Rebels of Vulvar (Vulvarian Saga Book 2), стр. 28
The arrow from my bow with the three-edged bronze point had passed through the head of the warrior before losing itself somewhere distant. I didn’t think the officer realized what weapon had slain his warrior. He knew only the man had been alive and was now dead and bore two opposing bloody holes on either side of his head.
Uncertain and fearful, the warriors looked about into the darkness beyond their fires. The camp was quiet again. Taking the reins of my baacaas from Emer, I motioned her forward, and we led the animals further north along the line of tents. Now I heard shouts of confusion from south to north as the warriors on watch tried to pass the word to their comrades about the dead warrior.
Next to a campfire, I saw an officer listening, trying to make sense of the shouting and confusion. All the other warriors on watch were looking south to see what was the matter. Handing the reins of my mount back to Emer, I notched another arrow. Setting my feet with my heels aligned with the target, my body at a right angle to the target line, and my head turned to the left, I drew the bow. I took a breath, held it, and released the second arrow. The arrow passed completely through the body of the officer and then vanished in the brush beyond him. He fell face down beside the fire. The officer had not cried out, but a warrior standing near him screamed in fear when he saw the man fall.
Now there was much shouting and confusion. Someone sounded trumpets to raise the alarm, and warriors rubbing sleep from their eyes started stumbling out of the tents. Soon the rebel trumpets sounded up and down the length of the camp.
Throughout the night, unhurried, Emer and I, like prowling predators, moved up and down the line of the camp, and when it pleased me, I loosed other arrows from the great Vulvarian bow. After emptying the first quiver of arrows, I drew from the other. I struck first the officers I identified by the brushes of baacaas-hair on top of their helmets. As officers became harder to find, I targeted warriors.
More than an hour passed before the officers realized the campfires and torches back-lighted them and their men, making them easy targets. The officers gave orders, and warriors began dousing the campfires and extinguishing the flaming torches. Soon it was completely dark.
I supposed the rebels must have found some arrows and then understood the weapon used against them. Since Emer and I had attacked all along the length of the encampment, the officers must have wrongly assumed they faced many archers as they were reluctant to send their warriors out into the darkness with their shields and spears.
Once again, I handed the reins of my baacaas to Emer, and standing close to her whispered my instructions. “Take the baacaases back to the stream to the east,” I said. “Wait there for me until dawn. If I don’t appear with Cooke, ride for Thiva.”
“I will not leave you,” Emer argued.
“You must if I don’t return,” I said. “Either I will succeed, or the rebels will slay me. If it is the latter, I want you to escape. Understand?”
“Yes, commander,” Emer said with sadness.
“Good,” I said. “Are you skilled with the bow?”
“Yes,” Emer said.
I put the bow and quiver into her hands. “Then take these, I will not need them.”
“Please be careful,” Emer said. “Come back to me at the stream.”
“I will,” I said, drawing the katana. I turned away and stalked silently toward the caravans.
As I approached the camp, there was still much shouting and confusion. I could make out dark masses of warriors bunched together and milling about. A plan came to my mind for how I might add to the chaos.
At the edge of the camp, I came upon the dark outlines of two warriors. I swiftly approached them, plunged the point of the katana into the first, then withdrew the blade and slashed the other across the throat. Both fell at my feet. Reaching down, I loosed the short sword from the sheath of one man. Then I beat the flat side of it against the flat side of the katana, making the ringing sounds of blades being crossed by opposing warriors.
“The Thivans are among us!” I shouted as I continued striking blade against blade. “The Thivans are among us!”
The shouts and sounds of disorder nearby grew louder. Then, to my delight, I heard both spear points and swords striking shields, men cursing and shrieking in the darkness. The now terrified rebel warriors mistook friends for foes. I dipped in and out of the milling bodies, driving my blade into one warrior and then another.
“The Thivans are among us,” I shouted. “Fight!”
Others took up my call. There were more cries and clashing of steel. The turmoil swept through the camp like wildfire. When it seemed there was enough screaming and cursing, with care, I withdrew from the dark throngs of combatants and skirted the edges of the camp. Slowly, making no sound, I made my way toward the ringed caravans. When I got to them, I examined them one by one, trying to determine in the darkness, which was that of the Dabar. Checking the interiors one by one did not seem a wise tactic, as someone might raise the alarm before I located Cooke.
Disregarding the misgivings that had suddenly seized me, I approached the steps to the door of the caravan I intended to enter. From out