The Arena of Lost Souls

by Martin Swinford

  "You mean he's..."

  "The one behind the killings, yes." Luan wadded one of the strips and pressed it to the wound. "Help me lift him." Between them they managed to lift Stav enough so they could pass the bandages underneath, binding the wound as neatly and tightly as they could.

  "What do you think?" Fin asked anxiously.

  "Well his breathing’s a bit better," Luan replied, "but he's hurt bad."

  "How will we..." Fin broke off, lifted his head. "What's that?" It was the sound of branches snapping and running feet, and a series of cries and yells getting closer, rising in pitch.

  "Aah! Oh! Ow! Aargh! OOH! OUCH!" Fin and Luan looked at each other.

  "Brenn!" They said in unison. With a crash of branches Brenn dived headfirst into the clearing, skidding towards them in a shower of pine needles. Right behind came two tribesmen, leaping after him in a swirl of long hair and loose robes. Luan rolled to his left before springing sword in hand to block the blow aimed at Brenn. To his side he caught a glimpse of Fin ducking under a spear and thrusting upwards at the other foe. Screams and curses filled the clearing as Luan caught a second blow that crashed in his direction. The black and white painted face in front of him grimaced and yelled and Luan gagged as his nostrils were filled with the unwashed stench of his attacker. The tribesman was much bigger than Luan and he pushed the boy back with sheer strength, hammering down blows that Luan parried frantically. But the attack was too strong. With a horrible clang the bronze sword shattered on the iron blade and Luan was quick to press home his advantage, whipping his sword across the tribesman's face in a spray of blood, before lunging forward and driving the point deep into his enemy's chest. For a moment he felt the man twitch on the blade, before falling backwards, his life force gone. Luan looked across to where Fin stood above the body of the other tribesman as the clearing fell shockingly silent.

  “Thanks.” Brenn looked up pale faced and then was suddenly sick.

  “Come on.” Fin pulled him to his feet. “Are you ok?”

  “I’m sorry.” Brenn wiped his mouth. “I was so...I mean, that could have been me.” He gestured at the twisted bodies.

  “I know.” Fin smiled. “Me too.”

  “Really?”

  “I've never been so scared.”

  Brenn brightened visibly at his friend’s words before his face creased with worry. “What happened to Stav?”

  “No time,” Luan interrupted. “We need to get going, Help me get him up.” They lifted him as carefully as they could, until he was supported between Luan and Fin, arms around their shoulders, and theirs around him.

  "Ok" said Luan. "Let's go. Brenn, you're going to have to protect us, we're very vulnerable like this." Brenn swallowed nervously but drew his sword and nodded.

  "Which way?" Fin asked.

  "Uphill," Luan answered. "We've got to try to reach the stones."

  BRENN LED THE WAY AS they pushed through the trees. Every now and then Stav's eyes would flicker and he would mutter or moan, but mostly he hung like a dead weight. The boys moved cautiously, always aware of the enemies around them, unnerved by the distorted sounds in the gloom. Their feet slipped as they forced their way over heaps of pine needles, waves in a sienna sea interspersed with lurid green moss where a rare shaft of light filtered down. From over to their right came the clash of swords, screams and shouts, causing them to stop suddenly before hurrying on. It was impossible to keep a sense of direction, or even how long they’d been struggling on, all they could was try to keep heading upwards.

  "Look out!" Brenn was standing on the lip of a deep gulley that cut its way downhill. At the bottom a stream wound its way through a tangle of branches and tree trunks, the banks were covered with a luxurious growth of ferns.

  "I've got to stop." Fin's voice was shaking.

  "Down there!" Luan pointed to a flat spot on the bank of the stream. Fin nodded and together they made their cautious way down.

  "That's better." Fin laid Stav down on the floor, before standing straight and stretching, hands in the small of his back.

  "Where am I?" The frail voice startled them. Stav, eyes open, was attempting to push himself up on his elbows.

  "Hey." Luan crouched down next to his friend. "How're you feeling?"

  "I've been better." Stav smiled weakly and then grimaced in pain.

  "Here." Brenn knelt and offered Stav some water. The injured boy drank and then spluttered as another wave of pain caused him to choke.

  "What happened to Cail?" He asked as soon as he caught his breath.

  "Got away."

  "Good!" Stav managed a grin. "Means he's still alive for me to kill!"

  Brenn smiled. "Get some rest. I'm going to keep watch." He ducked under the fern and made his way quietly up the bank.

  "What do you think?" Fin looked tired.

  "Ten minutes?" Luan replied. Fin nodded and lowered himself to the ground and closed his eyes. Within seconds he was asleep. Beside him lay Stav, his breath quick and shallow but he seemed to be in less pain. Luan cupped his hands and drank from the stream, water so cold it made his teeth hurt but wonderfully refreshing. He lay back on the soft earth. Above him the tall pines swayed in the breeze. A squirrel ran along a branch, stopping here and there to peek under a spray of pines. As Luan watched it found a pine cone and, chittering in delight, sat up and started to gnaw. A cloud of chaff began to drift down, spiralling lazily to patter on the ferns that curled protectively over the sleeping boys.

  Four – The Standing Stones

  Armoured for battle, armed to fight

  Bronze helm polished and crested high

  BRENN CROUCHED BENEATH the ferns at the top of the rise and looked left then right. At this point there was the faintest indication of a path through the wood and it gave him the best chance of seeing someone approach.

  “The advantage of being small,” he thought, “is that I can hide better,” and certainly anyone coming along the path would be hard pressed to see him, concealed as he was. He glanced at his sword, lying on the ground beneath his hand. It reminded him of his father's, a good blade, but clumsy, fine if you wanted to hew away like you were felling a tree, but no good for real swordplay. Brenn wished he had Shadowpoint, the sword his brother had presented him with before riding off to battle, the sword he had been forced to leave at home. A furtive grin played across his face. That was the way to fight, darting in and out before your enemy could react, fast and lethal, the dance of death. Except you've never actually done it, that nagging voice inside him pointed out, never fought a real fight, never killed anyone. He shuddered at the thought. In the glade he had been scared, terrified in fact, running from the two tribesmen, lucky that Fin and Luan had been there to save him. And they had just fought and killed like there was nothing to it. Brenn glanced back to where his friends rested. Fear flowered suddenly within him but stubbornly he fought it down. Now he was the defender, he was the brave one.

  The crack of a stick breaking jerked him to full awareness. Pulse pumping, he forced himself to stay absolutely still. “Steady,” he told himself, “wait. Don't give yourself away.” The seconds lingered on and then came suddenly the swish of a branch springing back. Silently Brenn curled his fingers round the sword hilt and tensed himself to spring, straining to hear every sound. There was definitely someone coming up the track. No, more than one. He could hear them now, getting closer. Should he stay concealed and hope they passed by? Or use his advantage and strike while he had the element of surprise? How many were there? He could take one with his first attack, he was sure, but the second would be harder, and after that?

  He could see their feet now, booted, coming steadily towards him. If he moved he would see more, but he couldn't risk it. They were close now. With a mixture of shame and relief he decided he would let them pass. Unless they stopped, then he would strike. He stopped breathing as the first passed, then the second, and a third, and at last the fourth. Brenn had begun to breathe again when the last stopped and then
began to turn back towards him.

  Brenn erupted from the ferns, sword swinging high, yelling as he charged.

  "Brenn! HOLD!"

  Somehow Mack's voice broke through. As the red mist faded Brenn realised that his blade was inches from Druca's throat. The boy stood motionless, face frozen in terror.

  "Hur..." Druca swallowed. "Hello Brenn."

  "Sorry," Brenn said, lowering his sword. For a moment Druca looked at him and then grinned.

  "Tell you what Brenn lad!" he remarked. "I'm glad I'm on your side!"

  They crowded around him, Bridie, Accio and Brico as well as Mack and Druca, desperate to know what had happened and to share their stories.

  "No time!" he interrupted. "The others are down here, Stav's wounded."

  "Others?" asked Bridie.

  "Fin and Luan as well." He spoke over his shoulder as he led them carefully down into the gully. A thought struck him and he shuddered, he could have killed Druca. It didn't bear thinking about and yet at the same time there was a part of him that glowed. I really had him, he thought, and smiled.

  IT DIDN'T TAKE THEM long to put together a rough stretcher of branches for Stav, and so they set off, making their way cautiously uphill. Mack, Luan, Fin and Druca carried the stretcher, Brenn led the way, sword in hand, with Accio and Brico bringing up the rear. Stav lapsed in and out of consciousness, occasionally talking quietly to Bridie who walked next to the stretcher, holding his hand. They followed the gully at first, travelling as quietly as they could, and were relieved they heard nothing that made them think others were near.

  "The trees are thinning out," Brenn called back. It was true, as the forest pulled back and the light brightened, so their hopes lifted. Maybe they would make it out.

  But the end of the forest brought its own anxieties. Brenn raised his hand, signalling to the others to stop, and they hunkered down in the long grass that grew brown and ragged beneath the trees. He moved stealthily forward, using the trees for cover, then, when he was close to the forest edge, he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled the rest of the way.

  They had come out towards the top of the ridge. To his left the ground dropped away to a tree lined gully that led down to the lake beyond. To his right the land rose in a jumble of rough grass and heather, interspersed with boulders. Above he could make out the mysterious shapes of the standing stones silhouetted against the sky. A hawk wheeled overhead but otherwise there was no sign of life. Brenn waited. What if it was a trap? What if the Eagle Clan warriors were watching? What if.... There was only one way to find out: he stood and walked into the open. About fifty paces up the hillside was a large flat rock standing proud from the heather. As he scrambled towards it he could have sworn he felt eyes boring into his back, but there was no shout, no cry of pursuit. He reached the rock and climbed up. He looked back towards the forest, across to the lake and then up towards the stones. He could see no one, nothing out of place, no trap. He breathed a sigh of relief and headed back to where his friends were waiting.

  THEY MADE THEIR WAY to the stones without too much trouble, and laid Stav gently down on the spongy grass. The great oval of misshapen stones surrounded them, their surfaces weathered and etched with lichen, each one about the height of a boy. From where he stood Brenn could see that some of the stones were marked with lines and symbols, others were pierced with holes. In the centre stood a great stone three times as high as the others. About two thirds of the way up it bent and grew, until in shape it reminded Brenn of a great stone axe head. Then his attention was drawn to a series of cuts and scratches about four feet above the ground. He stepped over and ran his hand over them.

  "From sharpening blades." It was Mack that spoke.

  "Blades?"

  "Yes," said Mack. "They need them nice and sharp for the sacrifices." Brenn jerked his hand away, overcome by a cold feeling of revulsion.

  "Mack!" Bridie's call was urgent. They hurried over to where she knelt next to Stav and watched as she drew back his cloak.

  "There's a lot of blood," she said in a hushed voice.

  "What? Where?" Stav stirred as the pain dragged him back to consciousness.

  "It's alright," Bridie soothed.

  "Aye lad," added Mack. "We'll soon have you right!" The glance he exchanged with Bridie told a different story.

  "Water?" Stav pleaded.

  "Should we give him some?" Bridie asked. Mack nodded. Fin slid his pack to the floor, took out his flask and then lifted Stav's head so he take a few sips. The stricken boy lay back with a sigh, opened his eyes and stared for a moment at the clouds.

  "Where are we?" he asked quietly.

  "We made it to the standing stones," Fin replied, "and a strange place it is too! We're just waiting for the others."

  Brenn, Accio and Druca spread out around the circle, using the stones for cover.

  "Look!" Accio called. He pointed down the hillside to a large figure and two smaller ones emerging from the narrow defile that led down to the lake; it was Drustan with the Ghost and the Weasel in tow. Accio put two fingers in his mouth and blew a long low whistle. The boys below looked up and one raised an arm in recognition as they began to make their way up the hillside.

  "You made it then?" Fin asked as they climbed wearily up to the circle.

  "Aye," responded Drustan. "Had a bit of trouble with the locals but we soon dealt with it didn't we boys?" The Ghost smiled coldly and the Weasel snickered. "How many were there?" asked Drustan for the benefit of his audience.

  "Five!" The Weasel laughed. "Five corpses now!"

  "You?" asked the Ghost.

  "Two," replied Fin, "and Luan took down one."

  "What about you?" Drustan asked Druca.

  "We had a little dance in the woods," he replied. "Me and the Eagle boys hey? Then Accio and Brico turn up and decide they want to play!"

  Brenn looked from one to the other with a sinking heart. He knew it was just bravado, a way of dealing with the fear, but it didn't help.

  "How about little Brenn?" Drustan sneered. "Any victories for you?" Brenn shook his head and turned away.

  IT WASN'T LONG BEFORE the rest of the boys arrived, joining the other members of the patrol sprawling on the soft turf. Everyone had some injury, from scrapes and bruises collected in the flight through the forest, to a nasty cut on Callum's forearm. Bridie stitched it while he sat with his jaw clamped shut, refusing to show pain but looking angrier than ever. Stav was the only serious casualty. At first the patrol looked to Mack to tell them what to do. They were surprised when Luan stood to speak.

  "What's going on here?" asked Drustan in his usual sneering way.

  "I need to tell you something," Luan said. "It's about Cail."

  The mention of his name provoked a chorus of questions.

  "Where is he?"

  "Yeah. What's happened to him?"

  "Why isn't he here?"

  "Is he hurt?"

  "Is he dead?"

  "Wait!" Luan raised his hands, palms down, in a calming gesture. "It's worse than that."

  "Worse than being dead?" Asked Brico incredulously.

  "He's betrayed us."

  There was a stunned silence, then a rush of noise: chattering, muttering, shouting, denials.

  "It's true." The voice was quiet and all the more powerful for it. As Stav spoke all the boys fell silent.

  "It's true," he said again. "It was Cail that did this to me. He was going to kill Luan!"

  "What happened?" the Ghost asked.

  "I tried to stop him, but he was stronger than me."

  "He'd be stronger than any of us," Fin interrupted.

  "Maybe," Stav continued. "But he'd have killed me if Luan hadn't stopped him." He paused for breath and grimaced as a wave of pain ran through him before looking Luan straight in the eye. "I once asked you to tell me what was going on and you said you couldn't tell me. I think now you need to tell me, tell all of us, what's happening."

  Luan looked around him at the patrol, this grou
p of battered boys who had been through so much already but were going to have to do so much more and decided that it was time.

  "It's a long story..." he began.

  "LET'S GET THIS STRAIGHT!" said Drustan, injecting as much incredulity as possible. "You're saying that you're a prince?"

  "No" Luan replied. "Cail thought I was the prince."

  "Why would he think that?"

  "Because one of the novices actually is the Prince."

  "But why would he join the Klaideem?"

  "He's the second son," Druca interrupted. "He would have to."

  "But why kill him?" Drustan continued to protest.

  "We're at war!" Mack spoke with authority. "A prince of the Kingdom will always be a target and away from court he would be vulnerable."

  "Which is why there was the false description," Luan explained.

  "So that's why Cail killed those boys?" Accio asked. "Because they fitted the description?"

  "Yes." Luan paused, unwilling to go on but knowing he had to be completely honest. "And he didn't act alone."

  "Who helped him?" the Ghost asked.

  "Not a who," Luan replied. "A thing, a creature of the spirit world." He expected to be met with disbelief, to be laughed at even, but there was only silence. In truth, they all believed in the fair folk, however much they might pretend otherwise, and here in the ring of standing stones none dared to mock.

  "What creature?" asked Callum quietly.

  "No!" Accio shouted in alarm. "Do not name it! Not here!"

  "He's right," Mack agreed. "Not in the standing stones." There were mutters and nods of agreement and some of the boys made gestures to ward off evil.

  "So," said Druca. "Were Cail and this, this thing working together?"

  "I think so," replied Luan. "I don't really know, but I do know that I was next on the list. I fit the description. Think about the boys that died."

  "He's right," the Ghost spoke up. "They were all very similar."