by John Gwynne
The slap of feet, and Drem saw Revenants surge out of the darkness, running in their peculiar gait past the bonfires on the street below. Hundreds, thousands of them. It was as if the mountains of their dead piled along the wall had not dented their numbers, or their fury. They knew what they were doing now – no frenzied hurling themselves at a thousand points on the wall. This time they filtered into columns and swarmed together in clusters along the wall, their limb-knotted columns rising.
Drem looked at Keld and Cullen; the two warriors were hefting their shields, setting their feet.
There are no more braziers.
Byrne looked at the approaching enemies and nodded to Kill, who was standing beside her. The warrior lifted a horn to her lips and blew. One long, lingering note, wavering on the snatching wind.
‘FALL BACK!’ Byrne yelled.
Keld turned, grabbing Cullen’s wrist when the young warrior did not move.
‘I’m not running,’ Cullen growled.
‘It’s an order from Byrne, so you are,’ Keld said.
‘No,’ Cullen snapped, eyes fixed on the Revenants swarming at the walls.
‘Ach,’ Keld spat. ‘This is not the time for brainless heroism, lad.’
‘Cullen,’ Drem said, resting a hand on his shoulder. ‘You’ve sworn an oath to Byrne and your sword-kin. To protect and obey. Byrne is chief, here; to disobey her is to disrespect the Order, and to break your own word.’ He paused, Cullen’s head twisting round to stare at him. ‘I hope one day that I am worthy of taking that oath, of saying those words and pledging myself to you all, and to our cause. Do not dishonour it or yourself.’
Cullen frowned, glaring at the climbing Revenants. He spat a curse, then turned with Keld, and the three of them were making for the stairwell. Drem saw a hand-axe lying on the wall, close to a fallen warrior of the Order. He slung his shield across his back and snatched the axe up as he strode past, hefted it for weight.
That’s better.
They swept down the stairwell and pounded across the courtyard, other warriors and giants all around them.
Byrne had spoken of the possibility of falling back, knew that the wall was long and their numbers were few. They made for the keep, where most of the population of Dun Seren was taking refuge, the huge doors open, bristling with warriors. Nara, Elgin and many more who had wished to be on the walls but had been forbidden by Byrne were determined to keep them safe.
Looks as if they’ll get their chance to fight soon enough. There are not enough of us with rune-marked blades to man every door and window of the keep.
A sound filtered through the wind and rain, from the east. Drem’s footsteps faltered and he stumbled to a halt, straining to hear. And then he heard it again, swirling on the wind.
Roaring.
He looked at Keld.
‘The bear enclosure,’ they said together.
Without thinking, they both broke into a run, away from the keep. Cullen joined them, following without question. Drem ignored everything, just ran, only one thing in his mind.
The white bear.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
RIV
Riv was hovering above the gate’s battlements, stabbing at the first Revenant to scale the wall. It fell back with a shriek, blue flame crackling from a hole in its throat.
‘Riv, come on,’ Meical called to her, the Ben-Elim winging back towards the keep. Riv saw the first warriors reaching the keep’s open doorway, others sprinting across the courtyard. The wall was clear of them, now, and that had been why Riv had lingered: to protect any stragglers. She saw a rune-marked spear on the wall, its owner dead; she sheathed her sword and swept down to it, plucked it up, beat her wings and gained some height as Revenants started to swarm over the battlements.
A noise on the wind, swirling louder and then quieter, snatched away, blurred by the hiss of rain. A roaring.
Then she saw a handful of figures change direction in the courtyard, her sharp eyes picking out Drem, Keld and Cullen. Alcyon was close behind them, a few more warriors followed, one of them the man with the flaming sword. Riv couldn’t remember his name, though she liked his fighting style – all-out attack, no thought of defence. They were heading away from the keep.
Riv flew into the courtyard, swirled around the statue of Corban and started to fly after Drem and the others.
‘Riv,’ Meical called again. He was hovering above the steps of the keep. He saw her hesitate, her eyes staring after Drem and the others, and he flew to her.
‘We’d be no use inside the keep,’ Riv said. ‘We should go with them.’ She nodded into the darkness, where Drem and the dozen others had disappeared. Something about Drem, Cullen and Keld reminded her of her friends Vald and Jost. A camaraderie they shared, a friendship forged in blood.
The thought of Vald caused a knot in her gut, like a fist wrapping around her intestines.
He’s dead. Fallen on the field protecting me.
‘They’ll need our help,’ she shouted.
Meical stared. The sound of bears roaring swirled around them. There was an edge to it that Riv didn’t like.
It sounds like . . . pain.
‘The mist-walkers must have scaled the wall,’ she said. ‘Come on.’
‘Byrne needs to know,’ Meical said.
‘No time to wait, I’m going after them.’ Riv shifted and beat her wings, speed building as Meical wheeled away, back to the keep.
In heartbeats she was alone, twisting through a wide street, wind and rain whipping into her face. The sound of feet, figures appeared out of the darkness: Alcyon, Drem, half a dozen others charging towards the building ahead of them. As the group drew near, the door exploded open, splinters of wood, two figures careening out into the street. Two men, both dressed in the Order’s dark mail. They rolled on the ground, came to a halt. The one on top looked . . . strange, then his head thrust down and his jaws clamped around the other’s throat. A savage wrench, a spray of blood.
A Revenant! How?
Riv swept lower, almost level with Drem and the others.
Keld was closest to the creature in the street. His sword arm came back, began to swing, but the creature saw him, ducked with unnatural speed and rolled to the side. Keld’s sword hissed over its head and Keld’s momentum was carrying him on, his feet skidding to check his speed and he was turning, his backswing catching the Revenant as it leaped at him. A flash of blue fire, but the creature kept coming, crashing into Keld, and the two of them flew through the air, crunching to the ground, rolling. They slowed, limbs thrashing, the Revenant on top, one hand over Keld’s face, pinning him, its mouth opening wide, bearing down.
Riv saw movement at the edge of her vision, heard a savage growling, and two wolven-hounds burst from the shadows, crashing into the figure on top of Keld, hurling it off him.
The wolven-hounds set about ripping the still-rolling Revenant to pieces, tearing chunks of flesh from its arms and legs. It came to a halt, got one knee beneath it and rose, the hounds snapping, snarling, ripping. The Revenant lashed out with a taloned hand, sending one wolven-hound stumbling away, grabbed the other one by the fur of its neck and opened its mouth wide, fangs dripping. The wolven-hound squirmed and bucked, growling and whining in the Revenant’s grip, but its hold did not loosen.
Riv’s spear took the Revenant through its open mouth, a spatter of blue fire and the creature flopped into a puddle, its grip on the wolven-hound abruptly loose. Now Riv was closer, she could see the hound was red-furred, the other one a dark slate grey, like storm clouds.
‘My . . . thanks,’ Keld panted as he rolled to his knees. The wolven-hounds pushed themselves close, licking his face.
‘Ach, you two, you’re a pair, so you are,’ Keld said, ruffling their fur, hugging them. ‘I told you both to stay out of it. I can’t rune-mark your teeth and claws, and I’d not have you ripped open or infected by one of them.’ His lip curled, a glance at the Revenant.
‘Love and loyalty thinks not of itself,
’ Alcyon murmured.
Riv looked at the giant – something in those words struck a chord in her.
Drem gave Keld his arm, helping the huntsman up.
‘I’m fine, lad,’ Keld said to Drem’s worried look. Keld sounded angry with himself. ‘The sight of him, it shocked me. Slowed me down.’ He pointed to the Revenant.
‘It’s Giluf,’ Drem said. ‘We left him in the hospice with a bite wound in his neck.’
Screams echoed out behind the shattered door.
The warrior with the flaming sword was first through it: no hesitation, he charged in, curved sword raised high. A woman followed, stern-faced, wielding a curved sword.
A crash, grunting, a scream. Riv was desperate to get inside, but Alcyon’s bulk filled the doorway, then he was through, Cullen after him and Riv close behind.
She paused a moment, blinked. The stench of death was thick in the room, blood and excrement.
A healer’s room, by the number of beds and the way they were laid out, and by the cupboards lining the walls, bottles and jars full of herbs and plants. Now everyone was dead.
The room was a slaughterhouse, blood everywhere, sprayed across the walls, glistening pools on the floor. The flaming sword chopped into a Revenant’s neck; its head spun through the air.
Alcyon’s axes swung, an explosion of blue light as another Revenant fell, body opened up from shoulder to gut.
Then it was silent, punctuated by the groans and wet rattle of the dying.
‘Four, five Revenants did this,’ Drem whispered, nudging corpses with his boot. ‘I told them to strap Giluf and the others tight, to watch them close.’
‘Not tight enough, not close enough,’ Cullen snarled, stabbing a dead Revenant; its body twitched.
‘It’s dead,’ the warrior with the flaming sword said.
Cullen shrugged. ‘Makes me feel better, Utul,’ he grunted.
Utul stuck his sword into a dead Revenant. He looked up at Cullen and grinned. ‘So it does,’ he said.
‘Tsk,’ chided the woman at Utul’s side.
‘They have turned so quickly,’ Keld muttered.
‘Come,’ Alcyon grunted, ‘they are all beyond our help here, but the living still need us.’
Another roar swept through the open doorway on a gust of wind, this one louder.
Alcyon ran into the night, the others following, Riv running out through the door and into the air, beating her wings.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
DREM
Drem ran through Dun Seren’s streets, the image of slaughter in the hospice imprinted on his mind.
These creatures are a plague. Setting brother upon brother, friend upon friend. Gulla needs to die for this crime against nature, and Fritha, for creating this pestilence.
The roaring from the bear enclosure was ringing in the air now.
It made his legs pound harder, overtaking all except Alcyon, though he drew level with the giant.
Please be alive, please be alive, he repeated to himself again and again, not like Rosie.
The rain was fading, the glow of moonlight leaked into the air from behind ragged clouds.
And then they were skidding around a bend, into the courtyard of the bear enclosure.
Torches flickered, swirling in the wind, sending shadows dancing. All was movement; confusion and chaos as Drem’s eyes adjusted, trying to make sense of the scene before him.
Bears filled the courtyard, too many to count. Some were moving, some were not. Smaller shadows flitted around them: Revenants everywhere, leaping, biting, tearing. Blood glistened like black pools on the ground, stable doors had been smashed to kindling.
‘HAMMER!’ Alcyon yelled. Drem looked straight to Hammer’s stable, the door that he had only repaired yesterday smashed and splintered again, then his eyes were searching the courtyard for a glimpse of Hammer and the white bear.
If Hammer answered Alcyon’s call it was impossible to tell – the roar and clamour was almost deafening. Without thinking, Drem was moving, running into the courtyard. He hefted his seax and hand-axe, chopped into a Revenant as it leaped at a bear, a blue flare of flame as the axe hacked through ribs, the Revenant dropping to the ground, rising, and Drem’s seax punched through its mouth. He kicked it away and strode on.
Behind him Alcyon roared, axes swirling. Cullen stormed into the enclosure, a berserker scream on his lips and spittle flying as he killed. Utul’s blade flamed and flared as it carved through Revenants, Shar beside him, silent and deadly. Keld and his wolven-hounds worked together, jaws pinning arms as Keld’s blade took lives. A shadow flitted over the moon and Riv was amongst them, spear flicking down, a trail of blue in her wake.
A Revenant crashed into Drem, sending him flying. He crunched into a dead bear, the stench of fur and blood engulfing him. He stabbed and chopped with his two weapons, the Revenant hissing and screaming as it lost half a hand to the axe blade, a blue hole in its waist from the seax. Nevertheless, it came relentlessly on, jaws wide as teeth sought his flesh. Drem tried to throw himself away – Giluf’s corpse was a stark reminder of what a Revenant’s bite could do to him – but the bulk of the dead bear held him there.
An explosion of flame and blue light, the Revenant’s skull gone, Utul’s grinning face filling the same space.
‘Give me your hand, brother,’ Utul said, hoisting Drem to his feet.
Brother.
Drem liked that.
This is my family.
And then Utul was moving, his sword tracing incandescent sparks in the air; a Revenant fell. Another jumped at his back, talons reaching, but Shar cut it down, the head and body rolling in different directions.
‘You going to lie there all day and watch?’ she asked Drem, as she took the head from one more.
He staggered to his feet, moving through the courtyard, chopping and killing.
They went from bear to bear, saving the living, avenging the dead, and there were already so many of them. The bears were fighting with all of their prodigious strength, the ground littered with dead Revenants, but these creatures just did not stop, biting and clawing, latching onto bear flesh like terriers around a bull. Too many bears were still and silent.
And then Drem saw the white bear.
He was close to the gateway to the paddocks, standing before the bulk of a slumped shadow.
Hammer.
Drem’s heart felt as if a fist had closed around it. He broke into a run. Revenants came at him, he ducked swiping claws, stabbed into a belly, slammed into the dying creature, spun around, ripping his blade free, his hand-axe swinging, taking the lower jaw from another attacker, teeth and bone spraying, stumbled on.
Shouts behind him, Alcyon bellowing a battle-cry, to the side a Revenant went down under Fen and Ralla’s savage attack, Keld stabbing down.
Drem was almost there, the white bear looking at him, black stains all over his white fur, which glowed silver in the fractured moonlight. Half a dozen Revenants were hurling themselves at him. Drem saw claws swipe at one, eviscerating it, intestines and shattered bone slopping onto the ground. The bear’s jaws clamped onto another’s head and shoulder, a savage shake and the Revenant was in pieces, its torso collapsing. But there were too many. Others leaped onto the bear, talons sinking deep, climbing up onto the white bear’s back. One cast its head back, mouth opening wide, teeth bared.
Drem threw his axe, heard it crunch into the side of the Revenant’s skull, saw it topple bonelessly from the bear’s back. Then Drem was beside them, a moment as he rested his palm on the huge beast’s muzzle, looking into its eyes.
He’s exhausted, lost so much blood.
A snatched glance at Hammer lying upon the ground. She was still alive, her sides moving with breath. Black blood caked her jaws, pooled around her body, a mass of dead Revenants littered the ground.
Tears blurred Drem’s eyes. The anger that had been bubbling away inside him suddenly boiled over. With a scream, he wrenched his hand-axe from the skull of the dea
d Revenant, swung and slashed at the shadows that were latched upon the white bear, clawing and biting. Drem slaughtered them, moving with a strength and speed that only rage provides. His world became a red haze punctuated by lunging talons and snapping teeth, their hissing screams as he tore their lives from them, the burn of muscles and crackle of blue flame as his axe and seax carved through flesh and bone.
Dimly he was aware of Cullen close by, of Keld and his wolven-hounds guarding one flank of Hammer and the white bear. The flash of Utul’s sword, Shar guarding his back. Alcyon’s booming battle-cry. Revenants piled up about them like a tide-line.
A Revenant came flying out of the darkness, straight at Drem, no time for him to even lift a blade. He braced himself for the impact. A spear hurled from above skewered his attacker, pinning it to the ground, its legs drumming, twitching, then still. Riv swept low, hacked with her sword, more taloned hands grasping for her, one catching her wing and dragging her down. She slammed into the ground, fell, dazed. Drem leaped forwards, chopped his axe between the neck and shoulder of the creature that had torn Riv from the sky, stabbed it in the gut with his seax, ripped both his blades free and stood over her.
She rolled to one knee, pushed herself upright, drew her sword, looked at him.
‘Guess that makes us about even,’ she said breathlessly.
They set their feet, standing to one side of the white bear.
A new wave of attackers were rushing out of the darkness.
Drem gritted his teeth.
The air above came alive: white-feathered wings, and Meical and Hadran were there, the Ben-Elim about them, swooping and stabbing with their long spears.
‘TRUTH AND COURAGE!’ a voice bellowed, and Balur One-Eye appeared, his longsword sweeping around his head, chopping limbs from three Revenants at the same time. Ethlinn was beside him, her long spear stabbing, and then Byrne was beside Drem, sword and shield in her hand, her honour guard sweeping through the courtyard, and in short moments the last Revenant was hissing its dying breath into the stone-cobbled ground.
