At the moment, the thirty men of the company were lounging in doorways or under the overhang at the wall, saving their energy for the coming battle. Tal had sent ten men each to the next two villages up the line, with the engineers, to bolster their defenses.
By all rumor more than one company was moving north, probably two; perhaps three. Tal was occasionally visited by the fear that Raven and his gang would raid another village, leaving Queala to a different band and robbing him of the chance for revenge. He tried to put that out of his mind and be content to let fate bring him what it would. Either way, he would save the Orodon from the fate of the Orosini. Eventually, he would find Raven and those others who had wronged his people—if not in this next battle, then the next, or one after that.
“The signal,” said Jasquenel suddenly.
Tal looked where Jasquenel indicated and saw sunlight flash from a mirror. He waited and counted, and when the signal started to repeat, he said, “Two hundred horsemen coming though the southern pass.” He calculated quickly. “Less than an hour. Creed!” he shouted.
“Yes, Captain?’’
“Two hundred riders coming from the south!’’
Creed nodded, knowing that every man in the village had heard that. “We’re ready.’’
Tal nodded. They were ready. Orodon warriors were even now making their way along the palisades, holding both their own weapons and the new swords and bows that Tal had brought in one of his two wagons. As Tal had guessed, like his own people, the Orodon harbored a collection of weaponry that ranged from the merely serviceable to the downright useless. Many swords were family treasures which had been handed down from father to son, with an accompanying story as to how each nick and crack had been earned. Heavy with honor, they would fail as soon as the first blow was struck.
And while the Orodon might have good hunting bows, war bows were better. The men of Queala were not stupid; they tossed aside their own short bows for the new composite recurved bows Tal had purchased in Roldem from a trader from Kesh. The first time he had seen one of those was when Rondar had used one, for it was the favorite weapon of the Ashunta when on horseback. Made from laminated bone and wood, cured to curve one way, then curved back on itself, it was a short bow with stunning power. In the hands of a strong bowman, it could punch an arrow through light armor like a crossbow. And Tal had brought crossbows, too. A dozen Orodon women stood in doors in the village, armed with them. Should the gate fail and the riders enter the stockade, they would be ambushed from every building they passed.
The older children were also armed. Any child over the age of ten carried a short blade, and the older girls and boys also had been shown how to crank, load, and fire the crossbows. Tal had to explain only once, around the first campfire the first night, what had happened to the women and children of his village to convince the men to put aside their tradition of hiding their families in the round house. The Orodon men were loving husbands and fathers: swiftly they helped their wives and children prepare to fight.
Creed left the south wall, crossed the compound, and climbed the ladder to stand next to Tal. “I wish you’d let me take half a dozen lads into the woods, Captain.’’
“I know, and if I hadn’t sent twenty men to the other villages, I’d gladly let you.’’
“It will break them if we hit ’em in the arse when they’re on the verge of being repulsed. I know mercenaries, and while Raven may be a murdering loon, some of his boys will quit if it looks like they’re going to be slaughtered. Not all of them think they’re invincible.”
“We can harry them from here.’’
“Well, I’ll say it one more time,” said Creed. “Those pits that keep them out, they keep us in.” He pointed to where the twig marked the safe route. “We’ve got to go there and then over to the rock to get out, and if they’ve dropped some lads into the pits, they’ll see that. Raven can put three bowmen over there”—he indicated a place of relative safety in the trees—“to keep us bottled up while he regroups. If we don’t kill at least half his men, it’ll be a siege, and it won’t take that murderous bastard long to realize it.” Suddenly he paused and sniffed the air. “Smoke!’’
Jasquenel also said, “Yes! Pitch smoke.’’
“They mean to burn us out,” Tal said grimly. “They fired my village as they came in.” He turned and shouted in Orodon, “Bowmen! Target the riders with torches first!” Then he repeated the order in the Common Tongue. A general acknowledgment came from the bowmen on the wall. Tal turned to John Creed. “You’d better get back to the south wall. They’re going to hit us here and there, I’m certain.’’
Creed nodded and returned to his post. Moments later a sentry at the southwest corner of the stockade shouted, “Movement in the trees!” and suddenly horsemen erupted from the woods, racing into the clearing.