Tal kicked hard against the back of the leg of a man who turned away from him, causing him to stumble, throwing him off-balance, and forcing him to drop his shield, which allowed an Orodon warrior an opening in which to kill him.
For a moment, Tal was almost overwhelmed by three raiders who all turned to confront him at once so that he had to furiously parry three blows in blinding succession; but then the man on his left was struck from behind, the man on his right took an arrow in the shoulder, and once he faced the man in the center, Tal quickly dispatched him.
Dodging through the melee, he struck at two more men, missing one and turning himself around for an instant. He started to move to his left, for he had overbalanced and had an enemy behind him.
Detecting movement out of the corner of his left eye, he turned. Something exploded in his face, and the world turned a brilliant flash of yellow, then red. Then everything went dark.
Tal came back to consciousness as water was poured over his face. He blinked and found John Creed kneeling over him, a ladle of water in his hand. The sounds of battle were absent. There was shouting and some other noise, but no clash of arms, screams, or swearing.
“What happened?” he asked, trying to sit up. His head swam from the exertion.
“Easy,” said Creed as an Orodon woman helped Tal to sit up. “You got knocked out by the backswing of a sword. The bloke who brained you was rearing back to hit me. Caught you with the flat, else you’d be sitting up in Lims-Kragma’s hall.’’
At mention of the ill-fated deity, the Orodon woman said a word of prayer to appease the dark goddess.
“How long was I out?’’
“Only a few minutes,” said Creed, helping Tal to his feet. “Steady.”
Tal nodded and put his hand to his forehead. He could feel the bump rising, and the tenderness told him he was indeed lucky to be alive. “I’d rather be lucky than good,” he said, thinking of Pasko for the first time in months. He glanced around, “It’s over?’’
“This time they broke for real. Most of the ones here threw down their weapons and begged for quarter. The rest broke outside the gate and were shot down by archers. A few made it to the trees and got away.’’
“Raven?”
“He’s riding south, I suspect, as fast as his horse can carry him.’’
Tal looked around, and details began to resolve themselves. A dozen enemies were on their knees, their hands tied behind their backs. The raiders’ dead were being carried to a place near the gate and stacked like cordwood.
Several women were in tears, having found their husbands dead, and more than one man wept for a dead wife.
Jasquenel approached reverently. “You have saved my people, Talon of the Silver Hawk.’’
He spoke the Orodon language, so that John Creed didn’t understand it, but he could sense the gratitude in the man’s voice.
“I helped to avenge my people,” Tal answered in the Orosini language. Then in the Common Tongue, he said, “I need a horse.’’
“It will be done,” said Jasquenel. He shouted to a boy to fetch Tal a mount.
“What are you doing?” asked Creed.
“Going after Raven,” said Tal.
“You’ve been addled by that blow to the head. It’s night, he’ll have half an hour’s start on you by the time you get out of here, and he’s probably got some men riding with him.’’
Tal nodded. “I know, but I can track him.’’
“Track him? At night in these mountains?”
Jasquenel looked at Creed. “If he says he can track him, he can.’’
“Should I go with you?” John Creed asked.
“No. You’ll only slow me down.” Tal placed put his hand on Creed’s shoulder. “Thank you for everything, John. I would not have been able to help these people without your guidance.”
“You’re welcome, Tal. You have the makings of a fair captain. If you decide you’d like to run a company again, let me know. I’ll always be willing to serve with a man who’s not afraid to be in the van.’’
“My mercenary days are over. This was a one-time thing. In the baggage wagon you’ll find a small bag of gold coins. Divide it among the men as you see fit and keep some for yourself. Play captain long enough to get the lads back to Latagore, all right?’’
“I can do that.” Creed motioned to the dozen prisoners. “What do we do with them?’’
“What do you normally do when opposing mercenaries surrender?”
“If it’s up to us, we cut them lose with a parole they won’t fight against us, but usually it’s up to our employers.”
Tal turned to Jasquenel. “These are the men who slew my people. They would have burned your homes and murdered your women and children without mercy. You decide.’’
Jasquenel didn’t hesitate. He simply looked at the warriors who guarded the prisoners and said, “Kill them.’’
Before the prisoners could attempt to stand, each man had his head yanked back and his throat cut.