by Stuart Daly
The guard lifted his foot to crush the Master’s skull, but abandoned the attack when Caspan and Lachlan raced up from behind him, shouting hysterically and thrusting with their swords. The giant twisted quickly, bringing around his shield to swat aside their blades. He then tried the same tactic he had employed against Morgan: carrying through with a punch directed at Lachlan. But the recruit had anticipated the manoeuvre and stepped aside. No sooner had the fist flown past his face than Lachlan stepped in closer and hammered the pommel of his sword into the giant’s jaw.
What would have possibly killed a human merely caused the Roon to stagger backwards. After several yards, the guard stopped and wiped his forearm across his shattered mouth. He set his crazed gaze on the boys, gave a bloodcurdling roar and tore towards them.
Caspan ducked beneath a tremendous swipe of the Roon’s shield, then counterattacked, delivering three heavy blows, which thudded into the giant’s shield. The guard pushed his shield suddenly forward after the final swing, knocking Caspan back several yards. Lachlan jumped protectively in front of Caspan, but the giant didn’t come after them. Instead, he reached down and pulled a dagger from the inside of his boot. Like all Roon weapons, it had a black blade engraved in runes and was about as long as a human’s short-sword.
The giant banged the dagger threateningly against the inside of his shield before coming for the boys. He raised his shield against an overhead swing from Lachlan, and slashed his dagger at Caspan. The former thief ducked instinctively, but the blade grazed against the top of his helm. Caspan lashed out desperately with his sword – an attack that the giant parried aside easily – then quickly leapt back from the fight and readjusted his helm to stop it from digging into the side of his head. Lachlan drew the guard’s attention, grunting as he made a series of powerful swipes, granting Caspan the time he needed to ready himself.
The giant blocked each of the blows with his shield, which was comprised of wood, but was reinforced with leather padding around its rim and had a protective metal boss in the centre. Occasionally Lachlan’s sword hit the metal boss, but most of his attacks thudded into the shield’s surface, and it wasn’t long before shards of wood started flying through the air.
Caspan hurried back to join his friend, who by now was breathing heavily. Leading the attack, Caspan performed a six-swing manoeuvre he had been taught by Master Morgan. The first five swings were run of the mill, but the final thrust was to be performed with blistering speed, sneaking through a gap left open by the previous attack, which was deliberately aimed low and off to the side. The Roon fell for the trick, and Caspan’s blade snaked out, only to be parried aside by an equally fast swipe of the giant’s dagger. The guard then riposted, lunging forward, his blade targeting Caspan’s neck. Caspan cried out in alarm and moved out of the way, barely managing to avoid the tip of the weapon. The giant swiftly raised his dagger to follow up the attack, but Lachlan came to Caspan’s rescue, forcing the giant to defend himself against another series of blows.
Lachlan was hitting the Roon with all his strength, and it wasn’t long before he began to tire. As his blade slowed down, the giant seized the advantage and rained down blows upon him, making him stagger back. After a particular vicious swipe almost knocked Lachlan’s sword from his hands, Caspan raced forward, his blade raised above his head.
The Roon lashed out with a kick. The wind exploded from Caspan’s lungs and he was thrown back several yards. He hit the ground hard, dropped his weapon and clutched his stomach. Through tear-filled eyes he saw Lachlan stand defensively in front of him, heaving back his sword to meet the giant. The veins in his neck bulging, Lachlan swung at the Roon, only to have his sword get embedded in the giant’s shield.
Lachlan tried desperately to pull his blade free, but his efforts were to no avail. Caspan watched, a silent scream caught in his throat, as the Roon drew his shield off to the side, taking Lachlan’s sword with it and leaving him exposed. Lachlan finally released his sword and reached for the dagger tucked under his belt. He whipped it out, in time to intercept the Roon’s blade, which thrust forward at Lachlan’s heart. The force of the giant’s attack was too powerful, however, and the tip of the black dagger hit Lachlan in the side. Crying in pain, Lachlan retreated, clutching his hand against his side below his ribcage, where the dagger had torn through the rings of chain mail. Blood spilled between his fingers.
The Roon tossed aside the now-useless shield and raced after Lachlan. He drew his dagger over his left shoulder, poised to deliver a blow that would cleave the boy in half. Lachlan gave a defiant roar and held his ground, raising his blade in a futile effort to block the incoming attack.
‘Stop!’ Caspan yelled, bringing the giant’s attention to the dagger he had pressed against the commander’s throat. He had crawled on his hands and knees over to the Roon lord when the guard’s attention had been focused on Lachlan. ‘Surrender, or your lord dies!’ He grabbed a tuft of the commander’s hair, pulled back the giant’s head to expose the neck, and applied more pressure on his blade. Caspan knew he could never bring himself to kill the semi-conscious giant in this manner, and he was silently praying that the guard didn’t see through his bluff.
The Roon left his blade poised in the air and stared at Caspan. The giant took a few steps forward, ignoring Lachlan, who staggered over to join his friend. Caspan pressed harder on the dagger, drawing a trickle of blood. The guard stopped dead in his tracks.
‘Lower your weapon or I’ll slit him from ear to ear!’ Caspan snarled, trying to sound as threatening as possible. He was thankful that he could even breathe, let alone speak, given the pain in his stomach.
For what seemed to be an eternity, the giant stared at him. Then, breathing heavily, the guard tossed aside his dagger. Clenching his fists, the Roon thrust back his hands, tilted his head skyward and gave an immense roar before slumping to his knees. All the while, his eyes never left Caspan’s.
Still clutching his side, Lachlan dropped to the ground and looked across at Caspan. He forced a smile. ‘Now, that wasn’t too difficult, was it?’
Not long after the guard surrendered, the sounds of combat from across the other side of the hill came to an end and the Wardens appeared. Fang went straight to Morgan’s side, whimpered and licked his face. The Master’s eyes flickered open and he lay there for some time before he pushed himself up onto an elbow and tousled the wolf’s mane. ‘Where would I be without you, hmm?’ He grimaced, the act of talking aggravating his bruised and swollen jaw. The wolf smothered him with more licks. Smiling painfully, the Master gently pushed Fang’s head away and wiped his sleeve across his face. ‘I’m glad to see you too, but I think that’s enough for now.’
In spite of his wound, Lachlan grinned. ‘Best be careful, or he’ll kill you with affection.’
Morgan rose groggily, collected his sword and did a quick inspection of the area around the guard, kicking the discarded dagger further away from the giant. With Fang standing by his side, he placed the point of his blade against the Roon’s back. The Master had seen how fast the guard could move and he didn’t want to take any chances.
He glanced across at the boys and nodded proudly. ‘Well done. There’s a lot more to you than meets the eye.’
Lachlan flicked a dismissive hand his way. ‘It was nothing. Give us something challenging next time.’
The Master laughed, again agitating his jaw, and Lachlan pushed himself to his feet. Favouring his wounded side, he leaned on Talon and walked over to the crest of the hill. ‘Fang and Talon took care of the guards,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘Now all we have to do is raise the siege.’
With considerable effort, Caspan pulled the Roon lord up into sitting position. He knelt behind the giant, keeping the commander upright, his dagger still at his throat. The Roon mumbled incoherently, and it was a constant struggle for the slight recruit to stop the massive warrior from toppling over.
‘And you’re going to help us do that,’ he muttered into the lord’s ear.
Caspan looked at the Roon guard and ordered, ‘Call your men back. Only when your army has left this land will we release your lord.’
He wasn’t sure if the giant understood him, for the Roon spoke their own guttural language. The giant stared at Caspan for some time before grunting angrily and rising to his feet. Fang tensed but Morgan placed a hand around the wolf’s neck, keeping him in check.
Lachlan and Talon returned to join Caspan. ‘I don’t think he understands us,’ the large boy said, eyeing the guard warily.
‘Then I’ll just have to make my intention clear,’ Caspan said.
Together Caspan and Lachlan dragged the lord up to the crest of the hill, where they were in plain sight of Darrowmere. Caspan waited to catch his breath before replacing his dagger against the giant’s neck. He glared threateningly at the guard and gestured with his free hand towards Darrowmere. ‘Call them back,’ he said slowly, pressing the dagger closer with each word.
The giant glanced towards the city, spat and pointed at the hollow yak’s horn hanging from his lord’s belt. Caspan reached around to untie the horn and tossed it to the giant. Carefully monitored by Morgan and Fang, the Roon raised the horn to his lips and blew a loud, low-pitched signal that carried all the way to the battlements of the city.
Roon atop the walls and outside the destroyed main gate turned and stared towards the hill. Even those who had been making great haste to join the attack against the sortie stopped. They seemed confused, evidently wondering why a retreat had been sounded when it was apparent that the city would soon fall. The meaning became clear when some of them spotted their lord, and alarm spread through their ranks like wildfire. The guard blew the horn a second time, then pointed to the north. Gradually, the giants climbed down from the walls and made their way across the field towards their commander. Soon hundreds had amassed before the hill, and were being joined by hundreds more each passing minute. They grunted and snarled at Caspan, swinging their swords in frustration, but none dared come any closer than twenty yards.
Caspan swallowed nervously. ‘Aren’t I the popular one,’ he muttered under his breath, trying to remain calm and controlled in front of so many enraged giants. Given the opportunity, he was sure they’d tear him apart in an instant. He glanced questioningly at Morgan, who had positioned himself close by. ‘So far so good. What now, though?’
The Master held Fang with a restraining hand and stared at the large crowd of Roon. ‘You’re doing fine. Just let events unfold as they will.’ He looked at Caspan out of the corner of his eye and whispered, ‘But whatever happens, do not lower your dagger.’
One of the giants pushed through the ranks of his brethren and shouted something at Caspan. The Roon was powerfully built and covered in scars accumulated from a lifetime of soldiery. A tattoo of an eagle was spread across his upper torso. Spurred on by some of the other giants, the Roon pointed his sword at Caspan and roared at him. He heaved the blade above his right shoulder and charged forward.
Caspan watched helplessly, his eyes wide with terror. He felt like running for his life, but knew that he could not remove his dagger from the lord’s neck lest hundreds of the giants charge at him. Lachlan, Morgan and the Wardens stepped defensively in front of him, but it was the surviving guard who came to Caspan’s rescue. He snatched up his discarded double-headed axe and hurled it at the charging giant, striking him in the chest. The force of the impact was so great that it knocked the giant backwards several yards.
The Roon army fell silent as the guard strode towards the slain giant and extracted his axe. He growled something at the horde and pointed back at their lord. Many of the Roon lowered their weapons, the rage fading from their eyes. Slowly, they left the field. Their withdrawal started in dribs and drabs, initiated by a few individuals, but soon became a continuous line, hundreds thick. They skirted around the hill, avoiding the boy with the dagger held against the throat of their lord. Many stared at Caspan, and he wondered just how many of the giants were committing his face to memory, dreaming of the day they would take their revenge. It was a terrifying thought, and it took every ounce of his willpower for him to stop his hand holding the dagger from trembling.
Finally the last of the surviving Roon army left Darrowmere, and a cheer rose from the reclaimed outer wall as hundreds of raised swords glistened in the sunlight. Banners bearing the stag’s antlers of Lochinbar were also held high in pride. A company of soldiers led by Prince Dale hurried out from the main gate and formed a ring of steel around the hill. Morgan instructed Fang to remain guard beside the recruits and Talon, then went down to join the Prince. Some soldiers were sent up to tend to Lachlan’s wound and take custody of the Roon lord, allowing Caspan to finally remove his dagger and sit back on the grass.
‘Here,’ an officer said, handing Caspan a water-skin. ‘It’s the least I can offer you.’
Caspan stabbed his dagger point-first into the earth and pulled out the flask’s stopper with his teeth. He spat it aside and drank heavily, letting the water spill down his neck and chest. He stared at the long trail of the Roon army. It was like an enormous, bloated snake that wound its way through the hills and patches of woodland that lay to the north. Its head had already disappeared but its tail dragged on for well over a kilometre.
All that was left of the Roon army were the injured and maimed. They were carried away on makeshift stretchers, their swords and axes laid across their chests. Many clung to these, determined to die a warrior’s death and enter the afterlife with a blade in their hands.
Slain Roon were being stacked into massive piles and their weapons placed on wagons. Too large and heavy to be wielded effectively by humans, Caspan was sure that they were going to be melted down and forged into new, more suitable swords, suits of armour and arrowheads. Proper burials would be given to the fallen defenders of the city, but Caspan guessed that the dead Roon would be doused in oil and ignited lest disease spread. It sounded barbaric, but precautions such as these were necessary in war.
Caspan was surprised to find that the Roon guard had remained behind. He had been bound beside his lord and was surrounded by a group of soldiers. He looked across at Caspan. ‘When will you honour your word and release my lord?’
Caspan stared blankly at the Roon, dumbstruck that he could speak common tongue. One of the soldiers whacked the haft of his spear against the giant’s legs, forcing him to drop to his knees. The Roon glared at the soldier and snarled, ‘Do that again, and I’ll break these bonds and snap your neck!’
Caspan believed it was no idle threat, and a nearby officer gave the soldier a reprimanding look. ‘He may be a Roon, but he’s a prisoner of war. You’ll treat him with respect.’
The soldier saluted. ‘Yes, sir.’
The group parted and stood at attention as Prince Dale and Morgan confronted the giants. As always, the Prince was accompanied by some of his Crimson Blades, whose cloaks were torn and stained dark with blood, testament to their role in the defence of the city. Caspan and Lachlan rose and went over to join them.
The Prince greeted them with a warm smile and clasped their hands. ‘I cannot thank you enough. The people of Darrowmere will forever be in your debt.’ His eyes narrowed when he saw Lachlan’s wound. ‘You should return to The Hold so that my physician can tend to you.’
‘I’ve already had it seen to. Besides, it’s not as bad as it looks. This took most of the blow.’ Lachlan tugged at his chain-mail shirt.
‘Still, I’ll ensure it gets properly checked. The last thing you want is for your wound to get infected.’ Lachlan nodded, and the Prince tilted his head towards the giant prisoners. ‘This is indeed a great prize. Well done.’ He glanced at Caspan. ‘Morgan has filled me in on the bargain you struck with the Roon. I will make sure it is honoured.’
The guard looked up at the Prince. ‘So you will release my lord?’
Dale’s eyes flashed with surprise. ‘You speak our tongue?’ When the Roon merely kept staring at the Prince, Dale nodded. ‘We will relea
se both you and your lord when our scouts report that your army has returned to their boats and set sail. You will be escorted north of the River Trenter, where you will be returned to your northern armies.’ The Prince leaned forward to whisper in the giant’s ear. ‘Should you ever set foot in these lands again, we won’t be so compassionate.’
The Roon stared defiantly at Dale, his lip curling distastefully. ‘And you won’t be so lucky next time.’
Dale held the Roon’s gaze for a few seconds, showing no sign of fear before he ordered the guards to take the prisoners to the gaols beneath The Hold. A wagon was brought in, and the Roon lord was lifted into it. Once the giants had been escorted away, Dale called forth a man clad in forest greens. ‘Follow the giants all the way back to their ships. Take as many of your scouts as you need. Should they try to deceive us, report back immediately.’ The man bowed dutifully, and hurried off.
‘Who was that, your highness?’ Lachlan queried.
‘Master Garwyn, head of our scouts and trackers. And who is this?’ The Prince pointed at Fang. He reached out tentatively with the palm of his hand but paused. ‘He won’t bite?’
Morgan shook his head. ‘His name is Fang.’
‘Hello, Fang. Aren’t you a beauty?’ The Prince stroked the wolf on the back then tousled Talon’s mane. The griffin rubbed against the Prince, knocking him over.
Caspan laughed as he offered the Prince a hand and helped him to his feet. ‘It looks as if you’ve made a new best friend.’
Dale shook his head in wonder. ‘I’ve heard that the commanders of the northern legions are protected by magical guardians, but I’ve never seen anything like these creatures before.’ His eyes searched Morgan’s face. ‘Where are they from?’
‘Sorry, your highness, but that’s a secret that I cannot tell even you,’ Morgan replied politely.
