Gutter Rats: Origins Chapter 12

The canyon did indeed come to a dead end after a couple hundred paces at a long scree slope from which a few large boulders stuck up. A score or more of Crodin could be seen up on the scree, hunkered down and waiting for them.

Eagle Company slowed to a walk, then came to a stop. They couldn’t possibly chase the Crodin up there. It would be nearly impossible to get up there even if the Crodin weren’t trying to kill them.

The general came charging forward, swearing loudly.

“Why are we stopping?”

“There’s nowhere to go, sir,” Captain Lepold said.

“The enemy is right there! I order you to advance and engage!”

Tight-lipped, Lepold gave the order. Eagle Company moved forward. Quyloc estimated they’d already lost a fifth of their men. At least one sergeant was dead and two lieutenants. They were about to lose a lot more.

The Crodin watched them come without moving. The distance closed.

At the base of the scree, the soldiers came to a halt.

“I said advance!” the general screamed.

With no other choice, the soldiers started upwards.

It was a slaughter. The Qarathians had no chance. The advance stopped very quickly, the survivors taking cover behind the big rocks sticking up. The other two companies were still in the bottom of the canyon, milling around rather than advancing, despite the general’s shouted orders.

That’s when things really got ugly.

All around them on the sides of the canyon, more Crodin appeared. Hundreds of them. They rose up out of the rocks like phantoms. Spears and arrows rained down on the Qarathians. Dozens of soldiers died almost instantly.

Quyloc, Rome, and the others who were taking cover on the scree were actually in a better spot than the soldiers in the bottom who had almost no cover.

Very quickly, the horses went down. In their death throes they created yet more chaos in the Qarathian ranks. Officers called out orders to retreat. Soldiers surged toward the exit. Many of them fell as the Crodin had concentrated their forces by the exit, expecting the Qarathians to do just that.

Quyloc turned away from the carnage and saw that the Crodin were charging downhill toward them. One was coming right for him, spear in hand, a wild look in his eyes. Quyloc crouched behind the rock, gauging the timing.

He jumped out, the spear in his hand flicking forward like a living thing. The Crodin warrior couldn’t react in time. He gurgled as the spear punched into his abdomen. His momentum carried him forward, punching the spear the whole way through him. He toppled to his side, dead.

Quyloc didn’t even bother trying to retrieve his spear. He simply took the one from the nomad’s dead hands.

He sidestepped the next enemy, his feet somehow finding purchase on the treacherous footing. As the man went by, Quyloc stabbed him in the back with the stolen spear.

He was aware of Rome bellowing. The big man had already cut down one Crodin, and his axe was stained with blood. He was engaged with another who was uphill of him. The Crodin jabbed with his spear, but Rome caught the blow on his shield.

Rome lunged upward and caught the Crodin off guard. The axe flicked out, far too fast for such an ungainly weapon, and sheared one of the man’s feet off. Another blow killed him before he hit the ground.

Then Quyloc was grabbing onto Rome, pulling him downhill.

“Retreat!” Quyloc yelled when Rome fought him. “We have to get out of here!”

The floor of the canyon was a welter of dead and dying men, screaming horses, and blood. Rome and Quyloc kept their shields up, dodging through the mess as they raced for the exit.

A Crodin attacked from the side. Rome deflected the spear thrust and took off part of the man’s head with a mighty blow from the axe.

Quyloc ducked a spear thrust aimed at his head and was able to stab the man in the leg. As the Crodin struggled to keep his feet, Quyloc rammed the edge of his shield up under his chin, knocking him backward.

Soldiers were dropping all around them. An injured Qarathian reached for Quyloc’s ankle as he ran by, beseeching him for help. Quyloc tore away from his grasp and continued on.

All at once they were through, back into the main canyon. Around them were other soldiers, far too few of them. In their midst were the general and his lady, somehow uninjured but no longer on horseback.

Dimly, Quyloc became aware of Tairus shouting at the soldiers to form up, to fight a rearguard. Rome turned to obey, and somehow Quyloc did the same, though all he wanted to do was run.

Surprisingly, the Crodin didn’t pour out of the canyon after them. A few appeared and fired arrows at them, but most seemed willing to let them run. Quyloc could have cried with relief.

That relief was short-lived though. They hadn’t gone far when the first arrows and spears began to hit them on the flanks. Quyloc looked up, groaning when he saw the hated figures popping up on the sides of the canyon and cutting them down.

There was no point engaging them. Even the general saw that now. They could only run, hiding behind the imperfect shelter of their shields. More men fell with every step. Quyloc saw the body of the woman whose horse had carried all the picnic supplies. Later, he saw the lady’s veil, caught in a dead shrub, flapping in the wind.

It was a nightmare. The Crodin picked them off like wolves culling a herd. Every few steps, another soldier went down. How many had they already lost?

The sun began to set, igniting an extra surge from the weary survivors. All of them knew that if darkness fell, they’d have no chance at all. They had to get back to the fort. It was their only hope.

Major Stemper went down, a spear embedded in his side. Quyloc was right by Captain Lepold when two arrows hit him almost simultaneously. He looked down, but it was clear the man was dead, and he didn’t slow. He hadn’t seen either of the other two captains for some time.

Finally, as it was just starting to get dark, they reached the end of the canyon and broke out onto the broad plain. Less than a league now. They only needed to get around the big butte. The fort was just on the other side.

The Crodin didn’t seem to be pursuing. The men let out a weary cheer and a minor burst of speed.

Quyloc heard a noise and turned in time to see Tairus drop, an arrow in his back.

Rome grabbed him and dragged him to his feet. “Help me, Quyloc.”

Quyloc could feel the arrow that would hit him, but he didn’t argue. One to each side, they got his arms over their shoulders and struggled on.

Their pace slowed. Everyone was too tired to keep running. No Crodin were following. It looked like they would survive. There couldn’t have been more than fifty of them left by then.

They rounded the butte as darkness fell and then came to a halt, a collective moan of despair rising from them.

The fort was on fire.

Go to next chapter.