by John Gwynne
But there was no sign of the Hunen. No movement anywhere.
There was a strident horn blast from behind him. Alcyon, head, shoulders and chest above the tallest men about him, waved an arm, signalling to stop here, and the warband slowly came to a halt on the upper level of the slope.
The lower slope before them was a seething mass of movement of those ahead in the column, reminding Veradis of the ants he had seen in the forest near Jerolin. How long ago that seemed. The first ranks were splashing across a stream. Veradis made out the bulky shape of Braster, and before him the Gadrai. Then the first of the Gadrai approached the ruined wall, beginning to scramble across fallen stone.
A noise broke the tension he felt, as a high, pealing horn sounded from somewhere beyond them, an ethereal, haunting sound. Then something resembling smoke or mist poured from the black gateway in the rock face. Quickly this spread around the cairns, hugging the ground and flowing towards the crumbling wall and the warriors.
Many were within the wall now, and those in the front ranks stopped as they saw the mist approaching them. Silently the mist rolled across the still warriors, engulfing them and obscuring them from view, filling the entire area between the escarpment and the wall.
For long moments the whole dell was draped in an eerie silence. Then the screaming began.
Veradis took a step forward, and had to stop himself. Behind, he heard the deep voice of Alcyon rise up, blending with Calidus’, growing louder, singing words he did not understand.
A breeze touched his face where there had been none, quickly growing in strength, gusts tugging at hair that poked from under his iron helm. The wind swirled about him now. It seemed to gather before his warband, snatching at leaves and ferns on the ground, then suddenly set off down the slope, howling, whipping up white-tipped foam on the stream before the wall as it rushed past and slammed like a physical thing into the wall and mist within.
The mist immediately skirting the wall just evaporated, but very soon the wind’s effect lessened, as if it had run into a barrier. Alcyon and Calidus’ voices rose in volume until the wind they had sent rushing into the dell made headway against the mist again, though slowly. The mist frayed, slowly dissolved, revealing their fellow warriors within the wall. They seemed somehow stopped in their tracks. Veradis strained to see and made out men’s arms flailing, heard terror in the screaming, then realized what was happening.
Men were sinking into the ground, whole companies already swallowed – marked only by iron helms, or a patch of hair, a shield, a grasping hand. The ground had turned to bog, a suffocating, sinking pit.
‘Elyon help us,’ Bos whispered.
Veradis forced his way back towards Alcyon and Calidus, men making way for him.
Alcyon and Calidus were standing with arms raised and voices intertwined, drenched in sweat, their muscles trembling.
‘There is more than the mist,’ Veradis yelled over the singing and the screaming from below. ‘Look, the warriors are sinking into the very ground.’
Calidus’ voice stuttered, faltered and he staggered forwards a step, Veradis steadying him.
‘Closer,’ the Vin Thalun croaked. ‘We must get closer.’
Veradis nodded and returned to his warband, leading them forwards down the slope. A score of paces before the ground levelled he stopped, and heard Calidus’ voice change in pitch, the alien words coming in a new rhythm.
Veradis’ view of Haldis was restricted now, but he could still see a way beyond the wall, where the screaming was loudest. Men were still sinking, some flailing wildly and buried to their knees, hips and chests. Many were dead, mouths full of black earth, whereas others pushed against the sucking ground with shields, or were trying to dig themselves out with sword or spear.
Alcyon and Calidus’ song rose in volume, the mist almost defeated now, lingering only as thin tendrils.
Something caught Veradis’ eye – a movement near the stream, in it, the water swirling. Whatever it was, was coming closer, the wake of its passing flooding the banks behind it, thick sedge and reeds parting before it.
‘Do you see that?’ he said to Bos, pointing. Before the warrior could answer him something was emerging from the water, a silvery-grey head, rising on a thick, reptilian torso.
‘Wyrm,’ Veradis yelled.
It slithered onto the bank, great loops coiling out of the stream, and moved with alarming speed up the slope. Towards them.
It’s coming for Calidus and Alcyon, Veradis realized. He shouted a command, his warband pulling in tight, forming a wall on the slope. Behind him he heard the Jehar unsheathe their swords as one, a metallic clap of thunder.
‘Don’t like the look of that,’ Bos muttered next to him.
Me neither, thought Veradis, though he kept silent.
The wyrm paused before their shield wall, body coiling beneath it before it reared up, arcing above the wall. It was huge, its head alone larger than a man, with great curved fangs longer than a sword. Shields shattered as it crashed into the wall, those before it crushed in an explosion of blood and bone.
The shield wall broke apart, men running in all directions. Veradis chased the beast, with Bos following, and Veradis slashed at the creature’s body. His blade bit, though not deep, and something viscous and jelly-like oozed out from the cut. But his blow did nothing to slow the wyrm. It broke onto the slope beyond the shield wall now, a space of grass and fern before the loosely clustered Jehar. Behind them Calidus and Alcyon continued their song, as yet oblivious to the wyrm. This time the creature did not pause, just ploughed into the dark-clothed warriors. Instead of bracing to meet it they parted, allowed it into their midst, then swirled about it like black waters with their swords rising and falling.
The wyrm was at last wounded, black blood seeping from a thousand cuts. It roared in defiance and lashed out, catching a warrior in its jaws, blood spraying. But the swords continued to slash at it, and with a great shudder the beast crashed to the ground, spasmed and then was still. As things grew quieter about him, screams from Haldis below drifted back up to Veradis. The burial ground was still a bog, warriors suffocating in the dark earth, but as he looked back to Calidus and Alcyon he sensed a change in their song.
As Veradis watched, he felt a tremor pass under his feet, then saw a shift in the ground within the wall. It began to solidify, and men were able to resist their descent into the earth, while others were able to drag or dig themselves out with the last of their strength. Many were dead, caught in a permanent embrace under the crushing earth.
Calidus and Alcyon were both slumped on their knees as Veradis approached, gasping in huge, racking gulps of air.
‘You’ve done it,’ Veradis panted.
‘For now,’ Calidus wheezed, rolling onto his side.
Suddenly a roar erupted from behind the wall. Veradis turned, to see the mounds coming to life. He blinked, and saw giants leaping into focus. Whatever glamour had hidden them was stripped away and now they were rampaging amongst men who were not yet recovered from their encounter with the sinking ground. Their newest threat took the form of huge warriors wrapped in black leather and iron, wielding great double-bladed axes or crushing war-hammers.
Chaos erupted anew.
Hundreds had died in the suffocating earth, but there were still many of Braster and Romar’s men left alive, though Veradis had never seen this number of giants gathered together. It was hard to make sense of the battlefield. Men were still confused by the mist and shifting earth, and the giants took full advantage, dealing out death with breathtaking ferocity. Everywhere Veradis looked he saw the pale-faced Hunen, laying about them with their axes and war-hammers, the warriors of the alliance struggling to reorganize themselves.
Alcyon was still on his knees, though his breathing was less laboured now.
‘What shall we do?’ Veradis asked the giant.
‘Take your men down there,’ Alcyon commanded, ‘before the day is lost.’
‘But . . . will you be
safe?’
‘Aye,’ the giant grunted. He glanced at Calidus, still lying on his side. ‘Their Elementals will not attack again, not with their own warriors in the thick of it.’
‘Will they attack you? The wyrm . . .’
Alcyon shrugged. ‘If they do, the Jehar are their match.’ A smile flickered across the giant’s face, more a grimace. ‘We will be safe, King’s man. Do not fear for us.’
Veradis considered a moment, then walked away.
‘Make for the gateway in the cliff face,’ Alcyon called after him, ‘we shall meet you there.’
Then Veradis was taking his place next to Bos, jogging down the slope, splashing through the stream and skirting the wall to an entry point where it had crumbled to nothing. He led the men across a scattered pile of moss and lichen-covered rubble, then they were within the walls of Haldis.
Things were very different down here: the noise of battle ebbing and flowing from every direction, sometimes deafening, then eerily silent. The great mounds that filled the field obscured much of the view. Veradis lifted his shield and felt Bos’ thud into his, the shield wall going up about him. He drew his short sword, and as one the warband of five hundred warriors began to make its way into the burial ground of the Hunen.
At first there was little resistance, then they came upon two score or so giants, savagely hacking at warriors still half-buried in the earth, frantically trying to free themselves. The first giants fell almost silently as the shield wall smashed into them, dozens of short stabbing swords snaking out. But a bellow from a dying Hunen alerted others. Suddenly blows were slamming into Veradis’ shield and he almost buckled at the knees. Further off, more giants were gathering. Seeing the threat to their flank, they were pulling out of the main conflict and grouping to meet Veradis’ shield wall. Even as he watched, they let out a great howl and began loping towards Veradis’ warband, scores of them, axes and war-hammers held high.
Then giants crashed into the shield wall, hammering and beating against the wood and iron of their shields. The man to Veradis’ right went down, a hammer blow breaking his arm and then his skull. Bos staggered beside him but held, others in the front row were dragged forwards by axes embedded in their shields, then hacked to pieces by the frenzied giants.
The line trembled, on the verge of breaking.
‘Hold!’ Veradis yelled, not knowing if anyone heard him, the din of battle almost deafening. He stabbed forwards, grunted as his shield arm numbed from the blows rained upon it, losing all sense of time, only the next moment, the next burning breath or lunge having any kind of meaning. Then, suddenly, the pressure on his shield was gone. He looked over its rim, saw that none of their attackers was still standing, though by the sound of it, battle still raged further away, amongst the mounds.
Bos was still there, blood sheeting one side of his face from a cut to his ear. The big man grinned at him, and Veradis felt himself smile in return as a measure of strength returned to his limbs.
Steadily the shield wall moved deeper and deeper into Haldis. Slowly and inexorably the Hunen were either cut down or pushed back, and the ground grew thick with the fallen. They came to a dense ring of warriors, bristling with sword and spear, being assaulted by a score of giants. The Hunen were dispatched quickly as the shield wall closed on them from behind. Braster was at the centre of the ring, pale faced and semi-conscious, wounded by a hammer blow that had crushed his shoulder. His battlechief Lothar stood over him. A litter was organized to take the wounded King back to the slope beyond the wall, then Veradis continued his journey through the mounds.
The sounds of battle grew again as they approached the cliff face and saw what seemed to be hundreds of the Hunen battling ferociously before the black gateway. Romar was amongst the Gadrai and Kastell was standing back to back with Maquin.
‘Wall!’ Veradis yelled, lifting his shield, locking it with those either side of him, and slowly, pace by pace, they forged their way into the battle. They kept pushing, shoving, grunting, stabbing, until they were almost at the black gateway where the last giants had been herded. Suddenly those left alive disengaged, turned and fled into the darkness behind them.
There was a moment’s silence, then ragged cheers broke from the surviving warriors.
‘Well met,’ Veradis grinned, gripping Maquin’s arm.
‘I like your timing,’ the old warrior said, grinning in return, then Kastell was there, smiling as well, though he grimaced at Veradis’ face, splinters of wood still sticking from it where an axe had almost split his shield.
‘With me,’ called Romar, striding towards the arched doorway. He stepped through, took a burning torch from an iron sconce on the wall and walked into the darkness. Vandil followed, warriors flocking to him. Maquin sighed, nodded to Veradis and then followed his King.
‘You coming?’ Kastell asked Veradis as he followed the old warrior, a huge, bald-headed man that could have been Bos’ father falling in beside him.
‘Not yet,’ Veradis said, ‘I must wait here.’
‘Scared of the dark?’ Kastell grinned. He drew his sword and passed through the archway, what was left of the Gadrai about him. Within moments they were all swallowed by the darkness.
Veradis turned and scanned his warband. Many had fallen, and only about half of his original strength remained. He felt a sudden, fierce pride in them, knowing beyond any doubt that this battle would have been lost without them. They set up a defensive circle around the arch, but didn’t wait long before Alcyon strode out from the cairns, his great broadsword red with blood, Calidus and the Jehar behind him.
‘How goes it?’ said the giant.
‘Well, I think,’ Veradis said. ‘Most of this area is cleared, though it was hard fought. This place is a maze.’
‘Romar?’ Calidus asked, scanning the clearing.
‘In there,’ Veradis said, looking at the gaping doorway into the cliff side.
Calidus arched an eyebrow. ‘Who with?’
‘The remaining Gadrai – a hundred or so swords – maybe another hundred of Isiltir’s warriors.’ Veradis shrugged. ‘The rest must be scattered amongst the mounds. If they still live.’
‘All the rats gathered in the same trap . . .’ Calidus muttered to himself.
‘What?’ Veradis asked.
‘We must go, quickly,’ Calidus said to Alcyon and Akar as he headed for the entrance. ‘Romar will need our aid.’
‘Do you need me?’ Veradis called after the counsellor.
‘You? No, Veradis, there is work to be done that you are not suited for. Guard this gateway, rest if you can. You have earned it.’ With that the Vin Thalun disappeared into the darkness, Alcyon and the Jehar close behind.
Veradis thought of Maquin and Kastell, and his stomach lurched. He took a few paces towards the gateway, then stopped. Leave the politicking to Calidus, he remembered Nathair commanding. You warned them, said an internal voice. ‘I did,’ he muttered to himself and turned away from the cliff face.
Calidus is Ben-Elim, he thought. He will do what is right.
They were alive and had helped win the day. Yet somehow, despite his orders and his firm words to himself, he suddenly felt ashamed to be standing there waiting.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
CORBAN
Corban stepped out into the Rowan Field. The sun was still low in a cloudless sky as he gathered himself for what lay ahead.
‘A good day for it,’ Thannon rumbled beside him, and squeezed his shoulder.
‘Aye,’ Corban said, and felt a queasiness in his stomach.
Halion was leaning against a weapons rack and smiled, raising a hand when he saw Corban.
‘I’ll wait here,’ Thannon said, ‘watch Storm for you.’
Halion gripped Corban’s forearm in the traditional manner. ‘The Rowan Field welcomes you, Corban ben Thannon,’ the warrior said formally.
‘The Field honours me,’ Corban gave the expected reply, and tried not to glance away from Halion as warriors bega
n to fill the Field.
‘I have something, for you.’ Halion pulled a spear from the weapons rack. ‘I think its weight should suit you.’
Corban took the spear in two hands, and held it horizontally. Its haft was carved from pale ash, with dark veins swirling through it and an iron butt capping its end as a balancing weight. The blade end was leaf-shaped, one long, sinuous curve from tip to hilt, unlike the wedge-shaped blades he was used to. Testing its weight, he lifted the spear to shoulder height, and found the balancing point almost immediately. It suddenly felt weightless.
Halion grunted approvingly.
‘My thanks,’ Corban said.
‘It flies true. I thought it would serve you better than these battered things,’ Halion said, glancing at the spears in the rack. ‘It has served me well.’
‘Is this a custom, where you are from?’ Corban asked, frowning, suddenly realizing he had no gift in return.
‘A custom? No, lad. I just have enjoyed teaching you. And this will be our last day. It is good to mark times such as this with a gift.’
Corban smiled. ‘Again, my thanks.’
‘Come, find a target, get used to it a little before we begin.’
Corban approved, as missing the target before countless warriors was not how he hoped to begin his warrior trial. They strode towards the straw targets and found an open space. Conall marched across the Field towards them before they could make further progress. He was scowling when he reached them, his usually handsome face flushed with anger. ‘I had your message,’ he said, ‘or summons.’
‘I just needed to see you, Con,’ Halion said.
‘What for? More orders?’
Halion frowned now. ‘Aye, that’s right.’
Conall folded his arms, and waited.
‘You’ll be guarding Edana as usual, but she’s been given leave from the keep, so be vigilant.’
‘I am a warrior, Hal, not a nursemaid.’
Halion sighed. ‘It is a position of honour,’ he said slowly, Corban thought perhaps not for the first time. ‘And you need to rebuild Brenin’s favour.’
