The Final Battle

by Stuart Daly

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ Roland said dreamily. ‘Isn’t he great?’

  This was more than Caspan could tolerate, and he leaned across and clouted Roland over the side of the head. ‘You know, you really worry me sometimes.’

  Roland grinned wolfishly as he readjusted his bonnet and motioned with a wave of his hand at the precipitous drop before them. ‘What can I say, Cas – I like living on the edge.’

  Caspan cringed. Roland’s expression became serious and he studied the fingernails of his right hand fastidiously.

  ‘For what the pirates and Saxon’s fleet lack in numbers, they’ll make up for in experience of naval combat,’ he said. ‘Whereas the Roon are skilled in using their galleys to sail up rivers and conduct raids, the pirates engage enemy ships at sea. They have large crossbows, called ballistae, set on their decks, which they shoot at enemy vessels, just below the waterline, smashing holes in their hulls and sinking them. Should that fail, they’ll close in with grapples and board the enemy. I should also point out that nobody knows the currents and shoals along the High Coast better than the pirate captains, and especially Captain Grinn, who’s prowled these waters on the Mangy Dog for the past two decades. It’s hoped that the pirates’ knowledge of naval warfare and maritime experience will give Andalon the vital edge it needs.’

  Caspan gave him a baffled look. ‘And since when have you been such an expert on naval strategy?’

  Roland shrugged. ‘I grew up in a fishing village not far from here. Stuff like that’s general knowledge to me.’ Caspan nodded, conceding his point, and Roland grinned ruefully. ‘Oh, and I overheard two of Saxon’s officers discussing naval tactics last night.’ He laughed as he tugged his reins to the right, moving himself clear of the clout over the head he thought must be coming.

  ‘You’d better stop goofing around once the battle starts,’ Caspan warned. ‘Remember that Shanty and Kilt are going to be aboard one of the ships.’

  ‘Don’t remind me,’ Roland said enviously, prompting Caspan to take another patient breath. The black-haired jester gave his friend an earnest look. ‘They’ll have their Wardens with them, guarding their every move. I’m sure they’ll be fine.’

  Caspan wasn’t so optimistic. ‘Well, they’ll only be put in danger if we let the Roon get past us. So let’s make sure that never happens.’

  Roland nodded determinedly and, standing up in his stirrups, spread his arms wide.

  ‘Ah, I miss the sea,’ he said wistfully, tilting his head into the breeze and closing his eyes. ‘It’s almost as if I can hear it calling me. Oh Roland, oh Roland, come back home. Oh Roland, oh –’

  A seagull shot over the edge of the cliff and smacked into Roland’s face, knocking him off his saddle. He lay on the ground, spitting feathers.

  ‘What on earth was that?’ he roared, clambering to his feet and drawing his sword.

  Caspan laughed so hard it felt like his sides might split. ‘A seagull hit you! I’ve never seen anything so hilarious!’

  ‘A seagull! You’ve got to be kidding me!’ Roland made a disgusted face and wiped his tongue on his sleeve. ‘And thanks a lot, Cas. It might have been funny for you, but that hurt. I’m lucky I didn’t split my lip.’ He looked around for the bird, but it had flown away clear of sight.

  Sara chortled from where she and Kilt waited on their mounts behind the boys. ‘Only something like that could happen to you.’

  Roland glared at her, then noticed his friends were laughing at him. ‘Great! So you all saw it.’

  Kilt gestured with a flick of her eyes over towards Baron Saxon and his mounted company. ‘I think everybody did.’

  Caspan heard their laughter and turned to see the soldiers staring at Roland. One of them was re-enacting the moment of the impact and doing a first-class impersonation of the dazed look on Roland’s face when he lay on the ground.

  ‘Some people around here have a very twisted sense of humour,’ Roland muttered dourly.

  Kilt grinned. ‘Aw, lighten up, grumble-bum. It’s not every day you get to see something as funny as that. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anybody being so unfortunate.’

  ‘Well, there’s always a first, isn’t there.’ Roland dusted himself off and climbed back onto his horse. He moved his mount further back from the cliff and opened his mouth to say something when Saxon called for everyone to gather around him near the signal pyre.

  Caspan was appreciative of the warmth the pyre offered, and he positioned his horse as close to it as possible. He wasn’t surprised when Sara drew her mount alongside his. She never coped well with the cold, and had done nothing but complain since the first snow of winter fell yesterday afternoon.

  Caspan suppressed a wry grin at what she was wearing. While everyone else in the group had grabbed what armour and weapons they could find before riding out from Castle Crag, Sara had prioritised her cloak, her thick, fur-lined gloves and her feather and down bed quilt, which she’d wrapped around her shoulders. She was also carrying a heavy book.

  ‘What?’ she asked Caspan, looking at him askance. ‘I’m not allowed to keep warm?’ She followed his gaze to the book she held, shrugged and leaned across in her saddle to whisper, ‘I couldn’t find a sword. I thought this would be the next best thing.’

  ‘I’m not going to argue with that,’ Caspan replied, thinking back to when she had used a similar volume to crown the ruffian who had fought them in the Thirsty Wayfarer. It seemed a lifetime ago now. Caspan smiled fondly, his thoughts drifting back to his training at the House of Whispers and their beloved steward, Gramidge.

  Sara placed the book in her lap, removed her gloves and raised her palms close to the fire.

  ‘Go easy there,’ Caspan cautioned. ‘Get too close and you’ll burn yourself.’

  Sara snorted. ‘Fat chance of that happening. I’ll need to thaw them out first.’

  Everyone had now gathered around Saxon, and the young baron addressed the group.

  ‘This is the day we’ve been waiting for,’ he announced. ‘The Roon come in great numbers, and we are all that stand in their way. Yes, they are fierce fighters, but we’ve planned our defences and are ready for them. There’s not a single man among us who doesn’t know what role he’ll play today. Not one of the wretched giants will step foot on the High Coast, for this is our territory!’ He drew his sword and thrust it above his head. ‘For King Rhys, the High Coast and Andalon!’

  As one, the men of his household guard drew their swords, held them high and repeated the oath. Caspan was stirred by their iron resolve and felt there was hope for them yet. Saxon was right – they were prepared for the enemy, and were ready to defend their homeland. Caspan couldn’t think of a more powerful motive.

  Saxon stared defiantly at the coming giants. ‘How long do we have?’ he asked, addressing the grizzled warrior beside him who had been a close friend of his father’s.

  Fin looked skyward and studied the movement of the clouds. ‘The wind is coming from the north. They’ll make landfall by midday.’

  Saxon flexed his fingers. ‘Then we have a lot to do.’ He beckoned one of his soldiers forward. ‘Return to Castle Crag and send a message by raven to King Rhys. Inform him that the battle for the High Coast is about to begin.’ The man saluted, dug his heels into his mount’s flanks and galloped down the headland towards the stronghold. Saxon then commanded another soldier to ride to the cove to the south, where the Andalonian fleet and their pirate allies lay hidden, to warn them to get ready.

  ‘Let’s move to our stations and show the Roon what mettle Andalonian men are made of,’ Saxon continued, addressing the group of riders. Kilt cleared her throat, and a smile played at the edges of the Baron’s lips. ‘My apologies. What mettle Andalonian men and women are made of.’ He sought out Caspan, Roland and Sara. ‘Ready to head out soon?’

  Caspan nodded, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the responsibility vested in him, his two friends and their Wardens. If they were successful with their aerial attack th
ey could set the Roon ships ablaze and end the battle before it even started. But should they fail, hundreds – possibly thousands – of men would die and the High Coast might fall. The Roon would then head inland, slaughtering all in their way.

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ he replied. ‘We’ll cart the pig bladders up to Haven’s Watch. That way we won’t have to fly all the way back to Castle Crag to restock once the fight starts. It will save us precious time.’

  Saxon gave a satisfied nod. ‘Good idea. Now, let’s see if we can send these giants to a watery grave.’ He glanced down at his bare feet and grinned wryly, only now noticing that he’d forgotten his boots in his haste to assemble at the signal pyre. ‘Although, I suggest we return to Castle Crag and get fully equipped first. I’d hate to greet the giants and not give them the proper welcome they deserve.’

  ‘Well said, my lord,’ Fin said, before digging his heels into his mount and signalling for the band to follow him back to the stronghold.

  CHAPTER 2

  THE QUIET BEFORE THE STORM

  ‘Well, that’s the last of them,’ Caspan said, patting the final oil-filled pig bladder he’d placed in the wagon.

  Kilt helped him tie a canvas over the top, then stepped back to inspect the three wagons they had stacked. She wiped sweat from her brow and gave Roland a disapproving look. ‘You know, it wouldn’t have killed you to give us a hand with those last few dozen bladders.’

  Roland had been put off the activity when a bladder popped in his hands, spilling oil all over his clothes. It was more than he could stand, and he’d only just returned from his room atop the stable, wearing a new tunic and breeches. He pursed his lips as he inspected his friends’ handiwork.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. You seem to have had everything under control,’ Roland commended, then stretched out his hands, inspecting the length of his tunic. ‘Do you think this is a little short on me? I might go change again.’ He stepped aside to allow Shanty and Sara to hitch the three draught horses they were leading to the wagons.

  Kilt glared at him. ‘Don’t even think about it. We’re getting ready for a battle and all you’re worried about is if your sleeves are too short! You’re unbelievable!’

  Shanty checked the leather tarps were secure, then beckoned Roland and handed him a leather halter. ‘Here you go. Now be careful. Follow the trail up to Haven’s Watch, but take it nice and slow. Make sure none of the bladders pop. Leave the wagon up there, but don’t park it too close to the signal pyre. The last thing we want is an ember setting everything alight.’

  Roland gave him a grieved looked. ‘But I thought Kilt was going up with Sara and Caspan?’

  Shanty nodded and smiled. ‘That was the original plan, until you decided to shirk your duties.’ He patted Roland on the shoulder. ‘Oh, and don’t forget to bring your horse back down.’

  ‘I’m not stupid, you know,’ Roland muttered sourly as he watched a group of Saxon’s soldiers walk their horses towards the bailey, where the Baron’s troops were marshalling. They wore chainmail hauberks and conical helmets with nasal guards, and carried battleaxes and kite-shields bearing sea-eagle motifs.

  Roland regarded them for a moment before turning back to the horse and sighing. ‘I suppose we should introduce ourselves, considering we’ve got a long walk ahead of us.’ He extended a hand in welcome to the mare. ‘I’m Roland.’ The horse stared down at him blankly and flicked an ear at a fly. ‘Well, if you insist.’ Roland grinned as he shook the horse’s ear. ‘You seem like the strong, silent type, but that doesn’t matter. I never stop chatting, so I’ll talk enough for both of us. And you look like a Georgina to me. So, come on, Georgina. We’ve got some pig bladders to deliver. Oh, I know, things don’t get much more exciting than this.’

  Caspan smirked as he turned to Shanty and Kilt, who sat down on some barrels stacked beside the stable. ‘You’ll be here when we get back?’ he asked.

  Shanty nodded. ‘Fin’s delivering an extra wagon of quivers and arrows to General Liam. Saxon said he won’t lead us around to the ships until Fin returns. He reckons that will be in about an hour.’

  ‘Good. I’d hate to head off without saying goodbye,’ Caspan said, then turned to Sara and Roland. ‘We should get moving.’

  ‘Please, the excitement’s eating me alive,’ Roland muttered.

  Caspan took hold of a horse’s halter and, with Sara and Roland following, led his horse and wagon around the soldiers marshalling on the far side of the courtyard. They passed through the barbican of Castle Crag and headed up the snow-covered track that led to Haven’s Watch.

  It would be about a forty-minute return trip at the pace he was going, but Caspan didn’t want to risk disturbing their precious cargo. It would be better to be slow and cautious, rather than hurry up to the headland and find half of the bladders damaged.

  Caspan’s chest churned with nervous anticipation. There had been a lot to keep him busy over the course of the past week and he had welcomed the distraction. It kept him from thinking about the impending battle, but now it was all he could think about. In contrast, Roland whistled merrily as if he didn’t have a care in the world, and entertained Georgina with tales of a pony he had owned as a child.

  ‘And his favourite food was carrots,’ Roland continued. ‘I bet you like them too, hey? What? No comment? Well, not to worry. I’ll make sure I find you some when we get back to the castle. So, as I was saying, Harry loved carrots. In fact, that’s all he’d ever eat. It got so bad that one day he jumped the fence into the neighbour’s garden patch, dug up all his carrots and had a jolly old feast.’ Roland chuckled heartily. ‘One got stuck up his nostril, which wasn’t exactly a pretty sight, as I’m sure you can imagine. My mum chased Harry all around the village before she finally caught him and pulled it out. But that was only the start of things to come, because the next week he got out and ate my mum’s pumpkin pies, which were cooling on the kitchen sill. Oh Georgina, if you could have only seen the look on my mum’s face. There she was, screaming like a lunatic and chasing Harry down the street with a broom, with all the villagers staring out their windows. I don’t think I’ve ever been so embarrassed in my life. A month passed before I thought it was safe to wander the streets again. Understandably, pumpkin pies were a delicate topic in my household for a while.’

  ‘Aren’t you worried at all?’ Sara asked him.

  Roland screwed up his nose and shook his head. ‘Not really. I mean, a few villagers still talk about the incident, but I’ve learnt to live with it.’

  Sara drew an exasperated breath. ‘Not the incident with the pumpkin pies, you great big goose! I’m talking about the Roon. You do know that there’s an invasion force approaching?’

  ‘Yep, and worrying about the Roon isn’t going to make them go away, is it?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Sara replied reluctantly.

  ‘So why worry at all?’ Roland said cheerfully. ‘It’s better to fill your mind with happy thoughts then worry about the serious things when they finally happen.’ He stretched out his left arm and inspected the length of his sleeve again. ‘Mind you, I still think this tunic’s too short.’

  Sara shook her head at him in wonder. ‘You have the most remarkable way of looking at the world.’

  Roland bowed graciously at her. ‘Why, thank you.’

  ‘You’re just so simple and uncomplicated,’ Sara continued. ‘It’s as if you can just turn your brain off and carry on in blissful ignorance of everything that’s going on around you.’

  Roland frowned. ‘I’m not too sure if you’re paying me a compliment or insulting me. And I don’t think simple and uncomplicated are the words I’d use.’ He pursed his lips in thought. ‘Debonair – now I’d definitely use that. And suave – that would be another one.’

  ‘And don’t forget snow-covered,’ Caspan added.

  Roland raised a finger in agreement. ‘Yes, snow-covered, too.’ He caught himself and gave Caspan a baffled look. ‘Snow-covered? What on earth do you mean by that?’ />
  ‘I mean this.’ Caspan stepped away from his horse and pelted a snowball at Roland. It exploded on his chest, covering his friend in white powder. ‘You see – snow-covered.’

  Roland stopped walking, stared deadpan at Caspan and drew a patient breath. ‘Do you see what I have to put up with?’ he said, turning to Georgina. ‘Surrounded by puddenheads, I am.’

  Three sentries had been assigned by Saxon to replace those that had done the night watch. Sara stopped them from pulling back the canvases covering the wagons. A wick was attached to each bladder, and she was concerned that the light snow might cause them to dampen and smoulder when lit. It was best they remain under the tarps until the friends needed to fill the wicker baskets they would attach to their Wardens.

  They unhitched the wagons, mounted up and peered out to sea. The Roon fleet had travelled about a quarter of the distance to the High Coast.

  ‘I guess it’s a little late to tell them this kingdom’s invite only,’ Roland remarked.

  ‘I wish it was that simple.’ Caspan beckoned with a wave for his friends to follow him. ‘We’d better head back and get our Wardens ready.’

  Roland dug his heels eagerly into Georgina’s flanks and galloped past his companions. ‘It’s about time,’ he hollered, glancing over his shoulder as he sped down the track. His eyes glistened excitedly and he skilfully held his bonnet in place with his left hand. ‘I told you once, and I’ll tell you again – this is going to be epic!’

  Sara gave Caspan a concerned look. ‘I don’t know what worries me more: the Roon, or flying next to Roland and Bandit, armed with dozens of incendiary bombs.’

  ‘I was thinking exactly the same thing.’ Caspan smiled encouragingly at Sara. ‘Come on. We’d better catch up. I don’t like the idea of leaving Roland unattended, and especially before a battle. There’s no telling what mischief he’ll get up to.’