to see an earl’s man rise up before him, eyes staring, mouth a gaping, fetid maw, the yell lost in the clamor all about them, swinging a halberd down at him one-handed—its pole had broken off short. Coll snapped his shield up and heard the halberd strike into it—then saw recognition start up in the man’s eyes. Suddenly Coll knew him for Nud, the father of one of his childhood friends—but the battle whirled the two apart, and Coll fought on, fending off old companions and strangers, as the sinking feeling within him told him that the earl would learn that one of the king’s soldiers was his escaped serf.

The battle boiled out of the village, whirling Coll and his protector-knights along with his family. Away and across the fields they went, until finally the ramparts of the forest rose up before them, and Coll and his family were swept in among the trees on a tide of relief. Dirk and Gar crowded in after them, and the giant called down, “Keep going! Work your way deeper and deeper into the greenwood, for this battle may yet invade the forest, and even if it doesn’t, a lot of fleeing soldiers will!”

“They … saw me! ” Coll turned to Gar in alarm. “Earl’s soldiers, my fellow villagers, men from other villages who know me! They’ll tell the earl!”

“I think Insol will have more weighty matters on his mind than an escaped serf,” Dirk told him.

Gar nodded. “And even when he does have time to listen, no one will tell him, because the men who saw you will think they thought they saw something that wasn’t there.”

“But they recognized me! I saw it in their eyes!”

“Men see a lot of things in battle,” Dirk assured him, “and not all of them are real.”

Coll calmed, beginning to feel reassured. “Do you really think so?”

“Oh yes,” Gar said with absolute certainty. “Be sure of it, Coll. Anybody who saw you will think they imagined it. Be sure.”

Shouting and clanging sounded behind them, and the two knights turned to meet it, Dirk shouting, “Go!” Coll didn’t stay to ask why, only turned to flee into the forest with his mother and sister.

An hour later, Mama stumbled over a tree root. Coll caught her arm; she looked up at him, and he saw her utter weariness. “We’ve gone far enough,” he told her, and took the sack from her cramped fingers. “Let’s find shelter.”

They found it in a huge tree that had fallen against a smaller, lodging between a branch and the trunk; the younger tree held the older at an angle. Dead branches swept down to the ground, and Coll, forcing his way between them, found he was able to break off the ones inside, until he had a very serviceable lean-to. He brought the broken boughs out and Mama and Dicea in. Mama promptly lay down on the thick bed of fallen leaves and closed her eyes. Dicea brought out her coal box, then glanced at the trunk overhead and the dry boughs around them. “We can’t light a fire in here, can we?”

“No, we’ll have to go outside—but I think we’d better not light a fire at all,” Coll answered. “Gar and Dirk seem to know the ways of war as well as anybody, and if they say fleeing soldiers may be coming through the wood, I wouldn’t doubt them. They’ll be hungry, looking for food and shelter, and I don’t doubt they’ll band together to take it.”

Dicea shuddered at the thought. “We can make a cold meal.”

Suddenly, Coll realized he was hungry, raving hungry. “Yes, Dicea, if you would! Even bread alone would be good! ”

She reached into a bag, brought out a round loaf, passed it to Coll, then hefted a skin, unstoppered the foot, and held it out. Coll swallowed a mouthful of bread and squeezed a stream of liquid into his mouth. “Ale! Bless you, Dicea! ”

“Some breath of caution told me to bring it,” she said, smiling. “Now I see why—we may have to search for water.” Coll nodded, carefully holding the foot of the aleskin upward. “Only a few mouthfuls each, then—enough to make the bread go down, and no more.”

“Even so,” Dicea agreed. She took the loaf back, broke off a third of it, and gave it back to Coll, then turned to Mama, saying softly, “Mama, are you awake?”

“I only wish I weren’t,” Mama groaned. She forced herself up and took her third of the loaf. “Still, you’re right, child. I had better take nourishment while I can.”

They ate, finishing all of the loaf but only a quarter of the ale. Then Coll told them, “Sleep while you can.”

“You must have rest too, though, son!” his mother protested.

Coll nodded. “I’ll watch for four hours, then wake Dicea; she can watch and wake me if there’s need. But I’ll take the first watch, for I might not be able to stay awake for the second.”

“What sort of need are you expecting?” Dicea asked, eyes wide.

“Those fleeing soldiers that Gar and Dirk spoke of,” Coll told her. “Odds are that, without a fire, we only need to sit still and let them pass us by—but I’d like to be awake when they come.”

However, it wasn’t runaway soldiers who found them as dusk closed in. Heavy hands suddenly wrenched the leaves of their lean-to aside, and a scarred, bearded face glared down at Coll, commanding, “Come out!”

Coll glared back at the man, taking in the leather jerkin, the grimy skin, and the dozen men behind him, all holding bows or quarterstaves, all wearing leather jerkins and leg gins, all shaggy-haired and shaggy-bearded. With a sinking heart, he knew them for outlaws. “Come in and get me!” he snarled.

“As you’ll have it, then.” The outlaw glanced up and to the side, nodding, then turned a steady gaze on Coll.

Dry branches and leaves crashed; men shouted behind Coll in a sudden onslaught. Dicea and Mama screamed, and Coll whirled. The blow caught him on the back of the head, and he saw only a brief burst of stars before darkness took him.

Dicea’s angry scream yanked him out of that darkness, and he scrambled to his feet—or tried to; something pulled hard on his arms behind his back, wrenching his shoulders with pain, and he fell back, sitting against something hard, curved, and rough. Pain throbbed through his head, and the light seemed far too bright, even though it couldn’t have been all that much later. Fuzzy shapes became clear. He saw they were no longer in the lean-to, and he made out a couple of outlaws holding his mother, who strained against them, scolding. Two more were holding Dicea, and having a much tougher job restraining her arms—in fact, they were dancing back from her kicking feet, but another outlaw came up from behind to reach around and caress. “Scum!” Dicea shouted, and tried to turn to kick at the man, but he leaped back with a laugh.

“Scum and offal!” Coll shouted, and tried again to leap to Dicea’s defense—but a hard pull yanked him back again, down hard, and he realized his wrists had been tied to a tree trunk, behind his back. Moreover, he realized that he was looking up at the outlaws; they had tied him sitting down. He gathered his legs under him and began to stand, turning from side to side in an awkward dance as he scraped the rope up the trunk.

But the biggest outlaw, the one who had commanded him to come out of the lean-to, put out a big hand and pushed him back. “I know it gripes you, lad, but we have need of women in the greenwood, and we’re not about to let one pass by—especially one so pretty as this. She may have been your lady love, but…”

“She is my sister! And that woman’s our mother!”

“Sister! And her mother watching?” The outlaw looked up at the women, dismayed, and Coll realized that he wasn’t really a bad man, just a rather desperate one. Sure enough, his face hardened again, and he turned back to Coll. “Sister or not, we need her nonetheless. You’ve no choice, lad, for a runaway soldier has no place but the greenwood, and no people but…”

Coll surged at him with a roar of anger. To his amazement, his hands came up, fists balled. The outlaw froze in surprise, and Coll struck him down with a single blow. He caught up the man’s spear and lunged at the outlaws holding Dicea. One of them dropped her hand with a shout and scrambled back, yanking his dagger free; Dicea whirled and slapped the other outlaw so hard the crack echoed through the trees. The man stepped back, dazed, and Dicea dove for the only cover available—the lean-to.

Coll whirled, striking with the spear butt at one of the men holding his mother. The man released her, but was too slow, and the wood cracked into his head. The other dropped Mama’s hand and reached for his own dagger—and Coll grabbed Mama’s wrist, pulling her, too, back into the lean-to.

“But what can we do here?” she cried.

“They have to come in to get us,” Coll snarled, turning to guard the door hole.

Behind him, Dicea said, “This time, we’ll be ready! Find a rock, Mama!”

Coll glanced at the ropes hanging from his wrists, unable to believe he had really broken them—and sure enough, the ends were clean, not frayed! But who could have cut them?

The outlaws were shouting outside, and he heard the clash of steel. Would they really kill him to get Dicea?

Yes. In an instant. He knew how badly the woman hunger had eaten at him, alone in the wilderness, and a girl as pretty as Dicea would make such a hunger much sharper. Coll knew these men would do anything to satisfy such lust. He leveled his spear.

“Do you think that pig-sticker will hold us off, boy?” the outlaw roared.

“I notice you’re not making any move to come in,” Coll retorted.

“There are half a dozen men on the other side of your shelter! Come out, or they’ll come in at your back as I come in from the front!”

There was a rustle behind Coll, and Dicea hissed, “He lies! ”

The outlaw glared, but his men were watching, so he beckoned them on and dove in after Coll with a roar.

Coll pushed his spear forward and grounded the butt. But the outlaw shoved it aside with contempt and seized Coll’s neck in both hands. Coll rolled back, but managed to drive his knee up as the outlaw fell on him. It struck the outlaw’s groin: his eyes went wide, and he made a gargling noise, but his hands only loosened a little, not enough for Coll to breathe. He rolled, trying to break the outlaw’s hold, rolled him right next to Dicea—and his sister brained the outlaw with a rock.

Coll rolled free, gasping and choking, nodding thanks to Dicea as he turned back to the hole, but two outlaws were already halfway through, grinning and stabbing at him with spears. Coll rolled aside, just enough so that both missed, and came up to strike a short, vicious jab into the nearest man’s jaw. The other lunged for Dicea …

… and jolted to a stop so suddenly that his face slammed into the forest mold. Something dragged him backward. The other outlaw shouted as he turned to strike at whatever was at his feet. Coll drew his dagger, then set it against the man’s throat. The outlaw froze, staring up at Coll, fear in his eyes.

The other outlaw shouted as whatever-it-was pulled him clear of the lean-to. There was a brief thrashing, a meaty thud, and he fell back into the door hole, limp and unconscious. Then the other bandit began to move, and Coll barely managed to twitch his knife aside in time. The man shouted as he slid out, and Coll stared after him, Dicea coming up beside him. They saw him sit up swinging a blow, saw Dirk let go of his ankles just in time to block and counterpunch right into the outlaw’s jaw. The man swayed back, and Dicea struck with her rock again. He went limp. Dirk looked into the hole, eyebrows raised. “Maybe we should train her to the quarterstaff, Coll.”

“Behind you!” the serf cried, and Dirk swung about to see a quarterstaff swinging at his head.