Pagan Rage

by Sam Taw

  “What’s going on? Have we crossed the border? I thought you said it was a secret campsite?” Kewri flapped his arms at me, holding a finger against his lips and crouching low next to a shrub.

  Leaving my horse tied up near the stream, I followed them deeper into the forest on foot. The pair of them were head and shoulders above my height, forcing them to bend low and slink towards our target.

  When we reached the edge of a small clearing, I realised why they were creeping about. Someone had found Senara’s secret hideout.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Smoke twisted in a spiral up through the gap in the trees next to the little woven hurdle shelter. Several rabbits hung from posts in various stages of skinning and gutting. Whoever was in Senara’s camp, meant to stay there for some time. An axe lay next to a pile of chopped wood and there were pots of food cooking over the embers. I looked all around the cleared space between the trees, searching for the interloper but saw no one.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I opened my mouth to whisper to Senara, but she’d gone. I curled my lip at Kewri, but he just shrugged. This was how she managed to travel everywhere unseen. She had the stealth and cunning of a wolf that one. Neither I nor Kewri dared to move, in case a snapped twig or rustling branch gave away our positions. Just as cramp was making itself felt in my calf muscles, I heard a loud shriek coming from the opposite side of the clearing.

  Within moments, a man shuffled out from the undergrowth, his leggings around his ankles and a blade at his throat. Senara had sneaked up and caught the man emptying his bowels.

  “You can come out now, Fur Benyn, Kewri. He’s alone.” Senara shouted. To my surprise, she released him immediately, sheathing her knife and letting him pull up his britches. Kewri and I marched forwards, expecting him to make a run for it, but he didn’t.

  “You scared the kawgh out of me, Senara, literally!” He said, rubbing his neck where the blade had nicked his skin. I looked him up and down, taking note of the tattoo marking him as part of the Durotriges Tribe. This had to be the scout that Senara had bribed into spying for us.

  “This is my place, you kyjyan thief!” She snarled, but there was a grin mixed in with her accusation. “How did you find it?”

  “You are not that good at covering your tracks.” He sniffed. “Easy really.”

  “I must be slipping.” She grinned, holding out her arm for a more formal greeting. They clasped each other’s forearms before introducing us. While she helped herself to his pot of stew and prepared one of his rabbits to roast, I glanced into the shelter. It was well built, but seemed far too small to accommodate us all. I sighed. After a night on the freezing moors, it was better than nothing.

  As the night wore on, clouds gathered obscuring the moon and keeping the frost at bay. We were a merry little bunch, drinking what ale the Duro had and eating his stores of food. I’m not sure what I expected, but this rival of ours was nothing like I imagined him to be. My experiences of the Duros were limited, mostly taking the form of heart-breaking memories from my youth.

  More recent time spent in their company, were through my niece, Wenna, who was forced into marrying their former Chief.

  He was a great brainless brute, who possessed no redeeming features and bore grudges unto death. This scout was pleasant, hospitable and at times, fun. I liked him and could see how Senara had chosen to employ him in place of a swift death. Kewri sat on a log on the opposite side of the fire, watching Senara chatting and sharing food with our host. From his expression, I could see the jealousy bubbling up inside him.

  I chose to distract them. “Perren,” I said, interrupting the quick-witted banter between the two scouts. “What can you tell us about Brea?”

  Perren swallowed his mouthful of rabbit and swilled it down with ale. “She’s despised by everyone in the tribe. Most of us can’t understand how she came to lead us at all, considering there were others in our Chief’s family who could have taken the tall chair after he fell.”

  “So, she just declared herself Ruvane and Chief and no one tried to stop her?” I asked, impatient to get to the root of all.

  “Of course they did, but she was too shrewd. She was paying our best warriors from the shared troves to keep her safe. Some of us think she put the idea in the Chief’s head to attack you Dumnos in your new camp. Rumour has it that a few of the elders went against the decision and were executed for speaking out.” Everything he said backed up Senara’s observations, but then she took her information from Perren.

  I sat and stewed for a while, contemplating whether he was someone who could be trusted. “Are there any elders left willing to stand up to her?” I knew that he could only guess an answer. This scout was too lowly in the tribe to know about the important camp politics.

  “I’d say so, yes, especially those who had the right to make a challenge for their sons to become the next Chief.” Perren looked at me with the kind of reverence I’d seen before. He was respectful of my position and age. If the rest of his folk were like him, perhaps there was hope for the Duros after all. Was it possible for Tallack and Blydh to forge a lasting alliance with the Durotriges after generations of conflict?

  This was a possibility worth pursuing. It could help us to return to Tallack and Blydh’s favour and win us a pardon for allowing Paega’s escape.

  Over the course of the evening, I grilled the Duro scout for details regarding their organisation and structure. From what I could tell, Brea had all but neutered the elders of their tribe through fear of death. She kept no counsel other than her own and through a combination of youth and hubris, had made some terrible decisions; the site for her new compound being but one.

  It was tempting to put forward Senara’s proposal to the scout there and then, but I figured that he could easily slip out of the shelter during the night to betray our whereabouts to his fellow tribesmen and have us all killed or worse. The matter could wait until morning.

  Our night in the hut was beyond cramped, but it was warm and relatively comfortable. Kewri insisted on sleeping between Senara and Perren, leaving me squashed up against the hurdle wall at the end. At least she smelled less offensive than the men.

  Come morning, we found Perren up and about before us. He cleared away the mess after our night of indulgence. Senara and I had quiet words together before leaving the shelter. It was a risk, but we decided to trust the scout to deliver our plan to the Duro elders.

  Perren sat and ate flat bread and cold rabbit, listening to our proposal with a neutral expression. I couldn’t make out his opinion at all, but we had little to lose by making the suggestion. When we had laid out the reasoning, time frame and locations involved, he finished chewing and swallowed.

  “What you are suggesting has never been attempted before in my lifetime.” He said, his friendly face turning quite stern.

  “Nor mine, young man, although my brother attempted a union of marriage between our two tribes. The less said about that the better.” I replied, reinforcing the gravity of the situation.

  He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “And in laying this at the elders’ feet, I am admitting to them that I have cooperated with our sworn enemy.”

  So that was his issue. He was worried that his tribe would discover his friendship with our scout and realise that he was our spy. “You can tell them that we took you captive, but spared your life in return for delivering our message.” That was an easy fix. I was surprised he hadn’t thought of it himself.

  Senara jogged his arm. “I can give you a black-eye if you think they’ll need more convincing.” She grinned at Perren, making Kewri glower all the more.

  The scout smiled, rolling his eyes at her. “I think I can make it work.

  Senara and Perren agreed on how and where they could leave signals for one another; a sun symbol scratched into a marker stone at the border crossing of the River Sid to indicate all was well, a crescent moon if discussions went sour, and a cross to bring the parties together by the spring solstice at the
latest.

  I butted into their conversation, adding further symbols if meetings were delayed or could be brought forward. In the end, both scouts agreed to make regular contact at the crossing to keep abreast of the changing situations in our camps. We’d need the rest of the spring to deal with Blydh’s demon, that’s if it hadn’t already taken over the island while we were away.

  With everything resting on Perren and his diplomacy with Duro elders, we packed our belongings, mounted our horses, and headed west towards the island compound. We were a sombre party, riding in single file and letting the ponies dictate our pace. None of us were eager to return empty handed. We had no way of knowing how well our plan would be received, particularly by Blydh.

  I spent the half-day’s ride, pondering my approach. As ever, Tallack would be the most receptive to the plan, more so if I informed him that it was Senara’s suggestion in the first place. She had earned his respect and admiration, and I’d be a fool not to trade on that fact. Kewri and Senara rode behind me, leaving enough distance between the horses so that I couldn’t hear their mumbled discussion. There was no need to be coy, I knew exactly what they were arguing about.

  Their lover’s quarrel was of no interest to me at all. We had bigger problems to deal with than Kewri’s jealousy. Considering the giant was laying with Tallack’s slave right under Senara’s nose, he had no right to behave in such a petulant manner.

  When at last we reached the forest, marking the homestretch of our journey, Senara drew alongside me. “What are we going to say to them? Tallack’s orders were clear. We were not to return without Paega.”

  She didn’t need to tell me. It’d preyed on my mind since we’d left the borderlands. Why the young always think us elders have all the answers is beyond me. Most of the time, we wait and see what transpires. That was all we could do now. I tried not to think about the punishments that the Chiefs could impose upon us, banishment, imprisonment, flogging, or maybe worse. If Blydh had his own way, I would have already succumbed from one or more of those cruelties. I thank Cernonnus daily for Tallack’s common sense and good reason.

  The closer we got to the northern gates, the more I could feel my bowels churning inside me. Before we were close enough to call out to the watchmen, they saw us and blew a single note out on the horn. Were they signalling us as enemies? Could they not see who we were?

  It took all my strength to press on and not turn back. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Kewri and Senara slow their horses, leaving me a few lengths ahead. The bridge lowered over the River Exe in front of me. I pulled on the reins bringing my pony to a halt.

  The imposing north gate rattled as the securing rods were drawn back. My breathing quickened; my pulse hammered in my ears. I imagined every conceivable weapon flying out towards us as the gap widened between the towers.

  There stood Tallack and Renowden, both wearing grim frowns. Tallack made a show of tipping his head sideways, pretending to look for Paega. “You’re about to tell me that my conniving kyjyan brother is dead and will never trouble us again, aren’t you?” He glared directly at me but I could not hold his stare. I hung my head in shame.

  “You lost him?” Tallack said, shaking his head and walking towards me across the bridge.

  “I’m sorry, nephew. We tried, but Kewri and Senara both got trapped in a bog and then…”

  “No, it’s my own fault. I should have sent out warriors the moment Paega escaped. What was I thinking sending you and your little band of misfits?” He grabbed hold of my pony’s bridle and led me into the compound. “We can talk about what to do later. Your services are needed again, Aunt. Blydh’s in another mess.”

  It was a relief that circumstances had, yet again, saved us from the Chief’s wrath. Our failure paled into insignificance compared to Blydh’s continuous need for supervision. The rarity of my healing skills had saved us once more. My abilities made me a valuable resource. Tallack helped me down from the saddle and touched his forehead to mine. Relief washed over me until I felt giddy. There and then, I made a promise to myself, not to abuse this unusual privilege.

  Renowden beamed at me and repeated the Chief’s gesture. I was touched at how pleased he was to see me, using the greeting normally reserved for close family. Ren took care of my horse, while I spun about thinking where Blydh might be.

  “I take it he’s in his own house, or maybe the Long Hut?” I pointed towards the collection of Head Hunter shelters on the eastern side of the island, but Tallack shook his head.

  “He’s waiting for you at your place.” He said, shepherding me towards my home.

  “What? Why?” I spluttered, shocked that he would consider anything to do with me a comfort. “What happened?” I scurried through the mud and kawgh towards my house and pushed through the door drapes.

  Tallack ran in behind me, snatching my healing kit from Renowden’s hands on his way. “Nothing happened. He was drinking in the Long Hut last night, complaining that the new helmet made his head sore and this morning, there’s a patch swollen up as big as a goose egg.”

  By the time we’d all squeezed inside, my hut was fit to burst. The twin’s mother, Cryda was at the bedside, rocking backwards and forwards to soothe her babe and her own anxiety, Treeve stood guard at the door, although I’ve no idea why, and Endelyn was muttering invocations and wafting the strong scent from smouldering herbs about their heads.

  I stood at the foot of my bunk looking down at my nephew. Blydh was whimpering, touching the swollen mass poking from the thin skin where I’d stitched his scalp back in place. The offending helmet balanced from an end post. He opened his eyes and saw me, and then held out his hand for me to grasp.

  “Aunt Mel. Help me, it hurts so much.”

  At first, I thought it was a trick to get me closer so that his spite would have greater impact, but his anguish was genuine. He’d reverted to the frightened child I’d nursed many cycles ago. I detected not a trace of the demon as I moved in closer to examine the growth. Blydh took hold of my hand and wouldn’t let go. It made me uneasy at first, but he needed the comfort.

  “Can you do anything?” Tallack growled from the doorway.

  “As far as I can tell…” I said, squinting at the milky fluid oozing from the scars. “The helmet has set the healing back. It sits too tightly against his skull. It needs less padding or for the smith to hammer the sides out to give him more room. I’ll need to lance that swelling and let the bad humours out.” Blydh squeezed my fingers hard. How could he be in this much pain? “Where’s the poppy resin? Was he not completely addled on the stuff when I left?”

  “He was, Aunt. That’s the problem.” Tallack grumbled. “He used it all up.”

  I couldn’t stop my reaction. My sharp intake of breath was mirrored by Ren and Cryda. That small pot of resin would’ve normally seen me through a whole season. He was lucky to be alive. No wonder he felt the pain acutely now. He’d spent the last moon or more in a resin infused haze.

  Endelyn broke my focus, leaning over Blydh to slip a necklace of carved bone symbols and feathers over his head. “For protection Chief.” She whispered to him, lowering her chest so close to his face that she almost buried his nose in her cleavage.

  “Kerensa?” Blydh murmured. “Is that you?” He let go of my hand and grappled Endelyn’s wrist, pulling her down onto the bunk beside him. No one put him straight. Tallack and I exchanged worried glances. Blydh must be poorly indeed, if he could mistake the fair and willowy Endelyn for his raven-haired former lover, particularly since Kerensa was dead.

  “I’ll need everyone to clear out.” I said. “I must have room to work.” Most took the hint and left at once. Tallack handed me my bag and pushed Treeve and Ren outside.

  Endelyn made no attempt to move. “I’ll stay, Fur Benyn. He seems to be settled by my presence.”

  Cryda sighed. She knew when her children needed her, and this wasn’t one of those times. She shot me a look on her way out, as if to say, you brought this woman into our camp,
you can deal with her. How right she was. Endelyn was masterful in her manipulations. While I stabbed my finest needle point into the pustule, she stroked Blydh’s cheek with her soft hands. As I drained the pus from the wound, she sang a distracting tune and nestled her face into his neck.

  By the time I had smothered the loose flesh in plantain paste and wrapped his head in cloth, she had him smiling with closed eyes and calm breath. I washed my hands in a bowl of warm water and started to clear up the mess.

  Endelyn sat up to face Blydh. “Chief, I know how we can clear your head once and for all.”

  He opened his eyes and frowned. “Clear it? There is nothing to clear. I was injured.” His voice turned gruff and accusatory.

  “I just mean that you can feel like your old self again. No one muddling your thoughts.”

  The Chief shifted on the bed, sitting fully upright. His mild manner evaporated in an instant. “You think that someone is telling me what to do? You think me weak?”

  I knew his good temper would not last. His face flushed red, his lip curled and his fists tightened with rage.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I was sure that Blydh would vent his anger on Endelyn at any moment, pounding his fists into her fragile body. She must have seen the change in him too. Instead of backing away, as I would have done, she moved closer to him, laying her head on his chest.

  “You are the most powerful man in the tribe, no one would question that, Chief. I meant that I know of a place that can rid you of pain, heal your troublesome wounds and make you more vital than ever. With a suitable offering, the gods would even return the sight in your left eye.”

  It was as though The Mother Goddess, Cerridwen, was speaking through Endelyn, choosing each word as a balm to his woes. She said nothing more, but resumed her lyrical singing. I watched from a safe distance as her soft voice lulled him into a stupor. The heaving in his chest lessened, his fists unclenched and his eyelids began to droop. She was better than resin for dulling his senses. I stayed until I was sure she wouldn’t be in any danger, and then left in search of Tallack.