Shadow Lands Trilogy

by Simon Lister

  All around Cei the Adren were spreading out and trying to gain the last ridge. The Bretons thrashed at them with sledgehammers and swung at their heads with long handled harvest scythes. Trevenna and Leah ran out of arrows and joined the fray with sword and spear.

  The Adren died by the dozen but they would not give up. There would be no flight back down the steps, they would press their attack onwards until they succeeded or until each one was dead. Two of the Bretons had fallen and a third was rolling in the snow, screaming and holding her leg that had been sliced through to the bone. Someone dragged her backwards out of the melee and Cei caught a glimpse of Charljenka and her brother as they tried to bind a tourniquet above her wound.

  On the right two Adren at last managed to reach the level ground of the headland. Leah dropped her spear and her sword whirled as she forced them both away from the edge before others could join them. Trevenna leapt towards the danger to beat back those clambering to join the two Adren. Leah never saw the spear that thrust upwards from the ledge below her but she felt it as it tore a deep groove up the front of her thigh. She crumpled to one side and clutched at the searing pain. The Adren pounced at her and she took one blow on her sword and twisted away from the other but she ended up sprawled in the blood-splattered snow, defenceless. She passed out as snow flew into her face, knowing she was about to die but the kicked up snow was not from her attacker.

  Trevenna had seen her fall and had jumped across her to stand between the Adren and her fallen friend. She parried their attack and suddenly Cuthwin was by her side with more Bretons. They had beaten off the attack from the other side of the headland and raced across to help Cei’s band. Together they quickly dispatched the two Adren and Cuthwin joined the last of the battle at the top of the steps. Trevenna knelt by Leah and examined the deep bloody tear along her thigh. She packed snow around the wound then tore a wide strip from the cloth shirt under her battle jerkin. She bundled it up and pressed it against the bloody tear, fixing it tightly with her belt.

  Cei joined her and they lifted Leah onto her outspread cloak and with the help of Cuthwin they bore her quickly back to the main hall. The fighting around the headland had ceased and as the Bretons carried their wounded back to the hall, others took their place to renew the watch on the cliffs and sea ice. Another attack had been repelled but they had taken further casualties.

  Once in the hall they laid Leah down on one of the pre-prepared tables. It had been freshly scrubbed but the wood was dyed dark with the blood of those injured over the last few weeks. Trevenna took out her long knife and cut the trousers away from the injured leg.

  ‘Gods, I wish we had Ceinwen here,’ she muttered as she began washing away some of the blood from the ugly wound. The spear had sliced deeply up into the muscle and blood was flowing freely onto the table. Leah had regained consciousness and was groaning and swearing with the effort to stop from crying out.

  An old woman appeared at Trevenna’s elbow and with surprising strength pushed her to one side. ‘Go and do your work outside and leave me to do my work here.’

  The three of them took a step away from the table as the old woman examined the torn flesh.

  ‘I’ll stay a while but you two best check what’s going on outside,’ Trevenna said.

  Cei brushed the filthy hair from Leah’s face and cupped the back of her neck. ‘Stay with us Leah,’ he said and she clasped his forearm fiercely as the old woman probed the agonising wound.

  ‘Tell Ethain I’m here,’ she replied through clenched teeth before passing out once again.

  Cei nodded and he and Cuthwin left. Trevenna watched as the old woman fished out the bleeding artery from the mess of ruptured flesh. Blood jetted in thin streams from the severed artery and splashed across Leah’s thighs and quickly pooled on the table. The old woman called out and a man turned from an adjacent table and quickly crossed to her side. He delicately twisted a thin twine around the end of the artery that she held and pulled it taut. The blood stopped immediately and the old woman washed the long tear again then quickly sewed the sides together with a thicker strand of twine. She rubbed an ointment into the wound and wrapped the whole of Leah’s upper leg in firm bandaging then washed her hands in a bowl of hot water. Leah was lifted off the table and taken to one side of the hall where furs and cloaks were laid out as makeshift beds. The table was scrubbed with a stiff brush and more water, and the next casualty was laid out before her.

  Trevenna watched Leah being carried away and turned to the old woman, ‘Will she live?’

  ‘Do I look like a god? Do I look like a seer? She’ll live or die, I’ve done what I can.’

  Trevenna looked at her wretchedly and the old woman’s hard eyes softened a little, ‘I’ve seen those with worse wounds recover.’

  Trevenna nodded thankfully and went to Leah. When she was out of earshot the old woman turned her attention to her new patient and muttered under her breath, ‘And I’ve seen those with less die.’

  Outside the wind strengthened. It blew from the West and it brought rain.

  *

  Above the Breton fortress heavy grey clouds blanked out the last of the winter stars and hid the first signs of the spring dawn. Aelfhelm was crouched on the parapet that ran along the length of the high wall with his cloak wrapped tightly around him and his hood pulled up over his head. He looked down on the last village of the Bretons as the cold, stinging rain swayed in opaque veils, drifting over the headland and lashing down on the huddled buildings. He watched as figures ran from cover to cover and as another patrol set out along the cliff paths. Visibility was limited but any warning of an impending Adren attack could mean the difference between either surviving for a while longer or finally falling before the incessant assaults.

  Next to him stood Cuthwin. He was looking the other way searching the darkness before the walls, waiting and watching for the Adren to launch the next attack. They really needed Ethain on the wall, he was invariably able to see the Adren readying to attack before anyone else could, but he was with Leah who still lay in the hall with the other wounded.

  In the lulls between the attacks the Adren would use their catapults to hurl boulders over the wall and into the Breton compound. Usually they fell harmlessly onto empty ground but occasionally one would crash down on a roundhouse or barn, smashing through the thatch roofing and killing anyone in its path. The Bretons had built temporary lean-to shelters against the base of the high wall where the projectiles could not fall and many slept there when they were not guarding against the attacks.

  Cuthwin knelt down beside Aelfhelm and cursed as another catapulted boulder crashed down somewhere in the village below them.

  ‘See anything?’ Aelfhelm asked.

  ‘No, not that you can see much out there with this rain but it won’t be long before they come again. The rain certainly won’t deter them,’ Cuthwin replied.

  The sweeping downpour stung exposed flesh and made them feel miserable and uncomfortable. It soaked their thick winter cloaks making them heavy and cumbersome but despite all the discomfort the rain was a blessing. A wind from the West bringing rain at this time of year was unusual, normally the winter fought to keep the land in its grip by hurling defiant snowstorms from the Shadow Lands. The deep snow lying on the headland was already being washed away by the driving rain and it would not be long before the sea ice melted too. This would reduce the points of attack available to the Adren and, more importantly, free the seas for the Breton fishing boats.

  ‘Perhaps we’ll escape back to Britain after all,’ Cuthwin said voicing what they were both thinking.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Aelfhelm answered, not wanting to openly tempt the fates.

  ‘Have you seen Leah? Do you think she will she live?’ Cuthwin asked.

  Aelfhelm shrugged, ‘The spear sliced the artery in her thigh. She’s lucky to be alive. If there’s no infection then perhaps.’

  Cuthwin smiled at him and slapped the flat of his sword on Aelfhelm’s shin. ‘Yo
u’re getting a bit cautious in your old age. Perhaps this, perhaps that, you should be more confident old man.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Aelfhelm answered and Cuthwin laughed.

  ‘Your turn to stare into the dark,’ Cuthwin said and Aelfhelm stood and peered out to where the Adren were preparing their next attack.

  ‘Here they come!’ Someone shouted out and all along the wall defenders drew their weapons and waited for the ladders.

  *

  Ethain sat crossed-leg on the floor by Leah. She was lying on three layers of fur that served as a mattress and she was asleep while all around her villagers moved between the wounded and dying, tending to them as best as they could. He stared at her drawn, pale face. The grey shadows under her wide-set eyes and her cracked lips stood as testament to the winter they had spent in the Shadow Lands, alternatively fighting and fleeing and now finally trapped in this coastal village. Ethain knew she was about thirty years old but as he looked at her lying on her fur pallaise he thought she looked more like forty or even older. No fever had set in yet but she looked ill. Ill and so tired. He dabbed a damp cloth against her cold-blistered lips and her eyes flickered as she moved through her own private dream world.

  He felt ill too. He was sick and tired of everything and everyone. He was sick of his fear, sick of feeling guilty and sick of trying to conceal it all from everyone. More than anything he wanted to be back in Wessex, far away from the Adren and far away from any warriors. He felt he would do or give anything to be able to spend the summer months living peacefully by some riverbank deep in Wessex. He looked down at the heavy strapping on Leah’s thigh and wondered if she would want to spend the summer idly passing time in the warm sunlight of a green land. He looked away sourly. He knew that if she survived she would want to rejoin the fight. She would want to stand by her friends, and not let them down.

  He stood up and crossed to the doorway, stepping over the prone bodies of the others who had been wounded. He could hear the sounds of battle over the clattering rain and his heart jumped in fear once more. He was afraid of being killed or ending up in this hall with the other wounded but he was also afraid of failing those around him, as he had failed Cerdic. He turned away from the doorway and busied himself with helping the injured. It would not be long before more joined them.

  The attack on the wall was furious. Thirty ladders were catapulted into place and the Adren swarmed up them as the defenders desperately hacked at the chains to enable the ladders to be hauled aside. For both sides it was as much a fight against time as it was against each other. The Adren threw as many into the attack as they possibly could and once again they established a foothold on the parapet before two of the ladders. The Bretons lost over twenty people as they fought to retake the lost ground and secure the wall. Twelve more were badly injured and they were rushed to the hall where Leah lay. But for all the ferociousness of the attack it was only a diversion.

  It was Bran who spotted the real danger. Whoever was leading the Adren assault on the fortress had seen what the Bretons had seen. The sea ice would soon thaw. At the height of the onslaught on the wall an Adren Captain led a thousand Adren onto the ice to attack the village via the cliff paths. He spilt his group into four and sent three troops of a hundred each to scale the cliffs at different points. He directed the remaining seven hundred to the Bretons’ summer harbour where the steps led up into the village. It was the same place where Leah had been injured in the fight for the cliff top.

  Bran shouted out orders to those defenders not already on the wall and they tracked the Adren force from the top of the headland. Cei joined him at the top of the steps above the small harbour.

  ‘How many are down there?’ Cei asked.

  ‘A thousand or more. They’ve sent some on around the headland,’ Bran answered.

  ‘You have people tracking them?’

  Bran pointed out to the end of the headland with the sword he had taken from the fallen Leah and Cei saw others moving through the teeming rain as they followed the progress of the Adren below them.

  ‘The main body is down here. Looks like they’ll come up the steps again,’ Bran added, turning his attention to the army readying themselves on the ice.

  ‘We’ll need everyone to defend this time,’ Cei said. Bran nodded and Cei sent two of the nearby Bretons to gather everyone from the village who was still able to stand and fight.

  As the battle continued on the wall Cei marshalled the defenders to the various points of the Adren attack. He stayed at the top of the steps along with Bran and Trevenna. He looked around at the fifty defenders who stood about him. They were a mixture of men and women, ranging from the aged to mere children. All of them were soaked by the drenching rain and clutched an assortment of recently sharpened ancient weapons and their more familiar farm implements. Young and old hands gripped sickles, scythes, hoes, hammers, axes and hastily fashioned spears. Some of the Bretons wielded the curved swords taken from dead Adren.

  Cei looked back down to the seven hundred well-armed Adren on the sea ice and found his throat was to too dry for him to swallow. He and Trevenna were the only ones with longbows and they only had about fifty arrows between them. He glanced across to her to find she was already watching his face. She smiled at him and he looked into her calm, turquoise-blue eyes and found the strength to smile grimly back at her.

  He walked amongst the Bretons talking to them as they lined up on the edge where piles of rocks, which had been fetched from the foot of the cliff between attacks, were stacked to be hurled down once more. They were scared but they were fighting for their homes, their families, their lives, and each of them was now experienced in facing the Adren attacks.

  Cei told them that they were veterans; that they were warriors and if they held firm then they would repulse this assault as they had the others. He did not shout or exhort them to fight heroically. These were farmers, midwives, fishermen and net-menders not warriors and he spoke to them quietly and confidently. They believed that if the Anglian Warlord thought they could win then they only had to follow his instructions to make it so. They trusted him.

  Cei thought they were all about to die.

  He and Trevenna would take position at opposite ends of the line to maximise their angle of fire down onto the Adren when they ascended the steps but he did not see how they could stop them this time.

  ‘Make sure they don’t take me alive,’ Trevenna said softly as she passed him to take up her station on the far end. Cei stared after her as she encouraged those she passed. He wiped the rain from his eyes and fished out the string for his longbow from inside the thick sheepskin fleece he wore under his cloak.

  The seagulls had returned to the headland over the past few days and Cei could hear their cries from the base of the cliff as they attacked the carcasses left from previous attacks. The rain began to drive down harder and the Adren swarmed over the ice-bound harbour and started to climb the steps, their shields raised in readiness for the hail of rocks and boulders about to descend upon them.

  Cei turned at the sound of more defenders arriving behind him. Sixteen more had come from the village, among them Merdynn and Ethain. The only people now left in the buildings of the village were those too injured to walk. Merdynn was leading a bedraggled donkey, which pulled a small narrow cart behind it. Alongside the covered cart walked Ethain carrying an oil-soaked brand that spluttered and hissed in the hammering rain.

  ‘Out for a winter stroll you two?’ Cei asked, relieved to see them.

  ‘We thought your brawn could use a little help on the tactical side,’ Merdynn replied.

  Cei quickly looked under the cover of the cart and saw it was stacked with dry logs, the sort used in the main fires of the Breton hall. They were about two-feet long and between six and ten inches across. Cei looked at Merdynn thinking they were just extra missiles to hurl down upon their attackers but the old man pointed to a large bucket of oil that two children struggled to carry between them and to a long trough that ot
hers had placed on the ground. Cei grinned at Merdynn and told him to set it up.

  The Breton villagers had already begun to rain down stones and rocks upon the advancing Adren. Trevenna stood on the edge of the drop and swept her drawn bow back and forth along the line below her, waiting for a shield to be knocked to one side or for one of the attackers to slip on the steep, wet path. Cei took his place at the opposite end of the line and every few seconds their longbows would twang and an arrow would speed down to its target.

  Behind them Merdynn and Ethain soaked the logs in the oil while others held the cover over the cart to keep it as dry as possible. They carried the trough to the most precipitous edge above the advancing Adren and one end of it was knocked out with an axe. The two children, Charljenka and Nialgrada, hurried back to the village to fetch more oil while Ethain handed the brand to Merdynn and joined Trevenna adding his longbow to the defence of the cliff path.

  The arrows were finding their mark and the crashing rocks were taking their toll on the Adren line as the attackers sought to gain the higher ground. Most of them were still on the sea ice waiting for those ahead of them to make progress up the narrow cliff path. The children came back with another bucket of oil full to the brim and slopping over the edges. The trough was jutted out over the steepest drop and the logs in the cart were doused once more in the oil.

  One of the Bretons took the first log and placed it in the trough. Merdynn held the burning torch to it until it was thoroughly alight and the trough was tilted up. The burning log rolled down the length of walled channel and disappeared over the edge.

  Cei watched from his place where the steps led up onto the headland. The falling log stayed alight but hit an outcropping ledge and bounced harmlessly over the Adren line. The trough was not long enough for a direct drop onto the enemy. He shouted instructions to a Breton next to him and handed him his shield. The Breton ran across to where Merdynn and the others were preparing to light another missile.