Chapter 55: Show of Bravery
The flanking group broke through on the left side of the formation. Hod noticed the layout immediately. Alf was pinned against the wall with a useless shoulder. Ric had shifted to close quarters. Three men from the southern group were forcing their way into the narrow space between the wall and their position.
Ric had his spear up, managing two of them. The third had already slipped past.
That third man was moving straight toward Alf.
Hod moved left.
He stepped into the path between the attacker and Alf. The man’s cudgel struck Hod across the left forearm before he could bring his guard fully into place. The impact traveled up to his elbow.
His right hand still held the sword, but the distance was too close for a full swing. So he chose the faster option. He drove his elbow from the left arm into the man’s jaw.
The man’s head snapped back. He stayed on his feet, but his forward momentum stopped.
Behind Hod, Alf spoke in a strained voice. "Left of you."
Hod shifted left immediately.
A second flanking attacker had circled wider, approaching Alf from a direction Hod had not been able to see. Hod intercepted him when the man’s weight had already moved forward and his decision was locked in.
Hod did not complicate the response. He grabbed Alf with his impaired arm and pulled him sideways out of position, stepping into the space Alf had occupied.
The attack landed on Hod instead. The weapon struck across his back. The pain spread wide and flat rather than sharp. That told him it had not broken skin. He remained standing.
The attacker had expected a more decisive result.
That mismatch bought Hod a second.
"Col, left side is pushed!" Hod called.
Col answered immediately from down the line. "Wex, cover left!"
A squad member Hod had not been tracking broke from the right flank and repositioned to the left. Now there were two defenders against the remaining flankers.
At the front, the opposing group had been pressing the spear line since the start. They had broken through twice.
One man lay behind the line, Ric, between two squad members who had moved to protect him. His right side was bent, bruised and battered. His breathing was suppressed, in the way one was trained not to make noise when it mattered.
The frontal push had stalled. Three of their men were down. The remaining four had stopped advancing. The spear line was holding.
The third flanker had already withdrawn back toward the alley entrance.
One man from the frontal group spoke to another. There was hesitation in their actions, unsure if they should commit further to the attack or not.
"Pull back!" someone behind them called. The tone was of a decision.
They disengaged. The flankers disappeared back into the southern alley. The frontal group stepped away from the spear line, retreated across the road, and turned into the side street they had come from.
Two of their number remained on the ground. A third moved poorly, favoring one side, supported by another as they withdrew.
The road cleared, leaving only the squad and the injured.
Hod remained in the center of the street with his sword raised.
His breathing was too fast. He looked into his injuries. The pain in his back was localizing now, concentrating along the left side of his spine. His forearm had recovered some weight to it. Even though the threat had ended, his body did not accept that conclusion yet. It stayed ready, waiting for the next engagement.
The bodies on the ground were motionless.
"Clear," Col said.
Hod lowered his sword, slowly.
Alf was still at the wall. He had not moved from the position Hod had pulled him to, except that he was now sitting. That transition must have happened without conscious thought. His face had gone pale, like old plaster. His right arm was held tight against his body.
"Still here," Alf said. The tone was sarcastic, as if nothing much.
Ric lay on the ground between Wex and another squad member. His eyes were open. He was staring upward at the strip of sky above the buildings, focusing on a fixed point with rough concentration. His breathing was audible.
"He took a spear butt to the side," Wex said. "Ribs."
Hod approached and looked down at Ric.
Ric shifted his gaze toward him. "I’ve had worse," he said.
Hod snorted. "I doubt that."
"I’ve broke my arm once."
"That I believe."
"Good." Ric looked back at the sky. "I’m going to stay here for a while."
"You’re staying there longer than that," Wex said. "You’re not walking today."
"I’ll consider walking when I can actually-." Ric’s breath hitched on the last word. He stopped speaking.
Col placed a hand on Hod’s shoulder from behind.
Hod turned. Col watched him with the yes of a captain that was considering whether to give praise, or an order. His breathing was steady, as if the transition from the fight to managing its aftermath was nothing more than a minor adjustment.
"I heard you protected Alf," Col said. "And you held the line after Ric went down."
Hod did not respond.
"If lucky, Alf would have probably been crippled otherwise," Col continued. "If not, he would have been killed. You very much saved a life today, Hod. I’ll report it upward."
He removed his hand and moved on, checking the rest of the squad in order of injury severity.
Hod remained in the street.
At the far end of the block, the food cart stood waiting. The driver had halted the horse when the fight began and had not moved during it. Now he sat on the bench with both hands on his knees, watching. His attention had the detached air common in Ashmark. He was observing whether the situation affected him directly. He decided it did not.
Hod met his gaze.
The driver looked away, clicked to the horse, and the cart resumed moving down the street.