The World Raven

by A. J. Smith

  She wanted to speak some wise words, perhaps find some way of making her presence felt. For a year she’d asked questions with her axe and answered them with shouting. Commanding her battle brothers was easier than being face-to-face with the son of Algenon Teardrop. She’d assault the Bear’s Mouth a second time before choosing this meeting.

  ‘Where do we stand?’ asked Alahan. ‘And don’t give me any troll shit.’

  Wulfrick chuckled. ‘We got plenty of that. A gang of berserkers and a family of trolls.’

  ‘Yeah, Timon heard the Ice Men coming. They really don’t eat men?’

  Halla took a swig of mead and wiped the froth from her chin, letting the small talk flow. Wulfrick and Alahan discussed troops and the incredulity they shared over Unrahgahr and his family, and the logistics involved in keeping them away from the city. She remained quiet, sharing loaded glances with Old Father Crowe.

  They had a thousand warriors, enough to give the walls of Tiergarten some strength, and the surprise of Rorg’s berserkers and the trolls to make things more interesting. They talked of it in detail, but Halla didn’t contribute.

  ‘We could do with a scouting party,’ said Alahan. ‘We know they’re close. Somewhere along the Crystal Fork. Something’s delayed them and given us time.’

  ‘We’ll sort that tomorrow,’ replied Wulfrick. ‘Everyone needs some rest in a bed and some food wasn’t salted.’

  Halla stood up and walked to the barrels for a refill. They stopped talking and both looked to her. Crowe carried on drinking, noisily draining his mug.

  ‘Are you two reacquainted?’ asked the priest. ‘Caught up on current events? Can my lady now get a word in?’

  ‘It’s okay, Brindon,’ said Halla. ‘I’m framing my sentences carefully.’

  Alahan looked guilty again until a reassuring hand on the shoulder from his axe-master made him smile.

  ‘Halla, please,’ said Wulfrick. ‘We all want the same thing.’

  She drew the mug of mead slowly, not looking at them. Crowe did the same, leaning down next to her.

  ‘Your hall, your city, your land,’ whispered the priest.

  She returned to her seat and looked at Alahan. He returned the look, but his eyes were narrow and uncertain.

  ‘This is my hall, my city, my land. We can fight side by side and defend Tiergarten, but you’re thain of Fredericksand, not Fjorlan – not yet.’

  ‘Halla,’ implored Wulfrick.

  ‘We both want Rulag dead and Fjorlan free,’ she said, not turning from Alahan. ‘But I don’t know this man and I won’t pledge the realm of Summer Wolf for him until I do.’

  ***

  It was a bed. A genuine feather bed. The pillows were plump and soft, the mattress enveloped her like an old friend. She fell into a peaceful and dreamless sleep and enjoyed every second of it. By the time she awoke, the cold breeze didn’t chill her but just reminded her she was home. The draughty doors and ancient stone were a world of memories, feeling much further away than a humble year. Nostalgia and extreme fatigue were a soporific combination. She barely thought of the young thain... barely.

  She’d have slept for a day and a night if the world let her. She’d have forgotten Fjorlan and drifted back to the warmth of her bed and the peace of oblivion. But the world wouldn’t let her. It didn’t bang on her door, or rouse her from sleep. It just scratched at the corners of her mind, reminding her that she still commanded men. Even more so, she commanded a city. Did that make her a thain?

  Awake at an early hour, with cold wind and miserable thoughts for company, was a poor way to begin the day. At least the sleep had been good – while it lasted.

  She paused before dressing, inspecting herself. She had many new aches and pains. A wide gash on the shoulder from the Bear’s Mouth, an ugly scar on the forearm from Ro Hail, and other nicks and cuts from endless fighting and travelling. Her hands were hard and calloused, with dead skin at the tip of each finger. Two puncture marks in her chest, from ice spider fangs, had only recently healed, and Halla’s body was now a painting of war and struggle where before it had been smooth and innocent. She’d never been a prize, never paid much attention to her appearance, and now her body matched her mind: scarred and tough. Her long red hair had been tied back for so long that it looked strange flowing to her shoulders, and stranger still being clean.

  She dressed in fresh linen clothes and warm furs. Her armour was being repaired and her axe sharpened. For now, she looked almost like a woman. The thought made her smile. Almost, but not entirely, like a woman.

  The corridor outside her room welcomed her with a sudden hit of freezing air. The passages and staircases of her hall were older than any in the lands of men, but they were in dire need of maintenance.

  She walked quickly, hurrying towards the great hall and the ever-burning fire-pits. The warmth carried, but only to the closest chambers. The bedrooms were not close to the hall and had to make do with fireplaces. She jogged the last few steps, gathering up her fur cloak.

  ‘Halla!’ said Tricken Ice Fang, with surprise.

  He sat alone in the middle of the hall, his battleaxe on the table in front of him.

  ‘Up early or late?’ she asked, standing by the nearest fire-pit and letting the fire warm her shivering limbs.

  He rubbed his eyes and appeared to compose himself. ‘Early, my lady... lots to do. I’ve got a lot of bastards to see to. Bastards from all over wanting food, shelter, every other fucking thing.’

  She stood rubbing her hands. Morning light streamed in through the high windows, casting shadows across the mead barrels.

  ‘They’ll be settled in a day or two,’ she replied. ‘If Rulag is good enough to give us the time.’

  He stood and puffed out his chest, his shock of bright red hair making him appear almost comical. ‘It’s no bother, my lady.’ He averted his eyes. ‘I was sorry to hear of Aleph’s death. I liked him. We all did.’

  It was nice to hear. Tricken had been a chain-master to her father and knew him better than most. She nodded her head in thanks and stepped closer to him.

  He didn’t look at her. ‘Everything’s changed, Halla. I feel like we’re on the edge of something... death or something worse.’

  ‘We are,’ she replied. ‘But it’s still in our power. We can win – freedom, victory, a new life. Look at me, Tricken.’

  He tilted his face upwards, revealing red eyes.

  ‘We need to inspect the defences this morning. Would you do me a kindness and rouse Wulfrick and Falling Cloud?’

  ‘Aye, my lady,’ he replied, with a tentative smile.

  Faces appeared from antechambers as servants heard her voice. They whispered happily to each other that their mistress had returned, but they were too nervous to enter the hall. Young men and women, their faces obscured by doors and shadows, darted across openings, asking each other if they should go about their morning duties.

  ‘You may enter,’ she shouted. ‘These fires need stoking. And breakfast would be pleasant.’

  She sat at the end of the hall in an old chair her father used to sit in. She mused upon the future, wanting an adviser or a spark of inspiration to appear. Her destination had always been Tiergarten, since Rulag used the krakens to sink the dragon fleet, but she’d given little thought to what happened next.

  She stayed in the chair, leaning her elbows on her knees, as the Hall of Summer Wolf slowly awoke. The fires leapt, displacing the cold night air, and a hearty breakfast was laid out. Within minutes, her captains and the commanders of the city had assembled. They ate quietly, with little mingling between the groups. She stayed in the centre, eating sparingly and watching the seated battle brothers and sisters share an awkward breakfast. Some, like the Low Kasters Rorg and Timon, had enough in common to bridge the gap, but only Wulfrick and Alahan actually sat together.

  When the food was done and the dishes cleared away, the defenders of Tiergarten ran out of excuses to keep to themselves and Halla took a deep breath. She stood
from her father’s chair and walked down the middle of the hall.

  ‘Rulag the Betrayer will attack any day now,’ she said. ‘If luck is with us, we may have a week to put everything in place. We have men and trolls to marshal as effectively as possible. Even at the most optimistic estimate, we will be outnumbered ten to one. But we have our walls.’ She frowned and nodded her head. ‘Tricken, Rexel, let us leave the warmth of my hall and take a look over the city. Wulfrick, you and your lord Teardrop may come too.’

  She turned and flung open the huge, wooden doors, letting flecks of snow and whirls of wind break their warm repose. Most of the warriors remained seated, waiting for their instructions, while a handful lingered in her shadow, eager to have their say in the defence of Tiergarten. Halla walked across the High Hold to the edge of Kalall’s Steps. The city of Summer Wolf was grey stone, built into the mountains by the ancient men of Fjorlan. In a thousand years it had never fallen to attack. But it had never had so few defenders.

  She stopped by the railing, letting the sharp wind pull her hair out of her face. Tricken and Falling Cloud stood either side of her, but waited for her to speak first.

  ‘How many warriors do we have?’ she asked.

  ‘We had six hundred that can fight,’ replied Tricken. ‘Another four or five hundred who aren’t trained, but want to fight. And a load of old folks that are half-blind or can barely stand. You bring a further thousand.’

  ‘And a dozen trolls,’ added Falling Cloud. ‘And we can include Rorg and his Low Kasters in that number. They’re almost as unmanageable.’

  ‘Where did you put the trolls?’

  Tricken and Rexel looked at each other. They had only met the previous day, but had bonded over a shared responsibility for organizing Halla’s army.

  ‘Where are they?’ she repeated.

  ‘They buried themselves outside the city,’ replied Tricken. ‘Never seen anything like it. They dug massive holes with those claws of theirs and covered themselves with snow. You wouldn’t even know they were there. Rorg and his men helped cover them over.’

  She noticed that Timon the Butcher, Alahan’s strange companion, had come out of the hall and was standing next to Wulfrick.

  ‘You, Timon, come here,’ she said, making the huge man lope over to the railing. ‘You know of trolls?’

  ‘Yes, Daughter of the Wolf,’ replied the Low Kaster, his leather-bound head pulsing as he spoke. ‘I saw the Ice Men go to sleep.’

  ‘Sleep?’

  He nodded, looking like an eager child delivering good news. ‘They sleep in the ice, awaiting their time. They will act as they see fit. I don’t think they should form part of your plans. They will have their own.’

  ‘And you?’ she asked. ‘How do you fit into our plans?’

  ‘I will do whatever you ask, Daughter of the Wolf. I no longer want to make my own decisions. I have pledged my fate to you.’

  ‘He doesn’t fight,’ offered Alahan, moving to join them.

  Timon nodded. ‘When I gave up my fate, I gave up violence. I am a fearsome warrior and did not want to fight until told to by a more worthy spirit than my own. If I am not directed, I am too dangerous.’

  ‘You will fight,’ said Halla. ‘You will fight to defend the freedom of Tiergarten and her people.’

  The monstrous man stared at her, processing the command. Then his face split into a gummy grin. ‘It is nice to have permission,’ he said. ‘Though I will need an axe.’

  ‘Tricken, get someone to find him an axe,’ she said, narrowing her eyes at the strange Low Kaster.

  ‘Aye, Halla.’

  Timon the Butcher scuttled away with the man summoned to take him to the armoury. Alahan didn’t back away but stayed next to her, making sure he was close enough to contribute. Wulfrick was always over his shoulder, never more than a few feet from his young thain. Halla no longer knew how to talk to Wulfrick. He had been her friend and her battle brother through many dangers, but they’d returned to civilization and the rules they’d lived by for almost a year didn’t apply any more.

  ‘Let us walk,’ she said, heading for Kalall’s Steps.

  Brindon Crowe appeared from the hall and joined them, motioning for Alahan and Wulfrick to remain behind. If they took offence, they didn’t show it, but Halla knew she’d need to talk to the young thain before many more days had passed.

  The highest landings were filled with people, some moving their provisions as far away from the walls as possible, while others boarded up windows and secured doors. Rulag would likely bombard the city, and those who would not be fighting were preparing their homes. Old men wore antique axes, and many children had struggled into armour far too big for them. If the streets erupted with combat, these citizens of Tiergarten would not give their lives or their possessions easily. Many of the old men had to be told not to join the defenders. They had a stubborn resilience that had no time for creaking limbs or old bones.

  From their high vantage point, Falling Cloud pointed out the ballistae on the forward walls, each one freshly oiled, with crews at the ready. Tricken showed her the ranks of cloud-men stationed in Ulric’s Yard, readied for any attack on the gates. Halla would be on the walls when the attack came, leading her best battle brothers, but she knew their greatest enemies would be fatigue and their small number. Rulag could leave men in reserve and send fresh waves of attack, whereas the defenders of Tiergarten would have to snatch rest while at their posts.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Halla saw the glint of a blade. She turned just in time to see a young man lunging at her from out of the press of people. The blade was aimed low and her slight movement caused the knife to catch in her cloak. The attacker pulled back the blade as Falling Cloud and Tricken rushed to tackle him. She raised her hand to defend her face as the man lunged again, and the thin knife skewered her palm.

  She cried out in pain and fell backwards. The man fell on top of her. A moment later, as he tried to pull his blade from her hand, the assassin was wrestled to the floor by Tricken and kicked in the stomach by Falling Cloud.

  She pulled the blade free and blood pooled on the wide steps. She sat back, gritting her teeth. The man was restrained, but his angry eyes stared at her.

  ‘Not the cleverest thing you’ve done, young man,’ said Tricken.

  Halla grasped the wound tightly, trying to stop the flow of blood. It hurt, but she’d had far worse. She stood, with the help of an offered hand from Falling Cloud, and looked down upon her would-be assassin. ‘What’s your name, boy? And how have I offended you so?’

  ‘Kagan Green,’ he replied. ‘You are not fit to rule Tiergarten, One Eye. My father will be thain in the new era of strength.’

  ‘Your father is Halfdan Green?’ she asked. ‘Where is he hiding?’ His family were wealthy merchants, originally from Jarvik, and her father had hated them.

  Kagan spat at her feet. Old Father Crowe assessed her hand. He frowned and pressed at the wound, almost making her yelp in pain.

  ‘Lucky it was a small knife,’ said the priest. ‘You’ll be fine. And as for this new era of strength, does your father no longer revere Rowanoco? Has Rulag’s poison infected him so totally?’

  ‘Rowanoco will be remade in our image,’ replied Kagan Green. ‘Freedom and honour have ever held us back. The Lord Bear Tamer brings only strength.’

  ‘Not strength enough to kill me, it seems,’ she said. ‘If you tell me where your father and brothers are hiding, you will merely be imprisoned. I haven’t got time to worry about a hostile family hiding in my city.’

  He laughed, but it was tinged with fear and desperation. Around him stood half a dozen warriors, each of whom would kill him instantly at Halla’s command. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. ‘Kill me, for I will tell you nothing.’

  ‘Very well,’ she replied. ‘Tricken, take him to the chain-house. I’ll deal with him when my hand has stopped bleeding.’

  The man was roughly taken from her sight to be chained in a cell and a
wait execution. Crowe and Falling Cloud flanked her as they made their way back to the High Hold.

  ‘Halfdan Green has several hundred retainers,’ said Crowe. ‘He could cause a lot of problems. The caverns under this city are vast and we can’t spare the men to do a search.’

  ‘As long as he doesn’t open the gate,’ said Falling Cloud. ‘Or send a better killer. We can’t spare the men to guard everyone important either.’

  ‘There’ll be none of that,’ said Halla. ‘My life is my responsibility. If he tries again, and I’m on my own... well, I’ll have to move faster.’

  CHAPTER 5

  TYR NANON IN THE FELL

  ‘SO, I CAN’T die?’ asked Keisha.

  ‘Not easily, no,’ he replied. ‘Your father survived all sorts of things that would have killed any other man.’

  ‘I’ve always been quick,’ she said, flexing her slender hands. ‘And my eyes are sharp. Is that something to do with it too?’

  He nodded. ‘I imagine being a slave made it tricky to explore your talents.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ she replied with a smile. ‘If anything, being a slave made them more acute. It’s a world where you only have yourself. All a slave has is her body. No freedom, no possessions, just her arms, her legs and her mind.’

  Nanon didn’t understand slavery. Not the corporeal kind practised in Karesia. They employed flesh for labour, sex, war and general amusement, using people until their flesh gave up.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered. ‘I can’t imagine anything worse than the loss of freedom.’

  Her smile faded and she turned her dark eyes towards him. Keisha’s long, black hair was tied back and the dusky skin of her face fell into a frown. ‘It’ll never leave me,’ she replied. ‘Being a slave, I mean. But I’ve felt more alive in the last few days than... well, I don’t think I’ve ever really felt alive. Can I be a soldier of the Long War, like you?’