The Chronicles: Notomol Ch. 06

Old Yadha could only shake his head in disbelief. "Ye don' shit where you eat." he would say - over and over.

The mercenaries, it seemed, were simply too lazy to go outside the walls to do their business. Notomol helped to encourage that practice, by having us ambush anyone who used the latrine after dusk.

Once they'd found two of their brethren dead - and one of them had fallen into the latrine - the invaders were even less likely to leave their camp.

Twice they came out in force, to chase away the rebel bandits. I don't think that they ever realized that we were there in force, because they sent only a few score men. It was a simple enough matter to evade them. Notomol was happy to let them continue to believe that only a handful of men were harassing them.

Yadha knew which stream fed two of the wells inside the steading. Notomol fouled the stream with the body of a dead mercenary, and then that of a dead pony.

Then he moved us away again, back to the environs of Dienik's steading.

This was home for Nelime, Orsho, and several members of our band. They'd captured the steading, and massacred its Izumyrian garrison. Many months later, Vidrik and his men had successfully ambushed the Izumyrians who were rebuilding it.

It had been re-occupied, by almost 150 mercenaries under the command of a Captain named Lamorad. This group, at least, observed better camp discipline, and didn't foul their own nest.

We had barely 45 fighters. But Notomol was undaunted. His confidence and his inventiveness had returned. Many of us credited Marmos with the change in our friend. The disfigured young man attached himself to Notomol, and followed him everywhere. He was a capable archer, too. It was a comfort for Senderra, Nelime and me to think that Notomol had a good fellow watching his back - even if it was with only one eye.

Lamorad's mercenaries were foraging for food again. They had to, to supplement the insufficient supplies they'd brought with them.

We caught one party unawares. There were 25 of them. They had no idea, apparently, that we were in the area. The first volley from our archers surprised them. The second was less effective, but it did focus their attention on us. Orsho and our fighters took them in the rear.

Dubek was kept out of it, by the simple expedient of having Dusca sit on him. With only one arm, he wasn't able to get past her.

Orsho's charge broke the mercenaries, and it was every man for himself after that. Half of the survivors surrendered; half of them ran. That made it a field day for the archers. I don't believe that any of them escaped us.

We took seven prisoners. Two of them turned out to be Hvadi. Orsho knew one of the men. They were former members of the Hospodar Dienik's druzhina. They'd followed his sons to Hvad town, to make their peace with the Izumyrians. These two had elected to fight alongside the invaders.

- "You know these men, Orsho?" asked Notomol.

- "I thought that I knew one of them." said Nelime's warrior. "But I was wrong."

- "Nelime!" called out the Hvadi turncoat. "You know me!"

- "To my great shame, I do." she said.

We hanged the mercenaries - just as they would have hanged us. But Notomol was less kind to Hvadi traitors. He gave them to Marmos and Cirola. To my great shame, I didn't want to know what happened to them.

I did hear their screams, though.

***

It took a major effort on our part, but Notomol had us gather all of the dead mercenaries, and bury them in the woods.

As far as Captain Lamorad could tell, his foraging party had simply disappeared. He was no fool, though: he organized a second party of 25 men, and then followed it with 60 more, so that he could catch us just as Arnger had trapped Vidrik.

Notomol let the foragers go through, and then ambushed the main body. Archers only - we fired several shots, downing six or seven of them. Lamorad organized his men, and then advanced on us.

We drew them into the woods.

There were a dozen mercenary archers, looking for a target to shoot at. They were leery of following us into the trees - a wise decision on their part. But as Lamorad's infantry pursued us into the woods, they left their archers alone.

Orsho and our fighters fell on them like wolves on lambs. Some of the mercenary archers got off one shot; we lost one man. After that, it was a slaughter. Three of the enemy archers ran fast enough to escape.

The fighters were very considerate: they stopped long enough to pick up half a dozen good bows, along with almost 200 arrows.

It was a classic Notomol engagement. We lost three men; the mercenaries lost nearly thirty. Dubek was furious, because he'd been kept out of another fight, but his complaints were a small price to pay.

Captain Lamorad was clearly flummoxed. We'd hit his men hard, and their confidence in him was shaken. I don't know, exactly, how mercenaries choose their leaders. They aren't noblemen, like in Izumyr - that much I do know. Whispers reached us that Lamorad was under pressure. His men were questioning his leadership. He needed some kind of success to restore confidence in his abilities.

Notomol and I - with the ever-present Marmos right behind us - were watching Dienik's stronghold one morning. I suspect that Notomol was trying to get inside Captain Lamorad's head. What would the mercenary do next? Better still, what could he be tempted into doing next?

Lamorad had a camp to defend: it contained his horses, and supplies for his men and their mounts. The log walls had been broken in multiple places, though, so that he had no continuous barrier to shelter behind. At night, dozens of men patrolled their perimeter with torches; they were obviously concerned by the possibility of a night attack.

It was something that Notomol had considered, and rejected. There were simply too many mercenaries, and less than half of our band were trained or well-equipped enough to engage them directly. We were seeking another way to bring them out, onto ground of our own choosing.

We were scouting just to the east of the steading, early that morning. Meanwhile the bulk of our band were camped behind a ridge on the western side. When I looked back in that direction, I saw a sudden flash, as the rising sunlight reflected off metal.

- "Did you see that?" I said.

- "I most certainly did." said Notomol, with a big grin.

***

The reflection we'd seen had been caused by Dusca, standing atop the ridge with her huge, broad-bladed spear. She apologized profusely for her error - and was quite surprised when Notomol thanked her.

He organized a test the very next morning; he and I (with Marmos, of course) returned to the east side of the steading, while Dubek and a group of fighters (including Dusca) paraded across the crest of the ridge. We could clearly see the sun sparkling off their helmets and weapons.

- "Beautiful." said Notomol.

***

Lamorad might have seen the sunlight reflecting from Dusca's spear. He had to have seen - or been told of - the reflection from Dubek's group, who had walked up and down the top of the ridge with drawn swords, wearing captured Izumyrian helmets.

The next morning, and every day after that, we arranged a display for Captain Lamorad, using the captured helmets (polished until they positively shone), with a few captured spears for good measure.

He had to act. And on the fourth day, he did. Lamorad led three quarters of his remaining troops out of Dienik's steading, and drove straight for the ridge.

We had only a dozen archers, but Notomol had deployed us well. We were able to let the leading rank close to within twenty yards before we fired our first shot.

It was a devastating attack.

Our second shots, following immediately upon the first, were equally effective. Between the two volleys, half a dozen mercenaries were killed; half a dozen more were wounded.

With whoops and wild yells, we ran away, deeper into the forest.

The mercenaries split into two groups: the first, refusing to be distracted, drove towards the ridge, while the second came after us, chasing us through the trees.

Twice, we deliberately let the pursuers get close, and then turned to fire arrows at them. On the second occasion, we caught them standing still in a clearing, wondering which path we'd taken. Three or four mercenaries were killed outright before we ran off again, howling and whooping.

The archers disengaged. We melted into the woods, following lesser-known tracks that Yadha had shown us. The mercenaries, with their armour and their shields, simply couldn't keep pace with us. They feared the forest, too; they were afraid of being separated from their companions, or of being ambushed.

Lamorad discovered that he had to circle the ridge before he could climb it. One force pursued us, and paid dearly for that privilege; the other mercenary group, exhausted from their long run and climb, found nothing but the empty helmets we'd placed atop spears, planted in the earth.

Meanwhile, Orsho and Nelime led their second attack on the ruins of her father's steading. Lamorad had left behind 30 of his men, who were clearly not expecting any trouble. We had only the slightest edge in numbers, but the advantage of surprise was complete.

Our men were inside the steading before the remaining mercenaries even knew they were there. The enemy's attention was apparently fixed to the east: they were watching the ridge for signs of activity. Their doom came from the west.

No serious resistance developed; the mercenaries ran away, or they died. The only senior officer left in the steading was apparently killed in the first rush.

Our fighters dispatched wounded enemies, killed the remaining horses, and then looted the food stores. They destroyed or fouled what they couldn't carry away. For good measure, they set fire to anything that would burn.

They were gone long before Lamorad and his tired troopers could return.

***

We met up again some four leagues north of the steading. Our reunion was ... odd, to say the least.

Orsho was guarding two prisoners, who were sitting on the ground, cowering in fear. The big warrior's sword was drawn, but he had his back to them. Nelime was there, too, and so was Dubek, who appeared to be furious.

The fighters should have been celebrating their victory - instead, we saw angry looks everywhere. We could feel the tension in the air.

- "What's going on?" demanded Notomol

No one would answer him, until he reached the centre of the group, where Orsho and Nelime stood guard over the pair of terrified captives. That was when I saw that the 'prisoners' were two disheveled and bedraggled young women.

Dubek was the first to speak. He was so annoyed that he was practically spitting.

- "It's bad enough you keep me out of the action, making me play nursemaid to Nelime. But now, having to stand guard over these two sluts - it's enough to turn my stomach!"

Notomol ignored him. He looked instead to Nelime.

- "They were going to rape them." she said. "They're Hvadi, Notomol."

Senderra growled, and drew an arrow. She didn't say anything, but her meaning was quite clear. Her brother took a deep breath. Then he went to one knee in the dirt, beside the prisoners. He spoke softly to them.             

Then he stood, and called out.

- "Every man - here! NOW!"

I'd never seen him like this. Even Dubek was silenced, for the moment.

Slowly, sulkily - like reprimanded children about to be punished more severely - the men gathered around Notomol. No one wanted to come too close. Nor did they dare to directly meet his eye.

- "How do you feel when we find the bodies of innocent people, slain by the mercenaries?" he demanded. "How do you feel when we find the women they've raped, and then killed?"

He looked at each man in turn. None of them returned his gaze.

"It's worse than wrong. It's one of the lowest things a man can do. How do you want me to explain this to Adrastas? Do you want him to immortalize your courage in a song?"

That was hitting them hard. But Notomol was in no mood to go easy on them.

"We've found Hvadi men pulling carts for the invaders. Did we mark them down as turncoats? Traitors? These young women are Hvadi, damn you! You should be protecting them - not threatening to violate them again!"

He was still angry. The members of our band could feel it. No one said a word. But Notomol was wise enough to stop once he'd made his point. There was nothing to be gained by insulting them any further.

He turned to Dubek, and spoke more softly.

- "I asked you to protect Nelime because she needs it. I trusted you to do that. You have a broken arm, and you're not ready to fight again - not yet. On the day that you can once again outrun Orsho, and arm-wrestle me with your left arm, I will welcome you back to the front rank." said Notomol. "But you're too valuable to risk, Dubek. I know that, even if you don't."

***

The two young women were victims. They'd been captured by the mercenaries, and treated as slaves. They'd been beyond hope, almost unable to feel any more pain or degradation. Notomol decided to send them into the hills at the first opportunity, but he couldn't spare Yadha Snakehand to guide them - not at that moment.

Captain Lamorad had lost another 30 men, and had at least 10 wounded. His encampment had been taken, his supplies pilfered or destroyed. His present position was untenable.

Three days after the Battle of the Shiny Helmets (as we called it), the mercenaries evacuated Dienik's steading, and marched south, towards the Ban's hold. They had less than 100 men, and a dozen of those were wounded. Most of the injured were being carried in carts, drawn by horses.

Lamorad had archers leading the way, and a mounted force of 20 or so bringing up the rear, from whence they could ride to assist any part of their column which was attacked.

Except that Notomol struck at their rear.

Big men on big horses made lovely targets. Only one rider was unhorsed by our first shots, but the Izumyrian mounts did not take well to being struck by arrows.

Our second volley did critical damage. Another rider was killed outright, while two more were thrown by their panic-stricken horses.

The remainder of the cavalrymen quickly galloped away, toward the head of the column. This created immense confusion along the path they were following. One of the carts carrying wounded men tipped over as its driver tried to make way for the fleeing riders.

Then Orsho led a charge into the rear of the mercenaries' column. It was a hit and run attack - maximum damage in the shortest possible time.

Lamorad did just about the only thing he could: he sent his archers to the rear, to protect the vulnerable tail of his retreating force.

We left them alone for the hottest part of the day, while we ran ahead. In the late afternoon, though, we struck again. It was a simple matter of lying in wait, in the shade, until the enemy rear drew close to where we were hidden.

The mercenary archers had only the briefest of warnings. Three of them were killed instantly by our first volley, and two more were wounded.

The survivors searched for targets, or rushed their shots, firing blind into the trees. It was decidedly not a fair fight. We had cover, and could see them clearly, while the enemy were still trying to locate where we were.

Several more mercenaries were wounded - one fellow was struck by three of our arrows, but none of them were fatal.

We were unlucky. Two of our archers - one a friend of Olari, the other a friend of Doreg's - were killed. Yadha Snakehand tripped over a tree root, and injured himself. Two more of our archers were slightly wounded.

But the mercenaries had erred, when they chose to shoot it out with us. Three more were killed, and another wounded. The last few ran up the path, looking for shelter among their comrades.

There was no protection at all, now, for the tail of the mercenary column. They simply didn't dare charge into the trees, unsure of how many men we had lying in wait. Instead, they abandoned the dead archers, clustered together more tightly, and raised their shields.

We had time, and we had arrows. Our fighters plundered the bodies of the fallen mercenaries, and brought even more arrows forward as we continued to harry the rear of the mercenary column.

I could almost find it within me to pity Lamorad's men. They had no way to respond to our incessant attacks. A man fell here; another was wounded there. The last few archers didn't dare expose themselves; the one who did went down immediately with three arrows in his body.

But I wasn't about to forget who these mercenaries were - or what they'd done. Murderers. Rapists. Thieves. They deserved absolutely no mercy - and that was precisely what we gave them.

Well before dusk, the tail collapsed; those men at the rear had had enough. They abandoned their wounded, ignored the carts, and sprinted up the path. Their panic infected everyone else. Within moments, the entire mercenary force was running or galloping for safety. It was like a wounded animal, thrashing about in its death throes.

Orsho's fighters fell upon the stricken beast with a vengeance. The harrying of the column turned into a massacre.

They were mercenaries. We took no prisoners.

Captain Lamorad had been in command at Dienik's steading with 150 men.

He reached the Ban's steading with a little over 30.

***

We didn't kill all of Lamorad's men. Some of the mercenaries left the road, and took to the fields, or went into the woods. From the shadows and out of the haunted darkness, the survivors of Stonje came forth with knives and hatchets, to claim their vengeance.

We had thought that the entire area had been depopulated. But people emerged from their hiding places, asking to join us. There were over thirty non-combatants. Notomol asked Yadha Snakehand to lead them deeper into the woods, where they could find safety. The two Hvadi girls that Nelime and Orsho had protected from rape went with them.

- "One was from Adarion; the other was from Hvad town - can you believe it?" said Senderra.

I didn't know what to say. My heart went out to them, but I couldn't even begin to imagine what they had endured.

Senderra (loudly) and Evane (silently) made much of Inita, and her performance in the harrying of Lamorad's column. My former pupil had distinguished herself, and was now accepted as an archer.

Inita smiled shyly at me. I didn't know quite what to say to her - nor she to me, apparently.

A dozen fighters joined our band, including three archers. These were people well-versed in the art of survival, thirsty for revenge. Our band now swelled to over fifty.

Adrastas and Obran rejoined us. The old guslar was thinner, and a little more ragged. Hiding under hedgerows and sleeping in ditches had been hard on him. But his prestige - his authority, if you will - had grown. His songs were known, and people sang along. Our new recruits joined in, without being asked:

Wind and water, 'pon the stone ... Wear them down, wear them down

Leave their bones to feed the land ... Wear them down, wear them out

Borna's like will walk again ...

I found the verses strangely moving. I knew that Notomol was uncomfortable with that last line; too many people looked his way, expecting him to stand revealed as the next Borna - which he was not. He didn't want to lead. The responsibility was enormous, and Notomol only accepted a part of it, with the greatest reluctance.

But he took on the burden of leadership the same way he did everything else: to the very best of his abilities. It was Yadha who'd suggested that we had to be careful with some of the new recruits.