by Sam Taw
Warriors fell like stuck pigs. Tallack channelled the gods themselves, killing all who stood in his path to protect our kin. As the numbers of our enemy declined, most turned tail and ran. The hairy Chieftain of the Duros was left standing all alone next to a heap of his dead men. He opened his mouth wide and roared, clenching his fists around his short sword and axe. He would not flee, nor would he allow us to take him alive.
Surrounded by those of my tribe who’d survived the onslaught, the Duro Chief walked in a circle, evenly spaced from Tallack’s strides. Either of my nephews could have ordered their warriors to stick him with a dozen spears, or grab him from behind and slash his neck, but this was a matter of honour. A Chieftain should die at the hands of another.
I knew that reasoning with Tallack would do no good. He had a reputation to uphold, especially since his brother was in a critical state. While one was weak, the other must show their strength. Tallack also knew that his long sword would lead him to victory and a fresh head to suspend from the gates.
“Don’t make it too quick, Brother. I want to see that kyjyan suffer.” Blydh said standing at the front of the circle of warriors surrounding the pair.
“I’ll do my best, but if Cernonnus wants to dispatch him with haste, who am I to argue?” Tallack was getting cocky. That was not a good sign. Even with a decent blade, he still faced an experienced warrior who stood head and shoulders above my nephew. This would not be an easy fight. I sent my hopes and fears up to the Morrighan to spare him from defeat. All things considered; we had come through the ordeal relatively well, thus far.
They were still posturing, edging around each other. Were they both having second thoughts, sizing up their weaknesses or just taking the time to catch their breaths after the frenzy of fighting earlier? The Duro made the first move. With his left hand he jabbed at Tallack with the short blade, while swinging the axe in the other hand.
Tallack stepped backwards out of the reach of both while blocking the axe with the mystical long sword. The two metals clanged together with a deafening ring. The Duro looked surprised, as though he expected Tallack to crumple from the force. Before he could regain a solid footing, Tallack forced the shaft of the axe down to the ground and stamped hard against the wood. The handle splintered under his foot.
The Duro let go, staggering backwards. It was now sword against sword, except that the Blade of Cernonnus was twice the length of its opponent’s.
“Finish him off, Tallack. I tire of this dance.” Blydh shouted from the side-lines. It whipped the rest of the warriors into wild shouting and howling. They jeered and bellowed and jostled the Duro whenever he got near to the edge of the circle. One got close enough to grab his braided hair. He cut it off close to the nape of his neck and held it aloft for the crowd to see.
Unsettled and distracted, the Duro swished his short blade from side to side in front of him to deter Tallack’s lunge, but the reach was simply too short. They parried for no more than three swipes, before Tallack’s patience left him. He waited until the big man thrust his blade out again.
In one deft move, Tallack side stepped the brute and drove the great mystical sword through the Duros chest. The sound of crunching bone and gasping breath lasted but a moment. He hung there, suspended from the silvery blade, until his dead weight forced Tallack’s grip towards the ground.
We all watched him choke on his own blood, just as our bowman had done on the eastern battlements. With one final gasp and a wide-eyed stare of panic, the gods dragged him away to the Summerlands. His bravery, however misguided, would be rewarded with a seat next to the warriors of old.
I knew just how ill-advised he was, for Brea watched from her safe distance beyond the training grounds. With all competition dispatched, she would now be free to take over as sole ruler of the Durotriges. Perhaps that was her aim all along. After Wenna had attained their devotion, the Duros were used to a woman ruling over them.
Tallack lifted his foot onto the dead man’s chest and levered the sword of Cernonnus from the body. Blydh did his best to hug his brother, but his fever had taken hold. His knees buckled beneath him. Tallack rushed to lend his support and save face in front of his men. They broke the tight circle to face the broken south gates. We all watched Brea turn her horse around and trot away with her remaining warriors.
Blydh was furious. Dribbling and rolling his head about, he tried to lift his axe from the mud. “I’m coming for you, Brea. This is not the end! You hear me! I’m coming for you!”
Tallack struggled to keep him upright without losing hold of his sword. Kewri and I offered to take over, leaving our victor his spoils. The moment I turned my back to follow Kewri and Blydh back to my hut, I heard the thud of the long sword as it severed the Chieftain’s head.
Blydh was burning up. I pulled his arm over my shoulder while Kewri held him about the waist. Leaving the axe in the dirt, we dragged him standing upright to my hut for treatment. There was no way I would let Kewri pick him up again. Not only would the men in camp have seen, but I feared that he might lose the top of his head.
All about the compound, women wailed over the loss of their sons, husbands and in some cases, daughters. Others formed human chains to carry water to the burning stores and huts, while others stripped the items of use from the dead Duros before stacking the bodies for burning.
The puddles and flooded areas were awash with blood. Our victory had come at a heavy price, but it could have been far worse without our defences. Renowden’s moving crossings had put paid to their northern incursion, while the submerged spikes proved adequate in deterring their approach from the east. They would not be so keen to take us on again.
As relieved as I was to know that they were running back to their own lands, it did not solve the problem of the Novantae in the next bay. In many respects, they posed a far greater threat than the Duros had. They were hardened to the cold and wet conditions and were fierce and relentless fighters. They would not be easy to defeat. With Renowden out at sea protecting the Phoenician ship, I feared that Tallack would not have wise counsel to steer his course.
When we drew level with the Long Hut, Cryda saw us and raced to Blydh’s side. She hadn’t even noticed that the battle had been won, or that a third of the compound was ablaze. All that mattered to her was her first born. The light was failing by the time we got him settled and warm. I managed to get him to drink a little willow tea before he began thrashing about in his fevered state. Cryda clung to his hands for a time, trying to stop him from clawing it his scalp, but he was too strong for her. As upsetting as it must have been to watch, I instructed Kewri to bind him again to the posts of the bunk.
I went through all my stores of medicines and the bag looking for wild hops to bring down the fever, but I was completely out. The stitches were straining against the puffy tissues and it smelled foul. It really needed some crushed rose hips mashed into a few globs of honey to draw out the vile humours, but it was the wrong season for such things. I had to make do with willow, and hope that I’d made it strong enough to break his sweat.
“Is Kerensa not here?” Cryda said, moving out of Kewri’s way as he tied the leather bindings at Blydh’s wrists. “I expected her to be at his side. They got pretty close while they were at the mining settlement in Bentewyn. I thought it had run its course when he rode back here to rebuild the compound.” She looked both sad and perplexed. I couldn’t decide whether she was happy that he’d found someone to love or whether she disapproved of the union.
“I’ve not seen her for quite some time. I wonder where she went.” It hadn’t crossed my mind with all the turmoil of the battle. I had more than my hands full with Blydh, plus a growing line of injured people waiting under the new shelter for me to treat them.
“I suppose that we must give more offerings to the gods for favouring us in this way. To own the truth, Meliora, I didn’t think we’d prevail. The stories in the Long Hut would have made your hair curl. I was nearly frightened out of my wits.”
<
br /> I looked at Cryda in her pristine tunic and combed hair, bejewelled with gold and tin beads. She had hidden for the entire skirmish with the young children and old folk. What could she possibly know of fear? Where was she when our warriors and shield maidens were putting their lives on the line for us? I said nothing. There is no reasoning with her when she gets into these moods.
“I suppose we can sacrifice the white stag now. Won’t that be a blessing to the gods?” She piped up with a macabre grin spreading across her face.
“No. That mustn’t happen.” I reacted too quickly, giving away my fondness for the creature. “Tallack says he’s to remain in camp until his antlers have regrown.” I hadn’t forgotten my bargain. Somehow, I had to find a way to give him his freedom.
“But that won’t be until late summer, early autumn. Surely, he won’t make us wait that long? I bet he’ll taste divine with some purple carrots and roasted tubers.”
It pained me to hear her speak of my spirit animal as an offering or worse still as her supper. If she had seen his splendid stance in the forest that day, maybe she would think differently.
“Can you watch over Blydh while I treat the others out there?” I just needed to be away from her prattle, to clear my head and think about how to deal with the remaining danger. Kewri followed me outside. I was quick to set him to work with the rest of the tribe, stacking up the Duro bodies on the forge cart and wheeling them out to the southern training grounds for burning.
At least while I was under the shelter of the new hut, I could see all that was happening around camp. Having no walls yet came in handy after all. The injuries were varied. Some lay on the ground, their wounds seeping faster than I could stop the flow of blood. Try as I might, two more were lost to me before the sun was fully down. One had a splintered ankle that was so bad, only an axe could put it right.
The poor soul bit down on a piece of leather while his friends held him down. It was a job I loath most in the world, but it was either lose a foot, or die weeks later from the stinking rot. What made it worse was that I had to walk from my fire in the hut with a glowing blade to close the wound. By the time I reached the man, it was half cooled and didn’t fully seal the vessels. Despite the agony he’d endured, he had to wait until the knife was heated a second time to finish the job.
All about me, people talked of their relief that the whole raid was over. Were they unaware that the Novantae still lay in the next bay awaiting an order to attack? We’d defeated the Duros, but what we did next could make or break us. We were still in terrible danger.
What preyed on my mind most of all was the fact that the Duro’s seemed to know that Faolan’s plan to kill Tallack and take control had failed. How could they have known he was our captive? Did we have a spy in camp?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Our tribe worked late into the night. They sorted through the pockets of the dead and stripped them of anything useful. Our strongest men gathered the Duro bodies into a massive heap on the southern training ground outside the walls.
Tallack threw the first torch on the mound, grinned at the array of heads swinging from the watchtowers and walked back inside the gates. They would have to wait until daylight to be fixed. The families of our fallen collected their kin and mourned over them in private. There would be another pyre built to honour them and a feast to send them into the Summerlands as the heroes and mighty warriors they were.
When I was finished doing all I could for the injured, I sneaked to the unguarded grain store and took a few handfuls to the horse pen. After so much rain the ground was soggy underfoot, but the sky was clear and all the tiny shards of light peeped through the holes from the Summerlands. I liked to think that the gods were celebrating up there too.
The white hart peered out from between the trees to see me. He looked even more spirit-like in the moonlight. Checking all around that I could not be overheard, I held out the grain on my palm.
“It’s me, god of gods, Meliora. I came to thank you for sparing my kin and leading us to victory this day. Although our troubles are far from over, I will honour my pledge to set you free.” It was the perfect time. The southern gates hung in tatters and everyone was either in mourning or watching our enemies burn. He could slip past them all and out into the wilderness once again. I scattered a little of the wheat on the ground in case he wasn’t sure of my intentions. The entrance to the pen was wide open. “Come on.” I said backing away and sprinkling more grain on the ground.
Thinking that my presence alone had frightened him, I returned through the enclosure gate and hid behind a hut, hoping that he would seize his chance. I waited for as long as I dared before the horses noticed the opening, but barring the odd snuffle and ear twitches, he didn’t move.
The crackling noises of burning men quietened and at length, our warriors began to file back into the compound. The opportunity had passed. Sighing, I returned to the gate and closed it, depositing the rest of the wheat inside the fencing. Before I was a few paces away, the stag wandered across the grass and dipped his head to the food. Perhaps he’d chosen to stay. Maybe Cernonnus had not finished with me yet.
My mind turned back to more pressing concerns. What had Tallack decided to do about Faolan and his heavily armed sons? My feet were soaked in muddy water and blood when I got to the Long Hut. There were still many children, nursing mothers and elderly in the benches closest to the front door, too scared to return to their own huts.
Tallack had ordered his slaves to cook a large pot of stew and make flat bread for all those still in and around the central hub of the compound. A few would have to sleep there too, until their homes could be rebuilt after the fires. The cooking smells made my stomach turn, for it was fairly similar to that of the burning bodies outside.
When all was said and done, the outcome could have been significantly worse. Snaking through the crowds, I made my way towards the top table. Derwa and Glaw were sitting in their usual seats on the bench just below.
“Ho there, you two. I didn’t see Glaw among the warriors. I was afraid he’d be counted as one of the fallen.” I said, knowing full well that the devious little mountain man was nowhere near the fighting. He’d stayed in the Long Hut with the women and children. What shook me more was that Derwa defended his decision.
“He’s the heir to the Ordoviches Tribe. Neither the Ivernii nor the Durotriges are their enemies. Why should he have to fight against them?” Her petulance was astounding considering she couldn’t care two hoots about him before. If anything, I’d have thought her desperate for him to fight, so that she may be freed from her unhappy marriage after he was killed. That girl never ceases to vex me.
Tallack was in his tall chair looking decidedly lonely. The visitors’ seats were empty, as was that of the Ruvane and of course his brother’s wolf chair. He watched over us all, holding the handle of his sword as though it was alive.
Most of his warriors were still with their families or outside with the fallen. He hadn’t cleaned himself since killing the Duro Chief. Blood was smeared across his forehead and leather tunic. His hands were black with mud and dried humours. It was hard to see a section of his clothing unstained by those he’d slaughtered.
A slave poured more ale for him, but he didn’t drink from his cup. As I moved closer, he spotted me. “Aunt Mel. Come up here and give me the news.”
How could I refuse? When I climbed up the platform to his level, I was unsure where to sit. Every space seemed to be cursed. Tallack appeared to read my mind, for he patted the Ruvane seat between the two tall chairs of the Chieftains. I perched lightly, feeling exposed and vulnerable to criticism. I was aware that our whole tribe could see me.
“How’s my brother?” He asked. I was glad that this was uppermost in his mind, since he had not checked up on his state for some time.
“The fever has set in. We can only hope that this doesn’t addle his brain or steal him away from us. Your mother sits with him now. I shall take over later.”
> He nodded slowly, taking it all in with alarming dispassion. Had he grown used to ruling from the top table alone, or had the number of violent deaths of late numbed his sense?
“Our defences held up well.” He muttered.
“Thank the gods.”
He shifted in his seat to face me. “Now you believe in them? Kyjya, Aunt, make up your mind.”
“I believe that they favoured us this day. I don’t know if that state will last. We still have the Novantae to deal with.”
He glowered into his horn cup. “Do you think I don’t know that? According to your scout, who is a brilliant find of yours by the way, Greum and Ealar have more ships than us and every one of them is filled with fighting men.”
It was my turn to nod. I had no answers for him. The time for allegiances and treaties had long passed.
“I guess what I am asking, Aunt Mel, is; do you have any bright ideas?”
I stared towards the back of the hall, hoping that Cernonnus would find another way to enlighten me with the answer. The noise in the hut blared into my ears; screaming children, groaning elderly and exhausted mothers. They each had their own mournful tune. Eventually, I shook my head. “Not a clue, I’m afraid.”
I could sense his despair as he relaxed his muscles and slumped further down the furs lining the tall chair. My new scout, Senara sat on the end of a bench near to the door. She gave me a little smile before shoving a chunk of bread into her mouth and washing it down with ale. I was glad she made it through the battle unscathed. To see her among the elder families and not outside with the recruits made me inordinately happy. She deserved all the honours of a true warrior.
That gave me an idea. Hobbling back down from the top table, I wove between the old men and snivelling children to Senara’s side. If anyone knew the lay of the land it was her. She jumped up from the bench and offered me her seat.
