by John Gwynne
‘No,’ Veradis replied. ‘I’m demonstrating how dangerous the shield wall is, even to giants.’
‘I was not taking it seriously,’ Fachen shrugged.
Brina snorted and Alcyon smiled.
Veradis looked at his shield, saw the wood dented and grooved.
‘Looks serious enough,’ he said. He noticed others gathering around now, Wulf and Tahir, Krelis and Alben, Maquin, Fidele, a few of her shieldmen. ‘We must treat the shield wall with respect,’ he continued. ‘It is a widow-maker, a death-dealer, no one is safe before it – man or woman, the skill of the Jehar will not save them, nor the strength of a giant. Nathair marched out with two thousand men, many of them veterans of the shield wall. They have fought many battles, and never lost.’
‘They have not fought against the Benothi,’ Fachen said.
‘True enough,’ Veradis replied, ‘though I think some of your kin clashed with them during the battle of Drassil. But Nathair’s men did stand against the Shekam and their draigs in Tarbesh, and they stood against the Hunen at Haldis. Both clans were broken on the wall of shields.’
‘You lie,’ Fachen said.
‘He does not lie,’ Alcyon said.
‘How do you know this?’ Balur One-Eye rumbled.
‘I know, because I was there,’ Veradis said. ‘I led the shield wall, stood in the front row, weathered the storm of iron, bore the brunt of their hammers and axes.’
‘The Hunen?’ Balur asked.
‘Aye. Calidus pulled those strings. He was after the starstone axe.’
‘And the Shekam?’ Ethlinn said, standing and walking over to look at the damage done to Veradis’ shield.
‘Calidus, again,’ Alcyon said. ‘He had his reasons for wanting the Shekam gone.’
‘But they are the draig-riders,’ Balur said, as if that made them invincible.
‘Admittedly, the draigs were a bit of a problem,’ Veradis conceded. ‘But the Shekam were still destroyed, only a handful escaping the battlefield. Nathair is a strategist, an excellent general with an eye for the straight path to victory. The shield wall is his creation.’
‘It was the shield wall that felled Balur in the battle at Drassil,’ Ethlinn mused.
‘Aye, that’s so,’ Balur said. ‘I smashed a dozen men down, but more kept filling the hole I hacked.’ He put a hand to his side, up to his shoulder. ‘They gave me many wounds.’
‘How do we beat that?’ asked Tahir. ‘I led men against it in the great hall of Drassil.’ He shook his head. ‘Many fell.’
‘It is not invincible,’ Maquin said.
‘No, it is like any weapon, any tool,’ Veradis said. ‘It has strengths and weaknesses.’
‘The Kadoshim did a good job of ripping it open,’ Maquin said.
‘They did,’ Veradis agreed. ‘Because they are happy to take a sword-wound in the belly, or anywhere else for that matter, and fight on regardless. Most of us would not. The Kadoshim’s strengths are not our strengths. That is not how we will crack the shield wall open.’
‘How, then?’ Maquin asked.
‘If we fought them on a hill and we were at the top we could roll wains or trees down at them,’ Tahir said. He looked around. ‘Not so many hills in Forn, though.’
‘Terrain is correct,’ Veradis said. ‘The shield wall works best on open spaces, flat ground. So if we could choose our battlefield, that would help.’
‘And what if we cannot?’ Maquin asked.
‘There may be other ways,’ Veradis said. ‘But we would need a forge, and blacksmiths skilled at weapon-making.’
‘We could dig a forge,’ Balur said. ‘I have seen it done. And Fachen is a weapons-smith.’
‘I can work a bellows and shape some iron,’ Wulf grunted, ‘but what of tools and materials?’
‘We have a good supply of iron,’ Alben said. ‘There were wains full of charcoal, iron rods and tools that we found amongst Gundul’s supplies.’
‘And what would you do with this forge?’ Brina asked Veradis. ‘What would you make?’
Veradis lifted the axe and branch that he had bound together.
‘I’ll show you. Wall,’ he commanded. His men gathered tight and brought their shields up. Veradis advanced on them.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CAMLIN
Camlin led his small band along a narrow trail, forty of the best woodsmen, hunters and archers that he had found in Edana’s rag-tag warband. They wound single-file, so as to not give away their numbers if they were tracked, which Camlin thought all but impossible. Those who might have had half a mind to follow them they’d left dying on the giantsway.
Another supply train ruined, some grain burned, the rest stolen, and two score fewer of Rhin’s warriors left to fight us. All in all, a good day. Besides, Craf will let me know if there’s any trouble on my tail.
Only a ten-night had passed since Camlin had been fished out of the river with the giant, Eisa.
He’d not liked the discussions of God-Wars and the Seven Treasures, and Craf hadn’t helped matters since. Every time Camlin had sat still the damn bird had come and perched on his shoulder and started muttering about Kadoshim, death and the end of the world. He shivered.
And then there was Rafe. Camlin had thought about him a lot over the last few days, how he’d been transformed, become stronger and faster. That had added weight to Eisa and Craf’s words, and Camlin didn’t like that.
Gods. Angels and demons. What next? I prefer something I can face and kill. Not myths and stories.
He shivered at the thought of it, the concept that everything they were doing was a small part in a much grander scheme. He didn’t like the idea, not one little bit.
Best not to think of it at all, so keeping busy is a much better idea.
And busy seemed to be working. Half a dozen raids by his crew alone on baggage trains, on warbands and warriors, even a merchant barge travelling up the river Tarin to Dun Carreg, all taking coin and food from the enemy.
Camlin passed the first checkpoint of their camp, saw a shadowed face and a drawn bow. He raised a hand in greeting, knew he was recognized, and that Meg had gone ahead, announcing his imminent return.
Nice to see the guards are working.
Soon afterwards he was emerging into their camp. It had grown. Word was spreading throughout Ardan of Edana’s return, and for a while now new recruits had been trickling into the Baglun.
Camlin was struggling to trust them, and the thought that just one could be a spy or an assassin was not helping him to sleep at night, but Edana was right. She was never going to raise a warband capable of overthrowing Rhin without Ardan’s people.
He found Edana in her tent, which was a crude thing stitched from sails, but it did the job. Inside Edana was sitting with Baird and Halion. Camlin told them of his successful raid. The central tent pole creaked and Camlin looked up, saw the outline of a dark shape through the tent.
Craf. That bird is a compulsive spy.
‘More food for us, and less for them,’ Camlin said with a smile. ‘Grain’s on the way, left some of the lads to bring it in.’
‘Rhin’s holed up at Dun Carreg,’ he continued. ‘Got eyes on the place. She went in, and definitely hasn’t come out. Warriors are trickling in, though. It’s early days, but looks like that giant might’ve been telling the truth. Over the last four days over two hundred swords have ridden through Stonegate. Looks like she’s gathering some strong arms about her.’
‘Mustering a warband to ride with her to Drassil,’ Edana mused.
‘God-War,’ a voice croaked from above their heads, beyond the tent fabric.
Damn that bird.
Vonn and Lorcan, returning from a meeting with Pendathran, entered the tent, the bulk of Brogan following Lorcan.
‘Good news, my bride-to-be,’ Lorcan said enthusiastically.
Edana winced. Camlin knew that the long-ago agreed betrothal between them was something that Edana had no intention of continuing with. It w
as just that no one had told Lorcan that yet.
Someone needs to tell the lad.
‘Pendathran has swept through much of Ardan’s east,’ Lorcan said, ‘and he says the people are with you. Many have joined his warband – they were two hundred strong when we left him, all warriors.’
When he marched away from the banks of Dun Crin’s swamp Pendathran had fifty men with him.
‘That is excellent news,’ Edana said. ‘And Drust? Is there news from him?’
‘Messengers from Drust arrived while we were there,’ Vonn said, frowning at Lorcan and stepping shoulder to shoulder with him. ‘Drust is camped in the Darkwood, has spread word of your return all through the west and is now doing the same in the north. And he has sent men into Narvon, declaring your return. He, too, has raised men. There are over a hundred with him now.’
‘We spoke to many travellers while upon the road,’ Lorcan said quickly, taking another step forwards. ‘All had heard of your return, and many seemed . . .’ He searched for the right words. ‘Cautiously pleased.’
‘It is going as we planned, then,’ Edana said, her eyes touching Camlin’s.
Better than that.
Edana asked more questions of Lorcan and Vonn, eventually finishing and telling them to go and eat and rest. She called Vonn back. Lorcan hovered in the tent entrance, then left with Brogan, his constant shadow.
Edana looked at them, Camlin, Halion, Baird and Vonn. She sighed and stood, as if coming to a decision.
‘Come with me,’ she said to them all.
Edana walked out of the tent and led them down towards the river. Camlin heard the tell-tale swish of wings above him, and the creeping of footfalls close by.
Craf and Meg, more alike than they realize.
Soon they were standing before Eisa, the Benothi giant. She was chained to a tree, legs hobbled, guards a dozen paces away.
‘I will not keep you a prisoner,’ Edana said. ‘It is not practical – we must move camp or be discovered, and I cannot be wasting manpower on escorting you from one place to another. And besides that, it does not sit well with me. Better a clean death than captivity, eh? So . . .’
Edana nodded at the guards and warriors she’d brought with her, and before Eisa had a chance to move they were all leaping forwards, grabbing her arms, pinning her. Baird stepped behind the giant, one hand in Eisa’s hair, the other holding a knife to her throat.
‘Not an execution,’ Edana said, and turned the key in the chain’s lock, releasing Eisa.
‘You cannot know how much this pains me,’ Baird said as he tied a cloth tight around Eisa’s eyes.
‘You are free to go,’ Edana said. ‘My men will take you into the forest, far from here, and from there you will be on your own. Baird, give her back her knife when you take the blindfold off.’
‘Aye,’ Baird grunted, though he looked none too pleased about it. With a hard tug on the bonds around Eisa’s wrist, he led her along the riverbank, the score of guardsmen wrapped around her.
‘Well, I wasn’t expecting that,’ Camlin said, blowing his cheeks out. ‘But she’s still likely to die wandering around in the Baglun.’
‘Craf show giant way out of forest,’ the crow muttered from his perch in the branches.
‘Thank you, Craf,’ Edana said.
‘Welcome.’
‘There’s something I want to talk to you all about,’ Edana said to Camlin, Halion and Vonn. ‘I’ve been thinking about what the giant said, what Craf has said. And, yes, what you have said, Vonn.’
She looked long and hard at them.
‘I think we need to do something about these Treasures that I’m told are at Dun Carreg.’
‘Aye,’ Halion grunted, tugging on his short beard. ‘What, exactly?’
‘I think someone needs to go and steal this cup and necklace.’
Above them a branch creaked and swayed.
‘YES,’ squawked Craf.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
RAFE
Rafe cantered across green meadows; to his right the river Tarin, wide and sluggish as it neared the sea, to his left the Baglun Forest, a sea of leaf and bark undulating into the horizon. Ahead of him in the distance he could just make out the grey-topped pinnacle that was Dun Carreg, behind it the shimmer of the sea, and he smiled.
Home.
Besides him Scratcher ran, Rafe was still not used to seeing her without Sniffer. He’d raised a cairn over the hound in the Baglun, in the glade by the river where Camlin had killed him.
I’ll kill that bastard. Nearly did then, if not for that cursed crow. I’ll kill him ’n’ all, if I see him again.
He craned in his saddle to look back at the warband behind him. Five hundred men, Morcant at their head in his fine war gear, helm and chainmail gleaming, cloak of black and gold billowing behind him, looking like a hero out of the old tales.
How I hate him. Bloody fop, even if he can wield a sword.
Rafe had found Morcant burning a village to the east of the Baglun, obviously taking out his frustration at his failure to prevent Edana’s attacks.
She’s only got a few hundred men, and what can they do? They may cause some trouble, but in the end won’t do much worse than a boil on the arse. A pain, and annoying, but won’t kill you.
‘How long until we see Dun Carreg?’ Morcant asked him as he drew alongside Rafe.
‘I can see it already,’ Rafe said, pointing.
Morcant squinted. ‘You must have good eyes,’ he muttered. Then, ‘Roisin – what has Rhin done with her?’
‘In the dungeon beneath the keep, last I heard,’ Rafe said.
‘Dungeons! That’s no place for a lady, especially one as fine-looking as Roisin,’ Morcant said.
A movement drew Rafe’s eye: within the murk of the Baglun, a figure was forming out of the shadows, tall and long-limbed.
A giant.
She stumbled out from the undergrowth and shadows, favouring one leg, head bowed.
‘Eisa,’ he called, touching his reins and kicking his horse towards her, glad to be getting away from Morcant.
She was battered and bruised, her lower leg swollen, lumps and cuts on her face, a long scabbed gash upon her forehead, only one of the scabbards criss-crossing her back containing a blade. She raised a hand in greeting to him.
Hooves clattered on stone as they crossed the bridge into Dun Carreg. It was strange to see giants standing on the wall above Stonegate.
He looked at Eisa stumbling beside him. She’d proudly refused any litter they’d offered to carry her in.
‘Uthas ordered the forest searched, but we could not find you,’ Rafe said, feeling a stab of guilt as he remembered he’d refused to join the search, choosing to bury Sniffer instead, and then to sit upon the cairn and grieve.
‘I hit my head on a branch in the river,’ Eisa said, touching the long cut on her forehead. ‘Woke up on the riverbank.’
‘Taken you a long time to find your way here,’ Rafe said.
‘It’s a big forest,’ Eisa shrugged.
‘Aye, it is,’ Rafe acknowledged.
‘You can follow me to the keep,’ Morcant said to Eisa. ‘You, huntsman, go and find Roisin. Have her released from the dungeons on my order and brought to me.’
Rafe bit back an angry retort and only nodded.
He found Roisin in a cold dungeon, a bucket in the corner for her bodily requirements.
‘You’re to come with me,’ Rafe said to her. She was lying upon her cot, black hair spread about her shoulders. She held out her hand to him.
‘I feel a little weak,’ she said in her warm accented voice, and Rafe found himself taking her hand without even thinking about it. Her skin was smooth and warm.
‘This way, my lady,’ he said, and led her up through the keep’s stairwells and corridors.
‘Where are you taking me?’ Roisin asked.
‘You’ll see soon enough,’ he grunted.
Soon they were in a deserted part of the keep, the
ir footsteps echoing down a long corridor. Turning a corner, Rafe saw a dozen of Rhin’s elite shieldmen in their black and gold, as well as a handful of giants, lurking in the shadowed alcoves, as still as cobwebbed-statues. They were nearing the complex of rooms where Rafe had last seen Rhin. He came to the first door and knocked.
‘Enter,’ Morcant’s voice called out. He was sitting at a table, sipping from a cup of mead. When he saw Roisin he stood and took her hand, kissing it.
‘I cannot believe that you have been kept in a dungeon, my lady,’ Morcant said. ‘It has been some dreadful mistake, and one that I mean to make amends for.’
‘I do not think I am high in Queen Rhin’s favour,’ Roisin said, eyes dipping demurely.
‘Well, you are her prisoner, granted,’ Morcant said. ‘But a royal one. I can assure you that Rhin would not treat you like this, and once the culprit that chose to lock you in Dun Carreg’s dungeons is discovered, I will have him flayed. As soon as I heard, I sent my servant to release you.’ Morcant glanced at Rafe.
Servant! He felt his face twist in anger.
‘And if it was on Queen Rhin’s orders?’ Roisin asked.
‘Well, then I shall intercede with her on your behalf,’ Morcant said. ‘Though for now, I am told that Rhin is not here and will not be for at least a ten-night.’ He gave Roisin a conspiratorial smile. ‘I have ordered clothes for you, and a girl will be along shortly to attend to you. You may be a prisoner of war, but we are not animals, and you are noble and so you shall be treated as such. I will ensure it myself.’
‘My thanks,’ Roisin said, lifting her eyes. ‘I cannot tell you how grateful I am.’ She held his gaze then, a silence settling over the room.
‘You can go,’ Morcant said to Rafe with a dismissive flick of his hand.
Hope Rhin catches you and turns you into a toad, Rafe thought as he closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
NATHAIR
Nathair sat on the back of his draig, absently patting its back and feeling an answering rumble from deep within its chest as it crushed a path through Forn. Behind him the tramp of two thousand booted feet and ahead strode the messenger who had arrived from Lothar, a man named Helred. They’d left Drassil half a ten-night gone, now, every day and night the same, surrounded by the endless ocean of oak and ash, the forest bearing down upon them, oppressive and dour.
