by John Gwynne
‘Rab’s wings tired,’ the crow said. Riv cut a slice of pork and threw it to the crow, who stabbed it with his sharp beak, flung it into the air and gulped it down.
‘Thanks.’ He burped.
‘What news, Rab?’ Alcyon asked.
‘Saw Kadoshim in the sky, long way away. Two days from Balara, three from Ripa, maybe.’ The crow ruffled his feathers, a semblance of a shrug.
Meical grimaced. ‘That is too close. A hard ride to Ripa on the morrow.’
‘We’ll do it,’ Riv said.
Drem thought Riv was capable of making most things happen by sheer will.
I like her. She sets her mind to a task and does what is necessary to make it happen.
‘How does it feel, to be so close to the end?’ Alcyon said. He was looking at Meical.
The Ben-Elim shook his head. ‘I do not know. Is it the end? I hope so, but for it to really be the end, Asroth, Gulla and every single Kadoshim must die.’ He looked around at them all. ‘So much has happened, for you the last hundred years full of battle, victory and defeat. But my last memory was fighting Asroth in the hall at Drassil. Corban was there, going sword to sword with Asroth; Storm and Cywen, too.’ He shook his head. ‘Part of me feels that I am still in that fight.’ He blew out a long sigh. ‘Asroth and all who follow him must die,’ he said. ‘That is all I know. If that were to happen, how would it feel?’ He looked into nowhere. ‘Like standing on the brink of an abyss. This is the last breath before the fall.’ He shrugged. ‘Thousands of years this war has been waged, so to think that this battle will settle it . . . I hope so, and at the same time it is a . . . daunting thought. I am scared, excited.’ He looked at them all then: Alcyon, Riv, Drem, the other warriors of the Order.
‘Win or lose, I am proud to fight beside you. That is the lesson I have learned, that changed me. Love, loyalty, friendship. You humans have such a great capacity for these qualities. It makes me want to be like that.’
‘You are,’ said Riv.
‘I made mistakes, in the past.’
‘Yes, the past,’ Alcyon rumbled. ‘This is now. You are here, with us, not in a high tower with Kol and the rest. Aloof. Superior. You are our friend, willing to stand beside us. Willing to die beside us.’
Meical nodded. ‘I am,’ he said quietly.
Drem slipped through the forest, almost as quiet as Fen, who was shadowing him. It was his watch, and he was looking for Cullen.
A sound in the darkness. A slow, rasping scrape. Drem altered his direction and saw Cullen, sitting with his back against a tree. Moonlight filtered through branches, trees losing their leaves in Hunter’s Moon, casting dappled silver and black across him. He was running a whetstone across his sword, head bowed, staring at his blade as if it contained all the answers in the world.
Drem crept up behind him, purposely cracked a twig under his boot.
Cullen jumped and looked, sword out. Half rose from his position. The moonlight showed tears glistening on his cheeks.
‘Oh, it’s you.’ Cullen slid back to his sitting position.
‘Your watch,’ Drem said. ‘It’s over.’
Cullen nodded, but made no move to leave.
‘What’s wrong?’ Drem asked, reaching out to squeeze Cullen’s shoulder and sitting down beside him.
‘What isn’t wrong?’ Cullen mumbled, carried on sharpening his sword.
Fen appeared from the darkness. He sniffed at Drem’s face, licked him, then turned and sat, shuffling backwards until his back haunches were pressed against Drem.
‘He’s telling you he trusts you,’ Cullen said. ‘Keld explained what that means. Fen is telling you he trusts you to guard his back.’ He went back to rasping the whetstone along his blade.
‘I trust him, too,’ Drem said, and scratched Fen’s neck, just above the leather collar of the wolven-hound’s mail coat.
‘We had a chat,’ Drem said. ‘Fen’s part of our crew.’
‘Damn right he is,’ Cullen muttered.
‘And Keld asked me to look after him.’
‘When did Keld ask you that?’ Cullen said, a slight break in the rhythm of his whetstone.
‘With his last breath,’ Drem said.
Cullen grunted.
‘He asked me to watch over you, too,’ Drem said. Cullen deserved to know Keld’s last words. ‘He said his death would go hard on you.’
A gulp from Cullen, though he did not stop sharpening his sword. ‘He wasn’t wrong.’
‘We are kin,’ Drem said. ‘We look after each other.’
‘Aye.’ Cullen sighed.
‘That’s a rune-marked sword,’ Drem said. ‘I doubt it needs sharpening.’
‘No,’ Cullen agreed. He stopped his work. ‘This is a cruel world,’ he breathed. ‘Keld. Sig. Before that my mam and da. All of them slain by Kadoshim.’
‘How old were you, when your parents died?’
‘Twelve summers,’ Cullen said. ‘Since then, it was always Sig and Keld there, looking out for me.’
‘Cullen, you are fearless and brave. A mighty warrior.’
‘Fearless and brave,’ Cullen said bitterly. ‘Not inside. Inside, I feel the fear, every day. Of fighting Kadoshim, of dying, of not living up to my heritage, of letting my mam and da down. Of letting Sig and Keld down. I’m scared of everything.’
‘But you laugh in a fight, you are the first to charge. You even like getting hurt.’
‘Aye, that’s right,’ Cullen said fiercely, ‘because fear won’t rule me, that’s why. If I didn’t laugh, I’d run away crying. Why do you think I challenge Balur One-Eye on the weapons-field every day? Do you think I want to fight that big oak tree? He beats me every time.’ He looked at Drem. ‘Fear will never be my master. But Keld dying – it’s too much. I feel . . . alone.’ Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks.
Drem nodded. He knew what fear and loneliness felt like. He turned his arm, ran his fingers along the gap in his leather vambrace, felt the ridge of a scar beneath his linen tunic. A reminder of his oath over Keld’s cairn.
‘You’re not alone, brother,’ he said quietly.
Cullen looked up at him, tears bright in his eyes. He reached out and squeezed Drem’s hand.
‘I know,’ Cullen murmured.
Drem saw the top of Balara’s tower as he and their small band spilt out of the forest onto the road that curled around the fortress and led towards Ripa. Drem twisted in his saddle and looked to the south. He saw a curving wall of timber surrounding a plain that led towards the coast. On the horizon the sea shimmered a deep, sparkling blue, and when he squinted he could just make out a rise in the land, a white spire upon it.
The tower of Ripa.
Drem looked about, saw Alcyon glowering up at Balara’s tower.
‘Are you all right?’ Drem asked him.
A tear rolled down the giant’s cheek.
‘Bad memories?’ Drem asked.
‘Aye. My wife and son were imprisoned here once. By the Kadoshim and their servants, the Vin Thalun.’
‘Your son. Tain?’ Drem asked.
‘Aye. Tain, and my wife, Raina.’
‘I cannot imagine you allowing that to happen,’ Drem said. ‘It must have been a bad time.’
‘Huh.’ Alcyon grimaced. ‘It was the worst of times. I was enslaved to a Kadoshim by dark magic. My wife and son were kept here as a surety of my obedience.’
‘What happened?’
‘It is a long story, but the short of it is that Maquin Oath-Keeper rescued them. Brought Raina and Tain to me.’ He wiped a hand over his eyes.
Rab looked up to the sky and squawked, flapped his wings.
‘Brother coming,’ he croaked.
A black dot was swooping over the fortress and down the hill towards them, coming from the east and circling lower.
‘Durl, Durl,’ Rab squawked, as the black crow spread his wings, slowing his descent.
‘Rab, Rab,’ it answered, alighting upon one of the wains, saw Cullen and hopped onto his
shoulder, ruffled his beak through Cullen’s red hair.
‘Well met, Durl,’ Cullen greeted the crow.
‘Durl happy Cullen here,’ Durl said.
‘Why do all of Craf’s crows love you so much?’ Drem asked.
‘Because of my wonderful personality and kind nature,’ Cullen said.
‘Nothing to do with your regular visits to Pella, that lass who works in Crow Tower helping Tain,’ Alcyon said.
‘Nothing at all,’ replied Cullen.
Durl the crow jumped at Alcyon’s voice, then started hopping on Cullen’s shoulder, squawking excitedly.
‘Alcyon, Alcyon,’ the crow squawked.
‘Aye,’ Alcyon rumbled. ‘What is it?’
‘Durl found Raina. Tain sent Durl to find her, said Alcyon sad, need Raina. Durl find her. Durl find Raina, Raina, RAINA.’
Alcyon’s face drained of colour.
‘Where is she?’ he asked.
‘On plain, running to Ripa.’
‘Ripa. Why?’
‘She helping Bleda and the Sirak.’
‘What?’ It was not Alcyon who said that, but Riv.
‘Who are you?’ Durl asked Riv.
‘I will be the one who plucks all your feathers out if you do not answer me, and quickly,’ Riv said. ‘Who is Raina with?’
‘It’s all right, Durl, this is Riv, and she’s one of us,’ Cullen said.
Durl bobbed his head.
‘Riv rude,’ Durl muttered.
‘Be polite,’ Cullen whispered.
‘Please, Durl,’ Riv said, her feathers twitching.
‘Raina with Bleda and Sirak. They on plain, riding for Ripa.’
‘Durl, I could kiss you,’ Riv said, winging into the air.
‘On the plain,’ Alcyon repeated.
‘Yes, Raina close, close.’
Hammer lurched into motion, Alcyon urging her on past Drem and the others towards the plain before Ripa’s walls.
‘Where are you going?’ Cullen shouted after the giant.
‘To find my Raina,’ Alcyon called back joyfully.
‘Drem, Cullen, follow us to the plain before Ripa,’ Riv called to them.
She was already speeding away before Drem or Cullen had a chance to answer her.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
RIV
Riv sped through the air, her wings beating fast, wind ripping tears from her eyes.
Bleda.
Balara shrank behind her and, in a score of heartbeats, she was level with Alcyon and Hammer, the bear heading east, down Balara’s hill and onto the rolling meadows that dominated the landscape. Riv left the giant and bear behind, sped over meadows dotted with clustered woodland. To her right the sea and Ripa edged the south, but Riv was looking to the east. She saw a cloud of dust, about a league away, moving south-west, towards Ripa. Her wings beat harder, propelling her faster than she had ever flown before.
The dust cloud grew larger, figures within it taking shape, a lot of horses, maybe a thousand, the riders moving at a fast canter, a column roughly ten horses wide. Giants were amongst them, running.
Closer still and Riv saw banners amongst the riders, a stallion rearing on a field of green. Her heart lurched in her chest.
It is them. That crow was not lying.
And then she saw him.
Bleda.
Riding at the head of the column, straight-backed in his coat of lamellar armour. His face was partly covered but she knew him. His shape, the way he carried himself, his effortless ease in the saddle.
A horn call from the column, faces looking upwards, hands pointing. Some reached for bows.
This would not be a good time to die.
Riv slowed a little, spreading her wings and gliding for a few heartbeats, letting them see her wings and see that she was no Kadoshim.
Bleda was looking now, calling out. He shifted on his saddle, climbed to stand upon it, reins in one hand, the other raised to her. He was grinning.
Riv swept down, a curling dive, had a glimpse of faces, mouths opening when she didn’t slow, and then she was flying into Bleda, wrapping him in her arms, lifting him from the saddle. She shifted the angle of her wings, beat them hard, rising steeply, and Bleda was hugging her, kissing her face, her lips, and all the while they rose into the sky, Riv returning his kisses with a joyful passion. They hovered in the sky kissing, laughing, crying.
‘You missed me, then,’ Riv said, a grin so wide her jaws were aching.
‘Aye, a little,’ Bleda said. He gifted her his beautiful smile.
‘Ah, but it is fine to see you, Bleda ben Erdene,’ she sighed, laughed again.
‘I have missed you like a flower misses the sun,’ Bleda said.
Riv laughed, the joy in her belly uncontainable.
Slowly they descended, turning gently, her wings beating slowly, until their feet touched the ground.
‘You should ask next time you are thinking of taking my King half a league straight up into the sky,’ Old Ellac said to Riv. ‘My heart is thumping in my chest.’
She grinned at him. ‘It is good to see you, Ellac, and you, Ruga,’ she said, seeing Bleda’s oathsworn guard. ‘And you, Yul.’ She nodded to the warrior, noting the bandage around his thigh, another high about his chest and back. Her eyes took in the Sirak, all warriors in leather or mail, bows and quivers at their hips, heads shaved apart from their long, thick warrior braids. Most of them bore the marks of battle, bandages somewhere on their bodies.
‘You have seen a scrap or two, a tale to tell,’ Riv said to Bleda.
‘Aye.’ He nodded. ‘Much like you, I am guessing.’
‘And who is this winged woman?’ a giant rumbled. A woman, a huge round shield strapped across her back, head shaved apart from a strip of thick black hair running across the centre.
Like Alcyon shaves his head. Looking around, Riv realized all of the giants wore their hair the same way. There were a lot of them, sweating and travel-stained.
‘This is the one I told you of,’ Bleda said. ‘My Riv, the one I love.’
‘I should hope so,’ the giant rumbled. ‘I would be disappointed if you greeted every woman you meet in such a way.’ She looked Riv over, saw her star-shaped cloak brooch. ‘You are one of the Order of the Bright Star. A half-breed Ben-Elim! Pfah, how the world has changed since I walked east.’ She smiled at Riv. ‘But for the better, it seems.’
‘This is Raina,’ he said, ‘one of the Kurgan Clan. Ukran there is their lord.’ Bleda pointed at another giant, wearing a coat of lamellar plate, much like Bleda’s, the strip of hair running down the middle of his head golden as wheat. ‘They saved my life, and many of my Clan. I owe them a blood debt.’
‘Ha, you’ll have your chance to repay that, I’m guessing,’ Ukran said.
‘Aye,’ Riv said. ‘Asroth is two days’ march from Ripa.’
A silence settled then, all eyes sharply on Riv.
‘My thanks, Raina, Ukran, for saving Bleda. This world would be an empty place without him.’ She stroked Bleda’s cheek, smiling, unable to stop herself from touching him. She wanted to kiss him again.
A rumbling in the ground, and Riv turned, saw a shape approaching them across the ground, dust rising about it.
Bleda reached for his bow, others too.
‘No,’ Riv said, ‘it is a friend.’ She glanced at Raina.
Hammer approached at a lumbering run. A hundred paces away and she began to slow. Alcyon sat there, head shaved, a strip of black hair down the middle, two single-bladed axes crossed upon his back. Twenty paces away and Hammer skidded to a stop, dust and sun-bleached grass erupting. Alcyon leaped from the bear’s back, landed in a stumbling run and ran on, straight towards Raina.
He threw himself to the ground at her feet, skidded up to her, wrapping his arms around her hips and burying his face in her stomach.
‘My Raina,’ he was crying, over and over again. ‘I should never have left you. Forgive me.’
Raina put a hand on his head, tears
streaming from her own eyes.
‘There is nothing to forgive,’ she said, prising his arms from about her waist. She sank to the ground, pressing her forehead against Alcyon’s, and folded her arms around him.
Riv turned away; something about this reunion was so raw and intimate that she felt it was wrong to be watching.
Bleda stroked her face.
A warning cry from Ruga, pointing into the sky, and another winged figure was descending from the sky. It was Meical.
‘Well met, Bleda,’ Meical said as he landed. He looked at the Sirak and Kurgan giants. ‘You have honoured your word, brought a warband that could turn this battle.’
‘They are fine warriors, each and every one,’ Bleda said. ‘But I have also brought a warband of Cheren on my tail, at least three thousand strong.’ He looked behind him, to the north-east. ‘Though I think they’ve thought better of galloping into Ripa after me.’
‘Most likely they’ve joined with Asroth’s war-host,’ Meical said. ‘You’ll see them soon enough.’
Riv looked to the north, her eyes picking out black specks in the sky, at the edge of the horizon.
Kadoshim.
‘We’d best make for Ripa,’ she said, turning towards the timber wall that ringed the plain and fortress.
Bleda remounted and offered Riv a horse. It had been a long time since she’d sat in a saddle, but she did not want to leave Bleda’s side, so she accepted.
‘You do not look so comfortable,’ Bleda said to her, ‘as you do in the air.’
‘It’s been a long time,’ she said with a shrug.
They rode at a slow canter through plains of yellowed grass, the ground stony, clusters of poplar and olive trees. The giants kept pace with long, ground-eating strides. Alcyon chose to run beside Raina, Hammer lumbering along with them. Ripa loomed on the horizon, Ben-Elim circling the skies, and half a league ahead of them Ripa’s newest wall loomed. Riv could see White-Wing warriors walking upon it, more clustered around the gates they were approaching. On the plain to the west she saw a band of riders, three wains, and a giant white bear.
‘Time for you to meet my new friends,’ Riv said, and led Bleda and his warband towards them.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
