A Time of Courage

by John Gwynne

  She looked up, saw Aphra, Jost, Fia, all staring at her, and others had joined them, were sitting or standing, listening attentively. Ert, Sorch, many others.

  ‘We share the same enemy, the Kadoshim,’ Riv said, ‘and they are a great evil that must be fought. But when this war is done, if I am still breathing, I want nothing to do with Kol or his Ben-Elim.’ She gazed at Aphra, took her hand. ‘I love you, you should come with me. All of you.’ She looked at Jost and the others. ‘There would be a life for us at Dun Seren, amongst people we can respect. Not pretty, egotistical arselings with wings who use us as pawns.’

  A silence settled about her, some nodding, some frowning.

  Aphra blew out a long breath. ‘Much to think on.’ She nodded, squeezing Riv’s hand. ‘But you are right, the Kadoshim are the enemy of all. I will consider what you’ve said, but one battle at a time, eh?’

  Riv nodded.

  ‘I would say this, though,’ Aphra continued. ‘The Ben-Elim are no different from you and I. Good, bad and everything in between. Some are honest, honourable, others are . . . less so.’

  ‘Aye. Hadran is all right, and Meical,’ Riv acknowledged.

  ‘All right?’ Jost said. ‘Meical fought Asroth to a standstill. He’s a legend.’

  A small figure pushed through the press around Riv, Tam. He threw himself at Riv and hugged her. The huge figure of Sorch loomed behind him.

  ‘You’ve come a long way from Drassil, Tam,’ Riv said. ‘I saw you in the weapons-court, you’re fierce with a blade.’

  Tam grinned. ‘Sorch has been teaching me.’

  ‘Looks as if he’s doing a fine job of it,’ Riv said, and nodded at Sorch. She’d never liked him much but the Ben-Elim had a way of making friends out of enemies, and her feuds with Sorch seemed so long ago.

  I have fought a host of Revenants since then, people who wanted to tear my throat out with their teeth or fingernails. Sorch doesn’t seem so bad now.

  She stood and looked at him.

  ‘So,’ she said. ‘Which am I? Abomination or sword-sister?’

  He looked her up and down.

  ‘Sword-sister, I’m thinking,’ he said with a grin.

  Riv offered her arm in the warrior grip, and Sorch took it.

  The beating of wings up above and Meical descended from the sky. He was dressed for war, as always, with the rune-marked sword and spear the Order had fashioned for him in his fist and at his hip.

  ‘A hard-fought journey since I saw you last in Forn,’ Aphra said to Meical, as she offered him her arm.

  ‘Aye,’ Meical answered as he took it. ‘That is the way of the Banished Lands. Your daughter brings you much honour. She slew Arvid, one of Gulla’s Seven, and with that blow destroyed the Revenant host.’

  Murmurs and gasps of appreciation rippled around them.

  ‘Well, you left that bit of information out.’ Aphra’s eyes gleamed with pride as she looked at Riv.

  ‘Forgot,’ Riv muttered, shuffling her feet. ‘So,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘Tell me, how do you plan to face a horde of blood-hungry Revenants?’

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  BLEDA

  Bleda sat and chewed on some flatbread and cold lamb. To the south mountains reared, to the north, the trees of Forn Forest. They were camped upon the banks of a river, in a wide valley that cut through those mountains.

  Dawn’s glow was beginning to seep into the world, pushing the darkness back.

  He was up first every morning, liked this time to sit in silence and think on the coming day.

  ‘More?’ Ruga asked, using her knife to cut slices of meat. She was his constant shadow.

  Bleda shook his head, too full of what the next days might bring.

  Ripa. Battle. Riv. Will she be there? Does she even still live?

  A tremor in the ground and Raina joined them with a large black pot in her hands. She set it upon the stone next to Ruga’s lamb, then saw that the fire-pit had burned out. Reaching down to a pouch at her belt, she pulled out a small jar. A foul smell like curdled cream hit Bleda as Raina wiggled open a wooden stopper. The giant carefully took a pinch of powder from the jar and sprinkled it onto the dead embers in the fire-pit. She stoppered the jar, put it back in her pouch, then took a water skin and washed her hands clean. Finally, she drew a striking iron and kindling stone from her pouch, struck some sparks that went scattering over the embers and powder.

  There was a whoosh and blue flames burst into life, filling the fire-pit.

  Raina gave a contented grunt, stirred her pot with a wooden spoon, then sat beside Bleda.

  ‘What is that?’ Bleda asked, staring at the blue flames.

  ‘Giant’s fire,’ Raina said with a shrug.

  ‘I’ve heard of it,’ Bleda said. ‘I thought it was like oil.’

  ‘No.’ Raina smiled. ‘It is this powder. You can add it to anything, oil, water, wood – it will make everything burn, and a little goes a long way.’

  ‘I can see that,’ Bleda said, looking at how the whole fire-pit was crackling with blue flame. Raina stirred her pot again.

  ‘You’re an early one.’ She grunted, rubbing her head, stubble scraping.

  ‘Aye,’ Bleda said. ‘Tell me again, where are we?’

  ‘Those mountains are the Agullas.’ Raina pointed. ‘And the land we are moving into was once known as the realm of Tenebral. Now it is just one more province in the Land of the Faithful.’

  ‘Not for much longer,’ Bleda said. ‘Win or lose this war, the world will change. Kol and his Ben-Elim will not rule.’

  ‘Will they not?’ Raina said, raising an eyebrow. ‘I can’t see the Ben-Elim relinquishing their power so easily.’

  ‘They won’t have a choice,’ Bleda said.

  Raina shrugged. ‘I hope you are right.’

  There was a flapping and cawing above them and a crow spiralled out of the sky.

  ‘RAINA, RAINA!’ it called, getting closer and bigger, setting dust swirling as it landed in the grass.

  ‘Durl found Raina,’ the crow squawked.

  ‘Durl,’ Raina said, a smile on her face. ‘I was wondering when you’d finally find me.’

  ‘Well met, Durl,’ Bleda said to the crow. ‘I told Raina you were looking for her.’ He reached for some lamb and tore a shred off, throwing it to the crow, who caught it in his big black beak and swallowed it whole.

  ‘Tain say hello,’ Durl said, hopping from foot to foot. ‘Alcyon say they need you. War. Asroth. BAD MEN!’

  ‘I am already going to them,’ Raina said.

  Durl cocked his head to one side, regarding Raina with one eye.

  ‘Truth?’ the bird croaked.

  ‘Aye, truth,’ Raina said.

  ‘Alcyon say he miss you.’

  Raina paused, looked away.

  ‘I have missed him, too,’ she murmured. ‘You can help us find them,’ she said, louder. ‘Bleda here says that the Order of the Bright Star are marching to Ripa, to join with those who stand against Asroth. You could fly there and find out if they are there yet.’

  ‘Durl fly to Balara,’ the crow said. ‘Durl’s friends at Balara.’

  ‘That’s close enough,’ Raina said.

  ‘Durl hungry, thirsty, tired. Rest first. Been looking everywhere for you.’

  ‘Of course,’ Raina said. She stirred the pot. ‘Break your fast with us. Meat or brot?’

  Durl hopped closer, eyeing the food.

  ‘Both,’ he squawked.

  Raina scooped a spoonful of the porridge-like substance into a bowl.

  Bleda tore off more strips of lamb and threw them at the crow’s feet. Around them the camp was coming to life, giants and Sirak emerging from tents, setting about the process of breaking camp.

  We shall be gone soon. Bleda looked to the east, wondering how far behind them Jin was. She was still following them. Seven days had passed since Bleda had seen the dust cloud of her host at the Tethys Pass, and it had followed them steadily southwards. With the e
xtra horses that Bleda had captured, his warband had moved faster, and he had been stunned that he had not needed to slow down for the giants. They had run at a steady, ground-eating pace. Jin had followed them, but not gained. He judged she was a day and a half behind them.

  ‘How long since you last saw Alcyon?’ Bleda said to Raina.

  ‘Thirty years,’ Raina said.

  Bleda blinked. ‘That is a long time. Why?’ he asked.

  Raina slowly looked at him.

  ‘I love someone,’ Bleda said. ‘I have been parted from her, and it hurts, like a physical pain. I cannot imagine being parted for so long.’

  Raina blew out a long breath.

  ‘My apologies,’ Bleda said, ‘I should not have pried.’

  ‘You are honest,’ Raina said. ‘There is a sincerity about you that I like. And we are allies, so perhaps a little truth does not hurt.’

  She gave a sigh. ‘Many, many years ago, our Clan, the Kurgan, were attacked,’ she said. ‘I and my son were taken prisoner, and Alcyon was forced into slavery to a Kadoshim lord. The rest of our Clan were scattered. Years passed.’ She paused. ‘And then two good men set us free,’ Raina continued. ‘Maquin and Veradis were their names. And as we emerged into the world again the Long War was happening. Coming to its end, we thought, at Drassil.’

  ‘The Day of Wrath?’ Bleda asked.

  ‘Aye, that is what it came to be called. We fought alongside Ethlinn. She united the giant Clans. Benothi, Kurgan, Jotun, we all fought against the Kadoshim and the Black Sun. And we won. But the war was not over. Kadoshim fled the battleground, hid, and then fought again. Dun Seren was built, the Order of the Bright Star established. But all the while, my heart was drawing me back to Arcona, to search for my people. Alcyon came with me, but eventually he wanted to stop, said that Ethlinn needed us. That the Kadoshim were a danger that we could not turn our backs on. I did not want to go, still believed there was hope of finding our people.’ She shrugged. ‘Alcyon left.’

  ‘And you stayed, and you found them.’

  ‘I did,’ Raina said. ‘I asked them to come back with me to Ethlinn, but they would not. They felt safe, in their caves in the dark. They would be staying, still, if not for the Shekam, and for you.’

  ‘Me?’ Bleda said.

  ‘It was the words you spoke the night we found you. About standing against the Kadoshim. About standing against evil. They struck a chord in Ukran’s heart.’

  She looked at him and spread her hands wide. ‘And now I am travelling with you and my Clan. Going back to Alcyon, and to war.’

  The sound of hooves and jangle of harness. Bleda looked up to see Ellac leading Bleda’s horse to him, saddled and harnessed.

  Time to ride.

  ‘Aye,’ Bleda said, standing and thinking of Gulla and Jin, and of Riv. He reached for his weapons-belt and buckled it about his waist. ‘To war.’

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  JIN

  Jin rode along a valley that cut through a range of mountains. They loomed to the north-west and south-east, peaks flecked with snow.

  The Agullas, she remembered from her history lessons in Drassil.

  It was starting to feel as if she’d been chasing Bleda forever. In reality, it had only been a ten-night since she had picked up his trail at the Tethys Pass. She could see that same trail on the ground now, many hooves. There were other prints, too, of booted feet, unnaturally large.

  ‘Giants.’ She spat. As soon as Tark had shown the footprints to her at the foot of the Tethys Pass Jin had known. Here were the Night-Walkers Vachir had spoken of.

  They may look intimidating, but an arrow through the eye will put one on their back, no different from any other foe.

  Up ahead Jin saw some of her scouts. They were stationary, waiting beside a river.

  Jin signalled to Gerel and he put a horn to his lips and blew, the call taken up by others along the three-thousand-strong warband.

  Slowing to a canter, Jin drew close to Tark and his scouts. Tark nodded to her and slipped from his saddle.

  ‘They camped here,’ Tark said, gesturing to fire-pits and heating stones, areas of grass that had been flattened.

  ‘How close are we?’ she asked, though she already guessed.

  Tark walked to a mound of horse dung, bent and broke a piece off, sniffed and chewed on it. Spat it out.

  ‘A day,’ he said.

  Jin controlled the urge to snarl. Once she had reached the Tethys Pass and found Bleda’s tracks she had ridden her war-host hard, but when her horses had started to fall, with injuries or exhaustion, she had had to slow the pace.

  Jin’s captains rode up around her. Vachir nodded respectfully to her, bandages still bound around his wounds at chest and hip.

  ‘We are far into the Lands of the Faithful now,’ Tark said to her and her captains. He looked uncomfortable about that.

  ‘These lands don’t belong to the Ben-Elim now,’ Jin said. ‘The Ben-Elim are routed. Asroth thought they had fled to Ripa, a fortress to the south.’ She looked up to the sky, checking the sun and mountains. ‘And Bleda rides that way.’

  She knew a time was coming, approaching fast, where she would have to make a decision. Continue to follow Bleda, or abandon the chase and ride in search of Asroth. That is what she had sworn to do. But Bleda was so close, she could almost taste her vengeance.

  But he will reach Ripa before I catch him, and then I will likely be the outnumbered one.

  ‘My Queen,’ a voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Gerel. He was pointing up.

  Jin looked into the sky, putting a hand over her eyes. It was cloudless, an endless blue, the sun hot, despite the fact that it was Hunter’s Moon, summer long departed. And in that blue there were black dots. She stared, and the dots grew larger.

  Bows were lifted from saddles and strung, hands hovering over quivers.

  Ben-Elim or Kadoshim? Jin wondered, her own hand resting on her bow.

  The dots were becoming winged silhouettes, twenty or thirty of them, and one of them was far larger than the others. And this one had a tail.

  Fritha and her draig.

  ‘Peace,’ Jin called out. She looked at Gerel. ‘But be ready. They may be our allies, but that does not mean I trust them.’

  She heard gasps and murmurs from amongst her warband as the draig swooped lower, its wings beating up foam and spray from the river. It circled over Jin’s head, a wide loop, and swept down to land on the far side of the river. The ground shook as its feet hit the surface, wings still beating, slowing its momentum, but it ran on, into the river, an explosion of water hurled into the air, crashing back down, spray reaching as far as Jin, spattering her face.

  The draig stood in the middle of the ford, water up to its bowed belly, Fritha upon its back, wearing a bearskin cloak.

  ‘Wrath thirsty,’ the draig said, and lowered its head to drink noisily from the river. Fritha leaned forwards and stroked the beast’s muscular neck.

  That beast’s hide is so thick, its scales look like plates of lamellar armour. I wonder, would my arrows even pierce it?

  Around Fritha other shapes descended, thick-muscled men and women with wings like leather and spears in their hands. Not Kadoshim, but their half-breed spawn. Jin recognized the one named as Gulla’s daughter, Morn.

  The draig lurched into motion, eruptions of water with each footfall as it splashed across the river, then stomped up the riverbank. It lumbered onto the meadow, stopping a dozen paces before Jin. Her horse danced on the spot, not liking the sight or smell of this draig before her. She calmed the mare with a soft word and a hand on her neck.

  ‘Well met, sister,’ Fritha said to Jin, which took her by surprise.

  Sister?

  Jin looked up at Fritha a long moment.

  ‘Well met,’ she replied.

  ‘I have been looking for you, hoping to find you soon,’ Fritha continued. ‘You are a welcome sight, and needed.’ She looked from Jin to the war-host gathered at her back. Fritha
smiled. ‘You have kept your oath, I see, and gathered the strength of your Clan.’

  ‘Three thousand Cheren riders; finest warriors in all of the Banished Lands,’ Jin said.

  ‘Hmm.’ Fritha nodded. ‘And the Sirak?’

  ‘Most are feeding the crows. I am in pursuit of the last of them.’ She looked to the south. ‘Bleda leads them.’

  ‘Ah. The one who slew your father.’

  Jin nodded.

  ‘How far ahead is he?’

  ‘A day or so.’ Jin shrugged.

  ‘You should break off that chase now, and come with me. Asroth and our war-host are two score leagues west of here. You will not catch Bleda before he reaches land held by the Ben-Elim. Seven thousand White-Wings, over a thousand Ben-Elim in the sky. Even the finest warriors in the Banished Lands will struggle against those odds.’

  ‘You do not command the Queen of the Cheren,’ Gerel said.

  Fritha looked at Gerel, and so did Wrath. A snort of air exploded from the draig’s nostrils, a line of saliva dripping from one long tooth.

  ‘He looks tasty,’ Wrath rumbled.

  ‘We do not eat our friends,’ Fritha reminded him. ‘I was not ordering, merely advising,’ she said to Gerel. ‘Your Queen is a strategist and cunning thinker. What is the point of charging into death, when she could wait a little longer, join our host, as she promised, and attack with a warband of fourteen or fifteen thousand at her side? That is just wisdom, is it not?’

  Gerel gazed up at Fritha.

  ‘That is for my Queen to decide, not I,’ Gerel said.

  ‘Loyalty, I like that. You are a good man. And it takes a good leader to inspire that kind of devotion.’ Fritha looked at Jin.

  ‘What say you? Come west with me, to victory. Or continue south, to an almost certain glorious death. Better vengeance than grief, don’t you think?’ Fritha’s eyes flickered to Morn.

  ‘Better vengeance than grief,’ Jin said. ‘I like that.’

  ‘So do we.’ Fritha smiled, another fleeting glance at Morn. Jin saw even a twitch of lips upon her glowering face.