Outlanders

Chapter 24: The Battle of Inti Valley

A ring of thirty-four warriors stood around the perimeter of a small, deep basin, pointing spears, pikes and halberds down into the pit. Behind them, fifteen archers crouched, fondling their arrow fletches or strumming their strings nervously. Almost half of the spear-carrying warriors were lupines. Leif knelt in the shrubbery among them, listening intently for their quarry.

"Are the rumors about you true?" asked the lupine woman next to him. "Were you really banished?"

"Yes," said Leif. "I built a catapult."

"And that got you banished?"

"Right. I'm from the alpine regions. They're uptight about weapons there- even siege engines."

"The word has been that you did something a lot worse."

Leif looked at her, his tail coiling.

"You're so aloof with the others," she said. "They all thought you hated them. And why wouldn't you? They banished you, after all."

"I don't hate them for it- not at all. And I'm not aloof. I'm just trying to move on. Besides, I've gotten close with a human. She's..." He sighed, adjusting his grip on his spear. "She's all I have for a family now."

"So you've switched over, just like that?"

Leif closed his eyes. His lips pulled back, baring his teeth. "I'm only trying not to let banishment bring my life to a standstill. Zoltána told me that home is where the heart is, and that I brought my heart with me when I left. She's right."

The lupine looked surprised. "No wonder you were banished," she mumbled.

"What do you mean by that?"

"All I'm saying is, with so little respect for your own home, of course you would be cast off."

"Stop right there," said Leif. "I did respect my home. Do you think it didn't hurt, realizing that I'd never go back there again?"

"But look at you now. I don't see any mourning. Clearly, you neglected your home long before-"

"Enough!" Leif clenched his spear until it shook. "That's enough."

The lupine stared him bitterly down, then returned her gaze to the gorge.

"What's taking her so long?" whispered someone.

As if in answer, shouts rang out from far away, then turned into gunshots.

The spear-armed warriors hunkered deeper in their cover. Leaves hissed as they pulled back their weapons, concealing them. Behind them, the archers drew back their strings.

"Remember," said Leif, "Don't shoot until the bait gets out of the way."

The bait, a little cloaked woman named Joän, ran like a squirrel into the basin, then up the depression wall. A dozen and a half musketeers followed her closely, charging with their bayonets out. With a lunge, one of them grabbed Joän by the ankle and dragged her back into the middle of the pit.

The next moment, the musketeer fell, impaled by an arrow from somewhere. As soon as he sank to his knees, another musketeer batted him aside, then pinned Joän with his foot, aimed his gun at her heart and thrust. The bayonet sank into her chest, and her whole body lurched as the musketeer twisted.

"Now!" came the shout.

All at once, the archers revealed themselves and poured their arrows into the pit, each missile hitting home with a soft, deadly thump. As the archers ducked down, the spear-bearers rose and charged, closing like jaws on the dying musketeers. Within ten seconds, not a single enemy still stood. The ground was a hideous carpet of shredded flesh and warm blood. A few limbs still pawed at the mud.