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The Tervola had the combat training of every soldier of Shinsan. And he had
staying power, though Ragnarson was stronger. They rolled and kicked and
gouged, and Bragi bit. He kept trying to yank the man's mask off so he could
go for his eyes.
That usually put a superior opponent on the defensive. And this Tervola was a
better fighter than he.
The extra soldier almost got Dantice. But Nepanthe stabbed him from behind,
turned on Aral's antagonist, stabbed him too. Aral muttered, "We're even,
lady," recovered his sword, took a wild chop at the head of Michael's
opponent.
Meanwhile, the Fadema recovered and fled.
Ragnarson got a thumb under the golden mask. By then he was sure he was dead.
The Tervola had a hold of his neck and he was losing consciousness.
Dantice and Trebilcock closed in. The Tervola saw them. The Power was dead.
There was nothing he could do. He threw himself after the Fadema. His mask
remained in Bragi's hand.
Dantice helped Ragnarson up. "That was close. Mike, better make sure of those
guys."
"But...."
"Never mind. I'll do it." While Nepanthe and Trebilcock supported Ragnarson,
he cut throats. "I don't understand you, Mike. It ain't beer and skittles. It
ain't no chess game. You want to come out alive, you got to be meaner than the
other guy. And you don't leave him alive behind you."
Ragnarson groaned. Nepanthe massaged his neck. "See if any of our people are
outside. We'll have half an army on us in a minute."
Dantice leaned out the window. "Nope. They're all down the street."
"You and Michael pile stuff in front of the door. No. Let me go! I'm okay.
I'll make something to lower Nepanthe down."
"Wait!" she protested. "What about Ethrian?"
Bragi hurt. It made him cranky. "What do you want me to do? We've got to get
out of here first. Then we'll worry about Ethrian."
She kept arguing. He ignored her. There was a racket in the hall already.
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A party of Marena Dimura came up the street as he dropped his rope of torn
blankets. "You men. Hold up. It's me. The Marshall. Aral, hand me that lamp."
He illuminated his face. "Hang onto the end of that down there, and stand by."
Several Wesson bowmen joined the Marena Dimura. They stood around watching.
"Nepanthe, come here."
Still complaining, she obeyed. He turned his back. "Put your arms around my
neck and hang on."
"You'd better let me do that," Dantice offered.
"I can handle it. I'm not all the way over the hill." He did leave his sword
belt, though, remembering what a hazard it had been coming up.
Going down was a pain too. He hadn't made it halfway before he wished his
pride had let him yield to Dantice.
"Hurry up," said Trebilcock. "The door's giving."
Dantice started down the instant Bragi's feet hit pavement. He came like a
monkey.
"Boy, you'd make a good burglar."
"I am a good burglar." They watched Trebilcock lever himself over the window
sill.
Someone yelled inside. Michael stared, then threw himself aside, barely
managing to cling to the ledge.
Men appeared in the window.
"Bowmen," said Ragnarson. "Cover him."
Arrows streaked through the window. The Argonese withdrew, cursing. Ragnarson
asked the Marena Dimura captain, "Where's Colonel Ahring?"
The man shrugged. "Around."
"Yeah. Michael, hurry up." Trebilcock had reached the lower ledge. Someone
upstairs was throwing things out the window. A vase smashed at Bragi's feet.
Trebilcock kicked away from the wail and dropped the last fifteen feet,
grunting as he hit cobblestones. "Damn. I twisted my ankle."
"Teach you to show off," Aral growled.
"Come on," said Ragnarson. "Back to the wall. You men. Go on wherever you were
going."
Ahring had left. His men had penetrated the Fadem deeply in several
directions. Runners said some defenders were fleeing the fortress for the
city.
Haaken had arrived. He was directing operations now.
"What's happening?" Ragnarson asked.
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"They're running. All our people are in now. But we've got a problem. Most of
those Necremnens are heading out. We'll be in big trouble if we don't win
this."
"Michael, where's the nearest causeway?"
Trebilcock leaned over the battlements. "Upriver a quarter-mile."
"Haaken, scare up some men and grab it. Michael. Is there a causeway Reskird
could use?"
"Inside his area. Shouldn't be any problem."
Ragnarson stared northward. The entire apex of the island seemed to be
burning. The rain had let up. Nothing held the flames in check.
"Getting bad up there," he observed. "Could be as rough for Reskird as the
Argonese."
"Bragi." Haaken had unrolled a crude map atop a merlon. He shaded an area with
charcoal. "This's what we've taken. Half." Dark salients stuck out like greedy
fingers. There were white islands throughout the area already captured.
"How're they fighting?"
"Us or them?"
"Both."
"Our guys are having fun. Theirs.... Depends on the unit. The officers, I
guess. Some are tromping each other trying to get away. Some won't budge. I'd
say our chances of carrying it are better than even. But then we'll have to
hold off counterattacks while we mop up."
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