The Long War 03 - The Red Prince

by A. J. Smith

  Xander motioned to Brennan. ‘Ask them to surrender, captain.’

  He raised his chin. ‘We are the Hawks of Ro, stand down or die!’ he bellowed.

  The Karesians were outnumbered, but the fanatical glare in their eyes made it doubtful that they would surrender. They shifted their focus from the fleeing Kirin to the mounted Hawks and the wind claws barked orders.

  ‘Now we’re killing Karesians,’ shouted Xander, when it became clear that they were not going to stand down.

  Rham Jas grinned broadly and pulled back on his reins. Kale Glenwood, the man of Leith, was hanging limply over the forward pommel of the Kirin’s horse and the extra weight was hampering their escape. The assassin rode straight past the Hawks, without turning to help.

  Gwen held her weapon with the blade pointing downwards and clamped her thighs to her horse, maintaining balance as they plunged forward. The ground was covered quickly as the two groups neared each other. She hunkered down on her saddle, lining up the nearest Hound. Xander was in front and standing tall in his stirrups, holding Peacekeeper steady.

  The first blow was struck slowly. A wind claw, his reins held in his teeth and wielding two long knives, met the Red Prince of Haran. Xander drove his bastard sword through the man’s chest with precision and strength, sending the spluttering and bloodied Karesian to the grass.

  Then the forces clashed. Gwen ducked under a scimitar and cut at the man’s neck, taking a chunk of flesh as he rode past her.

  Horses in distress and metal striking metal made the melee a confusing one. Xander removed a man’s head. Daganay and Brennan flanked the general and killed two more with effortless skill. The Hounds were outmatched and most of them died as the line of Hawks rode them down. Heads were severed and horses maimed, many of the beasts bolting across the plain. Bodies were flung to the ground and blood covered the grass, staining the green with vibrant red. A few Karesians survived the initial clash and were now duelling with Hawks. Two men of Ro had fallen already, but no more of them met their deaths as their heavy short swords ran skilfully through the remaining Hounds.

  ‘Yeah!’ offered Rham Jas, mockingly raising his arms in celebration.

  ‘Keep your mouth shut, Kirin,’ grunted Daganay, finishing off a Karesian with a solid strike of his mace.

  ‘Get this finished,’ ordered Brennan, dismounting and putting a bloodied wind claw out of his misery.

  The wailing of men in pain was quickly silenced as the wounded Karesians were swiftly despatched. Apart from a few cuts and bruises among the Hawks, and two men who had been run through, the encounter had ended swiftly and decisively.

  ‘You!’ Xander pointed Peacekeeper at the Kirin. ‘Report?’

  Rham Jas looked confused for a second. ‘I’m not a soldier, you can talk to me properly.’

  This comment caused several of the Hawks to glare at him, but the general merely laughed. ‘Did you kill her?’ he pressed, silencing a rebuke from Brennan with a wave of his hand.

  The assassin nudged his horse round and, with a vacant grin, approached the company of Hawks.

  ‘Yup,’ he replied casually. ‘Dead as a dog with no head.’

  A ripple of smiles passed over the faces of the men of Ro, and Gwen found herself eager to hear how Rham Jas had accomplished such a thing. The Kirin dismounted and carefully removed his torpid companion, laying him on the grass. His head was bloodied, with a torn length of cloth round his forehead.

  ‘What happened to the forger?’ she asked, sheathing her leaf-blade.

  ‘Too much sea air, I think,’ he replied. ‘And he got hit on the head by a metal torch-holder. He’ll live.’

  ‘Tell us of the witch?’ demanded Daganay, accompanying Xander and Gwen to meet the Kirin.

  ‘She was in some catacombs under Ranolph’s Hold – chanting and shit with a load of followers. I shoved my sword through her chest. She’s dead.’

  ‘Followers?’ queried Gwen. ‘Who?’

  He shrugged. ‘Some Karesian women and a whole lot of Ro nobles.’

  Gwen and Xander locked eyes. This was troubling news. They had known that the Seven Sisters could sway people’s actions, but not that they could convert so many in so little time.

  ‘She’s built herself a cult,’ guffawed Daganay, emphasizing his disgust with a chesty laugh.

  ‘This is serious, Dag,’ snapped Xander. ‘I don’t want to have to kill the nobles of my duchy.’

  ‘You won’t need to,’ interjected the Kirin. ‘I don’t know how the enchanting works exactly, but the ones I didn’t kill looked scared and ill after a few seconds of frenzied violence.’

  The Red Prince glared at him, and the assassin turned away. Xander nudged his horse close to the Kirin. ‘You killed nobles of Haran? I assume you had no choice?’

  ‘Well, I gave them a choice. A few took it and a few just curled up on the floor. Don’t worry, your dukeness, you still have plenty of up-their-own-arse nobles to suck your royal cock.’

  Daganay put his hand to his mace and looked ready to strike the Kirin, but Xander raised his hand again. ‘I owe you thanks,’ he said through a pained smile. ‘And I will remember that. Though I ask you to show more respect. This may just be another kill for you, but for us it’s our home and our people.’

  The assassin’s face contorted into the caricature of a guilty child and he averted his eyes. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, clearly not meaning it. ‘Have I been bad?’

  ‘Look at me, Rham Jas Rami,’ said Xander.

  The Kirin raised his head. His skin was swarthy and his hair lank, making him appear grubby and low-born. The katana at his side and the Dokkalfar war-bow across his back were both of fine materials and of considerably more value than his clothing.

  When Xander regained eye contact with the Kirin, he sheathed Peacekeeper. ‘I hope you are telling me the truth. If not, I won’t forgive the insult, or the lies.’

  ‘She’s definitely dead,’ he replied. ‘Whether either of us like it, we’re on the same side. You, me, her, him, them... Brom, who’s my friend, remember?’

  The general narrowed his eyes and a slight smile appeared on his lips. Gwen could read her husband well and she knew he believed the assassin’s words.

  ‘Very well,’ he replied. ‘But excuse me if I don’t let you leave just yet.’

  ‘I have an important appointment in Ro Weir,’ said Rham Jas, with a mischievous smile, showing no fear of Xander. ‘If my appointment goes well, things in your country should improve rapidly.’

  ‘Do you want a fucking knighthood?’ spat Daganay. ‘You’re going to our camp until we have the city back.’

  ‘Easy, Dag,’ interrupted Xander.

  ‘I don’t trust him. The witch is probably still alive,’ offered the Blue cleric.

  Rham Jas’s grin grew even more mischievous as he looked through his dirty hair at Daganay. ‘I go where I like, fat man. She’s dead... go minister to her body.’

  An eruption of expletives came from Daganay’s mouth. He hefted his mace and Xander wheeled his horse sharply to cut off the cleric’s attack.

  ‘Enough!’ ordered the general. ‘Rham Jas, do as we ask... if you’re a truthful man, you’ll be on your way tomorrow. Brennan, back to camp and rouse the men. March them here. Dag, you too. Move!’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ he said solemnly, grasping the reins of his horse.

  ‘Seriously? I have to go with this idiot?’ asked the Kirin, blowing a kiss at Daganay.

  ‘He’s my friend. Be nice,’ said Gwen.

  ‘Can I bring my friend?’ asked Rham Jas, pointing to Glenwood. ‘He’ll only grumble if I leave him here.’

  Brennan and Dag pointed their horses northwards and waited for the Kirin to heft his companion back into the saddle. Rham Jas was reluctant, but Gwen suspected that his insufferable cockiness masked a keen mind.

  ‘They were in the catacombs,’ said the Kirin, more serious now. ‘If you want to see if any of your nobles are alive, they’ll be there.’ He paused, looking
at the grass. ‘Something else, maybe. I heard a weird sound and...’ He trailed off.

  ‘Make sense, man,’ prompted Xander.

  ‘Do you know what a Dark Young is?’ asked the assassin.

  * * *

  Five thousand men rode across the plains of Haran. With Alexander Tiris in the lead and Gwen riding next to him, they plunged south towards the city. Dozens of supply wagons and smithing equipment followed, guarded by their auxiliaries, and the Hawks of Ro moved with a rare purpose. Ro Haran was now visible and she felt a warmth enter her body at the thought of a hot bath and cosy bed.

  The city looked small, with only the High Towers standing out against the grey sky and blue ocean. Steam and smoke rose from the dark stone and the castellated lump looked ominously quiet. No guards were visible and, though a few carts could be seen around the main gate, the city had no life.

  ‘What’s she done to it?’ mused Xander as the army approached. ‘No banners, no guards. They should have seen us coming and sounded a horn by now.’

  ‘There’ll still be Hounds there, my lord,’ said Daganay.

  The general nodded in agreement. ‘Set cover round the main gate,’ he ordered.

  ‘Dag, Gwen, come with me. Brennan, let’s go and see how welcome we are.’

  Gwendolyn joined the detachment that broke off and two hundred Hawks rode slowly towards the main gate. The rest of the army crawled into line across the eastern plains, taking up position in organized ranks facing Ro Haran. The camp servants and supply carts moved behind the lines.

  Xander kicked the flanks of his horse and reached the road, hooves clattering on stone. Looking up at the guard towers, Gwen could not see men on duty or any indication that the city was defended.

  ‘Careful,’ she muttered to her husband.

  Xander scanned the walls, but didn’t slow down as he rode straight for the main gate. ‘Brennan, announce our return.’

  A loud bugle was blown by one of the accompanying Hawks and Captain Brennan roared, ‘General Alexander Tiris returns.’

  ‘Onwards,’ grunted Xander.

  Their pace slowed as they formed into a column narrow enough to pass through the gates. Once inside, Gwen gasped and held a hand to her mouth and nostrils.

  ‘Plague,’ growled Daganay. ‘What has the witch done?’

  All around them lay festering people. Many were dead; others groaned in pain, with sores covering their skin and flies massing around their bodies. Rotting meat and vegetables were piled up in the street and the sewer trenches were stagnant and overflowing. A few commoners tried to stand, but most just looked at the returning army through dying eyes, filled with despair.

  The Seven Sisters had much to answer for. Shilpa the Shadow of Lies had all but destroyed the common folk of Ro Haran. As they rode slowly through the fetid streets, no one spoke. Xander practically vibrated with anger, Gwen felt a tear of anguish fall from her eyes and Daganay wept openly.

  ‘Too many to heal,’ the cleric said through his tears. ‘We need a White cleric.’

  ‘We don’t have one,’ replied Xander.

  Dag spluttered and wiped his eyes. ‘Then many will die, my lord.’

  They continued their grim ride through the streets and towards the High Towers of Haran. Buildings were in bad repair, streets hadn’t been cleaned and no watchmen patrolled the city. Within sight of Ranolph’s Hold was a barricade, solidly constructed from upturned carts and barrels.

  Xander ordered a halt. ‘Brennan, get word outside and tell them to minister to the sick and start clearing the streets.’

  The captain hesitated, his eyes wide, seemingly overwhelmed at what had happened to his home. ‘Aye, general. At once.’ He wheeled his horse round and hastened back to the main gate.

  Xander addressed the rest of his men in a voice full of conviction. ‘Strength, brothers. We must continue on. Get this barricade out of the way.’

  A handful of soldiers rode past their general, dismounting as they reached the upturned carts.

  ‘You okay?’ Gwen asked, moving close to her husband.

  He smiled, though his eyes were red with emotion. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘But I need to be.’

  ‘General!’ shouted a voice from behind.

  They turned to see Sergeant Ashwyn, the blacksmith, riding fast towards them.

  ‘Report,’ replied Xander.

  ‘Looks like some of the Karesians have fled, my lord. Three ships are hugging the coast, heading south. They’re moving slowly, trying to stay hidden.’

  The Red Prince turned back to the barricade. ‘Get this shit out of the road, there’ll be men left in the city... they need to die.’

  He kicked his horse and rode forward at speed. Gwen and the others followed and those on the ground hastily tipped over two of the carts to create an opening.

  ‘Ash, take men and secure the harbour. The rest of you, with me.’

  The sergeant broke off with twenty men, while the remainder rode for Ranolph’s Hold.

  The streets here were cleaner, with no pestilence or bodies. It seemed that Shilpa was kinder to men and women of station, perhaps because she needed them to join her growing flock.

  Gwen rode close to Daganay. ‘Keep an eye on him, he’s getting very, very angry.’

  ‘Good,’ replied the tearful Blue cleric.

  ‘When he’s angry, he tends to be stupid,’ she countered. ‘Just keep an eye on him.’

  ‘Always, my lady,’ he conceded, trying his best to smile. ‘I just hope someone keeps an eye on me... to stop me being stupid.’

  ‘That’s my job, Dag,’ she replied, returning his smile.

  The company rode in tight formation behind the general, clattering along the cobbles towards Ranolph’s Hold, the highest tower of Haran. A few nervous faces regarded them from windows, peering from behind floral curtains and over steel fences and well-tended lawns. These were the noble folk of Ro Haran, the courtiers and landowners who constantly sought Gwen’s favour and her husband’s notice. She had little time for them but after several years she had realized that they were an important element in the duchy. Now they all looked afraid, as their duke, his face a mask of rage, rode through the streets of his city. At least they weren’t all dead. Some had been sensible enough not to join the new order.

  They took a sharp right turn and entered the lower courtyard of Ranolph’s Hold. The area, formerly a marketplace, was now empty, and the wide doors of the catacombs were flung open. If the Kirin could be believed, the grain silo beneath the Hold was where they’d find the dead enchantress... and a creature of some kind, perhaps related to the darkwood trees that the Dokkalfar feared. Gwen could see lights coming from within.

  ‘Dismount!’ ordered Xander, jumping to his feet and drawing Peacekeeper. ‘You!’ He pointed to a nearby unit. ‘To the left, check the building.’

  He directed two more units to other areas of the Hold and then gestured for the rest to follow him into the catacombs. ‘Eyes open, lads. The Kirin was afraid of something down there.’

  Gwen drew both her leaf-blades and ran to join her husband. Daganay, his face still wet with tears, also joined the general and twenty men strode into the torch-lit grain silo while the rest of the Hawks secured Ro Haran.

  ‘If there is anyone in here,’ bellowed Xander, ‘show yourselves now!’

  They walked over a central carpet, between thick pillars and torch placements. After a moment the daylight glow from the entrance was behind them and they walked in an ominous glow. On either side Gwen could see women, mostly Karesians, naked, with ugly scratch marks on their bodies. Some had killed themselves within the last few hours, though several were lying on the carpet and had died from katana wounds.

  Before them the torches stopped and the last globe of light illuminated a chaotic pile of naked, twisted bodies. Their death blows had been swift, but each body was cut and marked with fresh bites and scratches. Gwen recognized most of them as noble folk of Haran, mangled together in an orgy of flesh and blood.


  ‘So this is a chapel,’ grunted Daganay. ‘What kind of god demands this?’

  ‘A dead god,’ replied Xander. ‘Keep moving.’

  An attractive Karesian woman came into view. She lay face down, with her eyes staring off a raised platform. She had a tattoo of a flowering rose on her cheek. This was evidently the enchantress, and Gwen allowed herself a smile because the Kirin had not been making an idle boast.

  A cracking noise sounded from before them and Xander ordered them to halt. In the shadows, away from the main carpet, she could see a large shape, slowly swaying in the darkness.

  ‘What the fuck is that?’ whispered Daganay, raising his mace.

  ‘A Dark Young,’ replied Gwen, a catch of fear in her voice. ‘A darkwood tree.’

  Xander turned to her. They had listened to the Kirin and believed that he feared the thing of which he spoke. But it was impossible to imagine that such a thing actually existed. The priest and the altar, Rham Jas had said, a beast, terrifying to look upon. The Dokkalfar had said less. Our doom was all that they would mutter.

  Several men retrieved torches from sconces and stepped forward, carrying globes of light into the darkness. The others followed. A moment later, illuminated before them was a grotesque mockery of a tree, a huge, black maw surrounded with greenish needles and propelled forward on thick tentacles.

  Howls of alarm came from the twenty Hawks, and even Xander took an involuntary step back. Gwen held her breath, frozen immobile by fear of the thing, and Daganay prayed loudly.

  The tree darted forward, its tentacles reaching a man of Ro and stuffing him into its waiting maw. The Hawk appeared to dissolve and disappear into the noxious mouth, leaving nothing but a short sword that clattered to the stone floor.

  Men fled, howling as they ran. Several more fell to the floor, dropping their blades and staring at the tree. Gwen was in the latter group and was rooted to the floor in the path of the beast. She hadn’t dropped her leaf-blades, but she was helpless to strike or to flee as the maw reached for her.