by Alex Janaway
‘Father. Michael!’
He turned. Jenna was running towards him. What now?
‘Yes?’
‘It’s Bryce!’
Michael looked into the sky on impulse.
‘What? Has he seen something? Is he alright?’
‘It’s not that,’ she said, confusion clouding her face. ‘He just pulsed me. He said someone over there just waved at him!’
‘I went down for a closer look and there she was, a damn woman just standing there on the quayside. She shouted up as I went past and said, “If you are who I think you are, get your arse down here.” We circled back and I asked who the fuck she was. And she told me to stop being such a rude and impudent bastard,’ said Bryce, to the gathered crowd of Tissans.
‘Who is she, then?’ asked Michael. He was annoyed that Bryce had revealed himself like that. They had lost the element of surprise. But then, they hadn’t expected anyone to recognise him.
‘I don’t know, but I kind of like her,’ said Bryce. ‘I didn’t respond, I just pulsed Jenna and hightailed it back.’
‘Slave,’ said Fenner, picking his teeth.
‘Not uncommon,’ agreed Beautiful. ‘Ogres takes slaves all the time.’
‘Unless they are hungry, then they just eat you,’ added Coyle.
‘A Gifted? I thought they would’ve killed them on sight,’ said Ellen, a worried look on her face.
‘Nostrum was just business for them,’ said Rosen. ‘It was nothing personal against the Gifted.’
‘Never heard of any Gifted working for ogres,’ mused Parasa, their other Watcher, a sour-faced woman a little younger than Rosen.
‘Might be a trap,’ said Fenner. ‘Maybe they saw us coming?’
‘That don’t make sense,’ said Bryce. ‘If they saw us coming, then they would’ve seen the vargr first. Ogres are stupid, but they aren’t fools, I can’t see they would’ve wanted to tussle with them.’
Nutaaq spoke to Ellen and then looked at Michael.
‘He says there was no way these ogres could’ve seen them.’
Michael noticed the challenge and pride in Nutaaq’s eyes. He inclined his head.
‘Nutaaq is right. His Nidhal scouts are too good.’
‘Then that leaves us with the fact that a Gifted in thrall to ogres just spotted an eagle and deduced it might have a Rider,’ said Jenna.
‘False hope?’ asked Beautiful.
That didn’t sound right to Michael. ‘You heard the words she spoke, it sounded like she knew.’
‘Did to me,’ agreed Bryce.
‘Does this change the plan?’ asked Fenner.
Everyone looked at Michael. Did it? He supposed it did.
‘We were expecting opposition. We were not expecting a parley. But that is what we find. Right now they don’t know for sure. We could still attack, but I must admit, I am curious to know what this is about. The more you can learn of your opponent the better.’
He moved between the faces, looking for an argument, but nobody appeared inclined to disagree.
‘Very well. Then we move now. Ellen, stay here with half the Nidhal and our wagons. Parasa you keep Watch on us. Rosen, you come and Watch them. That way if there is any trouble, we are alerted. The rest of us will head down there.’ He paused. Everyone was still looking at him expectantly. ‘That’s it. Let’s go.’
‘We’ll get in the air,’ said Bryce.
‘Oh, yes. Of course.’ Michael had forgotten about them. Everybody moved off and he went to climb on to his horse. He got settled and watched as everyone shook out. Those they left behind were readying for a fight, while those coming with him prepared a more restrained display. Satisfied all was well, he set off, sticking to the road. Overhead the eagles flew by, lower than normal, no doubt intentionally. Behind him he heard footsteps and saw Fenner and his squad jog up and take post either side of him. Rosen was tagging along as well, his face a stony mask. Behind them Nutaaq was leading fifty of his Nidhal; he wasn’t sure if they or their vargr looked hungrier.
‘We’re not bringing the wagon?’ Michael asked Rosen.
‘It won’t do us much good if we get into a scrap. I’m counting on Nutaaq and his crew to do the heavy lifting on this one. We’re just here for show and to back you up.’
‘Then, thank you.’ Michael noted that all of them had loaded their crossbows and buckled on their helmets. It warmed him more than he had expected. It was good to have someone he trusted by his side.
Fenner shrugged. ‘Good call, by the way. Keep half our force back. Means we don’t threaten them with numbers, it keeps it equal. But if the shit hits the fan they come howling over the hill.’
Inside, Michael felt a small warm glow of pride. He had no clue what he was doing but he must be getting something right. ‘Just good sense,’ he said, simply.
‘Wish more of that was going around,’ muttered Fenner as Wendell tripped up and almost fell on his face.
Trying to ignore the cacophony of abuse directed at the hapless marine, Michael crested the hill and began the relatively sharp descent to the river and the bridge.
Where someone was waiting for them.
‘Looks like a Tissan,’ said Beautiful.
‘And if my eyes do not deceive, we have a crowd watching us from the boat,’ said Fenner.
‘They ain’t Tissan,’ added Beautiful.
‘It doesn’t look like an ambush,’ observed Michael.
‘Ogres don’t swim too well, so aren’t many places they can hide,’ agreed Coyle.
Michael turned in his saddle.
‘Rosen. Can you see anything?’
‘All is well behind us,’ the Watcher confirmed.
Michael chewed his lip. Rosen was unarmed and unarmoured, but like all Gifted, he was a trained warrior.
‘Sergeant, our Watcher needs a weapon in case things go south.’
Fenner raised an eyebrow.
‘Fair enough. Wendell, give the man something sharp.’
‘Why me?’
‘Because you can’t be trusted not to stab yourself with it anyway,’ barked Fenner.
‘Fine.’
Wendell withdrew a knife and walked back to Rosen.
‘Here you go.’
Rosen took the blade and eyed Michael. He nodded slightly and slipped the knife into the rope tied around his waist.
The party reached the bottom of the slope and Michael led them to within a few yards of the bridge. It was, as befitted its location to the capital, a sturdy and grand construction of solid timber and stone. It was humped, rising over the river to allow traffic to pass beneath. There were marble plinths to either side upon which statues of previous Emperors had stood. These had been destroyed, and the remains lay scattered around the bases.
Waiting for them at the top of the hump was the strange female. She was alone. Michael was confident that any ambush would have to charge up the other side of the bridge, something his eagles would see soon enough, giving them all time to react. What worried him was, if this woman was a Gifted, then underneath that cloak she may well be armed and more than capable of making things go south for him. He stopped at the plinths and turned towards the others.
‘Sergeant, stay here, be ready.’
‘Right, you are.’
‘Rosen, you come with me, keep your wits about you.’
The Watcher nodded but he kept his blade tucked in his waist.
The two of them walked on to the wooden planks of the bridge proper and climbed the incline. The woman stayed still as they approached. Drawing near, Michael discerned her to be older than he had expected, and rather ragged looking. She had sharp features, almost like a noblewoman, greying hair in a braid, and the Reader’s mark on her face. Michael looked to Rosen.
‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘She’s one of ours.’
The Reader cocked her head. ‘And you I remember too. Rosen, isn’t it? You Watchers never had time for us Readers, your heads were always elsewhere.’
Rosen snorted. ‘And you I made a
habit of ignoring. Life is too short.’
‘And yet here we both are. Still alive.’
‘What happened to you?’ asked Rosen.
‘Look over that bridge and you’ll find out,’ the Reader responded.
‘A slave?’
‘Aye. Better that than fodder.’
‘True enough,’ Rosen raised a hand to his neck. ‘Another thing we have in common.’ He stopped and looked at Michael. ‘Sorry. This is Sasha.’
Michael regarded the woman. Rosen was right. She had the look of someone beaten down.
‘Sasha. This is Father Michael of the Imperial Church.’
Sasha reached a hand out from within her cloak and scratched at her neck.
‘We still have one of those? The last I heard it was all gone.’
‘Not while the Emperor lives,’ said Michael, dutifully.
Sasha raised an eyebrow.
‘That’s news. And not what we were told.’
‘Told?’ asked Michael, feeling as confused as she looked. The Reader cocked her head and her eyes narrowed.
‘She’s Reading you,’ remarked Rosen, almost conversationally.
Michael tensed. What was she trying to do?
‘Hmm. Interesting,’ she muttered. ‘Something isn’t right here.’
‘No shit,’ muttered Rosen.
‘Who are you people? And …’ she gestured with her head to the gathered Nidhal, ‘just who in the Hells are they? I can tell you right now you have my mistress seriously questioning her life choices.’
Michael shared another look with Rosen.
‘We are loyal subjects of Tissan and the Emperor–’
‘Oh, I can tell that,’ Sasha said, speaking over Michael. ‘Just one look in your head can tell that truth.’ She paused a moment and smiled, her eyes crinkling. ‘Yes, there’s all sorts going on in your noggin, isn’t there? Quite the swirl of emotions.’ Michael felt his cheeks heat up. ‘Not like the other one. But that’s the funny part. I could see he was telling the truth as well. Which puts me in a spot. Who do I believe?’
Michael couldn’t keep up with this Gifted. He wasn’t entirely sure she was all there.
‘What are you talking about? What other one?’
Sasha made a face which suggested that perhaps he was the one who was mad.
‘The other Eagle Rider. Young lad. Called himself Owen.’
‘Owen?’
Next to him Rosen made a confused face and shrugged.
‘Never heard of him.’
‘Huh? Is that so?’ said Sasha.
CHAPTER 17 – OWEN
Owen looked east from the ridgeline marking the end of the valley. Arno was settled to one side, watching with interest as an eagle cruised in the far distance. It was Anneli, keeping her vigil, watching over the progress of Killen’s group. Farther on, beyond the capacity of his eyesight, Erskine was marking the progress of the elves. Saul and his people were out there too, somewhere. Moving on foot. There was no point in trying to track them, but he was worried. They’d had little in the way of a head start. He paced. He wanted to see them home safe, but that hardly felt like he was actually doing something.
Come on, Owen, don’t mope.
He set to making a small fire, first heading down the western slope to collect some wood, then making a crude rock circle in the lee of a boulder. Once it was going he retrieved a small kettle, a pouch of dried leaves and his water bottle. It was a lesson he’d learned over time; when in doubt, brew up. A soldier’s maxim.
‘Go hunt, Arno.’
There was no point both of them sitting on their arses. Arno immediately took off heading towards Anneli. Wonderful. Was he that bad company?
Once his tea was brewed, he settled back against the boulder. It felt truly bizarre, this whole moment. His people, his troops were out there fighting for their lives, and here he was by himself, drinking tea. Alone.
As always.
‘Planning on holding off the horde by yourself?’
Startled, Owen reached for his crossbow even as he looked for the source of the voice.
Saul hove into view, walking up the slope, using his spear as a stick. Behind him came his fighters, emerging from the forest in a ragged line.
Owen stood and waved. ‘Just having a quick sit down before I do.’
He waited patiently for Saul to reach the crest and then took the hunter’s hand in his. ‘Saul, how are you doing? How did you get here so quick?’
‘We ran!’ said the leathery Highlander. ‘Didn’t see any point in dawdling, after Anneli told us the game was up.’
‘How is everyone?’ Owen asked, as Saul’s fighters gathered around the fire.
‘Not bad,’ replied one. ‘Nice of you to make us all a tea … oh wait.’
‘Sorry, Ross,’ said Owen with a smile. ‘There’s all the tea you could want back at Eagle’s Rest.’
Ross made a thoughtful face. ‘There’s ale back at Eagle’s Rest. I’ll take that.’
‘Go on, head back,’ said Owen. ‘You should get there before nightfall.’
‘Quicker if that old bastard makes us run there,’ muttered a Scotian called Herschel.
‘If only you could, you fat gobshite,’ replied Saul. Herschel laughed and waved him off. The hunter glanced back over the valley. ‘Sure you don’t want us to stay? I could–’
‘It’s fine. I’ll be fine. And I’ll be happier knowing you’ve made it back home.’
Saul looked doubtful. ‘If that’s what you want. Just be careful.’
‘Always.’
‘Hmm. Come on then you lot. I want some of that ale too. Let’s keep moving.’
As Saul’s crew picked up and left, with a collection of farewells and backslapping, Owen counted them off. Ten all told. They’d lost someone. And he didn’t know who that was. He should have done. He watched Saul’s band disappear down into the low ground surrounding Eagle’s Rest, then returned to the fire. Someone had stolen his tea. Bastards. There was a positive side to being alone. He shook his head and started making a fresh pot.
Anneli’s bird settled down next to Arno, who had returned from his jaunt earlier that day. She climbed off and joined Owen. He had been watching her draw closer over the last few hours, so Killen must be almost here.
‘Are they safe?’ he asked.
‘From what I could see. They’ve been keeping a steady pace, nice and straight too.’
Owen flicked his head towards the valley. Erskine is drawing near.’ The eagle was visible, closer than Anneli’s when he had first seen her.
‘They must be gaining.’
‘Scouts, certainly.’
‘Do they have time to get back?’
‘We’ll make them some time if we need to,’ he replied.
Anneli stayed quiet.
A few minutes later and the camels appeared, plodding upwards in that relentless stride of theirs. Owen and Anneli stood and waved. The riders waved back. Owen counted. Plenty of camels had no riders.
‘General,’ Sadad saluted him as he led the camels up.
‘Killen?’
‘He is at the back.’
‘Thank you. I am sorry, but you must keep moving. The enemy are right behind you.’
‘Ah,’ said Sadad, waving dismissively. ‘No problem to keep moving. That’s what camels do.’
Owen walked down the line, nodding greetings.
‘Major,’ he said, on reaching Killen.
‘Owen.’
Killen looked worse than before, his eyes were shrunken, almost beady looking.
‘Things didn’t get any better when you left.’
‘I can see.’
‘There was no way we could hold the draw. There were too many.’
‘It’s fine.’
They walked up the slope in silence. Owen heard a sound behind him. Wood elves? He spun round, raising his spear. It was Abbas. The scout nodded at him.
‘They are not far,’ said Owen. ‘Erskine is trying to track them but �
�’
‘Best we get a move on, then,’ replied Killen.
They reached the top of the ridge and Killen reined in. They waited for Abbas to pass.
‘Back to Eagle’s Rest, then?’ said Killen.
‘Yes. We’ve prepared for this.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to take my scouts and start running strikes when they set up camp?’
Owen did not answer immediately. Why was it that everyone kept second guessing him, or was it that he doubted himself? ‘I’ve thought about it. But my worry is as it’s always been. There are not enough of you and if they decide to seek you out, then they have the numbers to run you down. But helping to hold Eagle’s Rest, it won’t be like the wall. They can’t bring their numbers to bear.’
‘Yes, you are right enough. It’s my own fears playing on me. I’m not enthused by the idea of a siege.’
Well, maybe it wasn’t just Owen who had doubts. ‘We won’t be cut off. They can’t stop our eagles. They don’t have anything to reach them.’
‘Thank the Emperor for that,’ Killen paused. ‘Something else I was thinking about. The wood elves had mantlets when they stormed the wall. Used them to protect their ladders and archers.’
‘Mantlets. That would make sense.’ Owen looked up at Killen. What was he getting at?
Killen pulled at one of his beard forks and shrugged.
‘It just seemed odd that’s all. It was out of character for them. They tend to avoid the niceties and have at it. It’s part of the reason we’ve done so well against them.’
‘We can’t make assumptions, I guess. They may be savage, but they aren’t stupid.’
‘That’s what I thought, too,’ Killen shifted in his saddle, and made a pained face. ‘I really need to walk for a bit.’
‘Best you hold off on that. Erskine is getting closer and I’m expecting a storm of arrows to hit us at any second.’
‘That’s an incentive I can get behind. I’ll be on my way. Don’t tarry, Owen,’ Killen leaned down and slapped Owen on the shoulder.
‘See you,’ said Owen.
Killen set off down the slope.
‘Hey, your camel is wounded!’
‘Just a little,’ Killen called back. ‘He can bloody live with it!’
Owen laughed.
