by Alex Janaway
‘Owen?’ He turned at Anneli’s voice. He had completely forgotten she was still with him.
‘Sorry.’
‘What should I do?’
Owen thought for a moment.
‘Tell you what, I have an idea.’
Twenty minutes later, several horses cantered up the eastern slope. Up above them an eagle maintained station, high enough to be out of range. Just as they crested the hill, the eagle dipped its wings, first left and then right, before it flew over their heads heading towards the valley. They watched it go. And saw far too late Arno swooping upwards from the far side, talons extended.
As the eagle smashed into the riders, Owen leaned out and shot his crossbow at a wood elf barely a few yards away, Arno latching on to another screaming wood elf, carrying him away.
‘Hah!’ Owen looked back with glee as the remaining wood elves and their horses scattered wildly. Arno took them over the valley. He could hear the wood elf’s cries and could see his flailing limbs below.
He scanned the canopy. A loose column of riders revealed itself. That would do.
‘Arno, drop.’
The struggling wood elf fell a hundred yards into its fellows. It caused yet more chaos as the column split apart. And Owen could hear the shouts as they cruised over. Grinning he waved at them. ‘Death from above, you bastards!’ Arno joined in with a triumphant screech of his own. ‘Alright lad, we’ve had our fun. Let’s go see Erskine and Anneli.’
CHAPTER 18 – KILLEN
Killen had rid himself of his breastplate yet again. It was a habit that he did not like having but he’d learned his lesson already. When you were running with your back to the enemy, it didn’t matter what you were wearing, only that you were going as fast as you could. Then trust to luck. Or at least as much as you needed to make you luckier than the man next to you. He and a dozen others were waiting in the trees just before the ridge path that led to Eagle’s Rest. The last time he had done that, he had been trying to break into the settlement. This time getting in would be the least of his worries. Actually getting to it would be the trick. He leaned back, feeling the firm, uneven surface of the tree trunk he was resting against. His blade was sheathed and lay across his back. In his hands he gripped his bow and an arrow. Two more arrows were pushed into the soft earth in front of him. A few more were in a bag tied tightly around his waist. It was late afternoon, and the sunlight was fading fast. For their purposes, it was perfect.
What was that? A distant snapping noise caused him to jerk up. He tilted his head a little, trying to discern the sound. Was it just the trees creaking, an animal passing by? He glanced at one of his scouts and they in turn looked upwards shifting their head left and right. The scout nodded at Killen. Confirmation that they were coming. He raised a hand, signalling to be ready, a needless gesture, his people were already shifting into position. He turned sideways and looked around the trunk, applying a little more pull to the string. The trail through the trees was just ahead, covered in shadow. Yet nothing moved. He heard another snapping sound and then something grunting. He felt vibrations coming from the tree. And, as if they had appeared from some dark hellish maw, three horses cantered into view.
At their head was Saul. The man turned to look at him as rode by. No words were spoken. As the horses continued on to the ridge trail proper, starting the climb towards the gates, the vibrations he had been feeling intensified. He could hear horses snorting, voices urgent and excited. And as that sound built, Killen started to count down. Just a few more seconds. Three, two, one … ‘Now!’
He stepped away from the tree and sighted his bow directly along the path, just as those around him were doing. And coming right for Killen was a gaggle of mounted wood elves. He loosed and ducked behind the tree just as the screaming and shouting started.
He reached for another arrow. No one had come past. That was good.
He nocked, pushed away from his tree and shot again, this aim even worse than the last, trusting in hitting something in the seething mass before him. He saw horses rearing, wood elves on the floor, others trying to control their mounts.
‘Engage!’ he shouted, dropping his bow and drawing his sword, the battle cries of his comrades joining his as they followed his lead. He ran forwards aiming for the closest rider. The wood elf was side on and Killen simply thrust upwards into the enemy’s exposed flank. The wood elf jerked and tried to bat him away, but Killen pushed harder, then twisted and pulled the blade free even as the horse shied away from him.
Killen stepped back. Around him his troops were striking at the riders, their mounts and at those already on the ground. It was a confused, dizzying melee and the wood elves were doing a piss poor job of responding, thank the Emperor.
Good enough.
‘Disengage!’ he shouted and stepped back, sword at the ready.
No one came to meet him, so he turned, gathered up his fallen bow and made for the trail, increasing speed as his did so.
As he left the trees he turned to look back. There was still some kind of ruckus going and he had no time to count his people out. He started to run. His arms pumped as he charged up the slope, joining in the mad dash back towards the gates as his command of scouts and Highlanders puffed and sweated their way up and along the stony track.
Just a little longer, just a little longer; a mantra and a prayer to any gods who were listening.
He could see the gates ahead, open and inviting, the horses that had passed them by were just a little way inside. Some figures were on the walls, beckoning them on, urging them to speed up. And then they started to shout, to gesture, to point behind him. And Killen could hear them. A growing thunder of horses and shrieking riders. He felt panic building. They were not close enough to the gates. Faster. Ahead of him the thin flat trail they ran along was starting to flatten out as the ground to either side widened. He was with the main group now and a detached part of him felt quite pleased that he had been able to keep up and even gain ground. He must be getting fitter. Which was a bloody stupid thing to think considering the situation. They were still fifty yards from the gate. It looked like weren’t going to make it.
Which was the idea.
As they passed a small red pebble placed to one side of the trail, they group split, running off the path to the left and right. Then, passing another stone they gathered again. As he joined the others Killen turned and almost shat himself. The lead horse was no more than ten yards away.
As it passed that first stake and its hooves landed on the trail, the rock-strewn ground gave way, and the horse fell into the pit that the thin, dirt covered matting had been concealing. Within that pit were wooden stakes, pointed, sharp and wicked. As the horse impaled itself, screaming terribly, its rider was thrown forwards almost to Killen’s feet. With his hands full, Killen stamped down hard on the wood elf’s head, once, twice, feeling something give and the wood elf cease to struggle.
Around him, his group were loosing more arrows at the riders. Another had already entered the pit and its mount was writhing in fear and pain. Behind Killen more arrows were launched from the gatehouse walls, flying over his head to land among the riders.
And the wood elves, in a confused gaggle, started to fall.
Killen knelt, nocked and shot. The whole damned trail was full of mounted wood elves, there must have been a hundred at least. And as the front riders took the brunt of the barrage, those behind gathered their wits and started to flank around the pit, taking to the rough ground either side.
A horse stumbled and let out a scream, a rider fell. Then another horse, with a terrifying crack, pitched forward as its front leg stepped into another concealed trap, a deep hole with small spikes lining the side and bottom.
All across the front, horses struggled and shied and fell foul of the prepared defences. Wood elves tried to urge their mounts forward, around their struggling comrades only to be met by bowshot. A few returned arrows but they went wide, their aim befuddled in the confusion. A howling wood elf, now on foot
, charged Killen’s group, but fell to the ground, three arrows buried in her chest. It was a slaughter. The wood elves were in chaos, the trail choked with panicked horses and on the ridgeline, where riders were two abreast, there was no room to turn. Killen saw a horse and its rider lose their footing and fall, tumbling down the steep slope. Further back, at the bottom of the trail, another mass of riders had appeared but were now starting to withdraw into the trees, giving those on the ridge a chance to back up.
And then, rising up and over the ridge came the eagles.
Five abreast, talons extended, smashing into the line of wood elves. Where they passed, horses and wood elf alike were pushed over the far side. Some riders were picked up and bodily dragged away only to be released, limbs flailing, falling through the air to their deaths. The eagles wheeled and went for the group further down the trail, raking the wood elves with talons as their riders leaned out and shot with their crossbows.
The remaining wood elves scattered, seeking the shelter of the trees. Riders without horses and horses with riders disappeared into the shadows. Killen lowered his bow and watched as the eagles described a wide arc and flew back to Eagle’s Rest, passing over their heads, the riders waving to those who had fought below. A cheer went up among Killen’s troops. He turned to watch the eagles cross over the gate, where a score of archers, previously hidden behind the parapet, took up the celebrations. He breathed a sigh of relief, enjoying the heady sensation of still being alive, but he did not cheer.
He was able to take a final headcount, he’d lost two in the woods, and one of those still with him had an arrow sprouting from his arm. He cast his eye across the battlefield. Within the pit, the two horses were still. On either side, mounts struggled to move, handicapped by their awful injuries. Riders lay among them, some still living, pulling themselves weakly along the ground. On the trail, more bodies, and further back empty stretches of churned earth. Killen watched a horse rise, struggling to gain its feet only to collapse once more, its front legs a mangled bloody mess. He felt tears form, and his throat start to constrict. By all the Gods Below, this is not right. Killen’s heart burst with pity and shame to have wrought such pain on these creatures.
As the cheering ended, a strange silence took hold, punctuated only by the pained snorting and the desperate muted screams of the horses. He took a breath and turned to those with him.
‘We are done here,’ he growled. He pointed to the Highlanders with him. ‘Knife work. Finish any of those bastards still living. Scouts, with me. I want those animals put out of their misery. We make it quick, no more suffering. You understand me?’
Grim faces nodded, perhaps a little surprised by the harshness in his voice. He could hear it himself, but he didn’t care. Whatever happened next, whatever came after, he knew he would never forget this scene, he would never forget the screams.
CHAPTER 19 – OWEN
‘They have us surrounded,’ reported Killen, to the gathering assembled around the tables. Almost all the population of Eagle’s Rest were there except for those manning the gate. ‘I had my remaining scouts pulled out from the southern and western approaches shortly after our first engagement. The wood elves didn’t waste any time swarming the place.’
Owen nodded. His Riders had already said as much. Ernan was still on station, keeping an eye on proceedings. It was dark outside and the light of several candles and the central cookfire cast shadows on the faces of his folk. That they looked dour and serious was an understatement.
Owen stood. ‘Thank you, Major.’
Killen took his seat next to him. On his other side sat Naimh, cradling a steaming mug in both hands. She looked worried. He wished she could at least hide it; he needed her to be strong and defiant, but she hadn’t been right after their last meeting, since he had declined her request to move the children. Either way, they were committed and there was nothing he could do about it right now.
‘My friends, my family. We come to it.’ His gaze swept over those gathered around him, lingering on faces he knew well, smiling and nodding with comrades and those he considered his kin. It was important to show he valued each of them, cared for each of them. It was important because many of them would be dead before this was done.
‘You are all here because you chose to make Eagle’s Rest your home. It doesn’t matter any more the path you took to come here, the choices you made to survive. All that matters is this last, final choice. That you will fight to hold on to what is yours, no matter the cost.’ He paused, and once more inspected the faces who stared back at him; grim, determined, and yes … fearful. Perhaps they should be. If it helped them stay focused. ‘Look at us. Highlanders, Erebeshi and Scotians. We are all Tissans and we are all of Eagle’s Rest. You are my family and I would die for each and every one of you. Because you chose to stay. Because you knew that it was always going to come to this. That one day, the enemy would return. But this time it will be different. This time we have dictated terms, we have pricked them, goaded them and we have hounded them and bled them all the way here.’ He grinned. ‘They think they are coming for vengeance, but it us who will have it. All of us. For what they did.’
A murmur swept through the crowd, folk nodding their heads, shouting ‘Aye!’ and ‘Vengeance!’ but there were others who shared worried glances. Owen had to bring them round. ‘Believe me, I would have peace if I could. It is all I have ever wanted. A chance to rebuild, to grow. But the enemy would never let that happen. They would have found us. Do you think that driving gnome hunting parties off would have worked forever?’ Owen shrugged his shoulders. ‘Perhaps it would have taken years, but someone would have taken notice eventually. There is good news. You all now know that we are not alone. That thousands of Tissans are gathered far to the north, upon the shores of the Brevis Sea. They made the same choice we did. To fight. To live. They’ve already taught the dwarves a lesson, creating merry hell getting out of the Dwarf nations. So now the dwarves are hunting them. Can we hide from that? Can we allow our fellows to be murdered while we sit by and do nothing?’
‘No! shouted a voice.
‘No,’ agreed Owen. ‘We cannot. Because we have to earn the right to exist. To prove our humanity. And we do that by banding together, by joining our strength with theirs. All of the Tissan nations united.’
‘Are they coming to help?’ asked another voice from the crowd.
Owen paused, giving the question due consideration.
‘I will not lie to you. They are a long way away. They are preparing but it will take them many days.’ He saw heads drop a little. ‘And, to be honest with you, I would not want them trying to find their way through the Highlands to get to us. Especially when the wood elves command the territory. They would be slaughtered. And I will not have their blood on my hands.’ He said it honestly, though the truth was that he had no idea whether they were coming and it made no difference. ‘I say this to you all. This is our fight. On ground of our choosing. The enemy think they have us, that they need but storm this place and they will have won. But they have underestimated, and will always underestimate us and our resolve. We are stronger, because we have to be. We are survivors. We have endured things they have only now had a taste of. We will beat them here; we will wound them so much they will run home vowing never to enter the Highlands again. And then we will go to those at the Brevis Sea and join them in their fight against the dwarves. And when they have been defeated, who will be left? The elves of the Heartlands. And they will know that they do not face an Empire on its knees, but the Tissan nation, no longer vanquished but resurgent. And if they come to meet us?’ Owen slammed his fist into the table. ‘They’d better be ready for the fight of their lives!’ he shouted. ‘For we are Highlanders!’
Together as one, Erskine and Ernan shouted, ‘For the Highlands!’ as they climbed to their feet.
‘For the Highlands and Tissan!’ added Killen, rising to stand alongside the brothers. The Erebeshi followed their commander’s lead
And with that everyone stood to join in the call to arms. As the words echoed around the hall, Owen gazed at Naimh. She sat quietly, her face full of sorrow. He reached and a placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘It’ll be OK, Naimh. I promise.’
She looked up at him with doubt in her eyes. Even in the shadows, Owen could see that. So now was the time to play his final card.
He raised his hands. ‘Please, all of you. I have one more thing to say.’ The noise quieted, as those with more exuberance were told to calm down with hissed ‘shushes’ and other more direct words. ‘We have prepared for the battle to come. But there are those among us who have had no say in this, who deserve our protection. I say that even as we pledge our very lives to this cause, to a hope of a better future, we must ensure that their future has a chance. Once darkness has fallen, we will begin ferrying our children and any who wish to go with them, away from Eagle’s Rest. He saw the looks of confusion shared between many in the hall. Those who were parents or siblings, those who cared for the little ones in the absence of anyone better. ‘I know you were expecting them to hide within the rock, but I want no harm to come to them, not after this. They have a safe place to go now, the Brevis Sea will take them. Those who wish to go … go. With my blessing and my love. Because they are the future of the Highlands. And I will give everything to see them safe.’ He paused once more. Reading the room. Surprise was evident, and here and there, hope. ‘What say you?’ he asked quietly. ‘What say you?’ he asked again, louder this time.
A cheer erupted in the hall. More voices added to it, and people were laughing, clapping and pounding the tables. Some folk were hugging. And Naimh; she reached to him and took his hand. There were tears running freely down her cheeks.
‘Owen. Owen. I thought you had become lost,’ she choked out a brief bark of joy. ‘Thank you.’ She squeezed his hand harder, and he squeezed back, then she stood and took him in an embrace. He felt someone clapping his back and he smiled broadly. Inwardly he felt a sense of relief and of satisfaction. That was it, then. He had them all. They would fight to the death, those that stayed. They would fight without a sense of despair. And he could think of no better motivation. And what would the wood elves think? When they saw the eagles leaving the safety of the walls, carrying people away. How would they react? If he had the measure of them, they would play exactly into his hands.
