Pagan Siege (Tribes of Britain Book 5)

by Sam Taw

  My breath came in short gasps as I watched her lunge between two overhangs separated by a sizable gap, until she was holding on with just her fingertips above the entrance to the tunnels. The guards were straining to see over the fences and paling walls a short distance from the mouth of the mine. They hadn’t heard her approach from behind.

  “But how can she get to both of the men before she’s discovered?” I hadn’t realised that I was speaking aloud. Nectan shrugged, Kewri stood up and paced along the ridge for a better view.

  It didn’t stop my loud musings. “Even if she could throw two blades at once, they would surely cry out. That would spell disaster.”

  Nectan joined Kewri and me further along the peak of the gorge. The humidity was cloying, rattling my wits further still. Senara edged along the overhang by her fingertips, her entire body swinging freely in mid-air. When she was level with the massive rocks bolstering their defences, she kicked one leg up and hooked an ankle over the ledge.

  “What’s she doing?” I couldn’t keep silent. Every anxious thought I had just tumbled from my lips.

  “She’ll have planned all this out, Fur Benyn. You can be sure of that.” It was the first thing Kewri had uttered for half a day. I had to be content that he was right. Clamping my hand over my mouth, I sucked in air and held it while we watched the young woman hoist herself up onto the ledge and crawl to the top of the massive boulder.

  From there, she slid down silently to the space behind the watchmen, slipping the blade between her teeth and unwinding the long leather straps of her sling shot.

  “She’ll never fire that off without them noticing,” I stammered, leaning against Kewri for support. “It’ll make too much noise…” I barely finished my thought before Senara had loaded the ball of stone into the sling, whirled it about her head and let go with a snap of the wrist. One of the straps skittered free, launching the stone with such momentum, it caved in the skull of the guard.

  He fell against the hurdles and posts, startling his companion. The young lad was too slow to react or yell for help. Senara was already poised with dagger in hand. The man opened his mouth to scream, but she was quick. Her blade slashed across his windpipe in an instant, spilling foaming blood down his chest as he fell.

  The defences shielded her victims from view, but I knew that she would not have let them linger in their dying throes. She took a moment to check that they could no longer raise the alarm, before clambering up the walls and returning the way she had come.

  In no time at all, she reached a high trail above the mines. Stopping low in the moonlight, she ignited a bundle of kindling attached to the head of an arrow with her flint.

  The glow brightened to a full flame as she nocked it in her bow, and with her stance wide and proud, she pulled back the string and sent it high into the night sky. It seemed to hang suspended for a while, slowing its course before falling to the ground. If there were any stray Alchemists abroad, they too would have seen the signal, but none would respond to their cries. The five guards in the gorge were making their way to the Underworld.

  Even if they could find a way to warn Kenver, we were too far into the plan to abandon it now. I clasped my hands together as Tallack, Massen and our remaining warriors crept along the river bank carrying the boards and planking to lay over the sand and rushes. There was no way we would fall for Kenver’s tricks twice. Picking their way through the dense undergrowth, they heaved the ladder-like contraptions over the gullies and thickets, ever higher into the narrow gorge, until they were just shy of the clearing. Hunkering down in the bushes, they waited.

  I started to worry that Ren had missed the signal way up stream. Although I’d not seen the preparations myself, he’d described the huge pile of tree trunks, rocks and gravel that the men had amassed above the tightest bend in the river. The massive load was held back by two large stakes driven into the sandy soil.

  All was silent and still once more barring the gush of the white water below. Kewri and I exchanged glances, baffled at the delay. Nectan returned to his rock and scraped out the bowl of his pipe.

  “Should one of us ride along the ridge to see if Ren’s in trouble?” I said, directing my gaze to the idle Nectan. He pretended not to hear me, blowing out the charred weed until it whistled clean. My liking for that man plummeted in that moment. I grabbed my bag and slung the strap over my head. “Neither use nor ornament, the pair of you.” I muttered, but loud enough for them both to hear me.

  As I tensed my muscles to slow my descent down towards my pony, a distant rumbling noise stopped me in my tracks. It was followed by a hollow banging of wood against wood and the cracking and splintering of rock and branch. I cocked my head in the direction of the sound, but I heard no more. Scrambling back to the ridge top, I hurried over to Kewri. “Was that it? Do you think he’s done it?”

  The giant lifted his shoulders to his ears, pulling a face. “We’ll soon find out.” He said, looking down at the fast river below. The green rocks jutting out from the channel frothed with the swirling power of the tumbling water, every pool spun with hypnotic grace. All three of us trained our attention on the frantic pace of the crystal-clear stream crashing down the steep creek towards the sea.

  “Nothing’s happening.” I said, revealing my impatience. “It hasn’t worked.”

  Nectan lifted his face to the sky and shook his head. He didn’t need to voice his scornful thoughts.

  It was gradual at first, a lessening of the rush and hiss, until the flow was reduced to that of a trickle. We stood close together and waited for the plan to unfurl.

  “I can’t bear this,” I said, hurrying to the head of the trail leading into the gorge. “They aren’t all evil like Kenver. I have to save as many as I can…” and with that, I slid and tumbled down the steep bank to the valley floor.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Kewri and Nectan dashed after me, leaving the poor pony to fend for itself. I had to be close enough to lend support to any of our men, yet not get in their way. It didn’t take long for me to trip and stumble down the track to the drying riverbed and cross the slippery rocks to the opposite bank.

  I couldn’t hear the water at first. It was snaking its way from the hidden tunnels at the head of the river to the lower, much larger mine shafts near to the valley floor. Then a rumbling began, different in pitch and tone to the first time. The low hum became a dull roar mingled with echoing screams of frightened men.

  Tallack roused his warriors, ordering them to push the lengths of timber and ladders across the clearing in front of them. Where the rushes and sand gave way, the Head Hunters were able to steer the boardwalks over the spiked pits until the ends were resting on firm ground. Four men crossed as quickly as they dared, before lifting the sharpened paling structures that blocked them from the hurdle gates ahead.

  In the stillness of the summer night, the roaring flow found several exits, gushing out of the rocky cliffs with enough force to sweep away the barricades and tunnel reinforcements. Those shafts further up the valley filled with unsuspecting miners were swept up by the current and carried to the surface, coughing and spluttering. Most were too fatigued or injured to fight, surrendering themselves to Massen and the Sea Warriors who waited for them on the trail path with spears aimed at their heads.

  Back at the main entrance, two more of our strong men slashed the ropes securing the hurdles between the posts allowing our warriors safe passage over the pits and into the space beyond the defences. Tallack and the Head Hunters stood with sword and spears at the ready. If he hadn’t already drowned, or had his head caved in by falling rocks and timbers, Kenver would have no choice but to surrender.

  Muffled hollering and shouting preceded a tiny rivulet of water sloshing out of the tunnel. The diverted stream had insufficient volume to fill all the connected tunnels. Most of the water flowed from a steep gully carved into the hill side. Some ran from the abandoned shafts at the lowest level of the gorge.

  Those men that were left
inside the main tunnel entrance could not go deeper for fear of drowning and yet would not venture out and face Tallack and his men. A few of our warriors lit torches and wedged them in the post bindings of the defence wall. Others helped Massen drag the captives from the side shafts and bound them at their wrists and ankles.

  “Shall we go in after them?” One of the Head Hunters growled. “The more time they have to get their wits about them, the more dangerous they’ll be.”

  “No, let them wear themselves out treading water or struggling up the lethal tunnels. It might be warm out here, but the icy river will chill their bones in there. With any luck, Cernonnus will drag them into the Underworld, saving us the bother of dispatching them by blade.” Tallack sneered over his shoulder at his grinning men.

  That was when the first of the Alchemists launched themselves out of the tunnel, roaring and wailing and thrusting their spears at our men. Two stayed in the mouth of the entrance, firing off arrows at anything that moved.

  “Take cover!” Tallack yelled, before a blade hurtled past his cheek and found its way into the neck of the archer. Stunned, Tallack turned around to see Senara hopping between the tall boulders, spinning her slingshot over her head. I might have known whose hand launched that knife. It was rapidly becoming her favourite move.

  Massen charged into the entrance, deflecting the stream of arrows with his shield until he was close enough to barge the second archer. He smashed him into the rock face until his skull was a bloodied mess of hair and bone. The mighty Sea Warrior used the momentum of his spinning bulk to shove more miners from the safety of the tunnel and into the sharp spears of our men. Another quick lunge and Massen retreated, swiping his sword in a vast arc at shoulder height, almost beheading a miner as he ran.

  There was no sign of Kenver, yet more of his miners spilled out of hiding to strike sparks with the blades of our men. Many were cut down by Senara and our archers before they could complete their battle cries and lift their spears. Others managed a couple of jabs and lunges, before our warriors opened their bellies. In a matter of moments, it rained entrails and blood.

  Splattered in the gore of our enemies, Tallack’s patience wore thin. “Come out you coward and face me like a man!” There was no doubt as to whom my nephew was referring. More and more Alchemists ventured out of the entrance, some in a rage, others meek and timid as though Kenver had pushed them from the safety of the tunnel as a sacrifice to the gods. Few had the skill or experience to stand up against our warriors.

  The bodies were piling up in the small space between the cliff and the defences, their blood ran underfoot and drained into the spike filled pits. I crept closer, edging my way up the slope and avoiding the run off and slick mud from the flood.

  Kewri straggled behind me, his face pinched with pain. As I drew level with the clearing, I looked over my shoulder at him. For every step he made forwards, he slid further back on the sludge. Despite every effort to hurry, Kewri made no further progress.

  Nectan was nowhere to be seen. Whether he was hiding through cowardice or had switched sides again to help his fellow clansmen, I could not say. Neither could I really hate him for such a crime. It was obvious that only a few of Kenver’s loyal clan agreed with the siege. These people were Nectan’s friends and relations. It would take a hard heart indeed to turn wholly against them.

  Under the pale moonlight, it was easy to see where the pits lay ahead. Their sand covered rushes and thin supports were swept aside. I was able to squeeze myself tight against the defences, where the paling walls had stood, until I was able to see through a gap in the remaining hurdles.

  Something stirred from within the tunnel entrance. Tallack, Massen, and the closest warriors made ready for an attack. With a swiftness that startled me, Kenver came out running, flanked either side by his trusted men. Tallack readied his mystical sword, swiping it through the air in a display of dominance. It did not deter the Alchemists.

  Most of the miners brandished spears and shields, managing to deflect Senara’s and the other archer’s bolts. One knocked the feet out from under the shield maiden. She toppled off her perch, high on the huge boulder, and fell into the rocks and bracken on the outside of the defences with a winded groan.

  Another miner twirled about on his heels, striking out at anything that lay in his path. At least one of our men was slashed across the thigh with his spear, another took a jab in the gut but miraculously stayed upright long enough to yank the spear from the Alchemist’s hand. The stricken Head Hunter crashed to the ground, holding in his guts. Without his weapon, the miner lifted his shield high above the Hunter’s head, ready to crush his skull.

  Within moments, Senara was back up on her rock and showering the Alchemists with a quick-fire round of shots from her leather sling. Down they went, one after another as the shield maiden took out her spite on anyone who dared to cross her path. One shot laid low the whirling miner. He fell down in the churning mud right next to our gutted warrior. I had to get to him, try to save his life, but the closer I got to the gap in the defences, the more our men pushed me back.

  Kenver squared up to Tallack with a blade of equal magnificence to that of our chief. From the smug grin on Tallack’s face, he had not noticed the Alchemist’s sword glimmering with the same silvery sheen as his own. My nephew lurched forwards, eager to take the head from Kenver’s shoulders. With both hands clasped about the hilt, he drew it back to shoulder height and swept it at our enemy.

  Kenver was swift to react. He raised his sword to meet that of our leader. The blades clanged together with a deafening ring, neither man prepared to give way. They locked their strength against one another, baring teeth and snarling. Despite the raucous scrapping and thrashing fists and blades all around, I could not tear my gaze away from them.

  Matched in height and weight, I’d hoped that my nephew’s youth would give him an advantage over the older man, but I hadn’t accounted for the Alchemist’s experience. Kenver squared his shoulders and pushed from the hip, forcing Tallack to slide backwards in the mud. Before he could regain his footing, Kenver twisted his wrists, circling his sword in an arc until he could thrust it up towards my nephew’s chin.

  The whites of Tallack’s eyes shone in the torchlight. He hadn’t anticipated the move. Arching his back, he jerked his face out of the way, but the tip of Kenver’s blade caught his chin. It sliced clean through the flesh like he was made of pork dripping. Kenver followed this with another cross cut, his full strength directed into the downward force. Shaken and bleeding, Tallack was just able to meet the sword with his own, but his body was twisted and unable to deflect the blow. The mystical blade, sent through me from Cernonnus himself, was flicked from Tallack’s grasp.

  “Watch out, boy!” I yelled, but it was too late. His heels teetered on the edge of the spike filled pit at the mouth of the defences. He had nowhere to run and a poised sword, moments away from cutting him down. Kenver grinned, lifting his blade high for the killing blow. He did not see Massen’s great hulking body staggering backwards from a lunging spear. They collided with a series of grunts, shoving Kenver a few steps closer to where I clung to the hurdles.

  Tallack tried to regain his balance, tilting his shoulders forwards and scampering on the shifting soil. The trickle of water turned into a flow of mud, washing out the fine clay and sand until it crumbled into the pit below. The ground could no longer support his weight. He fell down the inside wall of the gaping hole, grabbing out at anything that could slow his descent.

  My poor old heart almost stopped. I shut my eyes and bit down on my knuckle. I didn’t want to see him impaled on the sharpened poles lining the pit. There were too many painful memories of impaled loved ones swimming around in my head as it was, losing Tallack would be my end. With Kenver so close, though, I couldn’t afford to dally. He was just as likely to run me through as turn and finish off my poor nephew.

  As it was, the collision with Massen had altered Kenver’s priorities. He seemed keen to avoid s
uch a huge warrior. Stepping behind an unsuspecting miner to his left, he shoulder barged the young man into Massen’s path, allowing him to scurry back to the edge of the pit.

  I hurried along the hurdles and posts, until I was close to the fighting but shielded from the main thrust of the skirmish. Kewri yelled from the riverbank, begging me to return to safety. I knew he was right, of course. This was no place for a meddlesome old woman, but the need to help Tallack overwhelmed me. My family was shrinking in size every moon. As frightened as I was to discover his fate, seeing his body was preferable to the agonising uncertainty.

  Kenver smirked and positioned himself at the edge of the pit. From his expression, I thought the worst had passed; that I’d lost my nephew for good. It was when he crouched down and jabbed into the hole with his sword that I knew Tallack was still alive. I drew closer to Kenver’s right hand side where I could just make out my nephew’s shape in the darkness. He was clinging to a tree root embedded in the pit wall, just an eagle’s wingspan from the top.

  More miners found their courage and streamed from the opening, outnumbering our few men. Those with decent blades fought two Alchemists at a time, relying on the crack shot of Senara with her leather sling to even out the sides. As they spilled out between the defences, I clawed along the broken hurdles with faltering steps. That wretch, Kenver was determined to send our Chieftain to the Summerlands long before his time. I couldn’t let that happen.

  After the countless winters we’d sent grain to his settlement, the slaves Tallack took to bolster the tin production, the privileges afforded to his kin, this rogue leader chose to rebel against a family who’d ruled fairly and wisely for generations. This was the thanks we got for all the healing treatments and tinctures I’d made for him, the comfort I gave to his children and the injuries tended following several accidents.