by Alex Janaway
CHAPTER 20 – KILLEN
Killen walked across the square that was lit by a brazier upon the hall steps and two torches at the lane leading towards the gate. More light leaked from the door of the roosting barn and the buzz of voices. He had never seen it so busy. Outside were gathered the first group to leave. All adults. That made sense. Wherever the evacuees were being taken to it wasn’t the Brevis Sea, none of them knew how long the siege would continue so it had to be somewhere far enough away from the wood elves, but close enough to make repeated trips. All of the eagles were in their stalls, being prepared by their Riders. He made his way to Arno’s and saw Owen, carefully removing saddlebags.
‘Lightening the load?’
‘Yes,’ responded Owen, not looking up. ‘If we want to get anywhere far enough away, our birds don’t need the added weight of our weapons and gear. Those we are taking will have plenty of that themselves.’
‘And where are they going?’
Owen stood and handed the bags to a teenage boy. Ah, it was Conor. Killen nodded at the lad and he grinned back. ‘We are going to go directly north, maybe half a day’s worth of flying then we have to come back. It’s further in time and distance than I would like but,’ he shrugged, ‘we have to be sure they can break clean.’
‘It will take a while to get everyone away,’ Killen observed.
‘Uh huh. We got twenty kids too young to fight, three pregnant women, three mothers and four fathers.’
‘Six groups, six days.’ Killen didn’t feel comfortable with that. ‘And that’s if all of you go.’
Owen tightened a strap and rubbed his hand along Arno’s neck. ‘And I would be a fool leaving Eagle’s Rest without any cover.’ He turned to look at Killen. ‘What do I do then?’
Killen folded his arms, looked around the barn and rocked back on his heels. He sighed heavily and leaned in close to Owen. ‘I think you play a dangerous game,’ he said softly. ‘You’ve got a lot of people fooled with your words. But I think I see beyond them, I see your plan.’
An eyebrow rose, but Owen’s face remained impassive, inscrutable.
‘What do you think I plan, that I have not told you?’
Killen smiled gently.
‘Owen, I am confident I know all your plans for the coming battle. It’s just your methods I wonder about.’
Owen’s eyes creased a little. Was that anger? Killen was mildly surprised, but it was not unexpected. He and Rashad had talked over his concerns the previous night. It would appear that his time learning the histories and tactics of imperial commanders had not been a total waste. That Owen was doing precisely what he had thought. Killen reached out and clapped Owen on the arm.
‘Don’t worry, General. I am with you, my people are with you come what may. And, truth be told, even if your guess is wrong at least we get to save a few lives, eh?’
With that he turned and left the barn, feeling Owen’s eyes upon him. He continued on towards the gate. Standing waiting was Rashad.
‘Major. Were you right?’
‘It would appear so.’
Rashad whistled.
‘He’s got balls of steel, that one,’ said Killen. Even more than he had initially credited Owen with.
‘He is the General,’ agreed Rashad.
‘Indeed he is. And welcome to it.’ A phrase Killen found himself saying a lot these days. The decisions that leaders had to take could be quite terrible at times. He stood a little straighter and tugged at his breastplate. ‘Captain, a report on our condition, if you would?’
‘All is quiet. We can see them, down below the ridge, but there is no sense of urgency about their purpose.’
‘Very good,’ nodded Killen, only half listening.
‘As for our forces, I have taken a roll of our effectives,’
Killen found his attention returning swiftly. ‘Go on.’
‘The Highlanders have twenty-nine who can fight or shoot. A few more know which end of a spear to stab with but I’d not want them in a scrap. We have Owen and his four Eagle Riders. And, including you and I, we have forty-one scouts left. I’d say four, perhaps five of our wounded can weigh in, given some time to heal.’
Killen felt an ache in his stomach and, unbidden, an enormous sense of loss. Half of his command, gone. Half of the men and women who had taken him in, sheltered him and accepted him as their commander.
‘Do not carry the burden of that, Major,’ advised Rashad.
‘What?’
‘Your face speaks the words. And it does you honour. But their deaths are not at your hands.’
‘If not mine, then whose?’
‘Why, those out there,’ Rashad jerked a thumb towards the gate. ‘They struck the blows, not you.’
‘I put our people in harm’s way.’ He could have turned his back on this war. They could have stayed in Erebesh.
Rashad laughed and clapped Killen on the shoulder, there was more warmth than he had shown Owen in that action. ‘We are soldiers of the Tissan Empire. And we are the sons and daughters of Erebesh. We choose our own path. And we chose to follow you into this war. It is right and it is just.’
‘Even if we all die in the process?’
‘As long as the enemy remembers us in their nightmares,’ said Rashid, with a deathly grin.
Killen shook his head. If only he had a thousand of these magnificent people at his back.
‘Like I dream of being hunted by man-eating camels? Then the enemy is already beaten!’ he replied. He returned the slap. ‘Come on. Let’s have a look at the wall.’ He followed Rashad to one of the ladders. His face fell into a frown. Six days, Owen. Do you really think we have that much time?
CHAPTER 21 – OWEN
Arno leaned out from the roost and spread his wings, and with three quick snaps took to the skies, catching the thermals and gliding away from the roosting barn. The eagle turned to the north and flapped his wings harder, gaining height.
When he was content Arno was comfortable, Owen turned his head and shouted back to his passenger. A young woman called Heather. She was four months pregnant and the bump was now pressing firmly into his back as she held her arms tightly around his waist.
‘Are you OK?’
A slight nod of the head, a squeeze of the arms.
‘Your eyes still shut?’
‘Yes!’
Owen smiled in spite of himself. You got into a way of thinking that all Highlanders were born to fly, to embrace great heights like it was nothing.
‘We are up and flying. And we can stay nice and level until we start to descend.’
‘Will that be soon?’
‘Not long.’
‘We are all away, Owen,’ Jussi’s voice pulsed.
‘Good. Keep watching our rear.’
Owen led the eagles directly north. They would have to cross some pretty forbidding territory, tall, snow-capped peaks with razor-like edges and steep sides. And it would take them a good three hours of flying before they could set down. He hated the thought of being away for so long, but there was nothing for it. Heather, and the other four adults with them, needed to have a shot at keeping away from any wood elf patrols, and they needed to be ready to start taking charge of the children when they arrived. That meant a warm fire and something hot and sweet to drink to calm the nerves. Though he imagined the young ones would be less shaken than the adults.
They landed in a wide open plateau overlooking a valley running almost directly north. It had taken a little more time than he had anticipated. Hardly a surprise, as Owen had had to give Arno more breaks. The weight was more than he was used to. The later trips would be easier, when they were carrying the children. As he climbed off Arno and held out his hands to help Heather down, the other eagles landed around him.
‘There you go, solid ground.’
Heather nodded. In the darkness her face appeared remarkably white.
‘Here, let’s get the supplies off Arno.’
Together they retrieved a leather kna
psack and a hessian sack that had been secured behind Heather. Around them the others were also dismounting and unpacking. He put the sack over one shoulder and Heather carried the knapsack on hers.
He pointed into the darkness behind them, a rearing slope of rock and a scattering of trees, little more than dark pillars rising into the night.
‘There’s a cave set back in the rock face.’
She peered ahead but looked doubtful.
He touched her shoulder.
‘Come on.’
As the started to walk across the grassy plateau, the others joined them. The cave revealed itself as they passed through the first screen of trees, a jagged black mouth set into the lighter mountainside.
‘Wait here a moment,’ said Ernan, as he broke away, followed by his brother, both disappearing into the cave.
As they waited, Owen felt a presence by his side.
‘Jussi.’
‘Owen.’
‘We good?’
‘Uh huh.’
Just then, a scraping noise emanated from the cave mouth, followed by the faintest of flashes. Then silence. After a few seconds, the black maw started to lighten, and shadows flickered against the walls.
‘Alright,’ Erskine’s voice drifted out to them.
‘Let’s go,’ ordered Owen, leading them into the cave. Set back a little away from the entrance, a small fire was starting to gain strength.
‘Thought we’d prepare the ground a little,’ said Ernan, from his position by the fire. He was on all fours, staring intently at the flame, gently blowing it into life.
‘Good thinking.’ Owen set down the hessian sack, which contained both dry meats and vegetables. ‘Gather round, everyone.’ As their passengers and his Riders came close, he tilted his head towards the flame.
‘We are going to rest up for a couple of hours before we set off again. Those of you staying, keep that fire going as best you can. At first light I suggest you gather in plenty of wood and kindling to keep you going for the next six days. We’ll bring more food. Rennie,’ he pointed at one of the men who had elected to go with the children, a stern-faced father of two and one of their better hunters. ‘Take the opportunity to catch some game if you can. Use that before the provisions.’
Rennie raised his bow in acknowledgement.
Owen nodded.
‘Good. All of you, get some sleep.’
‘Don’t we need someone to keep watch?’ asked Heather.
‘No need,’ said Anneli, before Owen could answer. ‘We’ve got five eagles out there. If they can’t spot trouble, we’re as good as dead any way.’
‘Like she said,’ said Owen, lightly. With that he walked outside and went to the edge of the trees, surveying the land and casting an eye over the five humped shapes of theirs. One was busy preening itself but in the dark he couldn’t tell which. He stood with his hands tucked into his belt and rolled his head, stretching his neck left and right, trying to work out the kinks. He heard a twig snap behind him before someone took post on his left shoulder.
‘How are we going to do this?’ asked Erskine.
‘We get one more maybe two good trips before they start to wonder what’s going on.’
‘And then?’
‘And then we focus on that.’
‘It’s shit, Owen. Fucking shit.’
Erskine was being his usual positive self, but Owen let it slide. An attitude he might have, but he had stayed true to the course. Better to let him vent.
‘It is what it is, Erskine.’
Erskine shifted, and scratched hard at the ground with a booted foot. ‘Yeah. Still shit, though.’
‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Owen. ‘Maybe Jussi and I should stay back for the rest of the trips.’
‘Really?’
‘They might need our eyes.’
‘Yeah, makes it harder on us though.’
‘True. Tell you what, we move the rest of the adults tomorrow and all the stores. After that you three just need to carry the little ones. You’ll move faster.’
‘I suppose.’
Owen would take that as an agreement. He turned, patting Erskine on the shoulder. It was time to rest.
CHAPTER 22 – KILLEN
Killen leaned against the parapet on the second night of the siege. Far off, down the ridgeline towards the forests, valleys and ravines that surrounded the promontory of Eagle’s Rest, there was a sea of light. If anything, it had become brighter than the previous evening. Damn, where they going to attack now? He bit his lip and started to tug at one of his forks. He looked back at the hall, at the lights blazing on the steps, at the braziers now set to either side of the gate, both within and without the wall. The two smaller outside braziers were set a little way along the path. Near to where the pit was. Still partially filled with its horse carcasses. The light gave ample view to the other bodies of horses and riders scattered on the treacherous ground before the gates. If it were light, he would have seen the ground stained black with blood. It was bad enough with the smell. He’d have liked to have sent parties out to clear them all away, but Owen had forbidden it. He wanted that slaughter in full view.
Abbas took a position next to him on the wall.
‘Misha is dead.’
‘What?’ Killen turned on him. ‘What?’
‘The fever took her.’
Killen smacked a hand on the parapet. ‘Dammit.’
‘The arrow was poisoned. I was too late to treat the wound.’
Killen shook his head and snorted. ‘You did what you could. If those bastards had something nasty coating their arrowheads, I doubt you could have saved her.’
‘As you say, Major. But I will kill a dozen in her name.’
‘Make sure you do.’ Better if you could kill fifty. He blinked. ‘Is it me, or are those lights moving closer together?’
Abbas leaned forwards. Others along the line of the parapet had also caught sight of something, pointing and gesticulating to the treeline and the gathering swarm of orbs.
‘They are coming,’ said Abbas, picking up his bow and starting to fix a string.
Killen turned, shouting back towards the settlement. ‘To arms. To arms!’
Figures in the distance stopped and looked his way.
‘They’re coming!’ he cried. In response the figures broke into a run, one of them heading towards the hall, the others to the roosting barn. He looked up at the sentry tower. ‘Conor? What do you see?’
‘Just lots of lights, all gathering at the bottom of the trail!’
Not particularly useful.
‘Alright. Get down from there and head for the monument. You know what to do.’
Conor nodded and started to climb down.
‘Abbas? Take position up in that tower, it’ll give you a better shot.’
‘Yes, Major.’
Abbas gathered up a bag of arrows and made for one of the ladders. Killen glanced at the others manning the wall, all of them having armed themselves with bows or throwing spears. More were coming to join them, running at speed from the hall pounding along the duckboards. Fighters were coming from the nearest buildings, where many of his scouts had been quartered. He picked up his own bow and stared down the trail. He could see them now. A whole mass of torches born aloft. He had wondered at just how many were gathered below, how many were left after all the skirmishing they had engaged in. It seemed like fucking hundreds. And there was something else. There were distinct gaps in the line of torches, like black squares. More bloody mantlets. Why wouldn’t they?
The new arrivals swelled the ranks of the defenders on the wall. Killen counted almost thirty on the parapet with him. Below, another score were gathering, forming a skirmish line. Many were already shoring up the gate, bracing it with rough-hewn tree trunks pushed into the ground, Saul directing their efforts.
‘Major!’ Killen saw Rashad push his way into line next to him. ‘They come.’
‘Yes.’
‘Sooner than we had hoped.’
‘Yes.’ But probably exactly what Owen had expected. ‘They have mantlets.’
Rashad leaned forwards. ‘Not just mantlets.’
‘Huh?’
‘They have learned a lesson.’
Killen looked again. The line, moving steadily, was almost at the pit. ‘Everyone, on my order, volley fire,’ he shouted even as he squinted. There were a lot of those mantlets. As the line of torches reached the edge of the pit, the line parted and one of those mantlets was brought forward. It was dropped into a vertical position. Oh. Now he understood. The mantlet, rather, the bridge, was pushed forwards and it dropped with a thud across the pit. And now the line of wood elves was spreading out, and more platforms were being dropped over the flat ground where the pit traps lay.
‘Fire!’ he ordered, and with a twanging thrum almost fifty missiles were launched and almost immediately, a cloud of fire arrows answered. He didn’t even bother to try and see where they landed, he was already ducking. He watched as they flew overhead, embedding into the nearby buildings, the ground and newly laid duckboards. Somehow none of those behind the gate were hit. That wouldn’t last.
‘Shoot at will!’ he shouted, reaching for another arrow. Above him Abbas was looking like he hadn’t stopped. He drew and loosed two arrows in the time it took Killen to get ready. He stood and drew a bead at the crowd charging over the bridge and right for them. They were also coming across the open ground now as well. A good dozen ladders were carried by this first wave. He loosed and, with a short-lived burst of satisfaction, he saw his arrow strike home. ‘Yes!’ he said loudly. Then the scout next to Rashad went down. And the ladders were at the wall. Damn it all. ‘Prepare to repel!’
