But before Stamos could reach his horse, he saw that he was surrounded. Short, fair warriors mounted on small, wild-looking horses now were spaced between the buildings, and detachments were trotting up the road.
Stamos cleared his throat. “Who is your leader?” He asked the question twice, first in Ehleeneekos, then in Merikan. When there was no answer, he added, “I am Lord Sub-lieutenant Stamos of Tchehrohkeespolis and the eldest son of my house. My father will pay a good ransom for my safe return.”
“Sorry,” said one of the horsemen, grinning, “we take no prisoners, Ehleen.”
After a full day and no word from die far western patrol, Captain Portos dispatched a full troop—one-hundred-twenty troopers, six sergeants, and three officers—on the route presumably taken by Stamos’ men. They rode through a deserted countryside, peopled only by small, wild things; the only animals, larger than a rabbit, that any of them saw was a brace of wild turkeys pacing across a burned field, the sunlight striking a bronzed sheen from their plumage.
They took time to fire the structures of the two empty villages, so it was well into early afternoon when they entered the third. Out of no more than curiosity, a sergeant rode over to see what sort of offal this well contained … and the missing patrol was found.
Troop-Lieutenant Nikos was a veteran. After thoroughly searching the empty buildings, he posted three platoons in a tight, dismounted guard about the village perimeter, with another platoon standing to horse in a central location. The other two platoons were detailed to the grisly task of raising the bodies from the well.
When twenty nude corpses lay in ordered rows, Nikos examined them closely. Only four bore marks of violence: young Stamos’ skull had been cleft to the eyes by a sword blow; the wound in the sergeant’s back had been made by an arrow; two of the troopers had had their
throats cut. There was no single wound upon the cold flesh of any of the remaining sixteen!
Nikos sent his best tracker on a wide swing around the village and a trail was sighted, headed across the charred fields, due west, toward the mountains.
Nikos recalled the guard, mounted the troop, and trotted them to the wide swath of disturbed ashes. “How many?” he demanded of the tracker. “How long ago?” Swinging from his saddle, the tracker eyed the trail critically, then switched the buzzing flies from a pile of horse droppings and thrust his finger into one of them, gauging the degree of warmth. “Between fifty and sixty horses, Lord Nikos, but not all bore riders. They are a day ahead of us.”
“Were any of the horses ours?” asked Nikos needlessly, already knowing the answer.
“Close to half, Lord Nikos, bore shoes of our pattern. As for the shoe pattern of the other horses, which were smaller animals, I have never seen the like. They were not shaped by Karaleenoee,” the tracker stated emphatically.
Nikos sighed. Nothing to be gained in following a day-old trail into unfamiliar territory with only one troop of light cavalry.
Returning to the village, they hastily distributed the score of corpses amongst the wooden houses, then fired them. They had only been on the return journey for a half hour however, when suddenly, without warning, four troopers fell from their saddles, dead.
When it was pointed out to the troop-lieutenant that these had been the four men who had labored in the depths of the well, affixing the ropes to corpse after cold corpse that their comrades might draw the burdens up, he brusquely ordered that none touch these bodies more. Leaving the men where they had fallen, he had the gear cut off their mounts, then set out for camp at a fast canter, his skin prickling under his armor at the thought of pestilence.
Despite King Zenos’ fears of dissension, High-Lord Milo’s horseclansmen and the mountain tribesmen of Karaleenos worked well and willingly together, far better than either group did with regular troops; their mutual dislike and distrust of the lowland Ehleenoee bound them together as much as did the war practices they shared and the fact that both faced a common foe.