The Nine by Terry Cloutier

Author:Terry Cloutier [Cloutier, Terry]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Amazon: B07VW9FGTN
Publisher: TCC Publishing
Published: 2019-07-28T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6: Calen

​ Three days of hard riding later, my ass still hadn’t gotten used to the unforgiving saddle beneath it or the jerking gait of my horse, and I winced as pain shot up my spine. In front of me the Pith men rode three abreast in a long line while scouts appeared and disappeared like wraiths through the trees in the distance, guarding us from ambush. The women rode behind Baine, Jebido and I and were armed with short swords and light bows and, from what I’d seen already, I knew they knew how to use them both. Behind the women, heavily-laden packhorses carrying plunder and the bodies of the Pith fallen brought up the rear in a solemn column, the corpses flipped over the horses face down and tied wrists to ankles. At the rear of the procession of the dead, several heavy wagons carrying the wounded and drawn by oxen plodded along. The Piths had found the wagons in the compound and had taken them as well as all the horses, though I thought they might be regretting it by now, as the slow-moving oxen had reduced the entire company to a crawl.

​ Jebido rode easily to my right, his great hawk-like nose jutting out from beneath his new helm, his eyes half-closed as the sun warmed him. Once we’d sworn our oath to Einhard in a completely informal ceremony before a crowd of drunken and mostly sleeping Piths, Einhard had allowed us to take what we wished from the dead Gander soldiers. Jebido now wore a conical metal helm, a mail tunic with a black cloak, and heavy leather trousers. He’d found a pair of hob-nailed boots that fit him perfectly and he carried a short sword on one hip and a long sword on the other. He had a round Pith shield on his left arm and he looked every bit the soldier, I thought with pride. I glanced to my left where Baine rode just as easily as Jebido and I frowned. My friend had taken to riding as if he’d been doing it his entire life, and I can’t say that I wasn’t just a little bit jealous.

​ Baine saw my look and he snickered at me. “It still hurts?” he asked in mock surprise. He was dressed in a black-dyed padded leather jacket two sizes too big for him over a white tunic, as none of the armour we’d come across had been small enough for him. He’d also scrounged up some black trousers and black leather boots and I had to admit he looked quite impressive. He reminded me a lot of the small, but lightning-quick black rock snakes we used to see near Corwick. Baine’s shield was hung over his saddle and he held a well-used knife in his hand and was flipping it in the air end over end so fast that it was hard to focus on it. His hands weren’t large but they were very dexterous, something he told me had helped make him an excellent pickpocket.

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