HE WHO FIGHTS

by Mike Morris

  Emotions drifted through his mind. The anger mixed with excitement, the feeling of invincibility only the young possess at the start. Without even realising it, the memories began to spill from his mouth.

  "First battle I fought was at Ypressia. The war hadn't properly started. The Rastaks were raiding farms this side of the Naijin desert. When we heard about it, we thought it’d just be a tribe out looking for trouble. Didn’t think they’d found a king to unite under.

  “We headed up there ready to teach them a lesson. Give them a hiding they'd never forget. Send them back over the border with their tails between their legs." Rane shook his head. "How much more wrong could we have been?"

  "No one knew any better."

  "It was a hard lesson to learn," replied Rane. His eyes drifted off to the horizon. "Three hundred of us rode out from our castle in Orska to face them, laughing and joking the whole way. We were the mighty Legion of Swords after all. I think only forty of us made it back.

  "We knew where the Rastaks were camped; a valley basin two days ride away. The scouts counted the bivouacs. Told us we were facing a small raiding party. Easy for us to ride down, wipe them out and blood our blades. What they didn't know then was the bivouacs simply covered holes in the ground and their main force was underground. Including Jotnar. That was the first time we encountered them too."

  Myri had stopped her horse a hundred yards away and was waiting for them, with a look on her face that said she was unhappy about something. The carriage trundled towards her, with Rane in no hurry to hear more bad news.

  "How many were waiting for you?" asked William.

  "Only the Gods know. They swarmed out like ants, smothering the horses, pulling riders down, swallowing them up. I was near the back with the other new recruits — they called us the newborns and didn't rust us with much else than holding up the rear — and the moment the captain leading us realised what was happening, he sent us back to warn the others at the castle. Even then we barely made it. I remember just hacking my sword down, left and right. I didn't have to aim at anything. There were so many of them, grabbing at me, tugging my legs, my clothes. Every time I swung my arm, I hit one of them. They didn't seem to care about their own lives. At some point my horse went down, throwing me."

  Myri was fifty yards away, staring at something ahead. A jolt went through Rane as the carriage bounced over a small rock.

  "The captain hauled me onto the back of his horse before a demon could drag me away. I just hung on for dear life as he whipped the horse to run as fast as it could."

  "Shit."

  Rane smiled at the heartache of the memories. "A hard lesson. Sometimes I think I was only truly born that day. I am who I am because of that day."

  Myri had the hammer she'd hit Rane with hanging from her saddle, and judging by the look on her face, she was more than ready to use it again. Seemed like William was the only one grateful with the current situation.

  "Everything okay?" asked Rane as they drew level.

  "This is as good a place as any to rest the horses for a while," replied Myri. "Get some food. Still half a night to go." She ran her eyes over William, apparently surprised he was alive, but said nothing.

  Rane nodded and stood up to signal to the other wagons to stop. "See to your horses and yourselves. Be ready to move on in half an hour."

  "Do we have to?" asked Fia. "I'd rather we keep moving." Karn fidgeted next to her, his finger not far from the musket's trigger.

  Rane jumped down from his wagon and wandered over to the priestess. "The horses need the rest. We can't afford to lose another if we want to be out of the Dead Lands by first light."

  "Fine. Half an hour it is." Fia knocked on the side of her wagon. The sound of shuffling came from inside and then Joassa opened the door. "Bring the children out one by one so they attend to their toilet and get something to eat from Olivick's wagon. Only some dried meat and bread but better than nothing."

  "Thank you Mother," replied Joassa with a slight bow of her head before ducking back inside.

  "I'll feed the horses," said Karn with his eyes fixed on Rane and full of hate.

  A shiver ran through Rane as Kibon reacted to the perceived danger. A reminder that his own sword would betray Rane soon enough just as Marcus had fallen to his.

  As Karn climbed down, Joassa re-emerged with a little girl in her arms. Rane recognised her as the first girl they'd saved, Gemma. He smiled and the girl smiled back. Immediately he felt calmer, a little brighter. He'd sworn an oath as a Legionnaire to protect the Gemmas of the world. He'd given away half his soul to save them.

  Fia followed his gaze. “She’s young. With Odason’s grace, she’ll recover quick enough.”

  “I hope so.” Rane smiled.

  "Thank you, Nathaniel. Be proud of what you’ve done for us — despite what happened at the end. Two children have future’s now because of you.”

  “I’m glad I could help.”

  “Unfortunately I find myself in a bit of a quandary. On one hand, I owe you and Myri a great deal. On the other, I am sworn to report all uses of magic to my church. And they have very firm opinions of the Legion.”

  Rane remembered his comrades swinging in the gallows in Candra and the priest who led their execution. He knew what the Inquisition demanded. “I know.”

  “I can’t ignore my vows — no matter how much I’d like to — but I don’t wish you to come to any harm either. You say a cure awaits in Orska?”

  “So I’ve been told. So I hope.”

  “More magic.” Fia sighed. She suddenly looked very tired. “I can only pray Odason will guide me.”

  “Do what you have to do,” replied Rane. “I understand.”

  “Now if you’ll excuse me." Fia disappeared inside the wagon. Rane remained where he was for a moment. In a different world, he and Fia could have been great friends.

  The convoy wasted no time in seeing to the children and the horses, passing what food and water they had left out amongst themselves. Even William regained some colour to his cheeks with some bread inside him. There was little chatter, the reality of where they were pressed down heavily on them all. And whom they had with them. They all avoided the Legionnaires.

  "What a merry bunch we make," said Myri. "Now they have their children back, they can't wait to get rid of us."

  "We've given them enough cause to be wary," replied Rane. "More than enough."

  "We saved their lives!"

  "If not for Marcus, they wouldn't have needed saving."

  Myri stared at him for a moment, a thousand things boiling away inside, then turned and mounted her horse. "Let's go. We've wasted enough time."

  She kicked her horse into motion and rode off down the Crow's Road, not waiting for anyone else. Rane watched her disappear into the darkness, feeling helpless. So much depended on reaching Orska and what waited for them there.

  "Let's get moving," he called out and everyone scurried to their wagons. William held out a hand to help Rane climb up into their wagon.

  "Is your friend okay?"

  "Maybe one day. Not now." Rane flicked the reins and the wheels groaned into motion. He and Myri had to get to Orska. Get this curse off their back. Before they were lost for good.

  Resuming the endless journey, the wagons rolled off into the night. The only sound was the crunch of gravel under the wooden wheels and the steady clop of the horses' hooves. Time crawled as they trundled along under the black sky. William slept in his seat next to Rane, occasionally jolting awake as the wagon hit a bump in the road, and Rane was happy to leave him be. He was in no mood for any more conversation.

  As the hours passed, even Rane started to feel the strain of the night's travel. His eyes stung, not helped by the swathes of smoke lingering around them. As he tried to rub some life back into them, he glanced to the east and was rewarded with the first glimmer of the sun dragging itself up into the sky. A golden smudge on the horizon. They'd made it through the long night. The end of the Dead Land
s had to be close. Soon they could say goodbye to the bones and be on their way to fresh starts.

  Then he heard the yapping behind him and his blood ran cold. Bracke. And lots of them.

  24

  "Bracke!" Rane stood up and screamed the warning to the rest of the convoy. "Go as fast as you can and don't stop for anything."

  "What's going on?" William shook himself awake. "What's happening?"

  "You hear that yapping? That's Bracke. Lots of them. Closing in." Rane thrust the reins into William's hands. "You drive."

  William looked at the reins as if they were poisoned. There was no hiding the fear in his eyes. "What about you?"

  Rane shrugged his coat off and snatched up the bow and quiver. "I'm going to the last wagon. See if I can stop the bastard creatures before they cut us all down."

  Up ahead, Myri had wheeled her horse around and was racing back to join the convoy. Whatever darkness was at war within her soul, for now the good still prevailed. Thank the Gods for small mercies.

  Rane scanned the darkness for any sign of the devil dogs but for now there was no sign. With all the bones scattered around though, they'd be able to get too close to the convoy without being seen.

  "How close do you think they are?" asked Myri as she brought her horse alongside.

  "Only the Gods know. But you know how fast they are. We've not got much time." Fear bubbled away inside Rane as his body itched with the need to draw Kibon. "Keep everyone moving. I'm going to the Henderson's wagon. Hopefully I can shoot the bastards from there."

  "I'm fucking useless with one hand, Nathaniel."

  "It doesn't matter. Just keep everyone alive."

  "You stay alive too."

  Rane nodded. There was nothing else to be said. Plenty to do. He jumped from the moving wagon and ran to the rear of the convoy. "Keep your weapons handy," he called out as he past the other wagons. "Keep the children inside, and don't panic. We're nearly out of the Dead Lands. One more push and we'll be safe and clear." The lies tasted bitter on his tongue as the yapping grew louder. What chance did they have?

  The wagons were picking up pace as Rane hooked his arm onto the Hendersons’ wagon, swinging himself up and on board.

  "What the fuck is happening?" shouted Olivick, knuckles white as he gripped the reins for dear life.

  Rane placed a hand on his shoulder. "Just concentrate on the road. I'll deal with the Bracke."

  "But my wife... my children..."

  "They're inside Fia's wagon. It's the safest place for them."

  "But..."

  "Just drive." Rane clambered into the back of the wagon. Dust swirled up from the wheels, mingling with the smoke and the darkness as the yapping echoed from everywhere. So loud. So many. By the Gods, how many of the creatures were there? Rane knelt at the rear of the wagon, conscious that the only cover he had was a thin piece of wood not more than one and a half foot high. He placed the bow and arrows beside him and then checked his guns. At least both were still loaded.

  "You see anything?" called out Olivick.

  "Nothing yet. The road's empty," replied Rane. "They must be moving through the bones, using them for cover."

  The wagon picked up its pace, rattling and jolting along the road, as the landscape blurred on either side and all the while the howls of the Bracke grew louder and louder. They had to be close but where?

  Rane picked an arrow from the quiver and nocked it on the bowstring, holding it place between his fingers. Anticipation gnawed in his stomach, fuelling the adrenalin in his blood, while Kibon whispered in his ear with promises of power and survival.

  "Where are they?" Olivick's voice cracked with fear. "The horses won't be able to keep up this pace for much longer. They're not used to this."

  "Who is?" replied Rane.

  Minutes passed. More yards flew by. And still there was no sign of the creatures.

  "Come on, come on," muttered Rane to himself. "Where are you?"

  And then if answering his call, something burst from the bones, out on to the Crow's Road, and raced towards them. The Bracke was a beast, as big as any Rane had ever faced before. It bounded along, closing the gap, with every step it took.

  Rane raised his bow, and drew the bowstring back, locking his left arm as he aimed. He pulled back the string, until his left hand rested against his cheek. He aimed the head of the arrow at the Bracke's head and tried to compensate for the roll and lurch of the wagon.

  Archery was meant to be done on the ground, calmly and slowly, not charging along at speed, being shaken this way and that. When he'd joined the Legion, they never stopped practicing shooting arrows in every type of situation. Some of the recruits had complained, wondering who would want to use a bow when there were pistols to hand. But once they'd stood facing the Rastaks or had Jotnar rush at them, and experienced how slow it was to load a pistol or a rifle, they never complained again. A seasoned soldier could load and fire a rifle three times in a minute. An archer who knew what he was doing could shoot six arrows in that time with greater accuracy over a longer distance. Rane could only hope that experience would still serve him well.

  With a final breath, Rane released the arrow. It shot towards the demon dog as he reached down for another.

  The arrow missed the Bracke's head but struck its neck, burying itself deep within the creature's flesh. The Bracke stumbled and for a moment Rane thought the creature was going to go down, that his arrow had been enough, but the demon dog roared, fangs glinting in the fire light, and it resumed its race towards him, hurtling itself along on all fours.

  With another arrow nocked, he pulled back the bowstring, felt the tension mount in his arm as he held the arrow and aimed for the Bracke once more. But the wagon was going too fast, throwing his aim all over the place with each rattle and roll. Rane gritted his teeth and prayed for just one moment of smooth road so he could kill the demon dog. And yet no moment came and the Bracke drew closer and closer, all teeth and claw and fury.

  The Bracke roared. It was almost on Rane, close enough for him to see its eyes gleaming in its eagerness to kill. Close enough for Rane not to miss.

  He released the arrow.

  The Bracke flew backwards off its feet as the arrow struck home. Dead instantly. It lay still, the shaft visible from inside its throat.

  But there was no time to rejoice. The howling of the others filled the air, growing in intensity as if acknowledging the death of their brother.

  "Talk to me, Nathaniel," pleaded Olivick. "What's happening? What the fuck is happening?"

  "I got one," replied Rane but before he could say any more, another Bracke burst from cover. Followed quickly by another. And another. Filling the road. Too many of them to count. Too many for Rane to deal with. He looked over his shoulder, found Olivick staring back, eyes wide with fear. "Just keep going, don't stop," said Rane.

  He turned back to the road, to the Bracke, and what he had to do. He pulled out another arrow, but resisted the urge just to shoot blindly into the pursuing pack. Instead he selected a target before releasing the bowstring. He didn't wait to see if it hit home, just took another arrow, aimed at another Bracke, and released. Again and again, he acted almost without thinking, barely acknowledging when Bracke fell. His arrows flew into the beasts, hurting some, killing others. But still they came on, so many, so fast, so deadly.

  One by one, he emptied the quiver until only one arrow remained. He held it in his hand as he stared at the Bracke. How many were left? Fifteen? Twenty? One arrow wasn't enough. Added to that, Rane could tell the horses were struggling, dragging the wagon along at full speed, and nowhere near quick enough. They'd never outrun the dogs.

  He scuttled back to the front of the wagon to rejoin Olivick. "Climb out onto one of the horses. I'm going to cut them loose from the wagon."

  Olivick looked at him as if he were mad. "What?"

  "We're going too slowly. They'll be on us if we don't do something."

  "I don't want to die."

  "Nor do
I. That's why we're getting on the horses."

  "Shit." Olivick's eyes followed the route he'd have to take, over the front of the wagon and then down onto the centre tongue and from that onto one of the racing horses. What Rane was asking him to do wasn't easy. But then he looked past Rane, at the pack of Bracke behind them, and he knew staying wasn't any safer. "Shit."

  He passed the reins to Rane, shook his head at the insanity of it all, and clambered over the front of the wagon. He stepped onto the tongue and froze. "I can't do this. I fucking can't do this."

  "You can. Think about your wife and kids in the other wagon. They need you alive. Think of them and move."

  "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Olivick crawled along the centre pole, wrapping his arms around it as he held on for dear life, inch by inch, until he could reach out and get his arm on one of the horses.

  From behind Rane came the crunch of claw on wood. He spun around, raising the bow as he did so, pulling back the string. A Bracke had leapt onto the back of the wagon. It reared up, claws extended, ready to fall on Rane, and got the last arrow through the heart. The Bracke tumbled backwards off the wagon, knocking another devil dog down as it fell.

  Rane threw the bow away and followed Olivick. He moved quicker, almost running along the centre of the wagon beam and straddled the other horse. "Take this." He passed Olivick one of his knives. "Cut the harness."

  Olivick set to work and Rane drew Kibon. Power surged through him and his confidence flooded back. By the Gods, he could take on the world with this sword in his hand.

  Olivick cut through the harness and his horse sprang free. Rane didn't wait. He slashed down, slicing the straps that held his own horse. Kibon made easy work of the leather and with a lurch, the wagon fell away.

  Rane glanced back as his horse sped away. The wagon dipped down and flipped, with a crunch of wood on stone. It twisted as it turned, blocking the Crow's Road. And then the Bracke hit it. The wood shattered against their fury. It barely slowed them for a second. Rane had been a fool to think it could do more.