Dawn of the Ice Bear by Jeff Mariotte Page A

slope, Alanya couldn’t help wishing that it was the other way around—she and her friends giving up, and those battle-tested soldiers descending farther into al Nasir’s den.
    But she was here with Kral, and he was not the kind to retreat. Instead, he started down the ramp, and Tarawa had to hurry to pass him so she could lead the way.

10
    USAM SAT ON a downed log in the depths of the forest, catching his breath. Through the trees he could see the glow of the flames that scorched the high walls of Koronaka. He had been at the wall a short while before, in the thick of the action. He had been there when one of the big gates had opened and soldiers had charged the Pictish force. He was glad they had tried it—shooting arrows into the fort only provided minimal pleasure. Usam liked to see his enemies die. When possible, he liked to separate their heads from their bodies. He had not enjoyed enough of that so far, but when the settlers came headlong into the Pictish ranks, he found plenty of amusement.
    But he knew he was also needed away from the fort, guiding the others, providing direction and inspiration. As he had planned, the unified Pictish force had agreed to operate under his command, and he couldn’t plan strategy and strike off the heads of the settlers at the same time. He was accustomed to leading a clan’s worth of warriors, not an army numbering in the thousands. It made his head hurt to think of all the things that had to be considered, so he sat on the tree trunk away from the battle and tried to scheme.
    The main force had surrounded the fort, coming out of the trees just after sunset with volley after volley of arrows. After softening up the defenses that way, they had added some flaming arrows into the mix. The settlers had tried to respond with arrows of their own, but the Picts had an entire forest to shield them, and the trees took more shafts than their warriors did. Which left the settlers no way to respond, once their walls started to burn, but to engage the Picts on their own ground.
    Which was the next thing to suicide. In the trees, with vastly superior numbers, the Picts were unbeatable. They were painted to blend in with the night, they were fierce and determined, and once battle was joined the bloodlust took them over.
    The settlers had since realized their mistake. A handful of Picts got in through the gate before it was closed again, and those Aquilonians unfortunate enough to be outside the wall were sacrificed. As, Usam was sure, were the Picts who made it into the fort. The question before him was, now what? Wait until the walls burned to cinders, then attack? But what if the settlers got the fires extinguished? Then the whole raid might have been for naught. They’d have taken some lives, but that in itself was not good enough. They needed to get inside the walls, to find the Teeth of the Ice Bear, if the sacred relic was still within.
    While he pondered the question, Usam heard a crash in the underbrush. Someone headed his way. And not a Pict, else he would have heard nothing. He had a spear with him, and a war axe. But the spear was lying across his lap, so he got to his feet, raised his spear. A few seconds later, by the uneven glow of the distant flames, he saw a soldier from the fort. The man wore a helmet, carried a shield, and underneath his leather cuirass was a mail shirt. No wonder he made so much noise in the woods, Usam thought. In the soldier’s eyes he saw a look of disorientation, almost panic. The man had probably come out in the wave of soldiers, avoided instant massacre, and become lost in the dense trees.
    Usam waited another moment while the soldier looked about helplessly. Then he charged, spear out, war cry tearing from his lips. The soldier reacted instantly, lifting his shield and using it to deflect Usam’s initial thrust. At the same time, he uttered a surprised grunt and swung his short sword. It whistled harmlessly past Usam. The