The Rawn Chronicles Book Four: The Dragon and the Daemon (The Rawn Chronicles Series 4)

by P D Ceanneir

  Due to inside information, Captain Danyil already knew the whereabouts of the enemy catapults and the dawn light revealed them through the canopy of trees that fringed the castle crag. He ordered his skeleton crew to take the quest ship to the large park of Tallyus Hume and take out the enemy positions there. The park stretched along the north-eastern edge of the crags base and was an ideal vantage point for the enemy to siege the walls. Now, as the Cybeleion hove into view, the catapult crews scattered as the great Sky Ship opened up with a devastating barrage of cannon that shattered the large slings into oblivion. She turned and aimed her guns on the other catapults that sat in the town square. Unfortunately for Captain Danyil the ship had few cannon shot remaining and little of the black powder needed to fire the iron balls. Even being back on the continent for a few weeks, he had had little time to obtain enough supplies to restock the ammunition needed for a ship of this size and quantity of cannon, so he was very sparing with the bombardment, using just enough to knock out the larger siege engines and enemy defences.

  Havoc waved his hand in front of the single remaining chain. The Red Duke fell to the floor as the iron chains turned to silver dust. In the distance, they could hear the sounds of cannon fire and Havoc smiled at the Cybeleion’s timely arrival.

  ‘The little bastard hobbled me,’ groaned the duke pointing to his legs. Havoc let his hand hover over the duke’s thighs. The healing scabs grew into small mounds as he used the Earth Element to pull the iron coils out of the flesh. Lord Rett bit down on his hand as the shards burst out of his flesh and stuck to Havoc’s gauntlet as if magnetized.

  The prince used enough of the Water Element to repair the muscles and seal the wounds so he could stand. Once the Red Duke regained his strength, he would repair himself fully.

  Havoc helped him to his feet. Lord Rett indicated with an impatient flap of his hand that he was strong enough to stand on his own. He lurched stiffly to Diego, pulled out the last two knives from the man’s belt and walked towards the count who was still moaning on the floor trying to heal his damaged body.

  ‘How many men did you bring?’ he asked Havoc.

  ‘Well, counting the women and the crew of the Quest Ship, I would say about two hundred,’ he said with a smile.

  The Red Duke stopped in his tracks and turned with a frown to the prince.

  ‘Two hundred...are you mad! Don’t you know there are seven thousand men out there?’

  ‘Actually, it’s closer to two thousand, of which less than half of them are inside Caphun. Although, if you listen closely you may hear the quest ship making an impression on the enemy catapults...and several impressions on the ground as well,’ said the prince with a grin.

  The Red Duke shrugged, grumbled and shook his head. Gripping one of the short bladed knives in each hand, he plunged them into the counts wide fearful eyes. The count writhed on the floor and Lord Rett snapped his good arm so he could not pull out the knives. He would probably die of blood loss or expend too much energy in healing his wounds; the Red Duke obviously did not care which.

  The duke nodded with a grunt as he turned back to the prince with a neutral face as if he was swatting away an irritating fly. He limped towards Havoc, and to the prince’s surprise, the duke gave him a big hug.

  ‘It’s good to see you, my lad,’ he said, ‘welcome home. You shouldn’t have risked your life to rescue me.’

  ‘I’m actually here to rescue the countess. I did not know you were here until a week ago.’ He reached into a leather pouch on his sword belt and pulled out what Lord Rett recognised was a Lobe Stone.

  ‘My lady, it is Havoc,’ said the prince loudly with some concern into the pulsing white stone, ‘we have breached the outer walls…can you hear me?’ There was no reply. Havoc shook his head.

  ‘Shadowfall must still be disrupting communication again.’

  ‘Shadowfall?’ asked the duke.

  The prince shook his head, ‘never mind. We had best….’

  ‘Havoc!’ said a small voice from the stone, which was difficult to make out through humming static.

  ‘Bleudwed? It is I. We have entered Caphun…’

  Static… ‘See ship’…more loud hissing… ‘Moving…position…Morden…attack now,’ then it went dead.

  Havoc frowned at the stone. Lord Rett noticed his concern and chuckled. ‘If there is one thing I have learnt in all my years of courting the opposite sex, is to not worry when a woman has more balls than yourself!’

  Havoc grunted in acknowledgement.

  ‘Now, my lad,’ said Lord Rett, ‘what’s the plan?’

  The prince had a plan, Havoc had taken pains to ensure that everything went as smoothly as possible. On his return to the island about a month ago, he had not been lax and sent out three messengers. The first arrived at the Little Dell and into the hands of the worried Lord of Dell, Hoban. Worried, because he fretted for his adopted daughter’s safety and although he had a sizeable troop of mercenary soldiers at his command, stationed there by the countess herself, although they were not numerous enough to break the siege. The letter from the newly returned De Proteous sent a ripple of excitement through the household of Hoban and Neiva. The prince urged the Lord of Dell to take food and supplies to Haplann with all speed.

  The Little Dell was not as small as it once was. Hoban had bought back the land that his ancestors had lost and twenty-three families now populated it. It was fast becoming as rich a farmland as Haplann itself.

  Within a week of the prince’s message, Hoban had a large baggage train filled with food supplies and he led the entourage himself, much to Lady Neiva’s displeasure.

  The second messenger went to the East Mountains of the Wildlands straight to Mad-gellan at Tyrandur. The Nithi lord was surprised to see that the messenger was none other than the Master Smith, Gunach.

  ‘Gunach! It is good to see you,’ said Mad-gellan clasping the dwarf’s arm in a warrior’s handshake. ‘I had heard rumours that you had gone on the quest, is that true?’

  ‘It is my friend, and I bring a message from the De Proteous.’

  ‘So, he is back!’ Mad-gellan’s eyes widened, ‘how long since his return?’

  ‘About a month,’ Gunach passed a scroll of parchment to the Nithi lord rolled up and sealed with red wax depicting the twin dragons, the symbol of the Rogun De Proteous.

  ‘Battle Orders,’ went on the dwarf, ‘you are to take your force and the Tattoium Militia through the eastern tribes recruiting as you go and raid the Wyani lands. His hope is that you keep Prince Creed busy while he lifts the siege at Caphun and marches on King Kasan.’

  The big Nithi lord nodded as he opened the scroll. ‘My army is ready as we speak, Chirn has them camped at the battle plain of Iskar, ten miles to the west. I was waiting on word from King Vanduke to move, I hear he marches on Kasan.’

  ‘He does?’ Gunach rubbed his plaited beards, ‘I doubt the prince is aware of that. Are the Raiders with the king?’

  Mad-gellan shook his head. ‘Not yet, Prince Magnus marched four days ago, though the Raiders can move fast, they are not with the king as yet. Tell me, did you find the Gredligg Orrinn?’

  ‘We did, and more,’ smiled Gunach.

  ‘More?’ frowned Mad-gellan.

  ‘The prince has found himself an army to help us, you will see. Now I must go, much to do.’

  ‘But you have only just got here. You need food and rest, there is much to discuss,’ urged Mad-gellan who frowned at his friend with much concern.

  The dwarf bowed. ‘I am grateful, my lord, for your hospitality. When this war is over, we will rejoice together in your beer halls and talk of battle. In the meantime I must go. Tell me, does Chirn still have the Battle Horn of Relin?’

  ‘Well, yes. He never takes it from his sight. The prince ordered him to look after it before he left.’

  ‘Good, I will go to your son.’ Gunach turned and walked several steps towards the exit of the Nithi lord’s large reception room and then he stopped and
turned back to Mad-gellan, who was looking a bit perplexed at the dwarf’s sudden departure.

  ‘Oh, my friend, I have taken the liberty of raising the Dwarvenbannúr, the battleflag of my people. A dwarven host will join you on your march to the east. They are under your command.’

  Mad-gellan bowed his head respectively. ‘It will be an honour.’

  ‘Yes,’ Gunach smiled back, ‘I know.’

  Havoc aided an obviously weak Lord Rett up the stairs to the kitchens where he found a pair of breaches and a cook’s white smock for him to wear. He left the duke at an old oak table tucking into warm game broth and freshly baked bread. Where the cooks and staff of the manor were, they had no idea. By the sound of the commotion outside, they could possibly have gone to join the crowd in disposing of the siege army inside the town walls. Havoc took his leave of the duke for a short time and went to the second floor balcony through one of the old house’s state meeting halls.

  The manor was not just a home for the mayor and his family; it also functioned as the county civil and administration centre with most of the rooms lushly furnished to receive state dignitaries. The second floor balcony ran right along the east facing side of the house with views across the town towards the castle. Citizens were now running amok at street level. Most of them had fled behind the walls of the castle when the siege army broke into the town two months ago. The lack of food in the castle showed on their thin frames, but it did not diminish their need for revenge as they all ran together in one screaming mass to take back their homes after the arrival of the Cybeleion. The rumour of the town’s liberation had obviously spread quickly.

  Havoc judged that about eight-hundred of the enemy remained inside the town, most were engineers at the catapult ramparts and they surrendered quickly. Those that did not fled as the revengeful townsfolk hounded them down. Fortunately, by this time the siege army was broken. With the catapults destroyed by the Cybeleion or captured by the Paladins, the rest of the Vallkytes in the camp outside the walls now scattered into the early morning mists, most running north. The Caphun populace turned their attention to taking some of the surviving engineers as prisoners and raiding the grain and cattle stores. Flames and black smoke belched along the homes near to the destroyed catapults due to the cannon fire from the Quest Ship, an east wind took it over the high towers of the castle and out onto Haplann’s wide farmlands where it merged with the smouldering remains of the siege army’s camp.

  The prince lent upon the stone parapet of the balcony and sighed. It had been a long nine-month return journey. The presence of Shadowfall had slowed the trip for the first month until the countermanding effects of the subduing Skrol took effect. Even with the adverse effects of the Dark Entities influence on the world and the superior speed of the Cybeleion, Captain Carbaum’s fleet of smaller Ternquin Sky Ships still managed to keep up, but they lost them three months ago when another storm pushed them off course. Luckily, Havoc had sent Mirryn to search for them and she found the ships, now reduced to seven from the original ten, some two hundred leagues from Tenk of Mubea. That was over a month ago and they were somewhere over the Mariana’s Sea by now.

  Carbaum and the prince had already formulated a plan if the Ternquin ships and the Cybeleion separated during the trip home. It was clear enough to see from the sombre faces of Carbaum’s people that they wished revenge on the Brethac Ziggurat after the destruction of their sacred tree and the loss of loved ones at the hands of Fowyn’s soldiers. Havoc was not about to deny them their type of justice, though his main concern was the Gredligg Orrinn and the entity within it. His, and his twin’s, task was one of paramount importance to the safety of the world, and that responsibility weighed heavily on him.

  His thoughts turned now to the Blacksword, the Demigod created by the Old Gods to do their bidding on Earth. His twin was very quiet during the trip home, closed and emotionally shut off from the real world around the prince. Havoc and the Blacksword did not share the same memories, thoughts or feelings due to the laws of the Twin Aspect, what befalls one twin does not affect the other, but Havoc would catch the occasional stray emotion and it was always one of anger and focused determination. Even the harsh voice of his twin speaking to another plagued his dreams and when he woke from these dreams he was always surrounded by the blue glow emanating from the Talisman of Mortkraxnoss right before it faded and the whispers stopped. Of course, his twin was always tight-lipped about his conversations with the Nicbetha’s spirit ensconced inside the talisman’s sapphire-like crystal. There were times when the prince felt as if he was some interloper in their conversations; their secrecy just made him more curious.

  The sun had been up just over an hour when Havoc and the Red Duke walked out of the manor house. White smoke drifted along the streets as the wind changed to south easterly and locals of both sexes and all ages ran in various directions screaming for lost loved ones somewhere in town.

  It was in amongst this rowdy mayhem that both men ran into Powyss and Tia. The commander helped the duke to sit and gave him water from his canteen while Tia hugged the prince and kissed him forcibly on the lips.

  ‘Thank the Gods you are alright,’ she gasped.

  Havoc looked down at her with a smile, ‘I’m fine. There was no need to worry.’

  ‘I often find it hard not to.’

  ‘I was…’ he stopped and looked over her shoulder at someone very familiar shouting at the people running by them, his grin widened. Tia turned to see what the prince was looking at and recognised the Atyd Morden through the white smoke of burning houses. He was shouting at his men to arrest looters on sight.

  Morden was far from the richly dressed dandy of his youth that Havoc remembered, he was dirty and the short hauberk he wore was badly in need of repair. The White Hart tabard was torn and filthy. Havoc thought he looked like a proper warrior. He was with his younger brother, Whyteman, whose archers were helping the Regent’s men keep some form of order. Both were deep in conversation when Whyteman noticed the prince walking up to them and motioned to Morden with his chin to turn around.

  Morden’s jaw dropped and he got onto one knee and bowed his head as the prince got nearer, ‘Highness!’

  ‘Get up man!’ said Havoc feeling a little self-conscious, ‘I’m not some deity you know.’ Both men hugged and laughed. The Regent peppered the prince with a barrage of questions, but the prince held up his hand for him to stop.

  ‘Later my friend, tell me where the countess is?’ he said.

  ‘The grain stores, I will take you there.’

  The raiding of the grain stores was a more co-ordinated effort, mainly because of all of the women and children busy dispersing the sacks to the needy and the younger men folk sent to the battlements to aid in the defence of the town. The Countess of Haplann was amongst a group of children who followed her everywhere, while the mothers worked and nagged the older men on the carts. She was in half armour that was slightly tarnished. Her face thin from lack of food and her curly blond hair lank and dirty, tied back into a ponytail revealing a smudged face and vibrant bright blue eyes. Even in this state, Havoc thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

  As she sent the children around her to help their mothers, she turned and saw the prince and a group of her own people following behind him, cheering his name. A gasp caught in her throat and her hand clutched her chest to calm her beating heart as she saw the handsome prince walk towards her with those bright green eyes and long dark hair.

  She stood motionless as he halted a few feet from her; she took in several lungfulls of air and tears of joy welled in her eyes. She felt as if she was young again and Havoc had just rescued her from the bandits that killed her parents and sister. The years of his absence on the quest seemed like a few days. She did not care about the way she looked or smelled. She did not care about the hundreds of eyes on her upon her, she only cared for the prince.

  Havoc’s face suddenly showed worry. He smiled, but his frown betrayed concern
for Bleudwed. Her face was going quickly pale and she swayed. He rushed forward just in time to catch her as she fainted.

  ‘I need to take her to her room,’ said Havoc as he lifted her up.

  ‘Ah...er... This way,’ said Morden and pushed his way through the crowd.

  As the mass of people went through the iron gates of the castle entrance following the prince, Tia stayed behind. She had seen the look on the countess’s face as she saw Havoc approach and recognised it as the same look she always gave the prince; the look of love.

  Sadness overwhelmed her. She began to cry and the crowd flowed around her in total ignorance of her feelings.

  Bleudwed opened her eyes. She was in her own apartment rooms in the castle’s upper floors. Her servants were washing away her grime, brushing her cheeks with a damp cloth and Prince Havoc sat on the edge of the bed watching her intently.

  ‘I imagined my homecoming slightly different than this,’ he said smiling down at her.

  ‘Huh! You must think I’m a weak, emotional woman,’ said Bleudwed as she tried to sit up, but the prince gently pushed her back down again.

  ‘No, I don’t think that at all.’

  Bleudwed waved away the servants and waited for the door to close behind them.

  ‘Welcome home, your highness,’ she said holding his hand.

  ‘It is good to be back,’ said Havoc. ‘Morden and my Paladins have things under control in the town and Hoban has just arrived with the supplies I sent for, and...’ just then, the countess pulled his head down and gave him a kiss.

  ‘Is this the homecoming you were after?’ she said as they broke for air.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ He smiled as he lent down to kiss again, ‘worth every mile of the return journey.’

  Chapter Twenty Two

  The Light and the Dark