The Chronicles Notomol Ch 03

"I hate fletching arrows." said Senderra.

She was talking to me, but she deliberately said it loud enough for her brother to hear.

- "You wanted to join us." said Notomol. "We need arrows. That's why we're

all

fletching."

No one grumbled. Even Senderra was merely pretending - she only complained in order to get her brother's attention.

We had moved away from their home, and closer to their Hospodar's steading, where 40 to 50 Izumyrians had taken up residence. Ansil, the Hospodar, had gone (or been taken) to Hvad town, where he was said to be petitioning to have his land and title restored to him.

In the meantime, the invaders were forcing people to work for them - but they couldn't compel farmers from the surrounding areas to bring their produce to market. Nor would foresters and hunters deliver fresh game to the steading.

So the Izumyrians were sending 'patrols' into the countryside, to gather food; by 'gather', of course, they meant 'steal'. People who resisted these thefts were issued stern corrections - they were beaten. An old man was killed, and a woman was indecently groped and mocked as her husband was flogged, for the crime of refusing to hand over their food.

It was a simple matter to follow one of these 'patrols'. It consisted of five men on foot, and a mounted officer. A Hvadi from the steading was forced into the role of servant, leading a pony and cart behind them.

Even from a distance, we could see their strutting arrogance, their conviction that they could do whatever they wanted. Most of us would have preferred to attack them

before

they plundered another farmstead, but Notomol explained that it would be better to ambush them once we knew the route that they'd taken.

He'd chosen an excellent spot, where the path climbed a bit, and where there was excellent cover on both sides. The officer proceeded at his own pace, followed by his soldiers, unaware that the pony cart carrying their stolen provender was lagging behind, taking longer to negotiate the slope.

Three of our arrows struck the officer's horse, and two hit the man. He was thrown to the ground as the stricken animal reared. It wasn't dead, though; the beast galloped away.

The foot soldiers were stunned, and reacted slowly. Two more went down, both of them pierced by multiple arrows. For some reason, several of us had targeted the same individuals.

The officer hadn't stirred. The three remaining soldiers formed a little half-circle, with their shields overlapping.

Motekin - as Notomol had instructed him - shouted out in Izumyrian, calling on them to surrender. They must have understood him, because the man in the middle yelled back.

- "Fuck you, Fadi!"

I didn't have to be a scholar to translate that.

Notomol had probably expected such a response. He'd worked his way around behind them, and fired into their unprotected rear. The man in the middle staggered forward a step, and fell on his face, with an arrow protruding from his back.

More arrows flew - from Senderra and the brothers, I think. One of the two remaining men was struck in the face. He screamed, and dropped both his spear and his shield, hands clawing at the arrow embedded just under his eye.

The last man went to his knees, and raised his arms.

The officer, it turned out, was only stunned, and winded. Notomol allowed Cinna to slit his throat. The man with the arrow in his face was shrieking in pain; Cirola put him out of his misery.

The Hvadi leading the pony was frozen in fear, but Notomol spoke to him softly, and reassured him.

Meanwhile, Motekin was talking to the last surviving Izumyrian.

- "Notomol did this. Notomol - understand? He will come for you. All of you."

Cinna efficiently amputated the prisoner's big toe.

Our plan had been to have the last man returned to the steading on the pony cart. But we ran into an unforeseen obstacle. The servant didn't want to go back.

- "His name is Heik." said Notomol. "He's afraid of what they'll do to him."

- "Don't make me go back." begged Heik. "They'll blame me ... for this."

- "Can he come with us?" I asked.

- "If he wants to."

We left the officer and four of his men where they'd fallen. We took pieces of armour and equipment, plus most of the food they'd stolen. And Heik.

***

Journal #13, Autumn 937

My elation has faded somewhat. I was pleased that we finally struck a significant blow, rather than merely ambushing Izumyrian riders one at a time. I understand that we cannot take their horses - how would we even feed such great beasts? They are also far too easily recognizable.

But I cannot understand why Notomol wishes to claim the responsibility for our attacks. When he used a dead man's name - Dubek's - I could see no harm in it. But to tell them his own name? Why? Is this not foolhardy?

I freely admit that the role of leader would be far beyond my own modest abilities. The geography of Stonje is completely unknown to me.

But is this what we are going to do? Ambush the Izumyrians one or two at a time, and then release a survivor, after politely introducing ourselves? At this rate, it seems that we will all die of old age before we accomplish anything. Or - more likely - we will be captured and executed by our enemies.

They certainly know who to look for.

***

That attack certainly put the fat into the fire. Izumyrian reinforcements arrived three days later - a full 50 men on horseback.

Notomol didn't seem to be particularly alarmed. In fact, he was pleased.

- "We have their attention."

- "How do you intend to fight so many?" asked Motekin.

- "I don't. And they can't ride those horses where we're going. But we had to do something that would create a stir. It wasn't just for the Izumyrians' benefit. We had to let our own folk hear that a blow was struck."

We moved more carefully for the next few days, working our way back towards the Ban's steading. Cinna and Cirola spent a good deal of their time watching our back trail, to make sure that we weren't being followed.

Notomol was frequently ahead, by himself. I offered to help him, but he shook his head.

- "Thank you - but it's easier for me alone. You can trust Senderra. She knows how to read my signs."

That was it! Notomol was leaving tracks for his sister to find. Once I knew what he was doing, it was easy to find them myself.

Not footprints; those lasted too long. But a bent branch on a bush, or a leaf on the ground, too green to have fallen by itself ... or scratches on the bark of a tree, like a bear would make (only too low - bears always reached as high as they could, in order to intimidate other bears).

Motekin didn't seem to enjoy our journey. He too, I think, wanted to be with Notomol. Heik, the man we'd freed from the Izumyrians, was plainly frightened.

We were deep in the woods, all of us together. We'd cooked some more horsemeat the night before. I woke first, and went off a little to relieve myself.

As I stood there, emptying my bladder, I saw one of the strangest sights of my young life. It was an old man - an extremely

odd

old man. His face was wrinkled, and his hair and unruly beard were almost entirely white. He wore a leather headband to hold his hair in place (or to hide his receding hairline - I couldn't tell which).

He also wore a curious jerkin of leather pieces, haphazardly stitched together, and a strange leather apron which covered his thighs almost to his knees. He held a longbow in one hand, but he hadn't drawn an arrow.

Most unusual of all, he had a tattoo on his hand. It looked like a serpent, coiled around his wrist, the head on the back of his hand, its fangs embedded in his knuckles.

- "Mornin'." he said.

- "Morning." I replied. What else could I say?

- "Whyn't you wake up your leader, so's I can have a word."

I'd met some eccentric foresters back home, but this old coot had them all beat. I decided to do as he'd asked.

As I turned back towards our little camp, I saw that Notomol was already awake, watching the old man. Both Cinna and Cirola were also alert, but they hadn't moved - taking their cue from Notomol.

He rose slowly, without reaching for his bow.

- "Good morning." he said.

- "Mornin'." said the old fellow. "You Dubek, or Notomol? Or both?"

- "My name is Notomol. Who might you be?"

- "I might be Yadha Snakehand. In fact, I am. Been lookin' for you."

- "Have you? To what end?"

- "Was hopin' to have a word."

- "Then perhaps we can offer you some of our breakfast." said Notomol. "I'm afraid it's horsemeat."

- "That what it is? Never had horsemeat afore. Well - first time for everythin', I s'pose."

And just like that, the old man sauntered into a camp of armed men, as if he'd done it every day of his long life. Then there followed a very unusual conversation, regularly interrupted as members of our band woke up.

"Just so's you know." said Yadha. 'That fella there -" (he pointed at Motekin) - "makes more noise than a drownin' bear. He might as well be beatin' a drum and singin'."

- "Do bear drown?" asked Notomol.

- "Only one, in my 'sperience, but he made a hell of a ruckus doin' it."

- "What brings you to us, Yadha?"

- "Ah. Well, I heard of your doin's. Have to say: I approve. I know you don' zackly

need

my approval, but .. well, there it is."

- "Thank you." said Notomol.

- "Welcome. There's somethin' far wrong with these Iz'myrans. Might sound judgmental, but I don't care for the way they speak to us.

Fadi

, they say - or

Fatty

- and you just know they unnerstan' the diff'rence."

"An' the way they treat us? I saw one of their so'jers, on his knees, takin' a tongue lashin' from one of his superiors. Din't unnerstan' a word, of course, but the general drift was quite plain."

"Then I seen the same so'jer, snappin' at a fine Hvadi woman, like she was dirt. On his knees to one man, but arrogant to ev'ryone else."

"Din't like it, Master Notomol. Din't like it one bit."

- "Nor do I, Yadha."

- "So that's why I'm here. Goin' to help you fight 'em."

Oh, no, I thought. That's all we need.

- "We'll be glad to have you." said Notomol. "What skills can you offer us?"

- "I'm still a fine shot with a bow - an' I know the land hereabout like the back of my hand." said Yadha. "Now, I have a question or two of my own, if you don' mind."

- "Of course."

- "I notice you have womenfolk in your comp'ny. They your doxies?"

- "No." said Notomol. "They're full members of our band. My sister, Senderra, and her friend Evane."

- "That so? They married?"

- "NO!" snapped Senderra - who was awake by this time. Only Motekin was still asleep.

- "You don't say." said Yadha. Then he slowly licked his thumb, and smoothed down his bristly white mustache. "You don't say ..."

***

Yadha could shoot, as he'd said. He could hunt, as well, and knew dozens of trails around the Ban's steading. He also seemed to have contacts everywhere: a young woman, who told him that the Izumyrians were sending out patrols of 20 or more men, and a wood-cutter, who said the occupiers were felling trees around the steading, so that they could build a watchtower over the main gate.

Snakehand came back from one of his little forays with two men in tow. Ermanar was a cattle-herd, but the Izumyrians had confiscated all of his livestock. Valarav was a wood-worker from just outside the steading; his wife had left him to take up with one of the Izumyrian officers.

Ermanar had a sling and a knife. Valarav had an axe and a hatchet. Both men were very respectful to Yadha, treating him as I did my Grandma. I remarked on it to him.

- "They're good lads. Might very well

be

my grandsons - I left quite a few sprogs 'round these parts, back in the day."

There were far too many enemy soldiers about, and their patrols were too unpredictable. Notomol told us that we would return to the area around his home, to hunt and trap, so that we could gather in a reserve of food.

Yadha agreed with that decision, but asked for one day's delay. He slipped off, just before dark, and returned the next day with another young man. His name was Aunam, and he carried a bow.

- "What brings you to us?" Notomol asked him.

Aunam merely frowned. He was tall, and thin, with curly hair. When he didn't respond, Yadha spoke for him.

- "Aunam was to be married next week, to the prettiest girl in these parts. When the Iz'myrans came to her Da's farm, lookin' for food ... well, they took her too."

"Aunam an't spoke since. But I 'spect he an't averse to killin' sojers."

Aunam wouldn't speak - but he could certainly nod.

***

We spent almost two weeks hunting, not too far from where Notomol had grown up. There were 12 of us to feed, now, but we had more hunters: Notomol, Senderra and Evane, the brothers, Yadha Snakehand, and now Aunam. And me, of course.

Motekin was a liability in the woods. I'm sure he found it frustrating to be left in camp. Ermanar could hunt for small game with his sling, but he and Valarav were perfectly willing to do the bulk of the skinning and curing of meat.

- "Is this all we're going to do?" asked Motekin. "Hunt and eat?"

- "If we make an attack near here, it will attract attention." said Notomol.

- "Don't shit where you eat, lad." said Yadha.

Soon enough, though, Notomol was ready to move. We travelled for over a week, using lesser paths and hidden tracks - some of which only Yadha knew how to find. Twice we moved at night, covering several leagues across open ground.

Finally, we reached the steading belonging to Dienik, the third Hospodar of Stonje. There had been no reports of any trouble in this area - which was precisely why Notomol had brought us here.

- "It's been very quiet here. That's why Yadha and I think we can surprise them."

He explained his plan. It was awfully daring. He also told everyone about our first encounter with the Izumyrians - from inside the inn, after they had landed at the ferry dock.

"Kolasovets and I fired our arrows, and we struck two of them." He brushed his long red hair back, out of his eyes. "There were 11 soldiers, and only 3 of us - but they didn't know that. They didn't charge at us. They covered the fallen men with their shields, and dragged them away to safety."

I remembered that dark, rainy night. Just the two of us, and Dubek. Then the fight at the dock - Motekin falling, and Notomol dragging

him

to safety.

"The point is," said Notomol, "that they won't blindly charge into the unknown. They'll defend themselves, and even retreat. But they won't rush to the attack, unless an officer tells them to."

- "And what if they do attack?" asked Valarav.

Notomol grinned. "Then we run like the wind. They can't keep up with us, in the woods - not with their armour and their heavy shields. If we have to split up, we meet back here."

"Does everyone understand?"

I was ready to go at that moment, and I don't think that I was alone. Senderra looked thoughtful. With her friend Evane, it was hard to tell, but most of the men seemed to be keen.

We had to wait, though. Both Notomol and Yadha did some scouting, and I suspect that they spoke to more than a few locals. Three days later, we shifted our camp. That night, Yadha used a little stick to draw a circle in the dirt.

- "This is the steadin'." he said. Then he began drawing lines around it. "These are places they been a'ready, stealin' food."

- "That's why we believe they'll go here, next." said Notomol. He drew a small X in the dirt with his knife. "And

we

are here."

***

It was a very important day, though I wasn't to learn that for quite some time. Dienik's steading was to become a household name across Stonje, and even further than that.

The morning was exciting enough, but it was also familiar. I saw five Izumyrian soldiers, led by a mounted officer, trailed by the two Hvadi forced to serve them, leading a pony cart.

We waited, in hiding, until they drew near. They were less than 20 yards away. Notomol rose to his feet, and we followed his lead.

I loosed, and felt a savage surge of exultation as my arrow thunked into the side of the officer's head. Another arrow sprouted from his arm. Notomol's.

Incredibly enough, everyone else in our band except Senderra missed - and she only wounded a foot soldier.

Fortunately for us, Notomol had been right: the Izumyrians didn't respond by immediately plunging into the brush after us. Instead, they reacted slowly - and then they simply drew together.

We drew second arrows, and fired again.

I have to admit it: my second shot missed. Cirola cursed. But six arrows found their targets, and three of the foot soldiers were killed, or severely injured.

The last two men standing didn't know where to turn.

We all fired again. I hit one of them - so did someone else. The last Izumyrian threw down his shield and spear. Cinna killed him anyway - we couldn't take any prisoners, at this stage. Cirola helped his brother finish off the wounded soldiers.

The two Hvadi accompanying the Izumyrians had run away. I couldn't blame them.

***

We collected as many of our arrows as we could find. Despite our frightening inaccuracy, the attack had been a complete success: six dead Izumyrians, and not a scratch on any of us.

That, though, was just the beginning.

The two Hvadi would tell someone - they had to. Would they know that all six soldiers were dead? Regardless of what tale they told, Notomol was certain that the garrison of the steading had to respond, if only to recover the bodies of their comrades.

And we knew the route they would take. We waited for them.

It was past mid-day before they appeared. There were more of them than I'd expected: Two mounted officers, and 16 foot soldiers. Four Hvadi trailed them, pressed into service to lead a pair of pony carts.

I felt a shiver of fear. These were professional soldiers, just like the ones who'd cut Tumay and the Guardsmen to shreds at the ferry dock. Then I remembered what Notomol and I had discussed.

Those men at the river had been elite warriors - the very best that Izumyr could muster. These spear-carriers were second-line troops, garrison soldiers fit to intimidate shepherds and milkmaids, but not to stand against us.

Notomol rose and fired, and the rest of us did the same.

We'd planned a little better. Four of us were firing at one officer, and four at the other. Three arrows struck one of the mounted men; three more hit the second. I'm absolutely sure that my shaft struck home, right into the second officer's throat.

Both men fell: the first lurched backwards, and his feet slipped from the stirrups as he toppled out of the saddle. The second slid forwards, and then sideways, as he plunged to the ground.

Both horses were spooked. The foot soldiers, once again, were slow to respond.

We fired again. Our second volley was less effective. Notomol killed a man outright - I'm sure of that. I seriously wounded another. I'm not sure that anyone else hit.

The soldiers pulled together, and raised their shields. Unfortunately for them, they weren't sure which side of the road we were shooting from.

Notomol had told us to fire only if we had a clear shot. Cinna wasted an arrow, which merely stuck in a shield. Senderra did better, striking a man in the arm.

Then we heard a shout, from further down the track: it was pre-arranged signal, for us, but the Izumyrians were plainly alarmed. We shifted our positions.

Then came a series of shouts, and three men came running down the path, towards the soldiers. They were armed with spears and shields. There should have been four, but the impact was the same. Notomol had been correct - the Izumyrians turned to face this new threat, forming a double row of shields. The men on the very end of their line did angle their shields, to protect their flanks, but they also left several soldiers with their backs exposed.