Wrath (The Faithful and the Fallen Book 4)

by John Gwynne

  He skirted the street that led to the herb garden and hospice, then slowed, smelling smoke and fire, hearing the sounds of battle, but the dogs ran on and so after a moment’s hesitation he followed and burst into a scene of madness.

  The first thing he saw was dead bodies littering the ground, burned and blackened, some still smoking, then a fire blazing in the courtyard, all about it people locked in battle. One of them was Cywen, rolling on the ground with a Vin Thalun warrior. Buddai leaped towards them but the Vin Thalun was dead before he reached them.

  Cywen staggered to her feet, looked down at the dead man as Haelan ran to her.

  ‘You’re late,’ he said. ‘I was worried.’

  Hild saw him and gasped.

  ‘Swain and Sif will be glad to see you,’ he said to her.

  ‘What?’ she hissed.

  ‘I didn’t want to tell you, for a host of reasons. Stab me later if you think I was wrong,’ Cywen said to Hild as the older woman’s expression transformed between shock, joy and hope.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Haelan blurted, staring around. He saw prisoners fighting Vin Thalun, which he could understand, but there were also eagle-guard in the black and silver of Tenebral amongst the combatants, and they were also fighting Vin Thalun. Only a handful of paces away, one eagle-guard was in hand-to-hand combat with two Vin Thalun, though being outnumbered didn’t seem to be an issue for him. Even as Haelan watched, one Vin Thalun collapsed with blood spurting from his groin, the other falling as a shield rim smashed him in the mouth, teeth spraying. A quick downwards stab and then the eagle-guard was looking around, eyes fixing upon Cywen. He strode over.

  ‘We have to go,’ the eagle-guard said. ‘Balur’s diversion will be over soon, and we need to get to the gates before then.’

  He’s on our side, then. What’s going on?

  ‘How are you planning on getting us out of here, Veradis?’ Cywen asked.

  Veradis slipped a pack off of his bag, shook out a black cuirass and cloak, an iron helm, a scabbarded short sword and belt.

  ‘Brought you all a change of clothes,’ he said with a brief smile. ‘We’ll be walking out the front door.’

  ‘Swain and Sif,’ Hild said to them all, ‘where are they?’

  ‘Back at the den,’ Cywen said. ‘We were attempting an escape tonight, but not through the front gates,’ she told Veradis.

  ‘We have to get them,’ Hild said. ‘I’m going nowhere without my bairns. Tell me where this den is, I’ll go get them.’

  ‘Too difficult. I’ll show you,’ Cywen said. ‘Veradis, we’ll meet you at the gates.’

  He didn’t look very happy with that, but was distracted as more Vin Thalun men poured into the courtyard. They yelled and charged.

  ‘Shield wall!’ Veradis shouted, and beyond the fire Haelan saw warriors crunching shields together before the onrushing Vin Thalun.

  ‘Come on,’ Cywen said, ruffling Buddai’s head. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  And with that they were running east, Veradis gesturing for three of his men to follow Cywen and the others. Haelan heard the fresh sounds of battle erupting behind him.

  Then Haelan was pounding through the streets, for the first time giving no heed to hiding or hugging the shadows. Somehow they avoided being seen, warriors passing by on other streets as great swirling masses of shadows and flame, torches trailing incandescence. He turned into another street, sprinted hard, Pots yapping at his feet as if it was the greatest game in the world, and then they were spilling into the abandoned courtyard, the old oak at its centre.

  Cywen accelerated past him and skidded into the hole.

  ‘Wait here,’ she called over her shoulder, and Haelan came to a halt by one of the huge roots. Hild and the three warriors joined him, Hild gasping for breath, hands on her knees.

  ‘Where . . . are . . . they . . . ?’ she gasped.

  ‘In there,’ Haelan pointed. Hild peered into the hole, then took a step towards it.

  A face appeared, small and pale, dirt-stained. Sif.

  She climbed out almost fearfully. Haelan realized that this was the first time she’d been out of the den in over three moons. A large pack on her back made her look twice her real size. She saw Hild and then with a strangled sob the two of them were in each other’s arms, hugging and squeezing, Hild lifting Sif into the air, kissing her cheeks.

  ‘Mam?’ a voice said behind them; Swain was appearing from the hole, a few of Storm and Buddai’s cubs about his legs, they were tall now, Haelan saw, standing almost as high as Swain’s thighs.

  Swain was enveloped by Hild and Sif, the three of them crying, laughing, hugging.

  He felt tears blur his vision and blinked them away.

  More cubs emerged from the hole, then another face, broad, flat and angular, hoisted up and rolling out awkwardly, hands still tied at the wrist.

  Trigg.

  She climbed to her knees and stood, eyes taking in Haelan, Hild, the eagle-guard. Cywen emerged behind her, the last of the cubs too. Shadow appeared, padding up to Haelan.

  ‘We need to go,’ Cywen said.

  ‘What about her?’ Swain said, looking at Trigg.

  ‘Take me with you,’ Trigg said.

  ‘How can we trust you?’ Cywen asked.

  Trigg just looked at her, eyes pleading.

  ‘She could have betrayed us, but hasn’t,’ Haelan said. ‘We can’t just ignore what she’s done, but I don’t think she means us harm. Let Corban be her judge. He’s our lord.’

  A shout went up from the edge of the courtyard, a score of eagle-guard appearing from a darkened street.

  ‘Ho there,’ a voice called. ‘What goes here?’

  Haelan looked to Cywen, waiting on her word.

  Run? Talk our way out? Can’t fight, there’s too many.

  Cywen whispered frantically to one of the warriors who had accompanied them. After a few moments he turned and faced the new arrivals, raising an arm.

  ‘Found some escaped prisoners,’ he said, walking towards the approaching eagle-guard.

  The newcomer peered at Haelan and his companions, pausing on Trigg, moving on, then noticing some of the cubs.

  His eyes narrowed.

  Buddai growled.

  He looked back to the warrior in front of him, stared at his plain black cuirass.

  ‘Where’s your eagle?’ he asked, hand moving to rest upon his sword hilt.

  The friendly eagle-guard stabbed him in the throat, ripped his sword free and launched himself at the warriors behind, his companions’ blades hissing into their hands as they took a protective stance before Cywen and the others.

  Three against twenty. Don’t like those odds.

  There’s no getting out of this, too many of them. Even if we run and get past them, they’ll chase us, either catch us or follow us to the gates? What do we do?

  ‘The tunnel,’ Cywen shouted, ‘it’s our only chance. Go.’

  The tunnel! That had been the escape route they’d planned on taking, even though they’d all been uneasy and fearful about it.

  What’s down there? Does it even lead out of this fortress?

  Indecision dissolved as Haelan saw warriors charging at him. He turned and ran, pulling Shadow with him, straight back to the hole. He heard the clash of iron, knew Cywen and the others were locked in combat now, heard a terrible plurality of snarls and screaming, glanced over to see one of the enemy eagle-guard on the ground, most of the cubs swarming over him, biting and ripping, blood pooling.

  Sif yelled at the cubs, Swain adding his voice as they both pulled Hild with them back towards the hole beneath the tree roots, diving in without a thought. Hild following a little more cautiously, cubs jumping in after them. Trigg was standing close to the den entrance, hands still tied behind her back, looking straight at Haelan, shouting.

  A hand grabbed the back of Haelan’s cloak, yanking him backwards, off of his feet. He squawked, his cloak tight about his neck as he caught a flash of a surly face bene
ath an iron helm, then he was on his back, heard growling, saw Pots snapping at the shins of the warrior who had grabbed him, from the other side Shadow snarled and leaped. The warrior grunted in pain, shaking Pots free and raising his sword over Shadow, crunching the pommel onto her head. She fell, yelping, back to Haelan and crouched over him, still defiantly baring her teeth. The warrior cursed and strode at them both, sword rising.

  ‘No!’ Haelan screamed, thinking that Corban would be so disappointed with him if any harm came to Storm’s cubs.

  Then a figure was jumping over him: Trigg, charging at the eagle-guard. Even as she ran, she yanked her arms apart, breaking her bonds easily. Trigg ducked a sword swing, grabbed the warrior’s wrist and gave it a savage twist. If the loud crack didn’t tell Haelan that bones had broken, the following scream definitely did. Trigg punched him in the face, the man’s nose exploded and he dropped to his knees. She grabbed his head with both hands, gave a savage twist and there was another louder crack, the warrior falling bonelessly to the ground. Trigg stood over him, legs splayed, chest heaving, face distorted in a snarl.

  Haelan staggered to his feet, heard the clash of iron somewhere to his right, saw more eagle-guard running at them. Trigg saw it too and burst into motion, grabbing Haelan under her arms, lifting him and throwing him with more strength than Haelan had ever known she possessed. For a few heartbeats he was weightless, then he was crunching into the ground, grunting, rolling, darkness closing about him, the dank smell of earth and root and he realized he was back in the hole that led to his den.

  A cub’s tongue licked his face. He stood and looked out through the hole onto the courtyard, just in time to see Pots and Shadow racing after him, skidding and sliding into the hole. Beyond them Haelan saw Trigg fighting with half a dozen eagle-guard, swinging her long arms, keeping them at bay. Cywen was standing close to the remaining warrior that fought with them, many eagle-guard closing about them, Buddai a dark blur leaping at his foe.

  ‘CYWEN!’ Haelan screamed and he saw her head turn, her wolven claws dripping red, one hand reaching inside her cloak.

  Then she was running, a burst of speed as she broke away from her attackers, yelling to the warrior fighting alongside her. He followed her as she leaped for the hole. Haelan jumped to one side as she fell in amongst them, the warrior was tumbling after, Buddai’s bulk crashing through on top of them.

  ‘Move,’ Cywen told them all, pointing into the darkness of the tunnel, down the fork that travelled away from the den, towards who knew where.

  ‘And you,’ Cywen said to Haelan, who had pushed back to the hole, looking out at the courtyard. ‘We’ve got to go,’ she said.

  ‘But Trigg,’ Haelan said, leaning out of the hole and yelling the half-giant’s name. Through the legs of the onrushing eagle-guard Haelan saw her look up and see him. She smiled fiercely at him and then she threw herself into the melee. Her bulk scattered a few of the eagle-guard, but others were there, moving in, their swords stabbing. He saw the enemy closing on Trigg, heard her cry out, saw her fall.

  ‘NO!’ Haelan screamed and began to scramble out of the hole as Cywen grabbed and shoved him stumbling after Swain and the others. He looked back, saw an eagle-guard’s face appear at the hole, peer in, Cywen’s wolven claws slashing at him. A scream and he fell back, but more crowded around him.

  Cywen threw a small vial and yelled something, sounding strange, making Haelen stumble and shiver. Suddenly there was a whoosh of wind rushing past Haelan and then fire ignited as if from nowhere, fierce and hungry, curling out of the tunnel’s entrance, men screaming, throwing themselves backwards as the flames engulfed them. Cywen hurled herself backwards, slamming into Haelan’s back. Behind her flames raged, the smell of wood and sap mingling with burning flesh, screaming, a cracking as one of the roots gave way, and then the hole was disappearing, earth crumbling down.

  ‘GO!’ Cywen shouted, shoving Haelan hard, sending him staggering on into the others.

  On into the darkness.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  VERADIS

  Veradis stamped his boot onto the Vin Thalun’s chest, pinning him to the ground, and stabbed down, his attacker gasping, choking, dying. Looking up, he saw the shield wall his men had formed was still standing strong, a tide of dead Vin Thalun about it.

  It appears that there are no more Vin Thalun left to fight.

  He wiped his sword clean and sheathed it, listening to the crashing, thuds and screams that still echoed from the fortress’ walls, a sign that Balur, Alcyon and their kin were still causing chaos.

  Can’t last much longer.

  ‘We are here to get you out of Drassil,’ Veradis yelled, striding to the cuirass, cloak, helm and sword that he’d emptied earlier from his pack, lifting the disguise up for all to see.

  ‘Every prisoner, find one of my men, they’ll have one of these for you, and more.’ He looked around at the faces, shadowed and bloody. ‘Quickly,’ he shouted, and the courtyard burst into motion. While he waited, his heartbeat counting time, he looked eastward, in the direction that Cywen had disappeared.

  Come on, girl, he willed.

  ‘We’re ready to go,’ Ilta told him.

  Only five of Veradis’ men had fallen in the melee, and there were one hundred and eighty-eight prisoners now standing with them.

  One hundred and eighty-eight who will not die screaming on stakes. One hundred and eighty-eight who will fight alongside us in Forn.

  If we can get out of here.

  Veradis marched in front of them.

  ‘You’ll be leaving here as eagle-guard. We are going through the gates to sally forth and fight off the enemy attacking Drassil’s walls,’ Veradis said with a fierce grin. ‘Keep your heads down and wits about you, and you’ll soon be sitting around a fire with your kin and comrades.’ There was a ragged cheer and then they were moving, forming a rough square, the prisoners enclosed at its heart, in the hope of hiding the fact that they didn’t know how to march in formation.

  The streets were less crowded than they had been on the journey to the hospice, Veradis seeing small bands of warriors, mostly Vin Thalun. He strode past them as if he had more right to be there than they did, all the while his heart in his mouth.

  Where are you, Cywen? he thought, scanning the shadows of the buildings ahead of him, checking back over his shoulder, but there was no sign of her.

  There were more warriors on the road now, a score of eagle-guard passing them, the crack of their shoes on stone a familiar, almost nostalgic sound to Veradis. Windows in buildings were lit, the fire of forges, a host of barracks, then the whinny of horses and the huge courtyard inside the gates of Drassil opened before them.

  Veradis held his fist up, barking an order, the warriors behind him stumbling to a halt. He paused there, on the edge of the courtyard, searching the shadows for Cywen and her companions.

  Where is she? How can I leave without her?

  ‘We can’t just stand here,’ Ilta hissed at him. ‘We are like a goose putting its head on the chopping block.’

  Veradis sucked in a deep breath, tugged on the chin-strap of his helm, then marched straight through the courtyard’s heart, ordering any too slow to get out of his way.

  A man strode towards Veradis, one of the officers he’d seen earlier.

  ‘Open the gates,’ Veradis said as they drew near to one another.

  ‘For what purpose?’ the warrior asked, surprised.

  ‘A sally against the enemy, to push them back from the walls.’

  ‘I’ve had no orders,’ the young captain frowned.

  ‘I’m giving them to you, now,’ Veradis said, the habit of command rising up to help him along with his fear.

  The captain hesitated, looking from Veradis to his men. ‘This is unusual,’ he said. ‘Orders to open the gates are always delivered by the Jehar.’

  You mean Kadoshim. You are as unwitting as I was. I wonder, if you knew the truth, what would you do?

  ‘These are not
usual circumstances,’ Veradis snapped, ‘and if I don’t get out there soon the enemy may well be breaching our walls.’

  ‘You have only just returned to Drassil,’ the captain said, still frowning. ‘Why would you be leading this sortie?’

  ‘I volunteered,’ Veradis said. He tapped his pack. ‘And I have fresh orders for King Nathair. Darkness offers good cover, as the fortress is watched closely.’

  Veradis’ words were having an effect: he could see the captain teetering, but still he hesitated.

  ‘I do not have time for this,’ Veradis snapped. ‘Send a runner for Calidus, let him explain to you the workings of his plans.’ He looked pointedly at the skewered corpses that lined the courtyard.

  One last long stare and then the captain was turning on his heel, shouting for the gates to be opened.

  ‘Onwards,’ Veradis yelled, stepping into the archway beneath the thick wall of Drassil. Half of his warband was through the gates now, Veradis standing in the archway’s shadow, looking back into the courtyard, hoping to see Cywen appear.

  But she did not come.

  The last lines were passing him by now, and still he did not move.

  A thought struck him.

  The gates are open. I have warriors about me, giants out there in the darkness. Will we ever have an opportunity like this again?

  Could we win?

  A thousand against three, maybe four thousand?

  Kadoshim appeared out of the half-lit darkness of a wide street and at their head strode Calidus, a dark cloak billowing behind him like smoke.

  He was much changed, his long silver hair and short beard gone, his ageless skin and smile now cracked and ruined, the skin charred and peeling, hair burned away, only tufts here and there.

  You may be hard to kill, but at the very least you can be hurt, you bastard.

  As if he heard his thoughts, Calidus’ eyes fell upon Veradis. Recognition and hatred suddenly flared.