The Haven

by Graham Diamond

  “You can’t let him suffer,” whispered Antonius. “Spare him this agony.”

  “What are you saying?” stammered Nigel in disbelief. “You want me to take his life?”

  The parrot nodded grimly. “You must. Otherwise he’ll suffer in unspeakable torment.”

  “I — I can’t.”

  Lawrence, half-conscious, pulled at his sleeve. “Do it,” he begged. “I don’t want to suffer.”

  Nigel turned his head, holding back tears. The parrot looked at him. “There is no time to lose. The Night-Birds watch. Do it now!” With a shaking hand Nigel raised the dagger above Lawrence’s heart “Forgive me!”

  The soldier forced a smile. “There is nothing to forgive, friend.” The dagger cut through flesh. Lawrence groaned and grabbed tightly onto Nigel’s hand. Then he slumped back.

  Nigel buried his head in his hands and wept.

  “To the trees!” wailed Antonius. “They attack again!”

  Nigel spun. Talons slashed across his cheek. He rolled on the earth and reached for the sword. The blade hit its target. The bat screamed and dived into the fog. Another leaped from a low-hanging branch. “Behind you!” yelled the parrot. Claws barely missed his throat. Nigel stood, then suddenly staggered. Two bats sprang from behind. Antonius lunged at them, causing them to let the man shake loose. The bats ripped at Antonius’ wings, tearing them from his body. Nigel jumped, pulling at them with his hands. The bats scratched and clawed. He let go and they fled.

  “What have they done!”

  He ran to the parrot. Antonius was beset upon the ground, by still another Night-Bird. Nigel reached for the sword and, in a rage, plunged it through the bat’s gut, pinning it to the earth. Then, using the tip of the dagger he dug out its eyes. The bat howled in agony, but Nigel let it suffer a slow painful death.

  Nigel gently picked up the fallen bird. “They shall pay for this,” he cried mournfully.

  “Do not grieve for me, old friend,” gasped Antonius with his last strength. “Still your anger, complete your tasks.”

  “But you have been with me all my life! How can I forget?”

  “Be strong, Nigel! The true test of courage is still ahead. Find the New Lands.”

  “But you must be avenged.”

  The parrot shook his head and coughed blood. “Leave fighting to soldiers! You have more important matters to accomplish. The Haven counts on you. Don’t throw all away in a rage of anger. You must live to return home in triumph!”

  Nigel sobbed deeply. Both these deaths were on his hands, and how could he ever wipe away the stains?

  “Promise me you’ll not lust revenge.”

  “I promise, but I can never forget you, old friend.”

  Antonius never heard his last words. But he died, knowing that Nigel would not let him down.

  Nigel placed the parrot gently beside Lawrence. Then he picked up the dagger and the sword, one in each hand. “Come, Night-Birds,” he cried, “I am waiting!”

  Whether he expected them to attack again cannot be said — only that they did. Alone, that night, he fought as no man had ever done before. They almost killed him many times over, but he showed a courage, a strength, they had never encountered. With the fury of a madman he held them at bay. His body became wracked with fever, and he hungered for their blood. He was not even aware when dawn finally came and the attack ended.

  *

  Bright sunlight burned away the fog. The men stood stunned.

  “By the Fates! It cannot be!”

  Basil let his jaw drop. In front of him stood Nigel, clutching his dagger and completely unaware of their presence. At his feet lay the bodies of more than twenty bats.

  Desmond approached but Nigel didn’t respond. Carlo put a cloak over his shoulders.

  “What’s wrong with, him?” asked Des.

  “He’s in shock, I think,” the old soldier said.

  Des shook his head in astonishment. Nigel’s tunic was drenched in blood and his face and arms were bruised and scratched. The stench of death was terrible and they were forced to cover their faces.

  Slowly they led Nigel back to camp, cleaned his wounds and wrapped his shivering body in blankets. Carlo tended to him, bathing his cut with herbs and fresh bandages.

  “Will he be well?” asked Rolf, feeling somehow responsible for what had happened.

  Carlo bit his lip. “The wounds are superficial,” he said. “Although how he managed not to be fatally bitten I’ll never know.”

  “Yes,” said Des impatiently. “But will he recover? Will his mind recover?”

  “Ah, this is a different matter,” said Carlo. “With proper care he will come back to us. But how deep are the scars I cannot say. It might take weeks, months even.”

  “There is no way of knowing,” said Des glumly.

  Carlo nodded in agreement.

  That night was spent with a careful watch for returning bats. Nigel tossed and turned, crying out in his sleep. They soothed his brow with water and forced hot soup down his throat. Daylight finally came, and with it the need for a decision. Desmond called his men together.

  “I must make a choice,” he said coolly. “To stay while Nigel heals, or to continue the search, leaving Nigel and Carlo here, to be picked up when we return.”

  “We cannot go without Lord Nigel,” protested Sinjon. “This is his mission.”

  “But we only lose precious time if we stay,” reminded Nevil.

  “There is a third choice.”

  They all looked toward Hector. “Let the wolves seek the New Lands,” he said. “We can cover more ground alone in a day than you can in a week. Let Nigel heal. We will scout out the paths ahead and come back for you.”

  Desmond sighed. “Thank you for your offer, but as you once told me, this is man’s mission, not yours. Besides, to stay here is dangerous. It’s clear that a bat-cave is about.”

  Rolf stood, a gleam in his eyes. “I have a thought,” he said. “Let the wolves scout ahead. We can spend our time in good purpose. Let us seek out this bat-cave and destroy it!”

  “That makes sense,” said Basil. “Night-Birds are known to stay close to their caverns. If we search hard enough we can find them. And what a blow to them it will be! Word will reach the other caves and send shivers through their vile hearts! They will think twice about this alliance they have formed!”

  The others began to stir. Here was a chance to show the Forest-Dwellers man’s own courage and cunning. A chance to show their mettle as soldiers.

  Des looked toward Hector. “Give us one week’s time. By then we’ll have found them.” Then he looked to Nigel, “And by then he might be well enough to continue.”

  Late that day, Hector, Dane, and Sesto departed. And Mustapha took to the sky, this time to seek out the enemies’ home. Carlo stayed alone with Nigel as the others set out.

  Although no one said it, revenge was in their hearts. They would attack by daylight, while the bats slumbered. And fire would be their weapon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Something was wrong. For days the army of Sean and Dinjar marched farther through the Southern Forest, yet they had still to find a trace of the Master’s gathering hordes. Both Sean and Dinjar were troubled.

  The captured dog-lord, meanwhile, had divulged nothing. Rather than live with his shame he took his own life, and also the only hope of quick success. Fully a week had passed since that battle, and the sweetness of its victory began to sour. Supplies were becoming short, and so were tempers. Many horses and mules had become lame, many ran off. Each day became more frustrating and more difficult. Yet deeper and deeper they marched.

  *

  Sean sat huddled with a blanket and ate his supper of hard biscuits and salted beef. Dinjar rested at his side, glad that men were unable to light their fires, lest they warn the enemy of their position. The wolf had always enjoyed his own meat raw and untainted, and any other way seemed foolish. To skewer a piece of tasty flesh over flames was not only barbaric, but unh
ealthy as well. And the belching smoke from the fire was even worse! It burned the eyes and caused one to wheeze and cough. What madness! And so on this night as Sean and the other men grumbled, Dinjar rested comfortably. Vandor flew from his post and landed beside them.

  Sean looked up. “Any news?” he said, mouth full.

  The hawk spit. “None as yet. But I am still awaiting word from the falcon-lord, Corin. He has sent spies to search the Marshlands.”

  Dinjar cast a quizzical eye. “Why there?” he asked. “Surely they would pick a more suitable campsite than that.”

  “For that very reason, we look there,” said Vandor. “I fear some hidden treachery is afoot. I know the dogs. They will be found in the most unlikely place.”

  “Perhaps they have retreated,” laughed Sean. “Perhaps the news of our victory has made them run.”

  Vandor scowled. “The dogs do not run or hide. No, there is treachery afoot. I feel it in my feathers.”

  “Say what is in your mind,” said Dinjar, sensing urgency in Vandor’s tone. The hawk’s eyes blinked. “All I know is that with each day we find ourselves further from lands we are familiar with. And each day we become more weary.”

  Sean wiped his mouth and put down his bowl. “Only days ago we wiped out a Pack of five hundred,” he said with a frown, “yet today you say we are in danger of becoming somehow entrapped. How so? Clearly we have been the victors in this war, not the vanquished!”

  The bird shook his head slowly, gazing at the earth. “We are in the dog-empire, not in man’s. Here, we are the invaders. And they will not take this invasion lightly.”

  Sean scoffed, then laughed bitterly. “Men have fought dogs for two thousand years,” he said. “We are not strangers to their ways. We knew the risks.”

  “That may well be,” said the wolf, becoming somewhat annoyed at Sean’s bravado. “But Vandor speaks wisely. It is true you have fought many wars, but never one from within the forest itself. This is their territory, and they know it well. I fear it will be they who decide when and where the battle is to be fought, indeed, if it is to be fought at all!”

  Sean cast a forlorn glance at him. “What do you mean, ‘if at all’?”

  The wolf wagged his tail nervously. “An evil thought nags at me,” he said. “What if the enemy leaves us purposely to wander aimlessly in the wood while they wait until we are lost and tired? Then they might easily outflank us and race toward the Valley to attack the Haven while it is virtually defenseless.”

  Sean swallowed hard. His mouth became dry. That idea had not crossed his mind. What fools they would look! Trekking in circles while the dogs lay siege upon the Empire!

  Vandor raised his beak toward the distraught soldier. “I think the enemy is too vain to leave such a force as ours unattended in the forest. Yet I think that men give them less credit than they deserve. Perhaps they lay in hiding in the hope of our coming to such a conclusion! Then, if we withdraw hastily, return to the Valley, they will be free to snipe at us at will, slow us down badly, and then draw close for the kill.”

  Dinjar nodded. “That, too, is a possibility.”

  “Then which is it?” said Sean, feeling confused. “Dare we continue? Do the dogs draw us in, or do they avoid us completely and attack the Haven?”

  Dinjar and Vandor said nothing. It was a question to be carefully pondered. Indeed, there might be no answer at all.

  Off in the distance a sentry suddenly shouted the arrival of a bird.

  They all looked to the sky. A great falcon glided from the treetops and came to rest between them. “Welcome, Corin!” said Vandor.

  The bird bowed his head deeply and caught his breath. “My spies and I have sighted a camp,” he announced unemotionally.

  Sean clapped his hands. “The main camp, I trust?”

  Corin nodded. “I believe so. At any rate there are thousands to be found there.”

  The soldier looked to his companions. “So there has been no trickery after all!” he said happily. “We have been worrying needlessly. While we talked, the dogs have made no move at all!”

  “Tell us what you have seen,” said Vandor, ignoring Sean’s show of delight.

  “We flew east, to the Great Marsh, as you know,” said Corin. “And we came to rest along a ridge of high bluffs, before the Swamps begin. There, nestled in a rugged valley, between the bluffs, we sighted what can only be a gathering of thousands. My eyes have never seen so many at one time!”

  “What of their defenses?” said Dinjar. “Might we catch them at a disadvantage?”

  “Oh, yes!” answered the bird, fluttering his wings. “This valley is narrow, yet very long. They are thinly spread across it. On their sides lay the bluffs and to their front only the Marsh. At their backs is thick forest. Clearly we could not hope for better.”

  “And what of Night-Birds?” asked Vandor.

  Corin grimaced. “They have not yet come, at least as far as I could tell. But it won’t be long until they do, you can be assured of that. Already the dogs seem prepared to march.”

  “Then we shall be there before they can,” said Sean with a grin. “The Master and his army will be trapped.”

  “Be not hasty,” said the wolf. He looked to Corin. “Are you sure there is no trickery here? It seems too easy, almost as if they invite us.”

  “None that I could discern,” said Corin. “If there is, they use all their forces to deceive us.”

  Sean gathered the others close. “This will be our plan,” he said. “One force shall swing around, attack from the front, from the Marsh. Then as the enemy meets them head on, our main thrust shall come from the back.”

  Dinjar growled darkly. “I don’t like the idea of splitting our army,” he said. “If things should go badly, we’ll not be able to reunite.”

  “Nothing can go wrong,” said Sean. “The first attack shall be from a light, fast-moving force, made up of cavalry and your swiftest Hunters. The positions they take will be from deep in the Marsh. When the dogs counterattack, they’ll be bogged down in the swamp, unable to advance. It will be a dawn strike, and we’ll have the sun at our backs. Our main force will circle from the wood and attack straight into their camp. Archers will take up positions all along the ridge, over the bluffs. The enemy will be surrounded. All channels of scape will be closed. Despite superior numbers they’ll be unable to fight their way out.”

  Dinjar still looked reluctant.

  “The landscape cries out for such methods,” Sean assured him. “We’ll hit them from all sides. Believe me, they’ll panic, just as the others did. They won’t even know what’s happened!”

  *

  That very night the plan was put into motion. Tagg took command of the new column and headed southeast, to circumvent the Marshlands and reach the enemy from the Swamp. With him came fifty mounted soldiers, and another fifty archers. One hundred of Dinjar’s finest Hunters, led by Marco, Dinjar’s nephew, followed closely behind. Eighty fighting birds showed the way.

  Sean and Dinjar, meanwhile, grouped into two tightly knit armies. They spread out like pincers, moving slowly over the red earth of the Southern Forest, ready to overtake the camp and issue what they hoped would be the decisive blow. The fate of the whole world rested with them, they knew. And the Master knew it, too.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Nigel’s mind was swept with racing colors taking form, then breaking into tiny fragments. He felt he was falling, swimming against the tide in a sea of light. Suddenly a shadow appeared, drew beside him. He tried to pull back, hide from it. The shadow drew closer, became bright.

  “Gwenn!” he said. “Is it you?”

  She stretched out her arms and smiled. He struggled to reach her, touch her, but the harder he tried, the farther back he was pushed.

  “I can’t reach you!” he cried. “Can you not take a single step closer? A single step?”

  “You must take it yourself, Nigel,” she whispered. Then she began to drift further away.

  H
e pushed forward. “Wait for me!”

  “I’ll wait,” she said, “but you must take the first step.” Her form began to dissipate into wisps of smoke. And then she was gone.

  Nigel sobbed deep cries from his soul.

  “I’ll come for you, Gwenn! I’ll come for you!”

  *

  He felt something wet over his forehead; it was soothing. He opened his eyes. A bearded face loomed in front. It was blurry and unrecognizable. He rubbed his eyes and things slowly began to focus. The face smiled at him.

  “I must have been dreaming,” he said.

  Carlo withdrew the compress. “You were, for quite some time. But the fever is gone now, and you’ll be all right.”

  Nigel tried to sit up, felt his head throb, and sank back down. “How long have I been ill?”

  “About four days, ever since that night —”

  Nigel covered his face with his hands. A flood of memories swept through his mind: the fog, the Night-Birds, Lawrence, Antonius.

  The soldier kneeled beside him. “It’s over now,” he said softly.

  “It was my fault!” cried Nigel. “If it wasn’t for me, they’d be alive.”

  Carlo looked sternly at him and shook his head. “It was no one’s fault. There is a bat-cave close by. They came upon you quite by chance. In fact, you might have saved our lives!”

  Nigel looked at him quizzically.

  “You diverted their attention and held them off. They must have intended to strike at us, but you got in their way.” Carlo smiled. “But I tell you this: never before have I seen one man fight the way you did! You were braver than any soldier I have ever known!”

  He helped Nigel to sit up and handed him a cup of hot broth. “Here, drink this.”

  Nigel took the soup gratefully and sipped. It was then that he realized that he and Carlo were alone in the camp. “Where are the others?” he asked, looking about.

  Carlo grimaced. “They have gone to pay a debt,” he said.

  Nigel stared. “The Night-Birds?”