A Mighty Dawn

by Theodore Brun

  ‘What the Hel’s up with you?’ asked Erlan.

  ‘There’s something out there,’ Kai gasped breathlessly.

  ‘Out where?’ demanded Finn.

  ‘Back there,’ he puffed, pointing off into the gloom to their rear. ‘I heard something moving around. I swear!’

  ‘There’s nothing out in this bloody wilderness.’

  ‘I know I heard something!’

  ‘Probably a snow fox.’

  ‘It wasn’t,’ insisted Kai. ‘It was much bigger than that.’

  ‘Ha!’ snorted Finn. ‘Well – there’s no need to be jumpy. We’re a dozen armed men. No beast would take us on. Anyhow, whatever it was, you and your bare arse probably frightened it off already.’

  But Kai looked anything but reassured. Finn laughed and shoved him. ‘Your face!’ He shook his head with mirth. ‘I was like that when I was a lad. This time of year, my mother warned us not to get caught outside on a winter’s night like this. Used to turn my liver white with her tales of the Wild Hunt. You heard of it?’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Erlan. ‘You mean Odin’s Hunt?’

  Finn nodded, smiling. ‘Aye – some call it that. She’d tell us bairns if we ever heard the sound of thunderous hooves and terrible cries and whoops in the treetops, we were to throw ourselves flat on the ground and keep our eyes tight shut. ’Cause anyone who happened to look up, curious at what was all the racket, was like to have his soul snatched away, scooped up by High God Odin himself, riding like fury at the head of the hunt, with his bloodthirsty maids and heroes in his wake, all baying like mad bloody hounds. And that poor bastard would drop stone dead and be found next day stiff as a post.’ He gave Kai a wink. ‘Not a merry prospect, you’ll agree. We once played a trick on my baby brother and scared the poor little bugger so bad, he soiled himself. Oh, we got a beating off my mother I never forgot. Gods, she was a tough one though!’ He laughed to himself.

  Erlan had heard tales like it, sat at Tolla’s knee beside the hearths of Vendlagard. He felt a stab of longing for home. For its worn old smells and familiar voices. Never going back, he reminded himself.

  Never is a long time. . .

  Kai wasn’t looking any happier. But before he could reply, the wind licked up as wild a gust as they’d heard, blasting at the pines, tossing the treetops till there wasn’t a flake of snow left on them.

  A gale was on them and Erlan saw Finn was about to speak when, all of a sudden, the whistle and howl dropped to nothing. Total stillness. . .

  The stillness of the grave.

  The companions swapped uneasy glances. And then, out of the silence rose a whine, faint at first, then louder and louder, till it was high and piercing sharp through the dead air.

  ‘What the Hel is that?’ murmured Kai.

  In answer, somewhere off in the thickening gloom, something started barking. . . then another bark replied, much fainter.

  ‘You hear that?’ asked Kai, wide-eyed.

  ‘We’re not bloody deaf,’ said Erlan.

  ‘One of them is near,’ said Finn, unslinging his bow. ‘That other’s further off.’

  ‘Is that a wolf or a dog?’ asked Lilla.

  ‘Out here, likely a wolf,’ said Finn. ‘But that other sound. . .’ He grimaced, and the whining droned on, high overhead.

  ‘We should get to higher ground,’ said Erlan. ‘And quickly. We need fire.’ The last of the light would be gone soon and they hadn’t a torch alight between them. A little way ahead to the right was the outline of a rise in the ground.

  ‘There!’ pointed Finn. Higher, the slope gathered into a broad knoll, at the top of which Erlan could make out a thinning in the trees and a jagged outcrop of large rocks. ‘Head for those rocks.’

  ‘My father,’ exclaimed Lilla, twisting round. ‘I must go to him.’

  But Finn was already wheeling. ‘I’m with him, my lady – don’t fear. Go with Erlan. We’ll be close behind.’

  Shouts passed round the company, and one by one they broke off and followed Erlan up the slope. The crunch of snow and crack of fallen branches under-hoof sounded loud in the still air.

  ‘Go ahead,’ he called to Kai. ‘Start a fire, quick as you can.’ Kai nodded, kicking on. ‘A big one!’ he yelled. ‘You go with him, Princess.’

  ‘What about you?’ she cried.

  ‘I’ll be right behind you. Now go!’

  Lilla did as he bid, while he turned to look back. He could just make out the other riders, and the gaggle of men and mounts around the king. There were a dozen men, plus him and Kai, to guard the king and his daughter. He tried counting them off, shadow by shadow, but the trees obscured much, and the gloom was bleeding every outline into darkness.

  The barking had stopped. Maybe the wolves or wild dogs or whatever had moved on. But it was better to be cautious. A rider passed him, then another. He recognized the brothers Beran and Jovard.

  He had turned to follow them when a terrifying scream rent the night. He felt his horse shudder under him.

  Is that a man’s voice? It sounded again and again. Horrible shrieks punctuated by imploring whimpers that communicated only one thing – unspeakable, agonizing pain.

  ‘Shit,’ he whispered, putting his heels to his animal’s flanks, heading uphill. Ahead the shadows of the rocks loomed out of the forest, and then he was passing through a gap between two of them onto the summit of the knoll.

  He saw Kai on foot, hastily throwing down an armful of branches on a surprisingly sizeable pile of wood. The lad works fast. No doubt of that. Nearby Lilla was holding the horses. He jumped down.

  ‘Let’s have that fire started, Kai.’ He was trying to keep his voice steady, but he wouldn’t be happy till they had a blaze going.

  ‘What’s that noise? What’s happening?’ Even in the gloom, Kai’s face was pale with fear.

  ‘Quick as you can, lad.’ Kai obliged, dropping to his knees and getting to work with his flint and firesteel. The sparks shone bright as new stars in the gathering darkness.

  Other riders were coming through the gap now, and at last Finn and the king appeared. The men already afoot went to the king and helped him down. ‘See to it every man is here,’ ordered Sviggar, voice rough as rust.

  The screaming had stopped. So too the whining. It seemed like the whole forest was holding its breath.

  ‘Sellvar is missing,’ said Finn. ‘I count thirteen beside the king and the princess. You?’

  Erlan scanned the men. ‘Aye – the same. Did you see him?’

  ‘Not I.’

  ‘He was in the rear,’ offered Jovard, the younger of the brothers. ‘I heard him following behind us.’

  Well, he wasn’t there now. Wherever he was, Erlan didn’t imagine he’d make a pretty sight.

  One of the other men cursed. Lilla asked what was going on.

  ‘We don’t know yet. But we should secure this place.’ Erlan looked around the circle of the outcrop. As Kai’s fire took bite, the shadows turned to pitch, but the flames also revealed the ground they’d chosen. They were inside a kind of enclosure, formed by two massive curved boulders bulging out of the ground like granite garlands around the crown of the hill.

  ‘Is this the only way up here?’ He pointed at the gap they’d just ridden through.

  ‘There’s another gap on the north side,’ answered Kai, who’d been scavenging around for wood.

  Erlan limped a few paces north and could make out the second gap, perhaps twenty feet across. The southern gap was no more than a dozen. Inside this outer perimeter the ground rose higher, peaking in a steep-sided granite platform with three gullies running to its summit.

  ‘Whatever comes up this hill, we hold them at this outer ring. If we’re overrun here, we fall back to the summit. Finn – you take that larger gap to the north.’

  Finn barked a sarcastic laugh. ‘My thanks for that, friend.’

  ‘Take six with you.’

  He named Gakki, Jovard, Falger, Manulf, Dani. . . and Kai.

 
; The men began separating. ‘If there’s any fighting to be done, I’m doing it with my brother,’ insisted Jovard.

  ‘Fine,’ said Erlan. ‘Beran, you go with them. Dani – you’re with me.’ Danel the Sami herdsman, a bead-eyed terrier of a man who could take a crow on the wing with knife or arrow, nodded. ‘We’ll take the southern gap with Vakur, and the rest.’ A burly brute draped in cowhide swung his axe up to his shoulder. The others divided accordingly and went off to their places.

  The king was seated awkwardly on the stone jutting from the earth. ‘Lord, you stay close to the fire. Lady Lilla with him.’

  ‘You know,’ said Finn, scratching his chin. ‘He made me swear an oath I wouldn’t leave his side.’

  ‘Best way you can protect him is to see nothing comes through that gap.’ Erlan pointed north into the menacing darkness.

  ‘No, no,’ protested Sviggar, ‘I’ll not sit here idle.’ Though he looked haggard. ‘You need me to fight.’

  ‘We don’t know what’s needed yet, my lord. Might be we sit watch through the night and no more. For now, you should rest here by the fire.’ With a grunt, the king acquiesced, settling back on his stone.

  ‘And the horses?’ asked Lilla.

  Erlan considered their animals. Aye – what the Hel could be done with them? That much horseflesh could cause serious disruption if there was a fight coming. And likely, they’d be far more trouble to the defenders than to anything attacking out of the dark. There were a couple of saplings straining out of the earth near the granite summit.

  ‘Tether them to those.’ Lilla looked where he was pointing and nodded, understanding. She went to the horses, then stopped. Looked back. He could see in her eyes they had the same thought. ‘Erlan – if it is the Vandrung. . . They aren’t like the others.’

  ‘I know.’ He held her eyes a moment longer and turned away. ‘Just see to your father.’

  ‘Be careful,’ he heard her call.

  Be careful? That was the one choice this night would not leave him.

  ‘See anything?’ he asked when he reached his place at the southern gap. Dani’s crouched silhouette was peering into the darkness, his bow across his knee.

  ‘Nope.’ The Sami spat sourly into the snow. ‘Whole lot of black is all.’

  ‘Keep watching.’ Erlan unslung his shield from his back and drew out Wrathling. He looked at the blade’s dull sheen. Demon’s bane. A fair new name for the sword, he reckoned. If I ever get to use it. His shield weighed heavy on his wound, but he gritted against the pain. There’d be time enough for healing if they ever got away from this place.

  He crouched beside Dani. Beyond he could see nothing but the tall shadows of the trees and the pale snow clinging to their branches. Around him, the others readied their weapons for the watch.

  ‘Going to be a long night,’ muttered Vakur. The big man was fairly bristling with steel – a huge axe in his hand, a sword on his back with a spear leaning against the rock.

  ‘Who can bloody sleep in this cold anyway?’ replied Dani.

  Suddenly, a shout went up from the north. ‘I see them! I see them!’

  Kai’s voice.

  Erlan looked ahead. ‘Be ready,’ he whispered, squeezing his hilt tighter.

  And then the darkness came alive.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  One moment the night was a sea of blackness, the next the shadows had sucked together into dozens of wild figures. There was a yell, high and grating, answered by another, and another, until the forest was a din of inhuman cries.

  Beside Erlan, Dani strung an arrow and stabbed a handful of others into the snow. ‘Where the Hel are your bows, lads?’ A fair question.

  Dani loosed the first shaft.

  ‘Too soon!’ Erlan hissed as the thing skittered off, harmless.

  ‘Big bastards, eh?’ growled Vakur, hefting his shield.

  ‘Quick too,’ said another named Foldurr.

  So these were the Vandrung. The bastard offspring of the demon’s seed. Erlan could see them now, filthy hair jangling, brutish blackened blades, outsized limbs twisted and bulging, clothed in little more than sacking.

  A different foe from the pallid Nefelung.

  Dani snatched a second arrow and loosed it. This one told, slamming a Vandrung flat, clawing at his throat. To the north, Erlan heard the whoops and war cries of Sviggar’s other men.

  The screams grew louder as the first wave approached. ‘Keep firing!’ Another fell and over the tumbling body leaped the foremost Vandrung with a savage shriek. Erlan braced his bad leg, gripping his shield.

  ‘See you in Valhalla for a cask of Odin’s ale,’ laughed Vakur, and then the Vandrung hit.

  There was a shriek and a streak of metal. Erlan raised his shield, the blow shuddering through wood and bone. He knocked it away, lunged for the screaming face, felt Wrathling scythe flesh. The Vandrung fell choking, but there was another at once.

  Vakur was bellowing like an ox, axe whirling at the onrushing bodies. Erlan smelled foul flesh, flipped his shield, driving the rim into a snarling face. Another jumped into the gap; he kicked hard, slamming his boot into a Vandrung’s chest.

  Sveär voices were baying all around. He heard the twang of Dani’s bow, his yell of triumph as another Vandrung fell. The din was appalling with snarls and screams, the clang of metal and thud of wood. Erlan struck a shadow with pitiless eyes, spattering blood, glimpsed a flash and threw himself against the granite, feeling the wind of the blade and a shower of ice. His shield arm screamed with pain. He turned, smashed away the sword, shoved with his shield, throwing the Vandrung into another.

  Dani was there – face a mask of savagery – his long-knife slashing into a Vandrung’s neck. But before he’d turned, another was on him. Erlan yelled a warning, but the blow caught him. Dani screamed, black steel slicing his legs. He fell to his knees. The Vandrung lifted his sword to finish him, but Vakur’s axe was crashing down. The arm fell in the snow, pissing blood.

  There were more, surging into the gap. Dani was clawing at the snow, trying to pull clear. Erlan threw his shield behind him, seized Dani, dragged him over two dead Vandrung into the enclosure. The Sami was babbling murderous curses.

  ‘There’s more coming – look out!’ he yelled. Erlan had already seen them, snatched up a spear and lurched forward. Ahead was a rush of bodies, wild faces and limbs – he slashed his sword, arm jarring against Vandrung iron, then lunged with the spear.

  The point found flesh. He screamed, twisting the blade deeper, but the shaft was wrenched away and a body hit him, knocking him down. His vision swam, his ears rang. Soft through the ringing came snarls from the creature on top of him. He butted hard, smashing the Vandrung’s nose. It reared up. Erlan saw its short crude blade. Saw the hate in its eyes – and suddenly he was tired.

  Bone weary.

  He felt thunder in the ground and thought it strange.

  The blade was falling. He lifted his wounded arm – he had nothing else to offer. There was a deafening crash, a shower of snow, a shadow flying over him and the Vandrung was gone. The thunder was all about him.

  He lay, dazed, wondering why he wasn’t dead.

  Then he realized the thunder was the beat of hooves.

  Gakki was dead, his head split in two.

  Manulf was dying, guts half-spilled in the snow.

  Jovard’s face was a mask of pain, one side slathered in blood. And outside the cut were the bodies of a dozen or more of them.

  The Vandrung. . . They were ugly sons of bitches. That hadn’t stopped Finn from killing a heap of them.

  ‘You sure know how to use that thing,’ said Kai, nodding at Finn’s bow.

  ‘Not my first time,’ returned Finn, with a rueful grin. ‘Could be the last, though.’

  Kai was breathing heavily. He didn’t know why the Vandrung hadn’t pressed home their attack. But he was mighty glad. ‘Where did they go?’

  Finn wearily pushed a braid behind his ear. He was sweating, despite the cold. ‘
Not far is my guess. Doubtless, they’ll be back.’

  ‘We’ll never last the night,’ said Beran quietly. He was hunkered, nursing his axe, staring into the darkness.

  Finn gave him an encouraging tap on the shoulder. ‘You won’t mind if I give it a try though, eh?’

  ‘Horn half-full, brother,’ said Jovard, his blood-slicked grimace ghastly in the dim light. ‘You always were a gloomy bastard!’

  Kai was regretting his wish for a proper fight. He’d always imagined it different, with him all fired up and brave. Instead he’d shaken with utter terror, start to finish.

  At least he hadn’t run. That was a great feat. Still, it wasn’t like there was anywhere to run to.

  It had been a mad, arse-loosening tempest of shouts and shrieks and shoving and sticking and slashing and the gods knew what else. By the time the first Vandrung had reached the gap, seven lay dead to Finn’s arrows. But the rest had arrived quick enough, and there ensued hand-to-hand combat the likes of which had never yet disturbed his worst nightmares.

  Manulf was groaning.

  ‘Poor son of a bitch,’ muttered Beran. ‘Someone should finish him.’

  ‘You gonna do it?’ said his brother, irritably.

  Beran only hugged his axe closer.

  It made little difference. Manulf wouldn’t groan much longer. Kai had never liked the man, but this was a fate beyond any he would’ve wished him. He wasn’t exactly sure how he wasn’t in the same state. His sword was bloody and his left arm ached like a bastard so he must have taken some blows. But he could have sworn to precisely nothing of what just occurred. Only that when the ugly brutes pulled back, he was still there. Still breathing.

  ‘What do we do now?’ he asked Finn.

  ‘We wait.’

  He was afraid that’d be the answer. He didn’t fancy sitting all night in the freezing cold, while nauseating fear chewed its way through his innards. He’d rather the thing reached its conclusion. Except there was only one conclusion likely to be reached, and he had to admit. . . it wasn’t that appealing.

  He watched Finn count up his arrows and curse.

  ‘What is it?’

  Finn gave a bitter snort. ‘Couple more attacks like that and I’ll be chucking snowballs.’