DAUGHTERS
OF THE SKY
Episode 1 The Slavers of El
Arish
Chapter
2 Ambush
Mahmoud Ben Aben checked the position of his men. They were arranged as he had planned, the mercenary scum distributed amongst the boulders overlooking the road and his reserve force hidden under the massive rock overhang that dominated this stretch of the Dwarven road. It was a perfect spot for an ambush. From the road the position of his men was completely concealed and from above his reserve force was entirely invisible; and it was the above concealment that most concerned him.
He stroked his beard as he went over his plans for the hundredth time. For a decade this venture had dominated his life. It had been ten years of planning and spying; ten years of lining up partners; and ten years of recruiting and cajoling to finally put this expedition together. And yet, in spite of his best efforts everything could go wrong in an instant if there was the slightest flaw in his plans.
Everything depended on the actions of others and that was a situation he had never let himself get into before. However, in this case he had no choice. If his plan was to succeed his victims had to cooperate with him. It was a scheme so daring and foolhardy that he had staked his fortune, his reputation, and his life on its outcome.
Looking back, he realized that what had begun as a flight of fancy in a public house had become an insane obsession, one that would probably result in his death. He permitted himself a smile; it was fortunate that none of the men who followed him knew any of this. Men generally did not like being told that they were marked for almost certain death.
“What’s so damned funny?”
Ben Aben did not start at the voice; he had heard the speaker’s spiked boots rasping on the stone as he approached.
Without turning he answered. “Am I not permitted to smile at the thought of ten year’s work coming to fruition?”
Jarl Steelforge, grunted. Like all Dwarfs, his conversational skills were limited and he was completely lacking in a sense of humour. He was also bad tempered to a degree that made him exceptional, even for one of his naturally cantankerous race. During their five year acquaintance Ben Aben could not recall a single time he had ever seen the Dwarf smile. If he had not been necessary to the success of the enterprise he would have had the Dwarf killed years ago.
“You’d best be less confident and more wary,” Steelforge snarled. “It will be no picnic taking out the escort. Not if it’s commanded by my cousin.”
“I have over a hundred men and the advantage of surprise,” Ben Aben replied. “That should be enough.”
“They’re scum. And those half-naked pygmies you dredged up aren’t going to be of the least use. You better hope that Gron Ironhand is still as stupid as I remember.”
“Well,” Ben Aben shrugged, “We’re committed now. I doubt I could call off the attack if I wanted to. My men wouldn’t let me.”
“That’s because you didn’t hire a single decent fighting man. Just street sweepings.”
The Dwarf spat at Ben Aben’s feet an obvious insult that he chose to ignore. With any luck the Dwarf would be dead in less than an hour. At least he would if everything went according to plan.
“Well,” Be Aben said, “I hired you to command them. I suggest you take your place before the convoy arrives.”
Steelforge spat again, but didn’t argue. He had too much invested in the venture to let it fail out of pure malevolence. Turning on his heel he marched to the command position among the boulders. Ben Aben smiled again. The Dwarf would be right in the thick of the most deadly fighting. He doubted that he would still be alive at the end of the day.
“He is a bad man, that one. If he does not die I may kill him.”
Ben Aben looked down at the small yellow-skinned man who had come up to join him. The slender Juarian warrior appeared diminutive compared to the heavily built Dwarf, but he also knew that such appearances were incredibly deceptive. The fifty Juarian warriors hidden under the overhang were going to win this battle for him.
“I won’t stand in your way,” Ben Aben replied. “Consider it part of your payment.”
“My payment is the return of the Moon Child and the iron weapons you promised,” the Juarian answered.
“You will have them, and the Moon Child as promised.”
The yellow-skinned warrior nodded, his face impassive. During the time Ben Aben had known Kikara, he had never seen his expression change. But he had learned to read the Juarian chief’s body language. He would do his part and the girl he called the Moon Child would be returned to him. It was a sacrifice Ben Aben could afford to make; after all he had more than enjoyed the girl’s charms for the last three years. And now that she had tripled her weight he no longer took her to his bed any more. The Juarians were more than welcome to their chubby princess.
One of the mercenaries was running toward him. “The Dwarfs are just a mile down the road. They’ll be here in half an hour.”
“Excellent. Resume your position. We’ll catch them completely off-guard.”
The mercenary gave a sloppy salute and headed back to his position. Ben Aben raised his eyes skyward. He could have cared less about the position of the Dwarven caravan. It was what was high above him that most interested him. With luck in less than an hour his long years of planning would finally bear fruit.
Delendria turned Fire back into the wind in a long slow circle. Below her she could see that the ambush was still in place. The brigands had chosen their spot well, selecting a narrow uphill slope to stage their ambush. They held the high ground and a heavy overhang hid their exact numbers. However, they had reckoned without the gryphons and their riders.
Asharia had actually spotted the ambush first and had signaled immediately to Delendria. Then both maidens had circled back toward the Dwarven caravan and landed just in front of it to deliver their message. For the first time the Dwarfs actually seemed pleased with their Elven escort, although Kran Firetong, the caravan master, did his best to hide his pleasure.
“Keep watch and let me know if anything changes,” he instructed, “but keep well clear of the action. I do not wish to have two Elves getting in the way of those who know how to fight.”
Mindful of the fact that she was not supposed to create a diplomatic incident, Asharia refrained from giving the smug Dwarf a piece of her mind or commenting on the fact that all Dwarfs seemed to be named after chunks of metal. Instead she swung back onto her mount and swept into the air, leaving the caravan master standing in a cloud of dust and debris swept up by the gryphon’s wings.
As she gained altitude she exchanged a quick smile with her sister. “Cretinous satyr,” she murmured. “One day I’ll give those Dwarfs a lesson in manners.”
With powerful beats of their wings the gryphons swept upward, gaining altitude until from the ground they appeared little more than two dots in the sky. From there it was unlikely that the brigands they were observing would have any idea that their ambush had been detected. From the ground the gryphons would appear to be no more than high flying birds.
From their vantage point the two Elves were able to see the Dwarfs preparing a trap of their own. The ambushers were about to be ambushed. A small party of Dwarfs had split off from the caravan and were making their cautious way around the ambush to come at it from the other side. There were only ten Dwarfs in the party, but ten angry Dwarfs were worth several dozen Men in battle. The brigands would never know what hit them.
On the road, the caravan had slowed to give the Dwarfs circling around the ambush time to get into position. As arranged the Dwarfs were pretending to fix a wheel on one of the ten carts they were escorting while the other Dwarfs got into position. It was not a particularly easy operation. The Dwarfs had to make their way out of the steep-sided ravine and across the rugged wooded divide in between. However, if any race was suited to that task it was the Dwarfs. With an alacrity that Asharia and Delendria found amazing, the ten Dwarfs scrambled up the cliff in full armour and began to work their way into position.
It took about an hour for the Dwarfs to circle around the ambush. In the meantime Asharia and Delendria waited impatiently and the main party of Dwarfs made their slow way up the road toward the ambush. Both maidens were itching to get into the fight, but were mindful of the caravan master’s instructions. Frustrated, they circled high above watching for the battle to begin.
By now the Dwarfs had almost reached the ambush. At this point the road narrowed as it topped a rise. Anyone passing the ambush site would be bottled up in a narrow defile and set upon from above. However, the Dwarfs had no intention of being caught in the defile. As they approached the exact spot the Dwarven column suddenly stopped, drew their heavy battle axes, and then with a shout charged up the slope toward the ambushers.
Their ambush discovered, the Men crouching behind the cluster of boulders rose and hurled a shower of missiles at the charging Dwarfs. For all the good they did, however, they might just as well have been throwing peas. The heavily armoured Dwarfs shed the missiles like ducks shedding water and plunged into their attackers, their heavy axes swinging wildly.
The ambushers should still have had the advantage. They outnumbered the forty Dwarfs charging toward them and held the high ground, and for a few minutes it looked as if they might hold their own. Fighting uphill, the Dwarven advance slowed and then more Men poured into the line, reinforcing the ambushers. Outnumbered four to one, the Dwarfs fell back, but managed to keep their line intact. Sensing victory the ambushers surged forward, and then the ten Dwarfs who had circled behind the ambush charged into the rear of the attackers, screaming their battle cry.
Ten Dwarfs did not amount to much, but the psychological impact of their arrival gave them an impetus much greater than their numbers. With cries of terror, many of the enemy fled the field without even waiting to see how many Dwarfs there were. Others turned to fight, held for a short time, and then went down beneath Dwarven axes as the Dwarfs closed in on them from both sides, fighting with a seemingly inexhaustible fury.
All of this Asharia and Delendria saw perfectly. As soon as the battle had begun they had dropped from their observation height to just a few hundred feet above the ground. They now knew why the Dwarfs were regarded as some of the most fearsome fighters in all of Lemuria. Outnumbered four or five to one, and fighting from a disadvantageous position the Dwarfs had routed the ambushers.
In a way it was a disappointing outcome. The Elven maidens had hoped that the Dwarfs might need just a little bit of their assistance, but it now appeared that the battle was over. And then something unexpected happened. As the Dwarfs surged forward almost the entire front line went down as if struck by an invisible hand.
The Dwarven advance halted and then the Dwarfs in the other ranks began to fall. As Asharia and Delendria watched in amazement, the Dwarven victory vanished and the Dwarfs pulled back onto the road, half their number down and others continuing to fall. It was all the invitation the two Shebaria needed. Like angels of death the Elven maidens and their gryphons swept toward the battlefield.
Sky and Fire shrieked their terrifying battle cry, while Asharia and Delendria readied their bows. Swooping just above the heads of the combatants, the huge avians and their riders were a frightening spectacle; or would have been if there had been any enemy to terrify. But to the Elven maidens’ dismay very few Men remained. Most were already dead or had fled the battlefield. Mystified, the Elves allowed the gryphons to pull out of their dive, turned the beasts in a tight circle, and swept toward the rock overhang that hid what was left of the enemy. They found more than they expected.
The two Elves got a quick glimpse of dozens of yellow-skinned almost naked men clustered beneath the rock overhang. They seemed to be unarmed except for long wooden staves which they were holding to their lips, and then the gryphons swept them up and away. It was only then that Asharia noticed the stinging pain in her neck. She raised a hand and touched a small wooden dart that had managed to find its way into the small space between her chain mail and her helmet. Closing her fingers around it she pulled it free and then noticed almost casually that several of the darts had struck Sky.
“What in the name of the Goddess?” she murmured. She felt no fear. As a matter of fact, she felt nothing at all, except a sleepy curiosity. It was almost as if she were in a dream. She turned her head slowly to her right and saw Delendria swaying in her harness and Fire’s wings sweeping slowly up and down as if in slow motion. And then like a falling leaf, she and Sky fluttered toward the ground.
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