The Dragon on The Border

  Dafydd was already off his horse, had his bow uncased, strung and ready, as well as his quiver of arrows slung at his side ready for use. He stepped around the left edge of the formation of the Little Men, and went forward. Brian followed, as if the invitation had been a general one, and after a pause Giles followed also and Jim went with him.

  Ardac looked around at them when they appeared with Dafydd, but said nothing. At the far end of the valley the Hollow Men were still milling around, obviously—according to what they had been told by the man in the rear rank—still in argument over who should lead or perhaps over which tactics should be used. Some eight Little Men with their short bows on their back had also shown up in front.

  "It will be interesting," said one of them. "The Hollow Men are barely within a wounding bow shot. An arrow that strikes them will strike with hardly any force at all."

  The voice of the small bowman was quite audible, but Dafydd paid as little attention as if he had been deaf. He had already extracted from his quiver an arrow that was identical in length with one of the clothyard shafts that were his war arrows.

  But instead of the broadhead metal point that a war arrow would carry, the shaft of this one was fitted with an almost conical piece of metal that narrowed down from its thick end where it attached to the wood, and where it was no thicker than the shaft itself. It narrowed sharply, within no more than four or five inches, to what looked like a needle point.

  Looking at it, Jim estimated that it had been a piece of mild steel, which had been painstakingly hammered and filed down into its present shape. An over-wrapping of bowstring covered the joint between wood and metal.

  Dafydd fitted the shaft to his bow and drew it as usual to where the feathers on it were level with his ear.

  He let it go.

  The arrow rose no more than half a dozen feet in the air, and was traveling at about chest level on the leading mounted Hollow Men, when it reached their front ranks… And disappeared.

  "He has missed," murmured the Little Man archer who had spoken before.

  "Let us wait and see," said Dafydd.

  A moment after that, one of the Hollow Men riding in the front rank fell from his horse, and the ranks parted as two more of his fellow horsemen, in line behind him, also fell. There was a swirl in the ranks drawing back, and it could be seen that the three bodies lay almost touching each other.

  "In the name of the Night!" said the bowman who had spoken up twice now, in awed tones. "Can it be that he struck all three?"

  "It looks like it," said Jim. "In fact, it looks to me as if the arrow passed through each one in turn."

  There was a murmur of astonishment from the ranks of Little Men behind them. Beside Jim, Ardac shook his head.

  "This passes understanding," said Ardac. He looked sideways and up at Jim. "—Unless his arrow had some magic virtue about it?"

  "No," said Jim, "any virtue about that arrow was made by Dafydd ap Hywel himself."

  He looked at Dafydd.

  "Would it have something to do with that different point being on the shaft?" he asked.

  "Indeed," said Dafydd, shading his eyes with his hand as he turned to look again at the front rank of the Hollow Men, which now seemed in some disorder, as if an argument was going on. "I own, I did not expect it to make such a successful appearance. But what it did, I made it in hope it would do."

  "I don't understand," said Ardac.

  Dafydd looked at him.

  "It was what you, and perhaps some other said," answered Dafydd, "to the effect that while they are alive and within their outer casing, be it armor or clothes, they're possessed of the same solid body, though invisible, that they had while alive. But once that covering is pierced, there'd be nothing to oppose whatever pierced it, but the likeness of empty air. With that in mind, I made a point designed to go through armor and carry on, rather than one to slay only whoever is wearing the armor."

  There was nothing wrong with Ardac's wits.

  "You've met the Hollow Men before this?" he asked.

  Dafydd looked at Jim, passing the question on to him.

  "On our way up to the Castle de Mer," Jim said, "the three of us were set upon by five Hollow Men, all apparently mounted. Dafydd put arrows with the usual broadhead in four of them; and except for one who fell from his horse and left us only a bundle of clothing and armor, the rest disappeared in the mist. It was just at the end of day."

  He gazed at the leader of the Little Men shrewdly.

  "Why do you ask?" he said.

  "Because they are acting a little strangely lately," said Ardac. He paused to glance once again toward the far end of the valley, where the argument was apparently still going on. "It is not impossible that five of them would set upon the three of you, particularly since you would appear to be strangers," said Ardac, "but for them to leave as they did is not their normal way. Unless all four were actually slain by Dafydd ap Hywel's arrows, and it may well be likely that they were only wounded—"

  "I doubt it," said Dafydd dryly. "The arrows went into the chests of the others at close to the same point as they entered the one who fell dead from his horse."

  "Well," said Ardac, "in that case, being one against three, and up against a weapon such as they may not have seen before, any more than we have, they may well have decided to run. Otherwise, it is their way to come on. They do not fear death, since it is only a temporary thing for them. As long as one other Hollow Man is alive anywhere, those killed will ride again. But putting that aside, they have acted strangely in coming into our valleys this boldly. They know that we, of all people, will not back away, but rather attack at the sight of them. Also they know that we would die rather than yield an inch of our ground. This little piece of earth belongs to us still. Here are our wives and children; all that remains of our race. Any enemy shall reach them only over our bodies."

  He pointed abruptly to the far end of the valley.

  "Well," he said, "as I told you, they are ready to come on again. In spite of these arrows of yours that can slay three at once, and in spite of the fact that they face a full schiltron of ourselves. They cannot possibly hope to win against us. It is difficult to see why they would try such a move as this."

  Jim had not stopped before to translate the word schiltron in his head. At first sight of the Little Men, and their spears, he had been reminded of the Greek phalanx. But there were other ranks of spearmen at other times. And schiltron was also the name for a spearmen's formation, as used by the Scottish armies against the English.

  Particularly, by arming the first few ranks with extra-long spears, the Scots were able to oppose a hedge of steel points against the armed horsemen of the English. Their only vulnerability was to the archers that the English brought up from Wales and southern England. But, used by the Little Men here, the word schiltron seemed to imply more. It seemed to refer to a fixed fighting unit—rather like a Roman legion—and, in effect, the large rectangular shield which each Little Man carried and the short stabbing sword at his side was almost more Roman than Greek or medieval.

  "Have you any more such arrows?" Ardac was asking Dafydd.

  "No," Dafydd shook his head, "I made that one for trial only. I will make more now, sobeit I survive this day. But I have a quiver full of my broadhead arrows, and the closer they get, the more useful I can be with those. Also by that time your own archers will be at work. Let me try one more experiment."

  Reaching into his quiver, he drew one of his broadhead arrows out, fitted it to his bow, and shot at the first rank of mounted warriors now advancing on them. This time the arrow flew low, so that it passed beneath the man—and immediately, he tumbled to the ground, not dead, but obviously unhorsed.

  "At least I can put them afoot," said Dafydd. "Would you prefer that, or that I simply kill as many as I have arrows for?"

  "Kill," said Ardac briefly. "Now, if you, Sir James and Sir Brian, with Sir Giles, will move out on the flank with our own archers, we will make ready to receive t
his charge of theirs."

  Jim, Brian, Giles and Dafydd with the archers moved swiftly to obey. The first three ranks of the spearmen swung their spears down into position pointed forward, the first rank kneeling on one knee, the second resting their spears on the shoulders of those who knelt and the third rank resting their spears on the shoulders of the second. Nor had the move been made any too soon. The Hollow Men—at least those who seemed to be mounted—were coming on at a gallop; and the four with the archers were barely back in their original station, when that first rank was struck.

  The Hollow Men were a good ten armed figures across in rank; and they came obviously prepared to die. At the last moment, their horses seemed to try to turn from the points; but they threw themselves from their saddles forward over what must be their horses' necks, deliberately landing among the spears and taking some of the sharp points through them, but beating others down with their weight and their flailing weapons.

  They did little harm against the upward slanting wall of shields that opposed them, even overlapping each other in some cases; and very shortly were dead. However, there were others rushing in behind them, throwing the weight of their temporarily living bodies inside the armor also against the front ranks of the schiltron. Eventually they broke into its midst.

  Jim, standing with Brian, Giles and Dafydd on a slope at the foot of the cliff, on the top of which Liseth and Snorrl stood watching, were at first able to observe, almost like spectators. Jim was interested to notice that the Little Men were evidently familiar with the Hollow Men's type of attack, and were prepared for it.

  They let their formation be broken; but immediately regathered its members into small tight groups of what he could not help but think of as resembling anything so much as hedgehogs, all points facing outward, all shields up, and even in a position to be swung overhead against a blow from above. The Hollow Men were faced with the problem of breaking up what were essentially nuggets of ten to fifteen Little Men, bristling in all directions with spear points and almost completely able to cover themselves with their shields.

  But now, suddenly, Jim found himself no longer a spectator. Behind the fully armored Hollow Men came those in partial armor—a sight that would have been ridiculous if it had not been so threatening. It looked like a cloud of armor broken down into its parts, from as much as would clothe the upper body of a knight to a single armored glove clutching a sword. These swarmed in on the Little Men—and now also on Jim, Brian, Giles and Dafydd alike.

  The Little Men who were archers had thrown away their bows, drawn their short swords and run to join the nearest schiltron. Meanwhile, a swarm of armor parts surrounded Jim, Brian and Dafydd, who fought as closely together as they could, Jim, Giles and Brian protecting Dafydd amongst them with their own armored bodies. To Jim's surprise Dafydd had acquired a long, two-handed sword from some fallen Hollow Man; and was swinging this like a berserker at the pieces of armor that fought against them.

  They beat back their cloud of attackers, but others came to replace them. Brian was shouting merrily as he fought, obviously having the time of his life. Giles had picked up the enthusiasm, for the two were calling back and forth, describing the kinds of armor they were knocking down, while killing the invisible men wearing them.

  Even Jim found himself caught up—not so much as he had felt himself caught up in the life-or-death combat of his duel with Sir Hugh de Malencontri, the pawn of the Dark Powers and the knight whose castle Jim now owned; but as he had been caught up in a furious little combat he and Brian had been engaged in the previous spring, just outside the walls of Brian's Castle Smythe, when that castle had been attacked by raiders from the nearby sea.

  In fact, like all these hand-to-hand affairs, it turned at last for Jim into a blur in which one killed, or tried to kill, in order to stay alive; and the blur went on until, suddenly, all at once, there was no one in front of him left to kill.

  He stopped, exhausted, leaning on his sword. Brian and Giles, equally breathless, were leaning beside him; and Dafydd—for a wonder, unwounded—was there also, but looking somewhat less winded.

  Not only, Jim saw, was their own immediate area free, but the general battlefield seemed to have either been cleared of all attackers, or been left with nothing but Hollow Men who had been reduced to piles of clothing and armor.

  As he got his wind back, he walked over to Ardac, who had sheathed his sword, laid down his shield and who greeted him wearily. Now Dafydd, with the other archers, had gone out to collect as many of his arrows as were salvageable.

  "Well," said the Little Men's leader, taking off his helmet, "so ends that. But the attack was still strange."

  "How so?" asked Jim. He was conscious of the fact that Brian, Giles and Dafydd had moved up behind him.

  "Why, a few of them may have gotten away at the last minute, and we not noticed," said Ardac, "but they could have been no more than a handful. To all good purposes, we slew every one of them. That is not like them."

  He took off his helmet, and ruffled his hair to let the air get to his scalp. The hair itself was plastered down by sweat, and, in contrast to his beard, black as jet. It made a strange combination with the beard and the bright blue points of his eyes.

  "They don't usually fight to the last Hollow Man?" Jim asked.

  Ardac shook his head.

  "But I thought you told me that they didn't mind dying, because as long as there was one other Hollow Man alive, they'd be back and active in forty-eight hours."

  "That much is true," said Ardac, scratching his head. "They are more willing to die than living men would be. But not to no purpose at all. Once it seems that they cannot kill sufficiently to make their own dying worth while, they usually withdraw. This time, they did not. That, coming on top of the fact that they had ventured into our territory, where we have taught them well not to, puzzles me."

  He paused to run his fingers through his damp hair again to let the air get into it.

  "Also," he went on, "they have hurt us more than they normally do, in their eagerness to throw themselves away in battle with us. We have six dead; and four more who will need careful tending to live. As I said in the beginning, we can replace our losses, but not if they come to this much, regularly. We will not stop fighting in any case, but if we lose more than we can replace, in the end we will die as a people. I do not like it. Whatever is afoot, I do not like it."

  A distant piping sound came several times on their ears. Jim and Brian looked around themselves, puzzled, but Giles and Ardac looked up to the top of the cliff where Liseth stood with Snorrl. Belatedly, Jim and Brian looked up too. She was waving at them and making large swings of her arm against the sky.

  "A fine climb, after this!" said Giles, disgustedly. "However, there'll be a reason or Liseth would not call us so."

  He turned to look at Jim, Brian, and Dafydd—who was now back with them again.

  "Will you join me in a saunter up the cliffside, gentlemen?" he said, wiping the sweat from his face with the hand not holding his helmet, which, like everyone else, he had taken off for coolness.

  "If you think it necessary," said Brian; and Jim nodded. As usual, when the action really got going, Brian reverted to his natural role as leader.

  It was a long climb and a hard climb to the cliff top. When they got there, it was only after they had sat down and struggled for a while to get their breath back before they were able to talk to Liseth. She now stood with a falcon on her riding glove, temporarily hooded with a scrap of cloth that looked to have been a light, flimsy scarf.

  Winded as he was, Jim looked with interest at the falcon. His graduate training in the medieval area had brought him in touch with falconry, and he recognized the bird she was carrying as a peregrine falcon—a magnificent one. It was much more common for women to fly smaller merlins or hobbies. Or perhaps no more than the eyas—the smaller male of such long-winged falcons like the peregrine.

  "You don't have to ask," she said. "I'll tell you. Father sent
Greywings here up, knowing she would search and find me. Tied around one leg, she bore a piece of paper marked with a sword and a cloak. Some important visitor is at the castle now, or coming shortly; and we all should be back there as soon as possible."

  She paused, sympathetically.

  "So you'd best get started down the cliff to where our horses are," she said. "Lead mine; and Snorrl and I will meet you where the land levels out."

  Chapter Eight

  "Why don't you just come back down the cliff with us?" grumbled Giles.

  "I can't and carry Greywings." She reached out with her free hand and patted Giles apologetically on the arm. "If you want to take Snorrl back down with you—"

  "Snorrl has no mind to go!" interrupted the wolf. "I'm up here to act as guard and guide to Liseth; and that's all I'll do."

  "Oh, well," said Giles. He turned to the other three men. "It looks like there's not much choice in the matter."

  So back down the cliff they went; the only consolation being, when they reached the bottom, that they could climb into the saddles of their horses and ride instead of walk back the way they had come. The Little Men had already vanished while they were going up the cliff and getting back down.

  Not even the bodies of their dead were lying in the little open valley space; and, just as Jim had done instinctively, they seemed to have gathered up all items of apparel and armor that the slain Hollow Men had left on the ground behind them. The small stream, the bulrushes, the little stretch of firm ground was almost as if it had never been fought over.

  So they rode back the way they came.

  "No chance of our getting lost on the way back, is there?" Jim asked Giles.

  Giles shook his head.

  "No," he said. "I don't know this ground the way Liseth does, and nowhere near as well as the wolf does, who evidently goes everywhere and sees everything, but I know it well enough to find our way back. It'll be about a fifteen-minute walk of our horses to get back to where she and Snorrl are on level with us once more."