by Sam Taw
“What is she doing here? Ren you had no right to put my aunt in danger.” Tallack hissed.
“I couldn’t stop her, Chief. She worries about you,” he half-whispered, half-shouted back.
It was comforting to know that he cared about me enough to be angry with his old friend. I had wondered just how far I’d fallen from his grace. The admonishment didn’t last long, there were more pressing concerns for us all. We were deep in enemy territory with warriors who were unfamiliar with the terrain. If ever there was a good time to knock us all off the side of the gorge with a sizable rockfall, now would be the time.
I kept a weather eye on the overhanging cliffs, the canopies of the trees and shrubs ahead, looking for shifting shadows and rustling bushes, anything to indicate that we were riding into a trap. Tallack must have sensed it too, for he yanked on his horse’s reins until he’d fallen back in line with us.
“I don’t like this, Ren.” My nephew declared. We were surrounded by warriors, yet I had never felt as vulnerable as I did then. Kitto sent one man through the gap in the fallen rocks ahead. He galloped through and disappeared into the trees beyond. A single whistle came from the other side, indicating that all was well. The scout had passed without danger or challenge.
That was when we heard the screams from below us; a mixture of howls from our men and the agonised squeals from the horses. Those sent on the lower path were under attack. The men looked to Kitto for guidance, halting their ponies and exchanging looks of panic.
“We go on!” Kitto bellowed. “There’s nothing we can do to help them. By the time we double back to reach them, they could all be slaughtered.” I understood his decision, even if the men balked at his callous disregard of the men’s welfare. The gorge was simply too steep to ride down to the lower path and we couldn’t go back.
The great man saw that they were losing their confidence in him. “Send your prayers to the Morrighan, men. She will choose the worthy among us to sit with the gods in the Summerlands, but not before we have that kyjyan, Kenver’s head on a spike first.” He roared, unsheathing his short sword and waving it about as he kicked the ribs of his horse into a gallop.
I peered over the edge of the path, down to the dark and misty valley floor. Our young men faced almost certain death down there, or worse still, maimed and captured. Their cries and moans echoed across the gorge, until it was all we could hear. A haunting wail of death surrounded us and turned my stomach. Blydh would never have let his men go on such a dangerous path alone, but then he would never have insisted on this foolish raid into unknown territory. Why hadn’t Tallack taken over control? He was the Chief when all was said and done. All our people were at his command, and yet, he hung back to allow Kitto’s lead. Was this part of his plan? I couldn’t see that it was working terribly well if it was.
Two by two, we slipped through the narrow gap and out into a wider section lined with sturdy oak and ash. The thick layer of leaves blocked out most of the light. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust. When they did, I realised why Tallack gasped at my side. Ahead of us, suspended from a thick overhanging branch, hung a blood drenched body.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It wasn’t hard to figure out which of our men was hanging from the tree above us. Treeve’s body showed all the signs of vicious and unnecessary torture; his skin flayed on his chest, arms and legs, his fingertips and manhood severed and missing. Flies swarmed about the open flesh, laying their eggs in the warmth of the morning and feasting on his open eyes. Kenver had placed all blame for his daughter’s death on the boy, taking out his vengeance without any proof to back up the claim. I knew for a fact, that Treeve was only responsible for disposing of Kerensa’s body at Tallack’s request. It was my nephew who had taken her life; that I heard from his own mouth.
Tallack buckled in the middle. His shock kept him silent and struggling for breath. I reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him from sliding from the saddle onto the ground. Ren steered us close enough to clamp his leg between the sides of our ponies.
“Steady on, Chief. Keep your head.” I muttered, trying to rouse him from the spiral of despair he’d begun. “We will make Kenver suffer, you can be sure of that. There will be a time to grieve, but that time is not now.” I patted his shoulder, then gave it a good shake. The tears welled in his reddening eyelids and looked set to spill down his cheeks. I couldn’t have him fall apart now. This was exactly what Kenver wanted. All the men could see him losing his composure. Young Treeve may not have been popular with the Hunters, but he was still one of us. My nephew’s partiality for the lad was common knowledge. That alone made him a target for ridicule and cruelty.
“Tallack!” I snapped. “You have to lead.”
He snorted, his breathing was laboured and fast. He shot me a pained look before coming to his senses. Winding the reins around his clenched fists, he kicked his horse and galloped off at speed. Ren took chase, but the bay mare was no match for the horse he rode. The dusty track plumed up behind him as he and Kitto were neck and neck on the trail, the men in pursuit just a fraction behind.
They were too far ahead for us to see, let alone be of use to the Chief. He was angry and careless, and that spelled disaster. Ren kicked our pony into the fastest canter she could manage through the trees towards another steep section of the trail. The men were farther ahead. Kitto had the stronger horse of the two leaders, out pacing Tallack by just one length of a pony. I could imagine the sneer on the warrior’s face, grinning over his shoulder at Tallack as he raged through the pain of his loss. There was one last patch of tall trees in their path before the scree sloped track to the mines. All the men pushed their ponies hard, cantering side by side, hollering their signature cries and waving their weapons about to scare the hiding miners.
Before they reached the edge of the forested glade, Tallack suddenly pulled up on the reins. His horse groaned, skidding to a halt while all those around him galloped by. “No, Stop!” He yelled, but it was too late. He had spotted what they had not. A taut rope snapped with a twang between the thick trunks of two oaks, decapitating the warrior leading the charge. The gut churning sound of breaking bone marked the moment two more lives were taken; their necks snapped in an instant. Kitto, a larger man all round, took the force from the rope across his collar bone and chest. It flipped him backwards until he was face down on the earth. His horse rode off without him, leaving the rest of his men to screech to a halt or crush into the fray. Those of us at the back managed to stop in time, but many didn’t.
Shrieking and bucking, the horses kicked out, throwing some off their backs and trampling others. Kitto took the full weight of one pony and his rider as it slammed down on his spine from rearing up high. All we could do was to sit and watch the Head Hunters smashing and flailing into one another in a melee of crushed limbs and shattered bones.
“Do something!” I cried, but I knew that nothing could be done. Those who were less injured scrambled to regain control of their mounts and ride to a safer distance. I fidgeted on the back of the bay mare, preparing to slide down with my healing kit. Before I could throw my leg over, an arrow whistled past my ear and thudded into a tree. A second scored a direct hit, straight into the neck of a warrior in front. Ren took evasive action, yanking the reins to the side and turning us back the way we came. Before long, the air was filled with the evil darts, each aiming for our softest parts.
Tallack called the retreat. He slipped off his horse and, risking life and limb, struggled to load Kitto across his pony’s back. I screamed in Ren’s ear to stop and help, but we were already through the narrow gap in the rocks. Clinging onto my friend, I watched over my shoulder as our Chief mounted the laden beast and urged it away from danger. Some followed but many could not, their horses injured or dead, they were sitting ducks for Kenver’s archers.
We did not slow down until we were more than half way back to camp. Survivors from the low trail were few in number and all were injured, shot through with arrows or
wounded when their horses threw them from their backs.
They too, encountered a similar trap, with the rope low in the undergrowth, set to cripple their horses, thus proving us right all along. It was an unbelievably foolish plan from start to finish. My anger bubbled inside like molten tin. So many men lost, so many horses suffering or killed.
Kewri had tried to catch up with us but stopped to rest on a rock by the river. When we rode past him, he began the run back to the huts. I held my fury inside until we were all back within the boundaries of the camp. Ren helped the Chief carry Kitto into one of the empty shelters, expecting me to summon the gods to cure him.
The massive warrior made no sound as they hooked his arms over their shoulders and dragged him inside. It was as though he had no sense of pain despite the terrible injuries he’d suffered. From the stains on his leggings, he’d pissed himself too. That was all the confirmation I needed. Kitto had not lost control of his bladder through fear. His back was broken.
I looked at Tallack and shrugged. “There is nothing I can do to fix him. His fate lies in the arms of the Morrighan.” I wasn’t sure whether the warrior could even hear me. He neither spoke nor showed any indications that he understood my words.
Tallack’s face remained impassive, calm. He scratched his face, nodded, and left the hut. At first, I thought it was all too much for him to process, the brutal death of his lover, the number of men killed in such a short space of time, plus the news that Kitto would never recover, but he surprised me. He went straight to where the wounded had gathered to lend a hand.
We left Kitto with one of the able-bodied Hunters and joined my nephew outside on the grass. Here the injured lay. Most were shot through with arrows, others with simple gashes and cuts or dislocations.
The worst was a young lad who was thrown by his horse onto rocks. His thigh bone was splintered into sharp spikes erupting through his skin. Even though the warrior was unconscious, I could see from the spurts of fresh blood that his heart still pounded in his chest.
One look was all it took to know that it could not be mended. It had to come off entirely. The problem with leg amputations is that they often bleed to death before you can cut through the limb. I stroked the fair curls away from the lad’s forehead. He was no more than sixteen, maybe seventeen summers in age. I had to at least try to save him.
My anger had to wait. This was not the time to vent, I had work to do. For once, none of the men argued with me when I directed an orderly line of minor injuries to wait in front of Kewri and Ren. Together, they took charge of stitches and relocating dislodged joints. My task was more critical and destined to fail. I glanced about me to see who among the uninjured could assist me with my operation. That was when Tallack stepped up.
“Tell me what you need, Aunt Mel. I’ll do my best to help.”
I thought he’d be distraught, unable to function effectively, but he was dry eyed and composed. It took me a moment to think of all my requirements. When I finally listed them, instead of ordering his men to fetch and carry on my behalf, he gathered the items himself. Nothing was too much trouble for him, in the attempt to save this lad’s life. Kneeling on the hard ground, I arranged the pull saw from the carpentry tools, Ren’s sharp knife, and a pile of clean rags in an arc around me. Once I begun, there would be no time to dally.
“What do you need me to do?” Tallack said, crouching at my side.
“Give me your belt and hold his shoulders down. If he wakes, pour some of this poppy resin water in his mouth until he passes out again.”
“That I can do. Anything else?”
I glanced up at the cloudless sky and closed my eyes. “Yes, ask the gods to guide my hands. If I can’t saw through his bone fast enough, he won’t be with us for long.” I sent a silent prayer to the Summerlands too. You never know if they will answer.
Rolling up my sleeves, I took Tallack’s belt and fastened it around the top of the lad’s thigh, pulling tight until the gushing blood reduced. With Ren’s knife, I sliced at the muscles and flesh until I could see the white of the bone. My haste left the raw meat ragged, but I couldn’t afford the time to make it neat.
I wiped the blade and rested it in the fire to heat up while I finished the job. In the time it took for me to position the pull saw inside the cut and against the bone, the warrior came to his senses. He thrashed about screaming in agony until he managed to loosen the belt, allowing the blood to pump out of him at an alarming rate.
“Hold him down.” I commanded, struggling to cinch the belt tighter. I’d done my fair share of amputations, but I wasn’t getting any younger and my strength was failing. Speed was critical if I was to save this lad’s life.
Tallack called to another warrior and together they clamped him down so that I could work. They tried to get the lad to take some of the resin, but he cried out and squirmed too much to swallow the mixture.
Putting my back into the task, I wrenched the saw through bone towards me, then the warrior on the opposite side wrenched it back again. The young lad’s lashes fluttered, his eyes disappeared into the back of his head, and he passed out again. It was better that way. The less he wriggled, the cleaner the cut.
With a searing hot blade, I pressed it against the open flesh until it sizzled like roasting pork. Memories of cauterising my brother’s severed arm came rushing back to me from all those summers past. In that instance, I knew Cador the Cruel would survive. This time, I wasn’t so sure. I’d never had to cut at the top end of the thigh before. It was a massive wound. The pain and shock of the procedure could still carry him into the Underworld.
I left the stump unbound to dry off for a while. When I looked up, Tallack was smiling at me.
“What?” I asked, wiping my hands on the rags.
“You are truly masterful at that, Aunt Mel.”
“You kyjyan fools give me plenty of practice.” I bit my lip, but it was too late. My anger could not be suppressed any longer. “Why didn’t you stop the warriors charging ahead? Surely you knew the Alchemists would set traps and defences in the gorge?”
His smile disappeared as quickly as it had blossomed. He lowered the boy’s head to the ground and got to his feet, dusting the dried earth from his bloodied leggings. “I’ll see if Ren needs help.” He wandered away from me without answering. I should have known that he wouldn’t be keen to hear my opinion after banishing me from all talks and decisions. He was eager to put me in my place.
As I watched him checking on the wounded, I suddenly saw his game plan. Each of the Hunters smiled through their pain, genuinely moved by Tallack’s concern for them. It had cost far too many lives, but by allowing Kitto free rein to fail, the Chief had secured the respect of the Hunter Clan. In one fell swoop, Tallack had restored order in the tribe.
We were a sombre group that evening. What little food we could scrape together was shared among us all. A few wanted to speak of the dead, but most did not. Their grief was too raw, too new to share. Every time I closed my eyes, I relived the crunching sound of necks snapping in the gorge. Those poor young men lay there still, alongside the warriors felled by the eagle-eyed archers. It was too risky to retrieve them for the customary pyre. A couple of the horses that had made it back to camp almost lame, were put out of their misery and drained ready to butcher for meat. Our survivors would not go hungry for some time yet.
At nightfall, I indicated my intention to retire to our hut. I needed to sleep. Ren stood to follow me, leaving Kewri and Tallack at the fireside. As we walked away, I heard Kewri volunteer to take a double shift on guard duty. Bless that lad. He was feeling guilty at having missed the foray into the gorge.
In truth, I was looking forward to spending some time with Ren alone. I may be adept at holding in my emotions in times of crisis, but it doesn’t mean that I feel them less than others. My heart was heavy with sorrow.
Ren didn’t expect me to talk. The moment we were inside our hut, he unpinned the door skins, giving us our privacy, and surrounded me wi
th his sinewy arms. I lay my head on his chest and sobbed. How many more young men would have to lay down their lives for our family? The sight of Treeve’s flayed body and pecked eyes wouldn’t leave me. Just when I was starting to understand the boy, to like him even, he was sent to his death writhing in agony, forever to walk the plains of the Underworld without his fingers or his manhood. What a wicked message to send to Tallack.
My thoughts flickered to Senara. She was still out there, watching the Alchemists just as Treeve had tried to do. This was not her home territory and as such, put her at a distinct disadvantage. Even a good scout would struggle to outwit Kenver and his devious clan.
My nephew’s reaction was even more puzzling. His initial anger which fuelled the charge towards the mines had faded already. Was he hiding his grief or was his partiality for the crewman not as strong as we’d all thought? Between him and his brother, Tallack was always the more sensitive and caring. Was that too just an act to win favour when the occasion suited? My misery and confusion fused inside my mind. Ren didn’t try to coax me from my tears. Instead, he led me over to the bunk and lay down at my side, all the while holding me close.
Neither of us slept much for a long time. When my tears subsided, and the sticky heat of the night over powered us, we undressed in the darkness. It’d been a long time since I’d been intimate with a man, but it was something you never forgot; the skin against skin, the ripple of pleasure tingling inside, the ecstasy of muting all the troubles in the world for just a short time. Without caring for what the morning might bring, I set my worries down and my emotions loose until I had nothing left to give.
Dawn broke early, reminding us all how close it was to midsummer. Endelyn and Cryda would be making their way to the stone circle on the moors for her binding ceremony any day now. They would have to wait until this whole mess was resolved, one way or another. I dressed, took a drink from the jug and washed in the river. The cool water was enough to revive my sense of duty.
