The Wildcat of Braeton

by Claire M Banschbach

Darrin met them at the entrance of the great hall. “You made it!”

  “Barely,” Corin said. “We have time to change?”

  “No, you have about a minute to spare,” Darrin said.

  “Fine. Andras, you can go find your family. I’ll let you know when we leave,” Corin said.

  Andras saluted and left.

  “I’m surprised to see him here,” Darrin commented.

  “I don’t think anyone would recognize him from a few months ago,” Corin said. “But you can hear about this later. You have to go get married!”

  They entered the hall, and Corin slipped along the side of the crowd to the front where his family stood.

  Amaura turned at his light tug on her hair. “Corin! You’re–”

  “Filthy!” her mother interjected.

  “Hello, Mother. I just got here. Sorry,” Corin said.

  “I’m surprised to see you here. Is it wise to leave?” his father asked in a low voice.

  “Martin threatened mutiny,” Corin said lightly. “He can handle things until tomorrow morning.”

  “You’re not staying?” Amaura was disappointed.

  “I can’t. You know I don’t like parties,” Corin said, but his look promised his father a report later.

  Amaura could only smile. Her brother would never tell her how bad it was in the forest.

  The crowd was drawn on either side of the hall, leaving clear the path to the dais where Darrin now stood. All heads turned as Rhian entered escorted by Maldwyn, her guardian since her family’s death in the first war.

  “She’s beautiful!” Amaura breathed.

  Rhian’s wardrobe was severely limited after fleeing the country and having no home of her own to return to. So Queen Elain and her sister-in-law had taken matters into their own hands. Rhian wore a dress of pure white. Gold thread was stitched around the neckline and chased elegantly down the bodice and trailing skirt. Around her neck was clasped a necklace with a single pearl, carefully wrought around with gold. Her hair was simply pulled away from her face, and the rest fell over her shoulders.

  But Corin was not looking at her. Mera was standing opposite him. She turned suddenly and caught sight of him, and her face broke into a joyful smile. They hardly turned their attention away as Maldwyn performed the marriage ceremony, and Darrin and Rhian spoke the unchanging vows to one another.

  Then King Celyn came forward and in a solemn ceremony, crowned Darrin as Aredor’s new king. Darrin was handed a new crown and placed it on the head of his queen. They took their place on the thrones and after the cheers finally died away, Maldwyn called for the oaths of fealty to be spoken.

  Corin came forward. He knelt with unsheathed sword and, looking unwaveringly at Darrin, recited the pledge to his king. They stood in stark contrast to each other. Darrin, resplendent in his finest clothes, white and gold to match Rhian and his sword buckled by a gold-wrought belt. And Corin: his clothes patched and stained by dirt and blood. The bright blade that glittered in his hands attested to his trade.

  Those in the hall knew that was how it would always be. Darrin, the king, and Corin, the warrior. Had they more ambition, they could conquer worlds together.

  Corin stood and sheathed his sword. Darrin stood also.

  “You’re not out of this yet, brother.” Darrin signaled and a young boy came forward bearing a silver circlet.

  “Please tell me that’s not—” Corin said.

  “Do you mind kneeling again?” Darrin asked.

  “Yes.”

  “This won’t take long.”

  Corin knelt. There was no arguing. “I hate you.”

  “Of course you do,” Darrin said amiably, then raising his voice so it echoed to the furthest corners of the hall, he declared, “Until such time as I have a son to succeed me as heir, I name Corin, Celyn’s son and my brother, as my successor.” He placed the circlet on Corin’s head.

  Corin felt like a noose was being placed around his neck.

  “I also name him to be General of my warbands and bearer of the rights and duties therein,” Darrin said.

  Corin rose and Rhian came forward holding the General’s belt that had been newly made for Corin. The thick leather was embossed with the wolves of the warbands and lined with gold that merged into the golden buckle. Corin removed his cloak, and Darrin buckled it across his chest.

  “I would say thanks, but I feel ridiculous,” Corin said.

  Rhian reached up and straightened the belt over his shoulder.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t. It livens up your outfit quite nicely,” she said.

  Corin and Darrin tried hard to restrain their laughter and preserve the dignity of the moment for everyone in the hall. Corin had come to know his new sister-in-law over the months since the Autumn Festival. She was calm and steady, with a quick humor. She held the grace of a queen and was a perfect match to Darrin. She gave them her brilliant smile and returned to her seat.

  Corin stood to the right of Darrin as he also sat back down and received the fealty of the lords of Aredor and the recognition of the Lairds of Braeton. When all was finally finished, there came the call to the feast. Before following, Corin gave a brief report to the new king, his father, and several of the lords including Tristan.

  Darrin persuaded Corin to remain for at least part of the feast. So he stayed, eating and talking, but time weighed heavily on him. Andras saw his signal from the high table and went to prepare fresh horses. Corin slipped away and went to his room where he left the circlet and belt.

  He was crossing the empty hall when he was stopped by Darrin.

  “You were just going to leave?” Darrin asked.

  “I was thinking about it,” Corin replied.

  “I’m glad you came.”

  “You should thank Martin.”

  “I’ll make sure to when everyone gets safely back.”

  “We’re trying,” Corin said somberly.

  “Be careful, Cor.” Darrin hugged him.

  “I hope I get a good-bye as well.” Rhian joined them.

  “I would hug you, but I’m sure every woman here would kill me if I got your dress dirty,” Corin said.

  Rhian laughed, taking his hand. “Thank you for coming. I know it must be hard.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it,” Corin said. “Congratulations to both of you.”

  She reached up and kissed his cheek. “Be careful.”

  “I will,” he replied.

  “He’ll be fine, won’t he?” Rhian looked up at her husband as Corin left the hall.

  “Don’t worry about him or the war tonight,” Darrin told her.

  She rested her head on his shoulder. “But you will.”

  “I always do,” he replied.

  Corin heard someone call his name. He saw Mera standing at the entrance to the gardens. He joined her and they stepped outside.

  “You’re not hurt, are you?” she asked.

  “I’m fine.” He smiled. “I’ve missed you.”

  “And I, you. Corin, this war…when will you come back?” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears of uncertainty.

  Hardly knowing what he was doing, he kissed her.

  “Soon,” he whispered and turned to leave, but she caught his hand and kissed him again before disappearing into the castle.

  The courtyard was dimly lit by the flickering torches and the cloud-crossed moon, but Andras could have sworn that Corin was smiling as they mounted and rode from the castle.

  But back in the forest there was little to smile about. The enemy was slowly forcing the Hawk Flight back and every step was precious.

  Attacks on the Braetons ceased, Samir wishing to focus his forces on the obstinate Aredorians instead. He would cut the Hawk Flight off from Lynwood Keep and the border. They would force the Northerners from the forest and begin the attack on the rest of Aredor.

  All grew quiet on the border. The Braetons patrolled it anxiously, searching for anything. The riders rarely came and even the paths from Lynwood were quiet
. But they knew their orders from the Laird. They could not cross the border into Aredor without permission. They would wait and conserve their own strength against an invasive attack from the Calorin armies.

  Aiden grew restless. The forest was silent, reflecting the brooding, pensive feeling in his heart. As the time for the Gathering drew near, he wished less and less to go.

  Chapter 6

  Reports sat unread in front of Corin. It had been two weeks since the wedding, and it felt like an age. They had lost more ground and Lynwood Keep was slowly being barred to them. Five new graves were dug in the clearing at the caves. Then, the caves themselves were discovered by the Calorins. Liam and his patrol barely escaped the attack. That was almost a week ago, and since then, the patrols had been constantly on the move.

  Trey and his men had not seen the enemy for days and he wanted to move his line forward.

  “Tell him to move but don’t overreach. They might be trying to draw him out,” Corin said to Kara.

  She only nodded. She and Kieran did not get much rest. Their rides had become fraught with danger at every turn. She had only just escaped capture and certain death on her way to report to Corin. They were all slowly being worn down.

  She rode off, and Corin’s and Liam’s patrols joined ranks. Another enemy force had been sighted, and another fight was planned.

  But their luck turned again, and they were ambushed. The force they were to attack was only a decoy. Flames sprang up to encircle them. The Calorins and Durnians trapped with them fought mercilessly and others outside the fire contributed their arrows.

  Corin marshaled his men, ever thankful for their control in the most severe circumstances. Daring the flames and the enemy on the other side, they leapt through. Liam quickly counted as burning clothes were extinguished. They had lost two to the first flames, but one other was missing.

  “Where’s Corin?” Liam asked.

  A figure darted back across the fire, and Llewellyn shouted after Andras. For seconds there was nothing except the crackle and roar as the fire ate at anything in its path.

  Corin kicked his opponent away, only to be attacked from behind. A spear lodged across his neck, crushing and choking him. He flailed against his assailant, growing weaker and weaker as he struggled to breathe. Then all went slack. Someone grabbed his arm and yelled at him to run. He did, and they burst across the fire.

  Andras fell to his knees, coughing and choking against the smoke. Corin lay deathly still for a moment and then he, too, was coughing, trying to force air back into his lungs. Liam steadied him until he could breathe. Ian helped Andras up as they stumbled away from the spreading fire.

  “We’ll go back to the caves,” Corin said.

  “Captain, we can’t! The Calorins will have left a guard,” Llewellyn protested.

  “Aye, but that’s the last place they’ll expect us to go,” Corin said. “There’s too many wounded here. We’ll recall the patrols and plan our next move.” He sheathed his sword that he had somehow kept hold of, and they left with the fire still raging behind them.

  Any sentries left by the Calorins at the caves were quickly and silently disposed of, and the Hawk Flight filed in. Torches were lit and wounds and burns tended to. Martin and his men arrived soon after. They had seen the smoke from the forest fires and had come to investigate when they met the messenger.

  Another day passed, and Corin grew uneasy. There had been no word or sign of Kieran or of Flynn’s patrol. Finally he called Liam and some of their men, and they set out toward Lynwood Keep. Rain was falling steadily, a welcome relief from an unusually warm spring. Corin winced slightly as Karif’s talons tightened on his shoulder. The hawk’s head swiveled to the left, and Corin held up his hand to halt the men. A second later he heard what the hawk had. A faint moan came from somewhere off the path.

  They hurried toward it and were confronted by one of the worst sights of the war. Kieran lay in a bloody clearing. His horse was pierced with javelins, and three Calorins lay dead. Kieran sprawled there with only the same faint gasp marking him as alive.

  Corin and Liam ran to him as the others hurried to make sure they were alone. The young man was barely recognizable as blood congealed around multiple wounds. He tried to speak when he saw Corin, but the cuts on his face and blood in his mouth prevented it.

  “Easy, Kieran!” Corin wiped some of the blood away. He looked back to Liam who only shook his head. There was nothing he could do; Kieran was dying.

  “Kieran, what do they know?” Corin asked desperately.

  Kieran managed to smile and shake his head. They had gotten nothing from him. He tried to lift his hand, and Corin took the bloodstained paper from him. Kieran sighed in relief and died. Corin closed the young rider’s eyes and tucked the paper away.

  They found branches and, foregoing the rain, used their cloaks to make a bier. They stripped his possessions from the saddle and placed them alongside Kieran. The rain disguised tears on some of the warriors’ faces as they carried him back to the caves.

  By terrible design, Kara arrived at the caves shortly after they did. She pushed through the crowd and saw her brother lying on the bier covered by his bloody cloak.

  “No!” she cried as she rushed to him. “Liam, do something!” It was a desperate cry. “Liam!”

  Liam pulled her away. “I couldn’t, Kara. He’s gone.”

  She struggled against him. “No! You didn’t try!”

  “We were too late. I’m sorry, Kara,” Liam said.

  “Kieran!” was all she could say until Ian came and took her from Liam.

  Ian had been the twins’ closest friend in the warband since the beginning, and he could only stare in numb shock at Kieran’s body as Kara clung tightly to him. Hardened warriors turned away from the scene. Kieran’s death was felt keenly by all. Behind the captain, he had the most unbelievable luck. He knew everything about each warrior, and every man felt like they had lost their oldest friend.

  Corin gave orders for the grave to be dug and the body to be prepared for burial in a stony voice. While they waited he spoke to his Lieutenants.

  “The letter Kieran gave me was from Flynn. The Durnians drove them back to Lynwood. The Keep is now under siege. Kieran must have only just gotten out. We’re withdrawing.”

  The officers nodded somberly. There were too many wounded. The Hawk Flight could no longer hold back the tide.

  “But first. Liam and Llewellyn, find the Calorin,” Corin ordered.

  “Why?” Martin asked.

  “You saw Kieran’s body. It wasn’t torture or an honest fight that killed him. They had him outnumbered and…” he stopped. “The Calorin didn’t want information. He toyed with Kieran before leaving him to bleed out and die. This man does not care about his own men either. He’ll sacrifice them until he has razed Aredor for his people to rebuild. He needs to know that he is not leaving Aredor alive.” Corin’s eyes were as hard as his voice.

  * * *

  The rain had stopped as the warband gathered in the silent clearing. Kieran’s body was placed in the ground with his sword and messenger’s pouch. Kara spread the plaid of Clan Gunlon over him and cast a handful of dirt into the grave. It was slowly filled in as Corin spoke the necessary words. Then he took a spear carved with Kieran’s name and rammed it into the fresh dirt that enclosed Kieran to mark his place.

  Men filed away until only Kara was left. Her first sobs broke, and she knelt at the foot of the grave, hugging herself and sobbing helplessly. After a time she felt someone’s arms around her. She let them pull her up, and she buried her head on their shoulder until she could weep no more.

  Eventually she raised her head to see the Captain and not Ian as she had expected. She withdrew and would have apologized until she saw his eyes were bright with tears he never let fall.

  “I’m sorry, Kara,” he said.

  She wiped her sleeve across her face. She thought she saw more than grief in his face.

  “You know I don’t blame you
for this, Captain!” she blurted.

  “I’m still responsible. I shouldn’t have let either of you stay in the first war. You were too young and now…he shouldn’t have died like this!”

  “It’s war, Captain. We might all die. I know and so did he. And now I have no family left.” She fought back new tears.

  “So maybe you should go.” Corin’s words shocked her. “You stayed for your brother, and I don’t want the same thing to happen to you. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

  Kara looked at the grave. “I can’nae leave. He would never abandon the warband and neither can I. You’re already short a runner, and this is the life I know. Besides.” She tried for a smile. “Now I’m the best you’ve got.”

  Corin stood and helped her to her feet. “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. “What are my orders, sir?”

  “I need you to ride back to Trey. Tell him to withdraw.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “And, Captain, if I don’t make it back, make sure that Calorin suffers.”

  * * *

  Corin sent men to get their horses from the garrisons outside the forest. Bags were packed along with any provisions left in the caves. Corin sat for a moment on the ledge in his room.

  Exhaustion weighed heavy, and his shoulders slumped. He was tired. All he wanted to do was rest. But there was too much to still be done. There was a knock, and Andras entered at his call.

  “You wanted to see me, sir?” he asked with a hint of nervousness. Understandable, since his last personal interview with Corin hadn’t gone so well.

  “Yes. I hear that I need to thank you for saving my life,” Corin said.

  Andras stood in silence for a long moment, shifting between his feet. “You don’t owe me for anything!” he blurted. “I know I was horrible before, but when I came here I changed. I saw men who would willingly sacrifice themselves for you and after returning from battle again and again, I knew I could only do the same.” He looked down at the floor in slight embarrassment.

  “Then it appears I have even more to thank you for.” Corin half-smiled. “Now, can you do something for me?”

  “Anything, Captain.”