The World Raven

by A. J. Smith

  The Ice Man reached down, wrapping his huge arms round the monster’s trunk and, with a grunt, hefting it off the ice. Black tentacles shook violently in the air, trying to reach the ground, but the troll was hugely strong and appeared not to care about the seeping wound in its chest. The Ice Man squeezed the larger creature and dug its claws into its shimmering, black flesh, securing a firm grip. The other trolls then sprang into life, howling and running at the darkwood trees, even as the small troll moved towards the next monster, wielding the thrashing beast like a huge club.

  The children of the Dead God faltered, unable to comprehend the ferocity of Rowanoco’s Ice Men. Ingrid felt as if a conflict far beyond the petty struggle for Tiergarten was playing out on the ice of Fjorlan. Or maybe she was just afraid, and her mind conjured fantasies to keep her safe.

  The lead troll began beating one Dark Young with the restrained mass of another. He spat and growled, smashing the two beasts together with awesome strength. His family, just as unconcerned by the monsters, charged, claws outstretched and muscles rippling. They set about the trees with chaotic ferocity, leaping on to their backs, clawing at their flesh and grabbing tentacles. They shrugged off attacks and ignored the sickly green mouths, sending out waves of triumphant keening with every hammer-blow of their over-sized fists and every swipe of their foot-long claws.

  She sensed a wave of confidence travel across Tiergarten and heard distant cheering. It was the sound of angry triumph.

  ‘Unrahgahr!’ roared the small troll.

  The trees had no answer. They were unused to the power of the Ice Men, unused to creatures that didn’t feel fear and didn’t care about wounds. Their tentacles thrashed left and right, but were grabbed by the trolls. One of the Ice Men was trying to eat one, swatting away its writhing branches and biting a chunk from its oily, black flesh. The small one still held one of the creatures, but it was now limp and covered with seeping black blood. It was smashed into the snow and the other trees, its dead mass being used as an over-sized club. Or maybe a flail, now that its tentacles whipped limply wherever the troll hefted the dead beast.

  Ingrid could barely believe her eyes as the darkwood trees began to flee. As they’d approached Tiergarten, all madness and writhing limbs, they’d appeared unbeatable. Now, being thrown around like inert flesh by the trolls, they were far from intimidating. In fact, they were now just meals. But still they were fast, thrashing to gain purchase on the ice and pull themselves swiftly north to the relative safety of the gullies. The trolls pursued, sweeping after the trees, smacking their pulpy lips together and keening in ravenous triumph. Behind them, torn apart on the white plains, were five dead trees, tentacles and trunks splayed in messy piles.

  Ingrid wanted to cheer. She wanted to jump up and down and give the trolls a massive hug. Even more, she wanted to see Rulag’s face – and the Karesian, he’d be really cross. She chuckled, letting momentary elation fill her up. They’d won a victory. A huge victory, against fear and madness. If only she could have stood by her brother and felt the joy in Tiergarten, behind the walls that once again looked high enough to repel any army.

  ‘Get these fucking things moving,’ screamed a gruff voice from the ground.

  She could see the men below moving hurriedly. They’d quickly regained their composure after watching the last of the trolls disappear into the northern gullies. Rulag’s captains shouted commands and readied the army for attack. Their trees had been vanquished and, no matter what Kal Varaz thought, axes would still decide the fate of Fjorlan.

  The tower lurched forward and she held on tight to the wooden frame, keeping her head away from the edge. She could distantly hear Corvus, and the sound kept a smile firmly planted on her face. Whatever happened, she knew that Brytag watched and she really liked Brytag.

  ‘I’m coming, Alahan... I’m still alive... I escaped.’ The smile became a grin. ‘I was a real pain in the arse too. You’d be proud of me.’

  She was only whispering, but she hoped that her words would float across the air, from the top level of the siege tower to the top level of Tiergarten, letting her brother know that neither her body, her mind nor her spirit had broken.

  What felt like it would break was the siege tower. It creaked and groaned, brute strength the only thing that forced it over the last few rocks. Either side, the other towers, six in total, rumbled on to the plains of Tiergarten, followed by tight columns of men staying behind cover. The sled crews and their whips thrashed the dogs onwards, receiving barks and bites from the abused animals.

  They were gaining speed, but kept in tight formation as they moved into the open. With no rocks or gullies to obscure the army, they stretched back as far as she could see, snaking behind each tower and clanking across the snow. There were still sleds and baggage at the rear, with several large tents set up on the high ground. Rulag was too scared to fight Alahan himself and would be sneering at his enemy from a safe distance. She knew how angry that would make her brother. How could the thain of Jarvik claim superior strength when he hid behind his men?

  She was now level with the High Hold of the city and had a spectacular view of Tiergarten. It dug into the mountain in irregular levels, each level starting with a wall and a gate and ending with solid rock. Shapes scuttled across the walls, looking like nothing more than ants climbing over an anthill. Glinting metal and the rusty brown of ballistae shone from the bottom level as the defenders clustered, ready to meet the siege towers. Flaming braziers were placed along the wall and huge wooden arrows were flung around on cranes by ballistae crews. Hundreds of warriors, surely more than Rulag had expected. Her smile returned as she saw banners flying over the High Hold. A wolf, howling against a rising sun, fluttered next to a weeping dragon. The heraldry of Summer Wolf and Teardrop, defiantly aloft.

  ‘Halla’s in the city,’ she muttered. ‘She’s made it home.’

  If Ingrid had a heroine, it would be Aleph Summer Wolf’s daughter. Men called her One-Eye the Axe-Maiden. She was the toughest woman Ingrid had ever met. With her and Alahan in the city, she thought that no-one could prevail against Tiergarten, though she wasn’t naive enough to disregard the thousands of grubby warriors marching behind the siege towers.

  Closer and closer they moved, spreading out into a sinuous web of black and brown. The men of Ursa roared at each other, relaying commands to keep behind cover and hold formation.

  The towers were kept empty so they were light enough to move quickly, but men had now moved into the bottom level and she could hear them grunting beneath her. She huddled up as best she could in the compartments above the drawbridge. She’d be able to peer forwards and see the chain-secured wooden planks drop on to the walls and the axe-men rush out. If she continued to be lucky, they would be too busy to look above them. If she was very lucky, she’d be able to jump down and make good her escape before the drawbridge dropped.

  At intervals, the huge ballistae sprang back as they unloaded fiery arrows at the towers. A long shaft of burning wood arced towards her and thudded into the tower, several levels below.

  ‘No, no, don’t shoot at me,’ she muttered, wishing she could shout to the people of Tiergarten.

  Other arrows struck other towers and fires caught on the wood. One tower was struck twice and rolling red and yellow flame quickly spread, causing panic among the sled dogs at the base. The crews tried to marshal the animals, but quickly retreated from the spreading flames and abandoned the tower to a rising swell of fire.

  Buckets of water that had been stored in the towers were relayed from man to man in an effort to quell the fires. She heard men frantically running up the stairs and Ingrid’s tower was quickly doused from below. A fog of woodsmoke obscured the city for a moment, making her cover her mouth to muffle a cough. Her eyes stung and she looked down, through gaps in the wooden plank-work to the drawbridge level. There were now men of Ursa just below her, but they were too busy with their buckets of water to look up.

  When the smoke cleared, one to
wer was totally engulfed in flame and two more were full of men with water, struggling to control the blaze. The other three rumbled onwards with the men, not missing a step.

  The walls gained more texture, as did the faces of the men and women standing on them. The defenders were stationary, meeting the oncoming army in three ranks of steel and grit. The front rank held throwing-axes and their arms were poised, waiting for the attackers to get within range. The ballistae crews reloaded and Ingrid lay as flat as she could as the huge wooden frames released their bolts a second time.

  These bolts had barrels attached and were aimed at the thin tendrils of marching men, detonating into mushroom clouds of flame as they hit the ground. She forced herself not to look, but couldn’t shut out the sound of men being burned alive. It was like nothing she’d heard, a cacophony of equal parts troll, wolf, pain, fear and gurgling vomit.

  So many people were dead already and they’d not even reached the walls. In that moment, with men rushing into the siege towers and the gate of Tiergarten before her, Ingrid lost any romantic ideas she may have had about war. There was no honour or glory here, no sense of why they were fighting. She imagined the average battle brother wishing he could just throw down his axe and go home. Maybe he had a farm and some children. Maybe they were waiting for him. She believed that Rulag cared – and she knew that Alahan did; but the fifth axe-hurler from the right? Did he actually want to kill another man? She thought of her father, wishing he was here, his strong arms holding her and his bearded face smiling with a kind word and a silly joke.

  The towers slowed and hatches were opened, allowing the exchange of throwing-axes to begin. From the city, two volleys came in an instant, as men and women released their tensed arms. From the towers, men were cut and cleaved, but released their own axes at the defenders.

  She just lay there, pressed against wood, with her hands firmly on her ears as fire and death erupted around her. Everything was muted and hazy, as if her head was underwater. She dared not look at the other towers or behind at the army. Many would have died from the flaming pitch, she knew, but nothing had stopped or slowed down.

  They were so close now. Tiergarten loomed, shutting out the crisp blue sky, appearing all at once as a stone mask in front of her eyes. Hundreds of battle brothers stood firm on the first wall and hundreds more covered the higher battlements. This was not the weak city of women and farmers that Rulag had predicted. It was a well-defended block of stone and axes, not budging an inch as Rulag prodded it.

  A spray of blood splashed across her face. She gasped and flapped at the air, trying to wipe the sticky film from her skin. It came from below, from the split skull of an axe-man, preparing to lower the drawbridge. As she looked in horror at the dead man and her own blood-covered hands, the level below was filling with men. She didn’t look up as the siege tower thudded into the outer walls of Tiergarten, making her world stop suddenly with a violent shake.

  Any hope she had of escaping first was lost in a haze of dust and shouted voices. Battles were too big for one young girl to truly process and she had no idea what was happening. At least one other tower had reached the walls and death was flowing across the battlements, conveyed by axes, glaives, punches, kicks and lots of swearing.

  She crawled back to the edge of the tower. It was a long drop to the walls below and the stone was swarming with warriors, with more rushing forward from the tower. They were met by ferocious fighters wielding small hand-axes. They were dressed in leather, not chain, and looked like cloud-men of Hammerfall. They used speed to blunt the advance, but couldn’t stop the sheer weight of men attacking them.

  ‘To the left!’ roared a voice from the city. ‘Plug that gap. No-one gets through.’

  She couldn’t see who had spoken or what gap he referred to. There were gaps everywhere. No attackers had pushed beyond the forward walls, but she could now see all three siege towers against the battlements, and another one rapidly approaching. She looked behind and saw the entire army of Ursa. They were poised and ready to take their turn ascending the towers and assaulting the walls of Tiergarten.

  ‘Push back, hold those fucking walls,’ screamed a man from the city with bright red hair, swinging his axe and trying to reach the front line of defenders.

  ‘Tricken, get men to the left,’ responded a female voice from along the battlements.

  ‘Light up the towers!’ came a command, signalling the launch of a dozen small casks of pitch.

  They were aimed below Ingrid’s hiding place, but she felt the sudden eruption of heat as more men were set alight. Water was thrown from the tower, dousing the flames, but the pause in the assault allowed the defenders to reinforce their line.

  Ingrid noticed that she was crying. The tears had started at some point after the siege towers struck the walls, but she’d not registered them. Perhaps the blood on her face had obscured them or perhaps it was so natural a reaction that her mind ignored it. She had seen so many men die in so short a time. She’d seen blood and gore on a level beyond what she could stomach. As she retched and vomited on the wooden planks, the last thing on her mind was escape.

  Caw

  Somehow she could hear Corvus above the deafening sounds of battle. The sound of the raven eased the twisted knot in her stomach. The bird kept cawing, but she couldn’t turn her eyes skyward to look at him. It was the loudest sound in her ears, but not the most insistent. That honour went to the endless whistling, thudding and scraping of axes cleaving flesh. The clank of armour was secondary; the desperate shouting and roared commands came a distant third. And it seemed to be going on forever.

  With shaking hands and a sore throat, she pulled herself away from the wooden floor. Not high enough to be seen, but high enough to see Corvus, perched at the top of the siege tower.

  ‘I’m scared,’ she whimpered. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

  The raven was still, looking at her through his black eyes. She wished he could speak, somehow convey Brytag’s reassuring presence to a terrified young girl. But all he did was look at her.

  ‘What do I do? Please tell me.’

  She reached for him, not daring to sit up or move too much for fear of being noticed by rampant axe-men. Her fingertips crackled at the ends of her shaking arms, blood and sweat dripping on to the wooden planks.

  Corvus hopped up and down, turning his beak to scan the walls of Tiergarten. He snapped at the air, as if searching for something or someone. She focused on him, trying not to look at the battle that raged all across the forward walls of the city. She couldn’t imagine how many men had died in a shattering few minutes of steel and blood.

  Caw

  Corvus had spotted something. He sprang from the wooden frame at the top of the tower and flapped his wings, rising sharply into the foggy air. He glided away from her, over the heads of fighting men and burning wood. When he stopped, his wings fluttered rapidly and he hung on to the air above the battlements, cawing at something below.

  Ingrid wiped her eyes and edged forward to see what her friend had found. Her hands still shook and vomit still scratched in her throat, but she suddenly hated her hiding place and trusted that Corvus would do his best to look after her.

  ‘What have you found?’ she asked, wincing at the pain in her throat and surprised by the croaky depth to her voice.

  The raven began to fly in tight circles above the adjacent siege tower, where a frenzied battle was playing out on the wide stone battlements. She struggled to focus and discern any individual warriors; it was just a texture of men and fighting, spreading in a line to left and right of her.

  ‘I just see more men dying,’ she whimpered.

  Corvus gave forth a shrill caw and rose higher in the air. Below him, a man of Ursa died, looking up for an instant, frustrated at the irritating raven. The axe that had severed his neck was held by an axe-maiden with red hair and an eyepatch. It was Halla Summer Wolf.

  Ingrid fought the urge to cry out, to shout at Halla and wave her arms in the a
ir. The axe-maiden was killing men like a farmer chopping wheat, but any distraction – such as the screaming of a lost girl – would mean her death.

  She looked different, somehow larger and more imposing, commanding a section of the battlements with complete authority. On either side of her, her men were chopping down warriors of Ursa, fifty men doing the work of two hundred. But still the enemies lined up in front of them.

  Four siege towers now rested against the walls of Tiergarten, unloading men in their hundreds, with more lining up to bloody their axes. The ballistae still fired and pockets of flame still erupted from the icy plains, but there were too many attackers. From the rear, more armoured men of Ursa had begun to heft a huge battering ram towards the city. They held circular shields above their heads and grunted in unison, forming part of a second assault, aimed at the huge wooden gates.

  ‘Halla!’ Ingrid shouted, suddenly frantic. ‘Halla! They’re going to attack the gate.’

  The axe-maiden didn’t hear her. Her voice could not carry over the sound of axes and death. Other defenders had spied the ram now and more casks of pitch were thrown, only to bounce off raised shields with small eruptions of smoggy flame. A few men of Ursa died, but the battlements were now too chaotic for any concerted attack on the ram. The huge wooden tree-trunk hung on chains from a framework, being carried forward with chanted grunts by a hundred men. It moved quickly, weaving between ranks of battle brothers and covering the last few paces at a virtual sprint.

  The sound of wood on wood was dull at first, barely audible above the noise of steel on steel, but each successive strike of the ram caused more noise, much of it consisting of the shouting from the defenders as they moved wooden planks to brace the gate. She wanted to cover her ears again and shut out the battle, retreating into silence where death and struggle couldn’t penetrate, but something in her stomach forced her to keep watching.

  Corvus was hovering over the inner courtyard now, cawing at the column of warriors preparing to defend the main gate. They were led by two men, one impossibly tall, wielding a hammer, and the other— it was Alahan, it was her brother. He stood next to the Order of the Hammer priest and held an arm to the sky, signalling for his men to stand ready. Ingrid looked at him, smiling as if she was seeing him for the first time in many years. In reality it had been barely one year, but everything stretched and distorted when your world had been turned upside down and you’d lost everything you knew.