Divided We Fall

by Gareth Mottram

  ‘Friendly lot,’ Will whispered to Bridget who had sidled up beside him on the jetty. They followed the others on to shore as the crowd slowly dispersed leaving just the bowman and a few shipwrights by the jetties.

  Osbert was waiting for them. He shoved Will and Bridget towards the woman with the toolbelt strapped around her waist. ‘You two have had twelve hours’ rest already while we’ve been rowing. Help this woman patch up the boats.’

  The hulking champion then stepped uncomfortably close to the bowman and towered over him. ‘Weapons?’

  The man looked up calmly then turned and started towards the buildings. Osbert stomped after him and the rest of the warriors followed.

  The tool-belt woman pointed to a small hut. ‘Fetch two pots of tar, five brushes, and a bundle of firewood from the stores – understood?’

  She didn’t wait for an answer, just walked onto the jetty. Four others, each with a clanking toolbelt, followed her.

  ‘This should be fun,’ Will whispered.

  Bridget kicked his ankle to keep him quiet but gave a small, almost shy smile. She looked almost rested after her marathon run from the Anvil attack despite hours of bailing out water.

  They walked over to the shed and went in, Will working his shoulders to try to loosen the muscles.

  It was dim inside; the only light came through the doorway. Even so, Will quickly spotted pots of tar and brushes. He grabbed them and turned to go out, but Bridget stood in his way.

  She looked up at him, her mouth drawn in a tense line. For once, she couldn’t seem to hold his gaze.

  ‘What’s the m—,' Will started before Bridget snapped her hands around his head and pulled him down to kiss his lips.

  She pulled away after only a moment and dropped her eyes again.

  ‘I haven’t had a chance to thank you,’ she mumbled, then lifted her head to meet his amazed gaze. ‘You didn’t have to stay with me on the wall. I was exhausted and you should have left me.’

  Will shifted from foot to foot. His lips tingled and his cheeks burned. He felt he should do something, maybe hug her. It was the first time he had ever seen her look vulnerable.

  Then Rowenna’s face formed in his mind. Confusion, two heavy tar pots and sheer terror kept his hands down. After a moment, he said, ‘Who else is going to steal food for me?’

  Smooth.

  Bridget smiled, a little confidence coming back into her face.

  Will smiled back. ‘And anyway, you stayed to cut me free of the web when you could have run.’

  ‘True, and that really was disgusting.’ Bridget dropped her eyes again. ‘So maybe you owe me a little thank you as well?’

  Will’s mind was spinning. If it was Rowenna, standing in front of him in this dark shed, alone…

  His arms started to tremble – it must have been the heavy pots.

  What do I do? He felt like a rabbit, frozen with fear.

  Bridget looked up at him and, after a moment, her lips narrowed again. ‘Don’t worry about it, I don’t need any thanks really.’

  ‘I…’ Will started but Bridget grabbed a bundle of firewood and dashed out of the shed.

  *** ***

  Will shoved some warm venison into his mouth and finally relaxed after helping the taciturn foresters fix their two boats. Now he sat in a large circle in the centre of the clearing, a bonfire blazing in the centre and a communal kitchen wafting out delicious smells from behind him.

  Everyone had joined the same circle, sitting on thick logs, anywhere there was a space. There were no servants and no high table; everyone from the Councillors to the children, collected food for themselves from inside the kitchens.

  Everyone except Bridget, that was. She had worked on her own boat and disappeared as soon as they had finished.

  Was that just a thank-you kiss? She knows how I feel about Rowenna.

  Will shook his head and breathed in deeply to relax. He had to admit that Osbert had been partly right about the smell of the foresters, but it was only from the many smoking charcoal pits surrounding the clearing. It was actually quite comforting, reminding him of rainy winter nights, safe and warm inside before a smoking fire pit.

  He leaned back against a tree stump. The stars shone bright in a clear sky and moonlight silvered the river. The water’s rush mixed with quiet talk all around the circle. Someone threw more wood onto the fire and a pleasant wave of heat washed over him. He closed his eyes for a moment. It was hard to believe they were in the middle of a massive Pict invasion and he had been running for his life just that morning.

  Will looked into the close-packed trees and felt himself tense up again. The fire’s glow barely made it one yard into the gloom. Somewhere in that same, huge forest, hundreds, maybe thousands of Picts were running south to wipe out his home.

  At least, they should be able to warn Yeavering before the attack hit. The taciturn shipwright had announced that the tar would be hard enough to last their journey in another hour.

  Puck came loping out of the trees carrying a straight branch about as thick as Will’s sword hilt.

  He came to sit next to Will.

  ‘It’s too quiet in the trees – no night-birds or animals moving that I could hear.’

  ‘Apart from that one,’ Will said, pointing up to a shadow gliding over the treeline in the darkening sky.

  Puck squinted. ‘Good eyes. Some sort of falcon I think – I saw it a few times when we were on the river.’

  ‘Falcons do not usually fly at night,’ Brant rumbled from the log next to Will, ‘at least not for long.’

  As usual, no one else had chosen to sit next to the towering Scandian. He never seemed to mind. Duty came first with him and he was totally loyal to the royal family that had accepted his service after he deserted his own, savage people. Even now, his eyes hardly left Rowenna who sat with two members of the Council on one side and a couple of scruffy forester children on the other.

  Will had been watching her for very different reasons. Her skin glowed in the firelight. Thick strands of hair had fallen free from their bindings and now framed her beautiful face in glimmering gold.

  Oh, get a grip.

  Will forced his gaze away to look across to his master. Brant was staring at the circling bird. He turned to Donal who was bound hand and foot on the floor between him and Will. ‘I’ve heard that druids can see through a beast’s eyes and hear through their ears. Is that true, boy?’

  Donal lifted his head, his face sullen but didn’t say anything. Ever since Bridget had reached them on the Romani Wall, he’d been desperate to get back to The Anvil to see if his sister had survived the attack. They had been forced to keep him tied up in case he escaped into the forest.

  Brant gave him a light kick in the thigh. ‘Answer, boy – they’re only keeping you alive because they think you know useful things. I wouldn’t let them think any differently if I were you.’

  Donal glared up at him but then spoke. ‘No. It is stupid story to make children good.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Brant asked, staring into Donal’s eyes.

  ‘Yes. We give sacrifice when druids come for… ceremonies and we see powers – like twisting wolves into vargs. They do this but cannot… put their eyes into a beast.’

  The bird circled a few more times then glided out of sight.

  ‘Bye, bye birdie,’ Puck said, but for once had no humour in his voice. He took another long, worried look at the dark forest pushing up against the clearing. Then he dug out a small carpenter’s knife from one of the many pockets hidden in his tunic and breeches and started to work on the branch he had brought with him.

  ‘What happened to your other staff?’ Will asked as Puck began expertly trimming off twigs, bumps and bark.

  ‘I had my hands full of burned lobber when we jumped into the river.’

  Will glanced at Alston who was eating with the twins on the opposite side of the circle. The lobber caught the look and nodded at Puck with a tight smile. He still hadn’t thanked or
even looked at Will since he and Puck had saved him. Maybe he was struggling to understand why the nithing outsider he had tried to throw off the Romani Wall had risked his life to save him while his own people had run off and left him to die.

  ‘I’m not sure we should have bothered now,’ Will said but softened his words with a tight smile.

  He returned to watching Puck work on the wood. ‘The staff seemed really handy against the spiders – better than a sword, even.’

  Puck nodded, running his fingers down one smooth surface. ‘Having two ends to hit with helps and it’s light and you can keep the nasty things far away. He passed the half-smoothed staff to Will.

  It was perhaps an inch and a half thick and Puck had trimmed it down to just over his height.

  ‘I’ll teach you to use one, if you like,’ Puck said. His foot tapped an old spear Will had been given by the Foresters to replace his one lost on the Romani Wall. ‘They’re easier to replace than a spear and you’re less likely to cut yourself.’

  Will smiled but handed the staff back. ‘Thanks, but I need to focus on the spear and sword, or I’ll never get into the shield-wall.’

  Puck nodded. ‘Fair enough, but you might not always be fighting all cosied up with your shield-mates. If you’re caught on your own, you can do a lot more with that spear than just poke people with the sharp end – especially if you trim it down a bit. I’ll show you - breaking joints is the most fun and usually stops someone from trying to kill you.’ The jester stood up and flicked Will’s ankle lightly with his half-finished staff.

  ‘No thanks…’ Will began but then trailed off. He glanced around the large ring of people. The foresters mixed with each other freely, children sitting next to adults and no obvious ranking dictating places. Gwen and Wade had attempted to mix in with a few of the foresters but, in contrast, Osbert and the Shields and huscarls sat bunched casting suspicious looks over everyone else.

  Will looked down at his spear. He was always bemoaning how Shields undervalued every other type of warrior and yet here he was refusing to even try something new.

  Puck started to sit down again but Will got up. ‘Actually, yes please – I’d like to try.’

  The jester made an exaggerated sign, but grinned. ‘At last, an open mind.’

  ‘We’ll be back soon,’ he said to Donal before grabbing his spear and following Puck to an open space behind one of the buildings.

  Puck took Will’s spear and used his carving knife to score a deep line around it about six inches from the heel.

  They were close to the forest edge here. Will couldn’t stop a shudder as he stared into the dark while Puck worked. He usually liked trees; he’d hidden from gangs of Angalsax youths in the forests around Yeavering often enough as a boy. But here it felt like a cold fear was seeping out of the dark and into his bones. The foresters had assured Osbert that they always posted guards in the trees, but Will could hardly wait to get back on the river again.

  Snap!

  Will jumped as Puck snapped off the end of his spear and handed it back. ‘It’s a bit thinner than I’d like but that old wood is hard and should keep it in one piece. Now, let’s concentrate on just a few basic stances and strikes first.’

  Puck started with nine strikes – up and down diagonal, horizontal, vertical and a jab. Two years of military training and his natural speed and balance helped Will pick up the moves quickly, but Puck kept him drilling the same basics for half an hour.

  They finally stopped, Will breathing heavily but smiling.

  ‘I like it – two ends are better than one. Thank you.’

  Puck made a flamboyant bow. ‘You are very welcome. Remember to go for the joints with both the blunt and the pointy end. Next time we’ll work on blocks. They’re easy because they’re mainly just the opposite of—'

  A horn blasted out from the forest then cut off mid-note.

  Chapter16

  Dead Ahead, Captain

  Will and Puck exchanged a glance then dashed around the building towards the eating area.

  The circle of foresters had erupted into action. Children grabbed all the spare wood and threw it on the fire whilst every adult snatched up a short bow and quiver and began to form a double ring facing outwards.

  The flames roared up and pushed flickering tendrils of light out into the far reaches of the settlement. Nothing moved between the buildings.

  Will and Puck ran between two foresters to the circle centre. Osbert, Bragg and the four Shields had already formed up around Wyatt and Rowenna with Brant, the skirmishers and lobbers flanking them.

  As the last of the wood was thrown on the fire and the children joined their parents, a single horn blast rang out. The forester circle burst apart, and children and adults sprinted into the shadows of the buildings or into the treeline.

  ‘Bloody cowards,’ Osbert swore. ‘Stand and protect your princess.’

  Not a bad plan – they’re no longer brightly lit targets, have cover and can set up a crossfire anywhere in their illuminated camp.

  Silence fell, with just the crackling of burning logs to break it.

  ‘Perhaps we should get out of the light as well,’ Brant said.

  ‘And not see what’s coming?’ Osbert snapped, ‘You Scandians might attack like thieves out of the dark but--’

  Rowenna cut him off. ‘Look, past the hall, coming from the trees!’

  A dark mist drifted out from the forest, swiftly billowing between the outer buildings.

  Brant shouted down to Donal who was still tied hand and foot. ‘Can your druids do that?’

  The boy had wriggled into some shadow between tree stumps and the kitchen building. He answered quickly, his voice small. ‘No, not druids.’

  ‘That is nothing natural,’ Puck said, staring hard at the mist which swirled back into itself at the edges, keeping its shape in open areas. The mist was black, almost impenetrable, the trees behind and grass below completely disappearing from view as it rolled forward.

  Will shuddered – waves of cold pulsed out from the dark. The grass just before the mist withered. Tiny wisps of darkness were being sucked from each blade just before it disappeared under the cloud.

  ‘Skirmishers,’ Osbert growled, ‘do something useful for once. Check there’s nothing in that bit of smoke.’

  Wade shook his head, his long blonde pony-tail whipping from one thin shoulder to the other, but Gwen slapped him on the arm and led him forward. They sprinted to the nearest building then started to edge around it. The mist swirled towards them, now less than fifteen yards away.

  ‘Gods, I could grow old waiting here,’ Osbert hissed. ‘Shoot an arrow into it while those two sneak around like scared children. The rest of you keep an eye in case this smoke is just a distraction.’

  Will ignored him and focussed on the mist. The foresters were all around – they’d spot anyone coming in from anywhere else.

  Alston and the twins drew and shot in one smooth motion. Three arrows streaked towards the mist. As soon as they touched it, they seemed to slow, as if sinking into mud, then dropped inside.

  ‘Will, Bridget – on my word, run and get the boats back in the water,’ Rowenna said quietly.

  ‘Yes, princess,’ Bridget said from just behind Will.

  Gods, when did you come back?

  She started to pull him back towards the river, but he resisted. ‘Not yet,’ he hissed.

  ‘Order Gwen and Wade back, Osbert,’ Rowenna said firmly, ‘We’ll all retreat to the river.’

  Osbert span around, his face furious. ‘We’re not running from a bit of mist. The boats will just start sinking again if the tar’s not…’

  ‘There - something’s moving in it,’ Will said but Osbert slapped him across the cheek.

  ‘Shut up with your cowardly fantasies – there’s nothing in there.’

  Will stood up straight, forcing himself not to step back from the First Shield – he needed to prove he could take hit after hit. He could clearly glimpse things in
the mist now, thin, white things. Why couldn’t anyone else see them?

  ‘I’m telling you—’ Will began.

  ‘He might be right,’ Wyatt interrupted. ‘That is some sort of conjuration - I can sense it now. It pulls at any life it touches... We need to go.’

  ‘Gwen, back here, both of you,’ Rowenna shouted.

  The mist was almost on the two skirmishers. Wade was just extending his fighting spear.

  He jabbed the tip into the roiling black.

  The mist shot out, spiralled around the spear shaft and enveloped his hand.

  ‘Ahh!’ Wade dropped the spear and leapt back. ‘It burns with cold!’

  Gwen grabbed him as he cradled his arm and pulled him back towards the fire at a run.

  The mist swirled towards them, picking up speed.

  ‘Nooo!’ a scream rang out then cut off from a building on the west side. Bowstrings thrummed.

  Then more screams. Shouts from all around, bow strings and arrow thuds everywhere.

  Something white and grey flashed between two huts and was gone.

  ‘I can feel something… unnatural,’ Wyatt said.

  More screams then another horn rang out. ‘To the trees!’ a forester shouted, and the order echoed all through the village. Scores of archers and children broke away from the buildings and ran for the forest.

  A flash of white and grey streaked out of shadow towards the nearest group.

  It was a man, in ragged, rotting clothes, grey flesh hanging off muscle and bone. He held a dull sword and buckler and an iron collar covered his neck.

  He ran at an almost unbelievable speed.

  But the foresters, trained in the bow from childhood, were the quickest archers in Bernicia. Two women and one man in the group loosed an arrow each before the attacker reached them. One arrow deflected off the buckler but the other two thudded into the speeding man – one into his thigh, the other deep into his chest.

  He stumbled, almost stopped.

  But then he sprinted forward again as if totally uninjured.

  Before the foresters could nock another arrow, the man was on them, punching with his shield and slashing down with his sword. Two foresters were killed almost immediately. The children screamed as the bodies fell on them and then swirled away in black flecks.