Shard Read online

  Ragnol, caught off guard, was dragged forward. At the same time Erin advanced. A fist wrapped in chain slammed into Ragnol's face. Blood spurted, bone shattered and Ragnol howled in rage. Both hands flew to his destroyed nose, his whip now forgotten.

  Turning swiftly, Erin began to twirl a 'tail of pain' of his own. Faster and faster the heavy chain whirled, causing the clean, crisp air to hum with its passing. Startled crewmembers tripped over each other in their haste to escape the deadly chain. One unlucky fellow moved a bit too slow and had his ear removed as a reward. Another received a broken wrist as he instinctively tried to protect his face.

  Nex, seeing that Ragnol was out of the fight, swiftly took command. "You three!", he bellowed. "Rush the quiffer from behind!"

  The three burly Slathlanders glanced quickly at each other, rolled their eyes and prepared to obey --- to refuse never entered their heads, for Slath's Law was absolutely clear on this --- not to obey an officer meant instant death. Yet they were still far from over-eager. Slowly they worked their way closer to the tall slave, waiting for the right moment.

  It never came. Instead, Nex grabbed a long spear and thrust it up to tangle the whirling chain. The heavy iron links, seen only as a blur in the morning sun, struck the shaft and snapped it off half a vel from the iron head. The broken part flew through the air, striking one of the three who had been closing in from behind.

  Hitting him square in the chest, the point passed through the man's hardened leather jerkin like a hot knife through cheese. The force of the blow punched him backwards against the mast. And there he hung, impaled by the broken spear, the shaft sprouting from his chest like an accusing finger. As though giving some grotesque benediction, the dying man's arm slowly raised and fell. His mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out, save for a trickle of blood.

  Men gasped; several called Slath's name; one even fell to his knees. All eyes were riveted on the dead man. It was then that Erin saw his chance. It wasn't much of a chance; if the bloody chain didn't pull him down, they'd probably just fill him full of arrows! But it was the only one he had. Erin ap Conn made ready to jump.

  Except that Nex stood in his way.

  There was no time to use the chain. No time for tricks. All Erin could do was charge the grinning mountain and hope to knock him down. In their own fickle way, the Fates had been both cruel and kind, for though Nex blocked his path, he had only the broken spear shaft in his hand.

  Erin's wild, head-down charge took the big man in the stomach. The hardwood shaft stung as it struck the torn flesh on Erin's back, but the all-out momentum of the charge was enough to take them both over the side.

  The shock of the cold water struck Erin like a blow. He was beyond pain now --- all that remained was to get free of the bloody 'demon ship'.

  But Nex was not yet through with him. Somehow the Slather had gotten hold of the chain and was hauling Erin back to the ship. 'So be it, Nex-lad,' Erin reasoned coldly; 'But at least I'll be takin' you down with me!'

  The entire crew watched spellbound as the two men struggled in the water. Even Ragnol, one hand covering the bloody pulp that had been his nose, cheered Nex on.

  So intent were they on the struggle that none saw the little skiff push its way out of the shadows and swiftly make its way towards the drifting Glitch Slath.

  ***

  "Are you daft, Thorn?! What can we do against a boat full of Slathers?!" Timin, his usual meekness set aside, glared at his cousin and life-long friend.

  Thorn merely winked at the pudgy little Kirkwean and fit a sRooth round stone into his sling.

  Norgi however, was beside himself with fear. "But they're so BIG!!", he mumbled. "Erg save us! We'll be butchered and the pieces tossed to the fishes!"

  Thorn's hand gripped the overly thin Kirkwean's shoulder. The bones reminded him of a bird he had once held in the palm of his hand. "Norgi, listen to me! One man is fighting the whole stinking lot of them. I don't know why and I don't care, but we are going to help him. Now, grab your paddle and get me within range. My sling will hold them off while you and Timin pull him in the skiff!"

  For the length of several heartbeats Norgi just stared up at Thorn, then a strange thing happened. The years of self-doubt seemed to fall away. All the snide remarks and snickering laughter; all the cutting asides and cruel jests, just melted like so much river mist. Rushing in to fill the oh-so-large void was a kind of inner peace. A sense of worth flooded through him like sunshine that had been overlong behind a dark cloud.

  The little Kirkwean nodded to Thorn and picked up his paddle. The look on his thin face would have gladdened his mother's heart --- for 'No-Smile' Norgi was grinning from ear to ear!

  ***

  Nex was having trouble. The weight of his ring-mail and his heavy sword acted much the same as Erin's length of chain. Neither man could both fight and swim at the same time; also added to this was the fact that Nex wore tall boots and a long sleeveless coat of bears fur. He was soon forced to let the kicking slave go and save his own life.

  By the time Nex was pulled cursing from the river, Erin had managed to swim half way to the shore. Ragnol, his shattered nose still streaming blood, bellowed for archers. Several of the Slathlanders scurried for bows. One, quicker than the rest, climbed into the rigging for a clearer shot.

  Bows in general were not a favorite weapon of these fierce, northern invaders. A 'true son of Slath' looked down on the weapon as a cowardly quiffing thing that only those lacking both sufficient strength of arm and true character used. The 'shim' or broadsword and the heavy Slathaxe were the mark of a 'real warrior'! Yet Ragnol had traveled both far and wide, and knew the deadly force that a well trained group of archers could achieve, and so he had included a dozen or so of the best bowmen he could find to his crew.

  "Feather that bastard for me!", he growled, his strong accent even harder to follow due to his broken nose. "A silver crown for the man that hits him first!"

  The bowman in the rigging, one of the two slant-eyed, bronze skinned archers from the distant land of Chin, grinned and set an arrow to his string. The Slath silver was as good as in his pouch, for the fool of a slave was floundering about in the water like a half dead fish. Soon he would be all the way dead!

  With an ease that belied his slight stature, the bronze skinned archer drew his long bamboo bow and sighted down the shaft. The thrashing target was momentarily eclipsed by the arrow's barbed head. The Chin bowman raised it just a fraction to allow for the proper arc, grinned --- and was hit square in the forehead by a sRooth, round stone. The archer stiffened, then went limp. As he and his bow tumbled towards the deck, one bare foot caught in the rigging. The lifeless body of the Chin hung like a limp flag.

  ***

  "You got him, Thorn!", Timin beamed, as he paddled towards the tall 'manling' now clearly drowning not a dozen vels away. Norgi, still grinning from ear to ear, dug in with all his might and the little skiff fairly skimmed over the water.

  Thorn, his sky-blue eyes never leaving the Glitch Slath, deftly placed another sRooth stone in his sling. Like most Kirkwean, Thorn was very good with any weapon that could be thrown. It just seemed to come naturally to them, though legend told that Erg, The Creator of All, had given this special ability to the Kirkwean to compensate for their lack of size and stature. Be that as it may, most Kirkwean were unbelievably good with bow, spear, knife or the odd little throwing weapon they called a Kirkaxe.

  Thorn, though better than most with all of these, was a 'past master' of the sling. In his tiny, deft hands the simple child's toy became an instrument of destruction. He could hurl a sRooth river stone further and faster than most could cast an arrow. He seldom missed; and when he did it was not by much.

  Thorn's first stone had struck the Chin bowman square on his temple, shattering the bone and sending a shock-wave of instant death into the brain. The Chin had passed over to the land of his ancestors even before his foot became caught in the rigging.

  Thorn's second and thir
d stones also struck true, taking one archer in the eye and breaking the wrist of another. After that there were very few targets left above deck.

  "It's the Wee'ns!", a Slather muttered, making the ancient sign to ward off evil. Nex heard and rounded on the crew.

  "Slath curse you motherless by-blows! It's only three children in a skiff! Rouse yourself Slathlanders! They but toss pebbles at us!"

  Shame flooded through the seasoned fighters. 'Shims' leapt from scabbards and heavy Slathaxes and spears were raised --- though after two more of their number were brought down by these 'children's pebbles', it was shields that were raised instead.

  And all the time that one little word raced like fire around the ship. 'Wee'ns'. The name for the legendary race of beings that were rumored to inhabit this part of Oma-Var. A name said in jest or as a snide remark about ones size, (or lack of it!); a name used by grandparents when telling tall tales to the young Slathlings.

  Suddenly it had become a name of fear.

  "Look there, you maggot-ridden offal!", Ragnol fumed, striking several of the crew with the flat of his 'shim'. "Wee'ns or no, there's only three of the little bastards --- and only half the size of the most craven of you! See how they pull the slave into their little shell! Mark how it all but sinks under his weight!"

  Cautious eyes peered over the rail. Several of the braver ones stood up and shouted curses. Ragnol turned on them like an angry dog. "Lower the longboat, fools! After them! Nex, get the rest of the archers forward and set the bastards to shooting!"

  But Nex was already heading for the longboat. The slave had made a fool out of him in front of his own men --- and for that he would die. Leader or not, Ragnol Halfhand was still only a oily tongued foreigner. Nex would not be denied his 'right to revenge'.

  Seeing that Nex was intent on going, Ragnol turned to the remaining bowmen and lashed them with both tongue and whip if he even thought they might be slow to obey.

  ***

  "Careful!", Timin yelled. "Don't swamp us!"

  It took all of Timin and Norgi's combined strength to haul the half-drowned slave into their skiff. As it was the bottom was awash when Erin finally lay gasping for air in the narrow boat.

  "He's so BIG!", Norgi muttered, for he had never actually seen a 'manling' before, though he had heard of them all his life.

  "Aye", grunted Timin. "And Erg-cursed heavy! Give me a hand with his leg, will you? I've no room to paddle!"

  Erin, only vaguely aware of what was happening, lay doubled-up in the tiny skiff, puking out river water and trying to breathe at the same time. His shoulders and back felt on fire and his head pounded like a hammer in a forge.

  "Make for the shore!", Thorn shouted, then whirled his sling several times and let fly. Timin caught a glimpse of yet another Slather toppling into the water. "Paddle, Norgi you old fart! For Erg's sake paddle!"

  Upon hearing his name, Norgi roused himself from the trance he had been in ever since they had hauled Erin aboard. Then, with that strange new expression still on his face, he began using his paddle for all he was worth.

  Then the arrows began to fall. The river seemed to 'sizzle' as the shafts landed all around them --- yet not all missed. Ragnol had chosen his archers well, for though one of the two bronze-skinned Chins were dead and several other Slathlanders were either the same or wounded, there was still enough bowmen left to do the job.

  One bolt thudded into the stern of the skiff just behind Timin. Another grazed Thorn's shoulder. Yet another slammed into Norgi's paddle blade, causing his new-found grin to vanish.

  Thorn's sling whirled but the arrows kept raining down. One struck Timin squarely in the back. The hefty little Kirkwean groaned, then slumped forward. Thorn cried out his cousin's name. Norgi's eyes pleaded silently. Desperate now, Thorn pocketed his sling and grabbed a paddle.

  'It's all gone wrong!', Thorn's inner voice screamed. 'It wasn't supposed to be like this!' Bramblethorn Higgs was having his first clear insight into what 'war' really meant. Battles, big or small, are never one-sided. It was a bitter truth that the quick-tempered little Kirkwean would remember all his days.

  In the stern, Erin, his hands still chained, rose to his knees. Seeing Timin's slumped body, he took the paddle and began using it as best he could.

  Suddenly Norgi cried out and clutched his leg. Thorn glanced back. What he saw made him want to wretch, for both his friends now had arrows sprouting from their small bodies. With a sinking heart he realized that the Slathers we swiftly gaining on them. And it was all his fault!

  ***

  Chapter 3:WOLF'S HEAD

  "Rash, stuten!" - 'Row, fools!' ", Nex bellowed. "Put your backs into it! I want that stinking wolf's head on a quiffing pike!"

  The four Slathlanders bent to their work and the longboat began to gain on the little skiff. Up front two archers turned their bows on the distant figures. When one seemed to strike the 'Wee'n' in the stern, they sent up a boisterous cheer.

  "Get the others!" Nex roared from his place in the stern; "But mind you save that bastard slave for me!"

  The two bowmen glanced at each other. One of them, Kel, the last remaining Chin, raised his left eyebrow, shrugged, then lifted his long, bamboo bow. The Slath archer, not wanting to anger the surly captain any more than he already was, quickly followed suit.

  ***

  Erin, his head still pounding, glanced about him as he paddled. Two of the strange little folk were hit. The one behind had passed out. The thin one in front was moaning over the shaft in his leg. That left the taller of the three. He seemed unhurt, yet now sat slumped in the bow, seemingly unsure of what to do.

  'Battle shock', Erin said to himself. The mercenary had seen it many times before. Looking back, he saw that the Slath longboat was gaining. Arrows still rained down, and the shore seemed to grow no closer as he paddled. Desperate, he tried to rouse the small figure in the bow.

  "Faith, lad! T'is no time to be a dreamin', or it's dead or worse we'll all soon be!"

  The little creature paid him no heed. Then a moan came from the stern, and Timin pushed himself upright.

  When Thorn saw that his life-long friend still lived, the wave of depression and self-doubt fell from him like a shroud. The sparkling fire that so often danced in his overlarge blue eyes returned. Calling out Timin's name, he once again took up his sling.

  Timin, awakened by the pain that had first caused him to swoon, pulled off his pack-sack and grunted a bitter laugh. "Right smack through my wheel of cheese!"

  "You're not hit bad then?!", Thorn beamed as the small sling whirled round his head.

  Timin's round face continued to grin. "It hurts something fierce, but I'll live --- at least for a while!"

  Thorn flashed a grin of his own and let fly. The stone took the Slath archer square in the forehead. The remaining slant-eyed Chin prudently ducked out of sight. As both Timin and Erin continued to paddle for the shore, Thorn spoke to the tall manling.

  "Your use of the Trade Tongue is strange to me, tall one. Have you a name?" The hint of mockery was back in his voice.

  Erin's dazzling smile rivaled the sunlight. "Aye, that I do, 'Sling-Wielder'! And a tale to tell along with it, but for now it's stout trees I'm needin' betwixt myself and yonder whore-droppings!"

  Thorn fitted another stone to his sling and flashed the tall 'manling with the song-like voice' a quick smile. "Then you'd best lean into that paddle, friend, or you'll not live to tell it!"

  ***

  Thorn was first out when their skiff finally touched the bank. The river, the Nal Verg-Loth, curled back around a small wooded point of land. The longboat was momentarily cut off from view, but still coming fast. Harsh Slath voices could be heard, with Nex's the loudest of them all.

  Erin dropped his paddle and jumped over the side, the cold water almost to his waist. The long, heavy chain trailed behind. As he was about to head for the shelter of the thick forest, Thorn leveled a three-pronged fish spear at the Erin's bare chest.

  "Tw
o of my friends are sore hurt, and I'll not leave them behind for the Slathers --- and neither will you!

  The prongs of the spear never wavered, and neither did the Kirkwean's stare. Erin shrugged, then turned back to the skiff and scooped Norgi up like a bundle of rags. Thorn waited till they had passed before going back to help Timin.

  "Right through the cheese!", Timin said. Though his grin was from ear to ear, Thorn could tell his cousin was in pain. Together they made the bank and hobbled after the tall 'manling' and his small bundle.

  ***

  Nex swore and struck the side of the longboat with his 'shim'. "After them! Find me their quiffing trail or don't come back!"

  The four remaining crewmembers scrambled to the grassy bank. Two others lay in the longboat; one was dead and the other had a shattered kneecap. Nex pointed his long 'shim' at the last one and told him to guard the boat, then all five waded into the thick forest.

  The morning sun did little to dispel the gloom under the tall pines and overhanging oaks and maples. Bush and bracken barred their way as the Slathlanders, more accustomed to the rolling plains or the open sea, trudged their way through the dense undergrowth.

  Nex motioned for the four to form two groups; Helmar and Garn to his left and Dashburn and Kel, the last remaining Chin archer, to his right. Watching his men move through the thick, green forest, the Captain of the Glitch Slath murmured to himself: "You're mine now, you motherless dog-offal! Soon I'll haul your ass back to the ship and then we shall see just how brave you are!"

  ***

  "Watch your step, manling, for you're about to put your big foot into a ware-trap."

  Erin, still carrying the half-conscious Norgi, froze where he stood. Looking down at the leaf-strewn ground, at first he saw nothing. Then, not a handspan from where he stood, he spotted a half-covered vine. Off to one side of the narrow trail he spied a tall, thin pine bent almost in half.

  Thorn, still supporting Timin, came up behind him. "Trip that line, 'friend', and you could end up with a broken leg. It might be best if I took the lead from here."