by Alex Janaway
‘Have they forgotten they left a lot of very pissed off dwarves in their wake?’
‘Not all of them. Devlin – he leads their small militia – he gets it. Military man, like you.’
‘Great, he’ll come?’
Owen shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. He seems to follow Cade’s lead. He has a lot of faith in her.’
‘Then we are buggered. We could do with the support.’
‘Yes.’ What else could Owen say?
‘Is there no way we can talk them round, make them see reason?’
‘I don’t know. I was–’
Shouting echoed into the cave.
Killen and Owen shared a look and quickly got to their feet, running outside. Owen saw a figure charging like a lunatic down a steep rocky path, he was waving his hands frantically in the air. Owen, Killen and others crossed the open ground to meet him.
‘Conor. Easy,’ said Killen.
Conor’s face was flushed, he looked excited and fearful in equal measure.
‘Tell us what you’ve seen,’ ordered Owen calmly.
Conor looked at him wide-eyed with recognition. ‘Sorry, Owen. Sorry. The elves are coming in force. Hundreds of them!’
‘Alright,’ Killen cupped his hands to his mouth. ‘Stand-to. Stand-to!’
As fighters ran to the wall, Owen grabbed Conor’s arm. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. They just kept coming, and they were carrying ladders and screens.’
Owen and Killen shared a look.
‘They learn quick,’ said Killen.
Another shout and their attention was drawn to an eagle heading towards them along the length of the draw. It was coming fast and low, barely missing the wall, its defenders ducking their heads reflexively.
‘Anneli,’ said Owen.
‘Conor, arm yourself, get on the wall. And find a better helmet!’ said Killen as they ran towards Anneli. As the eagle settled down next to Arno, the Eagle Rider turned in her saddle.
‘Wood elves.’
‘How many?’ asked Killen.
‘Looks like all of them.’
‘Shit,’ muttered Killen. ‘They’re carrying ladders?’
‘Yes.’
Killen nodded his face grim.
‘We need to get to the wall,’ said Owen.
Killen reached out and gripped his shoulder.
‘You don’t. One or two more spears won’t make a difference. Fall back. Saul and the others need to know.’
‘But–’
‘Just do it Owen. You are the General. We can’t afford to lose you.’ Killen looked up at Anneli. ‘You too, get out of here. Keep watch from above.’
‘Major? We can hear them,’ a voice called from the wall.
Owen looked from Killen to the wall. He shook his head. He wanted to stay and fight, but Killen had the right of it.
‘Major, don’t die here, I can’t afford to lose you either.’
Killen clapped him on the back and headed for the wall.
‘Anneli?’
‘Yes, Owen?’
‘Go and find Saul, tell him to pull back to the western end of the valley. Then go south, pass the message to Captain Rashad. I want all of his scouts back at Eagle’s Rest.’
‘Yes, Owen.’
‘I’m going to keep station here. I’ll see you back home.’
Anneli waved and then urged her eagle to take flight. Owen turned and walked to Arno, stowing his crossbow and climbing into his saddle. ‘Fly Arno.’ Owen looked back at the wall as he gained height. Less than twenty fighters against how many hundreds?
He needed to see for himself. As they gained height, he turned Arno so that their exit path took him along the draw and around. Emperor! Stretched out before him was a mass of wood elf warriors. A vanguard was carrying mantlets and behind them were dozens of ladders. He could tell even from here they were fresh cut. Stripped and formed from the trees covering the lower slopes further back. And the wood elves saw him. Arrows flew into air, missing by inches as Arno rapidly gained height. Thankfully they’d been as surprised as he. Stupid Owen, bloody stupid. He passed by the small army and flew onwards. He turned again, they were higher this time and swept over the wood elves who looked more like ants on the march.
There were too many of them.
CHAPTER 15 – KILLEN
Killen climbed up on to the fighting step and looked over the wall. There was plenty of noise coming from the draw. He licked his lips. His throat was dry. He really didn’t want to be here. Rectangular shapes emerged from behind the corner of the draw, he counted four. And behind them, scores of elves followed. And then scores more carrying ladders.
‘Steady,’ he said, mostly to himself. He picked up a bow and nocked an arrow.
Wood elves filled the draw. Hundreds of them. And they started to advance. The mantlets moving forwards at a steady pace and behind them, the archers.
‘Shoot!’ he ordered. He drew and loosed, aiming between two mantlets. Their volley just disappeared into the mass of the enemy, making no discernible impact. And then the wood elves began to shoot back. A buzzing angry wind flew at them, and Killen dropped behind the wall as countless arrows passed over it. One of his scouts was not so lucky and he fell backwards.
‘Keep at it!’ He stood and loosed, ducking as quickly as he could. The mantlets were halfway to the wall. More arrows flew overhead. A Highlander collapsed with an arrow in his throat. Another scout tried to stand and was hit several times.
This wasn’t working. Killen wished again their wall had been built higher.
He looked along the line of his shrinking command, most were staying behind the safety of the wall. Conor looked terrified, Misha held her sword in one hand, her wound stopping her using the other. He joined Sadad. The old scout’s face was hard.
‘Sadad? Time to go. Everyone pull back, get to the camels!’
He pushed himself off the fighting step and sprinted towards the cave and their line of mounts. He could hear the roar of the wood elves as they closed the final yards. His scouts started to climb on and rouse their beasts. The Highlanders were helped on to spare mounts. As Bajin took to his feet, Killen looked back. There were ladders peeking over the top of the wall and hands were appearing. The first of the wood elves were climbing over and dropping on to the step. Abbas was already sending arrows back their way, knocking one elf off its feet.
‘Come on, got to go, got to go!’ Killen urged Bajin forwards, using the thin switch to goad him into a semblance of speed. The others started to canter up the trail, scouts holding on to the camels of the Highlanders as more elves gained the wall. Arrows started to chase them, and Killen hunkered forward. An arrow hit the back of the Highlander ahead of him and he slumped forward. Killen leaned further forward trying to press himself down as far as he could into the camel, his face close to the coarse fur, the familiar scent pushing into his nostrils. He didn’t care. ‘Go, go.’ He swore if they made it out he might even say thank you to the beast. In response Bajin bucked violently and gained a burst of speed. They reached the corner and turned into the canyon that led to the valley. Killen was fair buzzing with nervous energy, the sound of the camels clattering through the steep-sided valley, the continued shouting of his scouts, all helped to ease his mind. There was comfort in knowing he was not alone. He risked a look back, the trail behind them was still empty, but he expected to see a pack of howling wood elves running after them. Abbas, was just behind him, his bow held ready.
‘Anything?’
Abbas shook his head.
Killen pushed himself up. They were riding through the high-sided entrance and out on to a rocky slope leading down to the tree-covered valley floor.
‘Abbas, keep a little back, see if we are followed.’
‘Yes, Major.’
‘Everyone else, let’s get to cover, then we take a breather,’ he ordered, and the camels ahead started to pick their way down. As he started the descent, he looked back at the pass, essentially a gre
at crack in the mountains. Why didn’t they just block that too? He shook his head. If only they had sorcerers like the elves, they could have brought the whole damned mountain down on those wild-haired monsters.
Reaching the bottom, they all gathered just inside the tree-line. There was a continuing trail of sorts, a track used by countless hunting parties over the years.
Killen halted Bajin and shifted in his saddle, taking a headcount. Including himself there were six scouts left and three of the Highlanders.
The one with the arrow in his back was up in his saddle, though in great pain. If nothing serious had been punctured, and they could dig it out, then all he had to worry about was infection.
‘You alright, Conor?’ he asked. The lad was clutching on to his camel’s saddle for grim death and could just manage a nod. Killen noted he’d lost his helmet. Incredibly, they still had all their camels.
‘Everyone take a drink, while you get the chance. We’ll be on the move until we get out of this valley.
‘Major,’ Misha was pointing back up the slope.
Abbas was making his way down and Killen whistled him over to their position.
‘No pursuit,’ he said, slowing up his mount.
‘Good.’ Killen turned to the others. ‘It’ll take them a while to clear the way for their cavalry. That gives us our chance to break clean. Sadad, take point, everyone else fall in behind. Abbas keep the rearguard. I want as much space between us and them as we can get.’ Once the wood elves had their cavalry through, they’d spread through this valley like wildfire.
As the camels were jostled into line, Abbas got his attention.
‘Major,’ he was pointing at Bajin. ‘Your camel is bleeding. An arrow must have nicked it.’
‘Bad?’
‘No, just a scratch. It will not slow him down.’
‘Very good.’
Killen set off to follow the others. He glared at Bajin. ‘And there was me thinking we’d turned a corner in our relationship. You were just bloody saving your own skin!’
CHAPTER 16 – MICHAEL
As they approached the hill, Father Michael slowed his horse, gently pulling back on the reins. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he was entirely comfortable with riding yet, but finally he felt he was getting the hang of it. Perhaps his mount sensed his increasing confidence in the saddle and decided to show some mercy. Either way, Michael could appreciate the value of not having to walk all the way to Vyberg.
He was definitely getting soft.
Yet as he watched Nutaaq approach, swaying easily in time with the loping stride of his vargr, he appreciated the raw strength and warrior’s competence the Nidhal leader possessed. Perhaps, he surmised, riding didn’t make a man soft. Perhaps, it was just his age.
Nutaaq reined in before him and pointed back towards the crest he had descended from. Beyond the hill the road continued, cutting down a sloping valley, towards a vein of water, and a bridge that marked the last required crossing before entering the Riverlands, the founding nation of the Empire. Cross that bridge, head north and they would reach Vyberg. Another three, perhaps four days of travel.
Nutaaq opened his mouth to speak, struggling to find the word, then shook his head in frustration. ‘Relak.’ He growled. ‘Relak.’
Relak? The word sounded familiar to Michael, was it a name? He twisted in his saddle and gestured to the wagons parked up on the trail behind him.
‘Ellen?’
The Speaker dropped down from the bench and jogged over to join them.
‘Nutaaq?’ she asked, her head slightly bent at an angle. That told Michael she was using her Gift, talking to the Nidhal with her mind. It was a deliberate thing, a way of showing others, like himself, that she was doing it. It was thoughtful of her. He knew she didn’t have to.
‘Relak?’ Michael repeated.
‘Stranger,’ Nutaaq announced, mangling the word out.
‘Relak was what they called us first time we showed up,’ Ellen explained.
‘That’s right,’ said Bryce, walking up to join them; his companion Jenna close behind, and tailing them, Sergeant Fenner. It was he who had made the first sighting at the bridge. A ship tied up next to the bank. ‘I remember that word being bandied around when we were with the Nidhal.’
‘Alright. Strangers, then.’ But apart from humans, every other race was a stranger to the Nidhal. ‘Are they elves, dwarves?’
Ellen looked at Nutaaq. He replied with a few words. ‘He says they need to get closer.’
‘I reckon I know,’ said Bryce. ‘That ship had a distinctive shape. Long in the bow, a single mast.’
Fenner whistled in recognition. ‘Let me guess, a bank of oars?’
‘Bang on,’ acknowledged Bryce, with his customary scowl.
‘Fucking ogres,’ said Fenner, turning his head and spitting. ‘Bastards.’
‘Ogres?’ said Michael. ‘What would they be doing here?’
‘Raiding?’ ventured Jenna.
‘Raiding what?’ asked Bryce. ‘There isn’t anyone left for them to steal from.’
‘Ogres,’ muttered Fenner, scratching his head. ‘Spent a large part of my glorious career in the marines tussling with them. Big and mean and nasty. Will bite your face off first chance they get.’
‘It still doesn’t answer the question,’ Michael interjected. ‘What’s brought them here?’ He looked around at the puzzled faces. Nutaaq was watching Ellen, then caught Michael’s eye. Something was up. ‘Ellen?’ Michael asked of her. She looked distant, white-faced, drained of colour. ‘Ellen, are you well?’
‘It’s alright, they can’t get you. We won’t let them,’ said Jenna, softly. Ellen turned her gaze on Jenna and nodded tightly.
It was then that Michael realised. Damn but he could be a slow old fool at times. He reached out. ‘Ellen, I am sorry for what they did to you and your kind. We can make them pay.’
Nutaaq gestured at the hill.
‘We fight?’
Michael chewed his lip. He had not expected to have to fight anyone; he’d hoped their way would be clear. Perhaps it would be better to send back a message, warning that Vyberg may not be safe. Or perhaps the ship was by itself, a party looking for slim pickings. One that would not be missed.
‘Can we take it?’ he asked.
‘Depends how fast we do it,’ Fenner responded. ‘They get back on to the water, it’ll be a running battle. Shots fired on both sides and hopefully we’d do enough damage to them to make it impossible for them to get away.’
‘We should do it at night,’ suggested Bryce. ‘Element of surprise. Don’t give ’em a chance.’
‘I don’t know about the ogres but seeing a hundred vargr coming at me out of the darkness would make me shit my pants,’ agreed Fenner.
Nutaaq grinned at Michael, he clearly got the idea.
Michael sighed. Conflict it was, then. ‘Ellen, please tell Nutaaq we will attack tonight. Until then we will stay hidden.’
‘No cookfires to give away our position,’ advised Fenner.
‘Yes. And Fenner, can you speak to the Nidhal about the ogres. Tell them about what they face.’
‘I can do that.’
Michael nodded his thanks, then turned to Ellen. ‘Can you do this?’
She smiled. ‘Of course, Father. I was just put a little off balance. I am fine now.’
‘We still need eyes on,’ said Bryce. ‘I’ll get Nukka back up and keep tabs.’
‘Rosen can take a view,’ offered Ellen.
‘Go ask him,’ Michael ordered. ‘Fenner, get a marine up there as well. I don’t want any surprises.’
Fenner saluted and jogged off.
The group split up. Nutaaq walking his vargr back to his force, Ellen trailing after. Michael felt himself frowning. He had just ordered an attack. Him. He was a man of the Church. He was certainly no leader of men. An eagle took to the sky flying low and westwards, looking to gain height away from any ogre eyes. He walked back to the camp, thinking about
the coming engagement. Jenna was adjusting the saddle on her eagle. He nodded, and she raised a hand, beckoning him close. He did not know her as well as some of the others, but she carried herself with an assured and relaxed competence. Her hair was tied back with a leather thong and her green eyes regarded him with a professional eye.
‘Father. You look worried.’
‘I’ve never been that good with hiding my feelings,’ he admitted. That was a new thing as well. He was a lot more open with people than he used to be. He blamed that knock on the head back in the river the year before.
‘It always seems that we have to fight for everything, doesn’t it?’
He nodded. ‘I’ve been fighting all my life. I just wish there was another way.’
‘For what it’s worth, Father, we don’t hold it against you. We are all soldiers and we do what we must. We don’t have a choice, do we?’
‘I suppose not.’ There were precious few choices these days. Perhaps only one that really mattered any more. ‘Good luck tonight,’ he said, as he made to leave.
‘You too,’ she nodded. ‘Oh, Father.’
He stopped. ‘Yes?’
‘None of us have said it …’ She fixed him with her green eyes. ‘… but the Gifted, what you did, setting them free like that.’
He waited; he had wondered what reaction that might cause.
She paused, then smiled. ‘Good for you, Father.’
That was … unexpected. He nodded and continued on his way. He did what he did because Ellen was his friend, and whenever he saw her and the other Gifted in chains it reminded him of his old life. It reminded him of what it had done to his soul, how it had dehumanised him, made him an animal, a thing, property. He knew why they were being punished and he understood that. But in his heart, he could not find it in him to see them that way. Perhaps, he reflected, it was that he’d had a second chance, and maybe others should be given that opportunity. Damn, but he could see Yarn’s face, smiling at him, in that way she did. The amusement in her eyes. Oh, and don’t get him started on what this meant if the Emperor ever found out. He shook his head. When had his decisions become so complicated?
