Demontech: Gulf Run by David Sherman Page B

let the Jokapcul take the port you led us to?”
    Spinner wouldn’t look at her. “That’s a sea battle, we don’t have a ship. So we
can’t
do anything.”
    “You could go down to the harbor shore,” she pointed at the side of the bay closest to the battle, “and use the demon spitters to even the odds.”
    Haft
did
look at her. “I don’t know what those demon spitters are they’re using. I
do
know ours don’t have that much range. We don’t have anything to hit them with until they get much closer to shore.”
    She muttered something unintelligible. Neither man asked her to repeat it. They watched the one-sided battle at the mouth of the harbor develop. A half-dozen galleys closed enough to grapple the smaller coast huggers. The others were shattered, burned, and sunk. A few crewmen managed to swim to the galleys still afloat and were hauled aboard to join in swarming onto the enemy craft. Others swam to shore. Too many went underwater and didn’t resurface. The galleys were two and three times the size of the coast huggers; their much larger crews were able to overpower their antagonists, though with severe loss of life. The victories were short-lived, as the other attackers didn’t hesitate to turn their demon spitters on the captured boats. The sea fight was over soon and the mass of coast huggers that gathered just beyond the fighting vessels advanced into the port.
    “How many boats do you make out?” Spinner asked, peering through tubed hands.
    Haft also had his hands curled into tubes held in front of his eyes to help focus his vision. “About a hundred,” he said grimly. “Twenty men per boat.”
    “Two thousand men,” Spinner said softly. “How many were in the landing force at New Bally?”
    Haft shrugged. “Ten thousand? I wasn’t counting.”
    “That was before dawn, in an undefended city. This is during the day, with the defenses alert. That’s not a large enough force.”
    “No, it’s not.”
    The two Marines lowered their hands and looked at each other.
    “Where are the rest of them?” Spinner asked.
    “I’ll check that side trail.” Haft spun about and galloped toward the rear of the train, bellowing out, “Bloody Axes, to me!”
    Spinner looked back. A squad of Zobran Prince’s Swords had edged forward. “Come with me,” he ordered. He turned to Alyline. “Get Fletcher, tell him to see to defense from the east.” He cantered east along the edge of the forest, looking for roads or foot paths. The Prince’s Swords formed up behind him as they went.
    Alyline sniffed. “ ‘Get Fletcher’ indeed. As if I can’t do it myself.” Still, she went to get Fletcher. Between them they would organize the caravan into a defensive posture.
    Two short lines of Prince’s Swords rode with Spinner just inside the edge of the forest, almost invisible from the city and harbor. He hadn’t told them what was happening, they saw for themselves when they reached the mouth of the road and looked across the farmland to the city and harbor. Half a mile ahead, the forest curved sharply north, almost to the waterline. Spinner slowed his gelding from a canter to a trot when he reached the bend and went partway toward the Gulf before turning into the wood. The trees grew close enough that he had to walk his horse. The Prince’s Swords could have continued the trot, but he wasn’t a good enough horseman to go through the forest at a faster pace. After a few hundred yards they began to hear the clash of arms to their front.
    “I will go ahead, Lord Spinner,” Wudu, the squad leader, offered. He heeled his horse and didn’t hear Spinner’s muttered response:
    “Don’t call me ‘Lord.’ ”
    Spinner and the others continued forward at a walk. Wudu rejoined them in five minutes.
    “Several troops of Dartmutters are in the open, fighting a holding action against a large Jokapcul force, lord,” he reported.
    Spinner grimaced at the “Lord,” but let it go for now.
    “How far