Shard

by Wayne Mee

  But they did.

  The male killed two of Shag's band and his mate one more. Even the old granny had cut one Karn's ear off with a bread knife! Shag had been none too happy about that!

  Then, the next morning, a group of Stoners had come howling out of the woods. Mean ones, waving their bloody axes and wearing those strange masks! The fight had been short and fierce, with several killed on both sides. The Stoners, screaming like banshees, would have probably won if Shag hadn't gotten the bright idea to wade through the swamp. The Stoners, being much shorter than the Karns, couldn't keep up.

  And so thirteen of the 'Four Fists' or twenty Karns had escaped, for a while at least, but all knew the Stoners would still be on their trail. Stoners never give up. Once on a scent they stick to it like hounds, and especially since this group's leader was Dingle, the one called Blood Beard. Shag had crossed his path twice before, and was in no hurry to cross it a third time.

  Also there was the problem of food. There wasn't any. The attack had come so quickly that the Karns had barely escaped with their lives. When pressed, a Karn will eat anything, but Shag had been pushing them hard. Also, Karns were poor hunters. Their lumbering bodies made too much noise and the use of the bow or sling was beyond them. Being heavy and tremendously strong, they preferred weapons that slashed and smashed.

  And so the Karns were hungry, which naturally led to the problem with the 'prisoners', the female Stoner and her two brats. All three would make good eating, the young ones most of all!

  But Shag had said no. He hadn't said why, just 'no'! They had grumbled among themselves, until finally Gorf had grumbled to Shag's face. THAT had proved to be a mistake.

  Now the lot of them stood watching Gorf's black blood staining the ground, each one silently thanking their dark deity Lucfelian that it had been him and not them --- and also that at least they now had something to eat.

  ***

  Shag's brain, limited at the best of times, now felt as though it was about to explode. So many 'ideas' to hold on to! 'Kill the Stoners, but not the females. Destroy their homes but gather the colored bits of rock. Kill the old but save the young. Strike and move. Cover your trail. Slaughter the fighters but bring the females and children to Him --- and above all, DON'T BE FOLLOWED BACK SOUTHWARD!'

  The Hooded Man's icy words buzzed around inside Shag's aching head like a swarm of bees! So much to remember! Life had been easier before the Hooded Man had come! Just roaming and taking. No long treks north into strange country. No dangerous battles with the fierce masked Stoners. Just roam and take, kill and grab.

  But then before the Hooded Man had come there had been no 'dream water' that took away all pain and fear. No 'strange powders' that turned a fire into colors that flashed in the sky. Before the coming of the Hooded Man, Shag hadn't been a 'Fist Leader'; hadn't worn hard leather armour or carried a sword that wouldn't bend. Before the Hooded Man came Shag hadn't been much --- but now he was!

  Still, there was great danger all around. These northern mountains were new and filled with masked Stoners who could kill almost as well as the Karns themselves --- maybe better. They never ran away, never begged for mercy and the little quiffers never quit!

  And now the hated Stoner 'Blood Beard' was on his trail!

  Shag ached to slit the prisoner's throats and head back south. They'd be safe in the great swamp below Land's End, but he knew the Hooded Man wouldn't like that. He wanted the females and the children brought to him. Nobody knew why, and it didn't pay to seem too curious. Though Shag feared 'Blood Beard' and his band, he feared the Hooded Man even more, for his wrath could be terrible. A long, slow, painful death --- if you were lucky. If not, you became one of 'Nar-Lich', or 'Walking Dead'! All the Stoners could do was kill you.

  The Nar-Litch were creatures that needed neither food nor drink. They never tired. When cut they didn't even bleed! They felt nothing, wanted nothing, and in their reddish eyes burned an endless emptiness. The Nar-Litch made Shag's skin crawl, and he had no desire to join their ranks.

  And so Shag's limited brain strove to find a solution. He knew that Blood Beard and his Stoners would follow. With the two prisoners and no food, the Karns could not hope to out run them. To fight them in the open would be stupid, for the Stoners were cunning and knew how to use the land --- but Shag could also be cunning. Was he not a 'Fist Leader' who had fought both Stoners and the stinking Nimloth many times before? He too could 'use the quiffing land'. He would set a trap for bloody Blood Beard; one that he would not walk away from. THEN the Hooded Man would see what a valuable warrior he was!

  In his smallish brain Shag was already fantasizing; seeing himself standing before the Hooded Man; accepting the badge of High Fist Leader, master of all the Fists. Higher even than the terrifying Skatha, the Hooded Man's own personal Nar-Litch.

  Grinning, Shag began to bellow orders, waving his over-long arms and baring his yellowed teeth. Soon the remains of his 'Four Fists' were high up the valley slopes, crouching behind boulders and wind blasted trees. The two Delgii children were tied and gagged well out of sight. Every Karn had been told to pry loose a rock big enough to crush a Stoner. Two Karns had been sent back down the trail with orders to signal when Blood Beard and his group showed. When all this was done, Shag found himself a spot high up where he commanded a view of the entire valley. Very pleased with himself, he dug into his filthy bag and produced a half-cooked piece of meet he had been hoarding for several days, thinking to himself that the 'she-bitch Stoner' had been good for something after all.

  ***

  "I don't like it." Dingle waved his war-hammer in the general direction of the rocky valley up ahead. "Once we're into that narrow pass we'll be far too open. The bastards could come at us from both sides or just pick us off from the higher slopes."

  Erin, sliding his round shield from his back to his left arm, turned to Dingle. "Last night you said that Karns seldom used bows. We should be able to force our way through. Yonder valley seems to have enough pines 'n boulders for cover."

  The red bearded Delgi scratched his thick nest of curls beneath his chin. "If all in your precious isles are as eager for death as you, 'Longshanks', then the land must be well populated with fools! Tis true, like we Delgii, the Karns use not arrow casters, though lack of wits and skill be their reason, while ours be somewhat loftier; an over abundance of pride and honour --- still they are not totally brainless! Spears and sharp sticks they do have, and rocks and boulders grow in these hills aplenty. Any or all of which they might choose to send our way!"

  Thorn, stringing his own short bow, grinned up at the scowling Dingle. "In The Wold we have a saying; 'what cannot be met head on often can be gone around.' Could we not climb over the pass instead of passing through it?"

  The Tem Riflin's mouth creased into a smile. "You're as wily a Wee'n as Old Granther himself, lad! There is a goat trail over yonder that few know of. It should serve nicely. That way, if there be any Bal-cursed Karns skulking up in those rocks, we can come on them from behind!" He clapped Thorn soundly on the back and barked out orders.

  As three Delgii began to move off to scout ahead, Erin motioned for Kel. The Chin came like fog rolling over water, his dark blue cape billowing about him, his great longbow in his hand. Silently he listened to Erin, then, bowing slightly, he turned and slipped back up the trail, his boots hardly seeming to touch the ground.

  "And just where have ye sent your heathen, Longshanks? My Delgii need not him or his outlandish weapons!"

  Erin shrugged. "Just being cautious, friend Dingle. Now, would you be havin' a wee drop o' that brown ale on you? Climbing hills be terrible thirsty work!"

  Grunting something in his stony tongue, Dingle motioned for the rest of his Sordur to follow him, leaving Erin, Thorn and a wide-eyed Timin to bring up the rear.

  ***

  Chapter 12:THE FIRST BATTLE

  Nashug, one of the two Karns Shag had posted at the northern head of the valley, was far from happy. It had been nearly thre
e days since he had eaten meat and his belly acted like his throat had been cut. To make matters worse, his leg was infected from the fight in the swamp against Blood Beard and his stinking Stoners. He was pawing at the oozing sore when the arrow took him in the chest. The boiled leather armour he wore did little to stop the black shaft as it punched through his heart and lodged in his backbone. Nashug was dead before the pain reached his smallish brain.

  A slight smile flitted across Kel's unreadable features. Now for the other guard on the far side of the valley. Kel had pointed him out to the three Delgii as they slowly worked their way up the goat trail. Bragi, one of Dingle's band, was shocked at the swiftness of the kill. Having a rough grasp of the Trade Tongue, he turned to the bronze-skinned stranger.

  "A fair shot, manling, but yonder Karn be too far away for even your great arrow-caster. Best go back 'n warn the Tem Riflin. If I let you shoot and miss, that Bal-cursed blood-drinker will rouse the whole lot of 'em --- and Dingle will cut off my stones!

  Kel faced Bragi. "Are you a betting man?"

  The Delgi cocked his head to one side. "Why?"

  "In my country, warriors have found that it adds a certain 'spice' to life."

  Bragi, like most Delgii, was overly fond of gold and silver, and works of art made by skilled hands drew him like a loadstone. Also, like most Delgii, he would bet his last copper coin at the drop of a hat.

  Kel continued. "I'll wager that I can silence that second guard with one arrow, and that he'll not cry out." Bragi eyed Kel's a-sa, the two long daggers with the strangely curved cross-guards. He had been taken with them last night, and longed to heft one in his gnarled hand.

  "My belt knife against one of those fancy pig-stickers you carry," Bragi rumbled. "But it must be a head shot mind you, for the bastards often wear stolen breastplates --- and no sound can come from the Karn!"

  Kel glanced at the elaborately tooled knife in Bragi's belt. His eyebrow arched appraisingly. A bit too overdone for his taste, but Delgii steel was rumored to be as good as blades made in Chin. "Done", he said, and then set about choosing an arrow while Bragi had explained the wager to the other two Delgii. All three crowded round the Chin. Kel frowned, and the anxious Delgii stepped back. Satisfied, the Chin then bent his long bamboo bow.

  Across the valley the second guard shambled about, his massive shoulders and head showing only momentarily. Kel waited so long that Bragi was about to call the whole thing off, when the long black shaft suddenly sped up into the blue sky.

  Knowing little of 'arrow-casters', Bragi was both delighted and sick with fear at the same time. One moment he thought he had won the strange knife, the next he suddenly saw himself standing before an outraged Dingle and having to admit to his failure.

  Then, across the valley on the far rim, the second Karn suddenly twirled around and vanished, yet before being lost from sight, both Bragi and the others saw that an arrow had suddenly sprouted from his right eye socket!

  As the two Delgii muttered to themselves, Bragi drew from his belt his beloved knife, gold-worked sheath and all, and handed it to Kel. The Chin, accepting it without a word, bowed politely and headed back down the trail; for the way was now clear for Dingle's counter-attack.

  ***

  "He did what?!"

  Bragi, looking somewhat sheepish even through his thick tangle of beard, hung his head before his Tem Riflin. For his part, Dingle was all but livid.

  "If he had missed, Bragi, I would have made you his next target!" Dingle sucked in air like a wheezing bellows, then addressed his old friend in a more gentle tone. "Well, Bal must have rode on that shaft, for the deed is done and done well --- but never again! Do you hear me? Never again!"

  Erin, sitting casually off to one side, sheathed his sword and stood. "If you've finished rantin', friend Dingle, there be a goodly number o' beasties out yonder that need killin'; aye, 'n two wee barens 'n their ma to be savin'."

  The look Dingle shot him would have wilted a man of lesser spirits; as it was, Erin Ap Conn took it in his stride. "Come, laddies," he called to Thorn and Timin. "It's brave heroes you'll both be come nightfall!"

  "Or dead fools!", Timin muttered under his breath.

  Erin heard him none-the-less and fixed him with his most winning smile. 'If so, good Timin, then it won't be matterin' overmuch to any o' us now, will it? But come, let's see if these stout lads here have a scale-shirt or a helmet left about that we can fit over that hard head o' yours! We can't have you wandrin' round in a fight as naked as a jaybird!"

  Timin allowed himself to be outfitted in a spare breastplate and a dented helm, all the while wishing he was back snug and warm in his little treehouse deep in The Wold; for he had come to learn that it was one thing to listen to Granther Higgs spin his tall tales about Nim-Loth and Delgii fighting fierce Karns and deadly dragons, and it was quite another thing altogether to be actually in them!

  Thorn, also dressed in pieces of spare Delgi armour, nudged his life-long companion in the side as the two of them joined the rest of Dingle's band.

  "You look quite the dashing warrior, Timin lad. Except for that dent in your helmet!"

  The little Kirkwean, muttering something about 'curly-headed upstarts', clutched his fish-spear tightly in one hand and hefted the sack with his beloved cooking pots over his back.

  "You're not going to tote those around with you? One slip and you'll clang like a smithy's forge!"

  "And just what do you plan to do about eating after this great battle is over? Stick a hare on a branch and burn it over a fire? Not me, thank you very much! I intend to eat my greens just like my old ma taught me!"

  Thorn smiled and pulled his bow, testing to see if the sleeveless leather jerkin he now wore over his woolen shirt restricted his arm movements. Inwardly wondering if any of them would live to ever eat again.

  ***

  A ram's horn sounded, making even those waiting for it jump.

  "That's it, lads!", Erin yelled. "Dingle's call!" With that he launched himself from behind a tall pine and ran straight for a knot of startled Karns, his ancient war-cry of 'Loooaminnn!' echoing off the steep sides of the valley. From out of nowhere Kel appeared, his twin a-sa flashing in the sun.

  Thorn and Timin next saw Cynwulf, Dingle's Strike Leader or 'Rif-Dag', rush by them, his grotesque 'fakir' or War Mask down and his long hooked pike held high in the air. Neither Kirkwean cared for him, for where red bearded Dingle had been gruff but friendly, Cynwulf had gone out of his way to show his dislike for all three 'outsiders'. Especially Erin. The fact that the stern Delgi called his hooked pike 'Gutter' and his double bladed axe 'Head Lopper' did little to endear him to the two small Kirkwean.

  Cynwulf, his long, brown queue flowing, ran by the legendary 'Wee'ns' bellowing something in his ancient tongue. The two other Delgii that Dingle had assigned to this side of the valley were hot on his heels, leaving Thorn and Timin standing as though rooted to the ground.

  With sounds of fighting all around them, the two tiny Kirkwean looked at each other. Then Thorn shrugged, hefted his small, round shield and drew his fabled sword Silverleaf. The carved acorn on the pommel glinted in the sun's rays as Thorn winked at his cousin and ran towards the rim of the valley. Timin had little choice but to follow.

  For Thorn, the battle was nothing like what he had imagined a battle to be. The 'fight' in the foothills with Ragnol, Nex and the other Slathlanders, had been frightening enough, but this was absolutely terrifying! Granther Higgs had often spoken of 'glorious battles' in his countless tales and stories, but they had been only that, 'tall tales' told round a cheery fire on a blustery night, accompanied by a mug of warm cider and a cinnamon bun or two.

  This, however, was anything but a 'friendly tale'!

  For one thing, there seemed to be no order to it; just a never-ending series of random encounters, where one person hacked and slashed at the other before being swept away by a screaming tide of arms and legs, only to hack and slash in another direction! The noise and constant
motion made it impossible to tell who was winning, and it was all Thorn could do to stop from being hacked to pieces from three sides at once! He had taken one bash on his borrowed helm and several more on his shield and he had only swung his sword twice. The rest of the time he had been too busy dodging and parrying. Now, his head still ringing, he was astonished to see that a nasty cut had opened up on his left forearm!

  In desperation he looked about him for a place to rest, for he felt faint and small and sure he would die at any moment. Near the rim of the valley was a large boulder and he made his way to it, pressing the cool stone against his back.

  All about him was chaos.

  Several Karns lay scattered about, their misshapen, black bodies somehow even more grotesque in death than when alive. Off to the left Cynwulf and another Delgi were attacking three Karns. As Thorn watched spellbound, Cynwulf's great two-handed axe clove through a padded leather helmet and lodged in a skull. The Rif-Dag then placed a booted foot in the startled Karn's face and yanked out Head Lopper, only to spin and bring the crimson blade down on yet another victim. The little Kirkwean saw with his own eyes just why Cynwulf's axe was so named.

  Then there was no time for anything besides staying alive, for two more of the shambling, black-skinned nightmares were coming at him from the far side of the rock. Chips of granite flew as Thorn just managed to duck the first blow. Guttural curses mixed with the snapping of iron as the first attacker's curved sword shattered on the hard stone. Thorn slashed out blindly with Silverleaf, cutting a leg from under the surprised Karn; then, from the corner of his eye he caught the flash of sunlight on metal. Knowing the second attacker was closing in, Thorn took the only escape route possible --- he dove behind the toppling first Karn.

  There came a deep grunting sound as the spear of the second attacker was driven deep into the first. The creature collapsed, leaving Thorn face to face with its slayer. Surprise and bewilderment fought for supremacy on the remaining Karn's brutish features, then the smallish pink eyes turned deadly cold and something akin to a smirk spread across the flat, cruel face. Yanking his spear out of his dead companion, the massive form slowly advanced on the trembling Kirkwean.