by Angus Watson
He didn’t know whether to be relieved or not about the Murkan king’s absence. Grummog was a hate-filled man, his character as twisted as his deformed body, and, all things being equal, Bruxon would have been happy never to set eyes on the nasty little fellow again. However, on a practical level, the coordinated planning for three armies was difficult when only two were represented. And there was another reason for wanting Grummog there. He did not want to be alone with Manfrax.
The Eroo king’s guards ushered him into an enormous leather tent, but remained outside themselves and insisted that his retinue did the same. So it was to be just him and Manfrax. Bruxon felt fear rise and stick in his throat. He swallowed.
The king of Eroo was sprawled on a fur-covered throne that was more bed than seat. His narrow-eyed druid queen was nowhere to be seen and neither were any of the giants. The Fassites were camped nearer the sea, on the far side of the Eroo camp. Bruxon had not seen them up close. He didn’t even know if they could speak.
“Your giants should have remained on their island,” he said, sitting with his back straight, hoping that his regal tone would remind Manfrax that they were equals. “They were not part of our agreement.”
“Oh, don’t fuss yourself,” said Manfrax. Bruxon wished that Maggot was with him but he’d trotted off earlier in the day, saying something about “druid business”, and Bruxon hadn’t seen him since.
Manfrax took a long lug from his wooden beer mug, more a barrel with a handle than a tankard. “The Fassites are lovely people.” He wiped his moustache. “Lambs, they are. They do what I tell them to do, nothing more. They won’t trouble the brave people of Dumnonia. When Lowa and her army are all dead, they’ll return meekly whence they came to go about their farming and their basket weaving. They have no ships, the poor things, and no notion of how to make them, so they won’t be leaving their island again without my say-so.”
“Well, you make sure that they do stay there!” Bruxon barked, appalled anew at the man’s casual appearance and attitude. How could a king deport himself like some drunken adventurer? Manfrax was a disgrace. Why had he let the Eroo army invade?
“Of course,” said Manfrax, “there is another army in Britain that we might have a look at, while we’ve got the Fassites here.”
“Is there?” Bruxon sat forward. This sounded interesting.
“With Dumnonia’s support, I was thinking we might have a wee trip around Murkan territory after we’ve dealt with Maidun. After I take Maidun’s lands, it’ll be a year or two before I’m ready to take a full scale expedition north. Makka knows, it was enough of a hoo-ha getting this one together. But if Dumnonia feeds and supplies my army, the two of us can take the Murkan lands in the next moon or two.”
“But what about the Romans? They’re in northern Gaul now, by all accounts invincible and about to sail.”
“Ah yes, the Romans. Funny that we didn’t include them in our invasion plans, especially when your druids have known about their coming for years. It’s almost like you hoped the Romans would send me and my fine people back to Eroo, or perhaps even to the Otherworld, Danu forbid?” Manfrax smiled and took another pull on his beer mug.
“We … I … had no such intention,” said Bruxon. “The Dumnonians have no druids: Samalur killed them all. What we know of the Romans we’ve heard from merchants and bards, just as you have. Nobody could have guessed they’d fight their way through Gaul so quickly.”
“And your man Maggot?”
“He’s a charlatan. He is a useful advisor, but his talk of magic is an affectation. He is more jester than druid.”
“I see. Well, no matter. If the Romans come, the Romans come. The Fassites will show those strutting, feather-headed cockerels just how invincible they are.”
“I thought the Fassites were going back to Fassent?”
“Well, maybe we’ll keep them here for a while, just until all the obstacles are cleared. Now, get yourself over here to seal our pact against the Murkans. Then we’ll plan the details.” Manfrax sat up. He pulled his jerkin aside to reveal his broad, well-fleshed chest, and a nipple that Bruxon remembered from Eroo. “Come on then, let’s make this official.” His jocular lilt had flattened a good deal.
Bruxon tried to remain calm. “Manfrax, this is Britain. I am king here. You are asking for an act of subservience. It was different when I was in your hall on Eroo. I was in your realm, bound by its rules. But I’m sorry, such supplication cannot be contemplated in my own land.”
“Really? Stand up.” Without thinking, Bruxon did so. Manfrax stood as well. His chest came to the same height as Bruxon’s face. Suddenly the big tent seemed very small.
Manfrax reached up with a hand not much smaller than a Fassite’s and gripped the back of Bruxon’s head. “Thousands of people have sucked my nipple, Bruxon,” he said, looking down at the Dumnonian king like a kindly father. “And I can tell when people like it. Usually it’s women that enjoy a good suck. Sometimes it’s men. And one of those men, my British friend, is you. Don’t be embarrassed about it, we all have our desires.”
Manfrax pulled his head forward. Bruxon resisted. Wrenching his head to one side, he saw Manfrax’s queen, Reena, watching from the corner of the tent. How had she stayed there unnoticed? he thought as Manfrax pulled his head back round. There was no resisting. He stopped fighting and opened his mouth.
Chapter 37
Lowa lay awake in the chief of Frogshold’s hut, next to the snoring Dug. They’d made love. Lowa had cried afterwards. Dug had comforted her, then fallen asleep pretty much mid-word. He seemed calmer and more assured than she’d ever known him, not at all concerned about the prospect of walking out to the enemy. It worried her. She liked to be in charge and fully clued up, yet here was something she didn’t understand. Something was going on between Maggot, Spring and Dug. She’d questioned each of them. Spring and Dug, she was sure, knew nothing more than their bizarre conviction that Dug would somehow be able to walk down the hill, meet the three kings and save all their lives.
Maggot did know more, she was sure. There was something in his eyes. A sadness that terrified her.
Pressed as they were, armies all around, pretty much certain to die, she did not want to lose Dug. She’d sooner lose everybody else, herself included. She’d decided to tell him that she was pregnant, but then hadn’t. She didn’t know why. She knew he knew anyway. She just didn’t want to talk about it, she supposed. Not with Dug about to face such impossible danger.
She lay in the dark, sick with worry, listening for alarm horns and annoyed with herself for worrying. They said that strange things happened to your emotions during pregnancy, and perhaps that’s what was happening to her now. She’d faced certain death before without getting all pathetic about it. Great, she thought. As if swelling up into a giant sow then having to force something the size of a baby out of her vagina wasn’t bad enough without the added weepiness.
When dawn finally came, slowly diffusing through the thatched roof’s chimney hole, she hated it and cursed and silently pleaded with the sun to melt back into the darkness and let the night last for ever.
Chapter 38
Well, it was a lovely day for it, whatever “it” was, thought Dug as he trudged alone, southwards down the steep side of Frogshold hill. The breeze had returned and was blowing brilliant white clouds across a huge, pale blue sky. The sheep-stripped turf was springy underfoot.
He could feel the eyes of the Maidunites behind him; Lowa, Spring and the rest all watching. Ahead, the three kings of Dumnonia, Eroo and Murkan waited, the Fassites next to them and their armies stretched for Danu knew how far in every direction around them.
“You’ll know what to do when you get there,” Maggot had said, as if Dug were nipping out on an errand. He had no idea what the druid could have meant, he didn’t have a clue what he was even going to open with, yet he felt strangely happy about it. There was a bounce in his step that usually came only after miles of walking on the very finest days.
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br /> He thought of Lowa’s baby. She hadn’t told him, but he knew; he’d seen the same when his wife Brinna had been pregnant with their twin daughters Kelsie and Terry. It was so long since they’d died, but they were still very much part of who he was. He remembered the day that they were murdered by raiders. He remembered falling to his knees and wailing. When he’d been able to think again, many days later, it had seemed that his life couldn’t possibly go on. But now, more than a decade afterwards, it didn’t seem such a world-ending tragedy, just a moment when his life had changed direction with a jerk. As it had that day in Bladonfort when he’d met Lowa. He hoped that she and baby Dug – he had a feeling it was a boy this time – lived longer and more happily than Brinna, Kelsie and Terry had. It didn’t seem likely, given the current situation, but Dug was irrationally optimistic.
He came to what had been a hedge until the Maidun army had retreated through it the day before, and stepped over broken branches. On the other side, grubbing in the churned earth, was a family of badgers – boar, sow and one cub. All three looked up at Dug, then returned to their foraging.
“Now that,” he said to himself, “has got to be a good sign.”
The badgers made him think of his dogs, waiting for him to come home. The idea of disappointing them sent the first pang of sorrow through him. He felt optimistic for Lowa. For himself, he wasn’t so sure.
Grummog, Bruxon and Manfrax were waiting. “Where the fuck is Lowa?” asked the big, bearded king, in a strong Eroo accent.
“Up in the hillfort,” said Dug. “And it’s Queen Lowa to you.”
“Is it now? And who the fuck are you?”
“I’m Dug. Dug Sealskinner.”
“I know who he is,” spat Grummog from a high seat. “He’s a mercenary Warrior. He worked for me for a while. He was a good fighter, but not the cleverest. I got rid of him because the idiot killed too many on our side.”
Dug remembered. It was the battle in which both sides had painted themselves blue. “That wasn’t my fault,” he said.
“Wasn’t your fault? I saw you! You were lashing out with that hammer like Makka had got you by the—”
“If you’re done reminiscing,” interrupted Manfrax, “would you mind awfully telling us why the fuck we shouldn’t feed you to the Fassites right now?”
Dug looked at the three kings, from one to the next. Manfrax leaning forwards threateningly. Grummog oozing hate from his chair. Bruxon subdued, looking at his feet. As if a gate had opened in his mind and a herd of sheep bleating out ideas had run through, suddenly he knew what to say and what to do.
“You, Manfrax,” said Dug, “are a torturer who brought misery to an entire land. Worse than that, in your stupidity, you’ve unleashed the Fassites on the world. They’ve seen your boats and now they’re building their own. They intend to leave Fassent and kill every human in the world, you included.”
“That’s what you’d like to think, isn’t it?” Manfrax said. “But I have a pact—”
“A pact you say? Like the wee pacts you have with the Murkans and Dumnonians? Which of those are you planning to break first?” Dug looked from Grummog to Bruxon. Grummog looked angry; Bruxon, still looking down, reddened. “I see. So, when Maidun is wiped out, you and Bruxon will turn on Grummog.”
“We will not,” said Manfrax, still smiling. “Although who can blame you, in your desperation, trying to turn friends on each other? That’s exactly what I’d do. It’s Maidun’s only hope. Sorry, my good man, it won’t work.”
“And when you and your Fassites have killed the Murkans, you will turn on Dumnonia.”
“This really is pathet—”
“And then the Fassites will turn on you. Probably before. The few giants here are just biding their time until the rest of them arrive.”
“How can you know all this?” Grummog said.
Dug turned to him, “Grummog. You also torture and murder your own. Greed and the love of violence bring you south. You don’t care that men and women on your own side will die. You wish nothing for others but suffering.
“And you, Bruxon.” Dug turned to the Dumnonian king. “You’re weak and you’ve been used. Not, as you might be imagining, by Manfrax, or even Grummog, but by your advisor, Maggot. Maggot has used you to bring all these evil shits and their armies into one place.”
“Now why would he want to do that?” said Manfrax
“You’re a scourge, ruining the world. You need to be wiped from the land and forgotten. Maggot has arranged for you all to be here so we can get that done. It won’t be long, so if you want to pray to your gods or say farewell to loved ones, now would be the time.”
There was silence, then Manfrax began to laugh. Grummog joined in, then Bruxon. Dug stood, watching them. He felt warm and content. It was coming. This was what his life had been leading to.
“Dug – it is Dug, right?” Manfrax said, recovering from his laughing fit.
“That’s it. Dug Sealskinner,” said Dug.
“You speak for a queen too shy to come to us herself. You speak for an army which I all but destroyed yesterday. Do you know what we’re going to do today?”
“I do. You’re going to die. All of you.”
“We are NOT!” shouted Manfrax. “Right now, we’re making shields for the Fassites so they can walk up the hill without worrying about your archers. When that’s done, up we’ll go and—”
Dug wasn’t listening any more. It was time. He was ready. He spread his arms. He turned away from the three kings. He looked back up the hill to where he knew Lowa and Spring were watching. He closed his eyes.
Chapter 39
Up on the wall, Spring knew what to do. She glanced at Lowa. The queen was even paler than usual.
She looked at Maggot, hoping that he’d tell her not to do it. He smiled, but his eyes were full of tears. She nodded, sick in her stomach. She took a long-distance, slim-pointed arrow from her quiver and slotted it on the bowstring. She lifted her bow and drew. She didn’t need to aim.
“Spring?” said Lowa. “What are you—”
She loosed. The arrow thrummed off into the sky.
Bruxon was perplexed, and worried. The big northerner seemed strangely calm and confident. He knew things he shouldn’t have known. Had Maggot played them all? The notion made some sense, until you got to the part about the Maidun army somehow defeating them. Hopelessly outnumbered and surrounded, it was a matter of when they were destroyed, not if. Any fool could see that.
And now Dug had turned away from them, apparently to show his chest to his friends on the hill. It looked like Maggot-style dramatics. Perhaps the druid had arranged this little show?
Then he saw the arrow, flying down from Frogshold like a diving hawk.
It hit the big Maidun man’s forehead and came halfway out the back of his skull. Dug fell back on to the earth, arms out, face up, stone dead.
“…What the fuck was that?” said Manfrax, with a surprised chuckle.
Bruxon looked about. Everything was the same, apart from the envoy from Maidun had been killed by an astonishing shot from his own side. What was the point of it? Was it a sacrifice meant to bring the gods’ help? Was it some sort of display of machismo?
“Somebody clear that shit up,” said Manfrax, pointing at Dug’s body with half an eye watching for any more long-distance arrows from Frogshold, “and let’s get busy – that little gang on the hill isn’t going annihilate itself. Are those shields ready yet?”
As soon as the arrow left the bow, Lowa knew where it was going. She knew what Spring and Maggot and Dug had planned.
She watched it fly, helpless. She saw the tiny figure of Dug, standing in front of the kings and spreading his arms. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Spring drop her bow and crumple down into a ball. She heard the girl cry out at the moment that Dug fell.
“No!” shouted Lowa. Tears came. She shook her head. “Nooo!” she screamed to the sky and the gods.
Chapter 40
On the i
sland of Fassent, two hundred and ninety miles from the spot where Dug lay dead, the ground vibrated with a low rumble. The Fassites stopped their boat building. The rumbling became louder; a deep, immensely powerful noise. The vibrations grew until the land was shaking. Boat scaffolds collapsed and buildings toppled. A few were injured and one crushed under a ship, but for the most part the buildings were so lightly built and the giants themselves so robust that the collapse of all the Fassite-made structures on the island was more of an inconvenience than a disaster.
The giants ran then crawled to clear land and sat as the ground beneath them buckled and heaved. Most were laughing – bouncing around was fun. Several started fighting, as Fassites always did when they were enjoying themselves. They were interrupted by a terrible roaring, wrenching thunder from above; much, much louder than the earthquake.
The great mountain, the huge rock that dominated their island, split in half and slowly collapsed. The ground they were sitting and fighting on lurched and folded over on itself, and all the Fassites on Fassent were crushed or drowned as a trillion tons of rock fell into the sea.
Chapter 41
Lowa shook off her numbness and ordered two men to carry Spring to her hut. The girl looked dead but Maggot insisted she wasn’t.
“What was that? What the Bel was that?” she asked.
Maggot, for once, looked serious. “I’m sorry. Powerful magic was needed, possibly the most powerful magic that’s ever been. Magic works through love and death, and Spring and Dug … I am sorry that it had to be Dug. But he has saved us all. Not just us here – everyone. Everyone decent, that is. These armies surrounding us? They’re fucked, but it is their own fault.”
