Pagan Rage

by Sam Taw

  PAGAN RAGE

  Sam Taw

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2020 Sam Nash writing as Sam Taw. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book, or any portion thereof, may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher or author.

  Cover art supplied by Carantoc Publishing Ltd

  First edition, 2020

  ISBN 978-1-9163059-3-9

  Carantoc Publishing Ltd.

  www.carantocpublishing.com

  Please note that this novel was created by a British author. Except for Cornish words, slang and dialogue, spelling and grammar are corrected to British English. There are also scenes which may offend more sensitive readers. It is not deemed suitable for children.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The long shadows cast by the rocks at the top of the escarpment favoured us. We stayed low, scurrying between the boulders and scree to gain a clearer view into the valley beyond. Blydh led the way, stumbling and staggering along the western slope of the ridge above the Durotriges’ borderlands. He muttered constantly, even when there was no one to hear him.

  Tallack crept as close to his brother’s back as possible. He too feared for Blydh’s health; he’d barely been out of his sickbed for more than a half moon, but no amount of reasoning would discourage him. Blydh was fixated on killing the new leader of our neighbouring tribe, Brea.

  None of us thought it sensible to risk such close proximity to our enemy, but Blydh was insistent that we had to see what the devious kyjyan was up to across the River Sid. It was becoming a tedious chore, scampering up and down the border watching and waiting.

  Tallack begged me to travel alongside them for the half day’s ride out east, despite the fact that my presence seemed to rile Blydh’s temper every time he looked at me. I kept my mouth shut and carried what few supplies I had left in my medicine kit on the off chance that he’d need my healing skills. It was too soon after his head injury to be scouting.

  Kewri and Senara trailed after us a little further down the track with Renowden. I was glad of their company. Each and every one of them had proven themselves to be dear friends and trusted warriors in their own right, but volunteering to scout out our enemies put them in as much danger as our Chieftains ahead of us.

  I watched Blydh fall to all fours as he neared the crest of the ridge, scrambling the last stretch on his knees next to Tallack. The chalky soil kicked up a plume of dust against the evening sky and I wondered if he had given away our position. Senara drew level with me and winced at Blydh’s incompetence. She was the best scout our tribe had ever known.

  Fleet on foot and horseback, skilled with bow and short sword, Senara was formidable. She had earned her place among the Dumnonii warriors by leading a number of our men on a successful night raid, showering our enemy’s camp with fireballs of wicker and willow. If Blydh had been in his right mind, he would have sent her alone to spy on the Duros while we drew up plans of attack back in camp.

  As it was, Blydh’s senses were in short supply since the crushing blow to his skull. Only a golden sun disc and a taut strip of skin protected the soft flesh of his brain from further injury. I noticed that he muttered a great deal to himself, in between shooting looks of pure evil in my direction. Only his twin seemed able to get through his belligerence.

  “This is a bad idea, Fur Benyn.” Senara whispered to me as she passed me by and dropped to her hands and knees. All I could do was shrug. She crawled up the scree slope and peeped over the ridge top alongside our chieftains. I waved my hand at Kewri, signalling for him to wait for us at the lower level. His great hulking mass would be harder to hide if the Duros spotted us.

  Despite my aching joints and growing thirst, I inched closer to my kin to view the scene below. The Duros were packing away their camp and loading shelters onto carts. Others were felling trees further along the valley and rolling the trunks into the river upstream. It made me wonder if Brea hadn’t taken the idea from our compound. Was she planning on creating fortifications similar to ours?

  There were few women in the valley below us so she was not difficult to pick out. Large, heavily armed men stood in a circle all around her as she issued her orders from a tall boulder in the centre of their camp. Even from our distance, I could tell that her demands were not well received. She flung her arms about and bellowed at her men who gestured back with clenched fists and waving spears.

  “She’s not well liked.” Senara muttered.

  “Brea has that effect on people.” Tallack replied ruefully.

  One of the larger Duro warriors stepped up to the platform, spitting with fury and gesturing to the hills on the opposite side of the valley. A few of the man’s companions clearly agreed with his assessment, shouting and jostling forwards in the crowd. We lay still and watched as Brea folded her arms across her chest and pouted in defiance.

  She looked to be losing control of her tribesmen until two of her guards stepped forward, unsheathed their blades and stabbed them through the gut of the outspoken man. His belly ripped apart, spilling his steaming innards onto the boggy lower ground. As he buckled and slumped into the bloody pool of guts at his feet, the rest of Brea’s guards unsheathed their swords and shuffled into an impenetrable wall around her. It was clear to all the price of disagreement; her punishment was swift and brutal.

  Crows gathered on the escarpment, waiting for their chance to pick over the dead man’s flesh; squabbling and bickering close by. We stayed pressed against the cooling gravel and sparse grass, trying to discern Brea’s intentions. It was far too late in the day to be moving away from camp, yet the shelters were dismantled and loaded one by one onto the wagons. Distant sounds of chopping wood continued long into the twilight while the few womenfolk and children bundled belongings and began to walk on the riverbank in a long winding trail of human cargo. Where were they headed and for what purpose?

  “Ssssssss.” Blydh hissed. “I should go down there and chop off its head.”

  Tallack twisted to look at his brother and then at me. His pinched frown conveyed his deep concern but he said nothing.

  Blydh’s behaviour had been most strange of late, but this was new. He wriggled about, his head swaying slowly from side to side. “A great serpent should not be left to slither like that. Sssss. Too dangerous.” He lifted his torso from the ground and sat upright. “One slice from my axe is all it would take. Sssss.”

  “Shush, brother. We must not be found out.”

  “Nonsense. A snake is no match for a wolf.”

  We all looked into the valley at the meandering line of Durotriges walking with their bundles. Was Blydh hallucinating, thinking they were one massive snake?

  He rocked back on his bent toes and stood tall. “This blade will skin it in no time.” His axe grasped in his hand, Blydh lunged forwards to begin his descent. He was beyond the shadows and picked out by the setting sun. The polished metal of his bronze axe glinted in the evening light, attracting the attention from the Duros crowded on the valley floor.

  Tallack threw himself forward, launching from a crouch until he could grapple his brother’s legs. Hobbled, Blydh came tumbling down against the dirt and rocks, groaning as the force pushed the air from his chest. With Blydh felled, Tallack rolled on top of him holding him close to the ground. I held my breath, peeping over the ridge top. Had the Duros spotted us? Would they send a pack of warriors to hunt us down and spill our guts?

  Quick thinking Senara grabbed up a handful of small pebbles and hurled them at a flock of
crows on the rocks nearby. They flapped and cawed making such a racket, that none of our enemy noticed Tallack yanking Blydh back to our hiding place by the ankles.

  “Tallack, it’s too risky to stay here much longer. We’ve seen all there is to see.” I said, risking the ire of my nephews with my candour.

  “Agreed, but with Brea on the move, we need to figure out what she’s planning.” Tallack said, still holding his brother face down in the dirt.

  “I can stay.” Senara offered. “They’ll never spot me and I can report back as soon as I find out where they’re headed.”

  I could have kissed the girl for her bravery. I thank Cernonnus daily for sending her to our camp. Handing over what was left of our provisions, I shamed my nephew into giving her some of his tin for bribes and watched as she slid back down the slope in search of her bay mare.

  By the time Tallack released the pressure from his brother’s back, I realised that Blydh’s groans were not complaints about his treatment, but of genuine pain. We rolled him over to see his eyes screwed shut and his fists clenched to the sides of his head. The muscles in his jaw pulsed as he gnashed his teeth together. The jolt must have aggravated his skull again.

  “Come on, brother. The longer we stay the greater the risk of discovery.” Tallack reached down and grabbed Blydh’s wrist to pull him up to his feet. The howl was mournful and loud. Renowden dipped low and peered over the ridge, panicked that the cries had been heard.

  “Get off me. I need resin. Aunt Mel, I must have poppy resin.”

  It was at times like these when his hatred for me melted into fear. For just those few moments, I was no longer the evil kyjyan who botched his skull repair, but Aunt Mel, keeper of resin and succour. This constant swing from vulnerable nephew to scornful Chieftain exhausted me. I had only a tiny fraction of resin left and no way to procure more, but my soft heart could not bear to deny him.

  Anxious that the Duros would come at any moment, I called out to Kewri and instructed him to help Blydh back to his horse while I mixed a small bead of resin in a cup of water. With a little help from Renowden and Tallack, we got Blydh in the saddle and dosed him with the resin just before the daylight failed us entirely.

  I wasn’t able to relax until we were well inside our own borders and trotting along familiar paths towards home. Tying the reins of Blydh’s horse to mine, I was able to keep my eye on his changing moods and steer at the same time. I am getting too old for this kind of trek. Even with Kewri to help me, I find the journeys take me longer to recover from and my patience faltering.

  It was almost dawn when we arrived at the northern gates and called out to the watchmen to lower the bridge. Blydh was already whining for more resin as we passed through the compound. I gave him some willow to chew on and directed him to his own house but that didn’t seem to appease him.

  Sliding down the flank of his horse he followed me into my hut and collapsed on my bunk. Tallack was a couple of paces behind. He grabbed a few logs stacked under my eaves to rekindle the low embers of my fire.

  “Where’s Kerensa?” Blydh murmured into my bedding furs. I stole a glance at Tallack. That was his mess to sort out. As far as I could tell, Tallack had tried several times to explain Kerensa’s part in the attack on our people, only to have Blydh forget the fact that she was killed for her treachery.

  “She’s gone home to Bentewyn, Brother.” Tallack lied, rolling his eyes at me to confirm the validity of his falsehood. I ignored the gesture. There were more important things to consider than the fate of a girl from the mining settlement.

  It was almost as though Blydh’s head injury was the cause of his confusion, which is strange since everyone knows that the heart is the most important organ in the body. Blydh’s heart was strong and unharmed, so to have him behave in such an odd manner defied all the teachings from my ancestors.

  Our compound was fully repaired after the Duro invasion, and Tallack ordered his men to begin work on the additional boardwalks across the muddy island to stop them from getting restless.

  When our priestess walked into my hut through the door skins, I could see that she had not used them. Her feet were caked in soggy dirt and grass fragments which rattled loose from her wooden pattens and onto my fresh floor rushes. Between her and my nephews, it was almost impossible to keep the place clean.

  “I saw your return, Fur Benyn.” Endelyn said, scooting around Tallack and Kewri to the bedside. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  I don’t know why the woman feels that she owes me. It was Tallack’s decision to welcome her into the camp not mine. Nevertheless, I seldom refuse assistance when it’s offered.

  “You could warm a little goat’s milk and a handful of grains, if you have the time. I’m famished, and I dare say the boys would appreciate a little porridge too.” While I crushed and steeped more willow bark for Blydh’s pain relief, Endelyn took a boiling pot out to my goat pen and set to work. From her furtive glances at both of my nephews, I couldn’t make out which one she preferred. If I had to guess, I’d say that she was about their age, or maybe a couple of summers older but no more.

  With Kerensa out of the picture, and Treeve keeping a low profile about camp, both our Chieftains looked to be free of suitable partners. Was Endelyn making a run for the position of Ruvane, like so many others before her? I vowed to speak with the priestess at the earliest opportunity. No good can come from chasing such a lofty position within our tribe.

  Tallack sparked my fire back into life before heading off to the Long Hut. He said he needed to speak with his men, but I knew his real reasons for leaving. Ever since the great sacrifice of the Novantae Chieftain, Faolan at the Nine Maidens stone circle, Tallack had his work cut out for him taming his new slave. The old man’s daughter, Sorcha was spared the indignity of death for her part in the plot to overthrow my nephews and take over our lands. In return for her life, Sorcha was to be Tallack’s primary slave girl.

  It was quite a fall from grace. She had left her homelands in Skotek with the aim of becoming our next Ruvane. Through ill-conceived plots and devious lies, her father and brothers had failed to bring us all to heel. Instead of ruling alongside Blydh and Tallack, she now emptied their piss pots and washed their clothes. With a strong will such as hers, Sorcha would not break easily. Tallack rarely left her to her own devices for more than half a day at a time, for fear that she might get hold of a weapon and begin slaughtering anyone in her path.

  Endelyn milked my goats until the pot was half filled and set it among the embers to warm through with a handful of crushed barley. Blydh fidgeted in my bunk under my furs, but dozed off to sleep a short time later. By the time the porridge was ready, only the priestess and I were able to eat.

  I watched her radiant face in the flickering light from my fire. She was slim and elegant, nothing like the sturdy, muscular women about camp. I supposed that was down to all the donations of food and metal she received in return for her priestly services. Endelyn was not built for hard work, nor hunting and gathering. She spent her days advising those in need of the gods’ words.

  It made me wonder how she would be received by our people. Our previous experience of those who followed the odd ways of the gods were not positive. While our Priest Sect were nomadic, we left them to their own devices, but when they settled within our camp, tensions rose and would not be quelled.

  My nephews and I shared mixed feelings over the priests. As much as we’d like to see them all run from our lands, we know that there are times when their services are crucial in appeasing the gods. Perhaps I worried unduly. Endelyn was not of the priest family that caused so much discontent. There was every chance that she would bring fresh insight and stability after many moons of turmoil. We sat together, eating our porridge and listening to Blydh’s murmurs and groans.

  “Does he fret like this often, Fur Benyn?” Endelyn could hardly take her eyes off my nephew. He lolled about in my furs half naked and sweating. The battle scars on his upper body showed th
at his experience belied his young age.

  “I can only go by the times he has slept here rather than his own bed, but since the injury he has, yes.”

  “And you say that his mood alters to the point of unpredictability?” She put her bowl down and folded her hands in her lap, contemplating my answers.

  I nodded. “I dare say it’s just anxiety that makes him angry towards me. Other times he is still the sweet little boy I always knew and loved.”

  “So, it’s almost like there is another person trapped inside him, a character that is false and wild?”

  “Um… well… I wouldn’t put it like that…”

  “Have you performed any rituals of late in camp, I mean other than the sacrifice I conducted at the Nine Maidens?”

  “Um, I don’t think so, only little Delen’s naming ceremony.”

  Endelyn gasped, leaning away from me on her stool. “I mean no disrespect, Fur Benyn, but did you perform the ceremony as the oldest woman in the tribe?”

  “I did. What of it?”

  “And by any chance, did you ask Blydh to assure the protection of the sun?”

  My head was spinning. What was she driving at? How could Blydh’s condition be related to a simple ritual to welcome my new niece into the tribe?

  “He did yes. It was all conducted carefully, with ivy to form a barrier and the sun disc to close the portal to spirits from the Underworld. She’s perfectly safe. The ivy bindings were only open for a short time, just long enough for our ancestors to see her before her mother sealed the circle.”

  Endelyn closed her eyes for a moment and tucked her long hair behind her ears. Slowly, she rose from the stool and approached the bed. Looking down at my nephew, she sighed. “And you used the very same sun disc to bridge the gap in Blydh’s skull?”

  It didn’t occur to me that it should present a problem. It was a clean, thin plate of gold and perfect for the job. I shrugged at the priestess. “I did. Why is that so bad?”