Resurgence

by Alex Janaway

  ‘Owen?’ asked Ernan, his face radiating concern.

  He shrugged. ‘Door’s shut.’

  ‘Could mean anything.’

  Ernan was right. Who knew how many had got into the shed, or when they had discovered the trap door. Were they sheltering down there right now? Had they overwhelmed the defenders? He checked the bodies. Their wounds suggested a fight.

  They moved forwards and knelt before the trap door. He shared a look with Ernan. The Rider pointed his crossbow at the door. Owen reached out and knocked three times. He waited. There was no response. He knocked again.

  ‘What?’ demanded a muffled voice.

  ‘It’s us,’ replied Owen.

  Silence. Then more quiet voices and some shuffling.

  ‘No shooting, alright?’ demanded the voice.

  ‘Alright.’ Owen stepped back and joined Ernan in pointing his bow.

  And the trap door opened.

  Saul’s head appeared, covered in black smears. He smiled at the pair of them and started to climb up.

  ‘A bunch of them tried to get in. They didn’t get very far, and we thought we’d do for the rest when some more came into the barn. After that, it got quiet.’ He clasped Owen’s forearm. ‘Good to see you, lad.’

  Owen grinned. ‘You too.’

  ‘General!’ Sadad announced, as he was next up. ‘The Major is coming.’

  ‘Good.’ Owen looked at Saul. ‘Is everyone alright?’

  ‘They are, except for those we lost in the fight. But the families, the young ones. They are all fine.’

  Owen sucked in a breath and blew out.

  ‘How many did we lose?’

  Saul’s face looked grim. ‘Eight.’

  Owen was surprised. In truth he had expected more.

  ‘Tell me it worked,’ said Saul.

  ‘Go take a look for yourself. Unless they have another army on its way, I doubt those remaining below us have any fight left.’

  ‘As you say, but best I organise a party to go and have a look,’ Saul said, with a nod. ‘Can I take this one?’ he clapped Ernan on the back.

  ‘Take Erskine too. The volunteers down by the gate need breaking out.’

  More familiar faces were starting to emerge from the trap-door. A little drawn, a little tired, but alive. Jenni forced her way up and gave him a hug.

  ‘Is it over?’

  ‘For now,’ he replied.

  She pushed away, her face grave, ‘Owen, it’s Naimh, she–’

  ‘Can speak for herself,’ said Naimh, stepping up into the barn.

  Jenni, bit her lip, looked at Naimh then at Owen, her eyes wide, almost tearful, before she followed the others outside.

  Owen watched her go, then turned to Naimh. Behind her, no-one else emerged from the trap door.

  She stood before him, her arms crossed, mouth firm, her lips set in a tight line. It looked like she was grinding her teeth.

  Owen sighed. He could guess what was coming. Naimh was nobody’s fool.

  ‘Naimh, we did it–’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ she hissed. ‘Don’t you fucking dare, Owen.’ She lashed out with her hand, slapping his right cheek hard. His head whipped around, and he staggered back.

  ‘Wha–’

  ‘Shut up, Owen. Just shut up. I don’t want to hear it.’

  He put his hands up placatingly. Best he just listen.

  ‘You did it on purpose didn’t you? Leaving the evacuation until it was too late. You knew they’d attack. Didn’t you?’ She fixed him with an icy stare. Her arms were held tight against her side and she was shaking.

  This was probably his cue.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You bastard, Owen. How could you? I trusted you. I thought you were doing it because you thought it was the right thing to do. You had me convinced. I trusted you. How could you?’ Like Jenni, tears were starting to build, her eyes red-rimmed over dark sleep-deprived circles.

  ‘I had to do it. Naimh, do you know what would have happened if I hadn’t? We would have been besieged. And who would have won that situation? Not us. We would have starved.’

  ‘You could have used your eagles to hunt.’

  ‘And six months from now, when the elves of the Heartlands arrived with their mages, what would we do? When a cloud of buzzers filled the sky?’

  She had no answer. There was no answer.

  ‘I had to make them attack us. I had to force their hand.’ He leaned in close and grabbed her shoulders. ‘We have fought them, bled them, killed them for months. We have burned their homes, slaughtered men, women, children. They are full of rage. You know that feeling? I had to use it against them, make sure their hearts, cruel and wild as they are, ruled their heads. A siege we would have lost. This?’ He let go of her shoulders and looked around. ‘This is the best we could have hoped for. They have lost more than we ever could. And it buys us time.’

  ‘Time for what?’ she asked quietly, her voice quivering.

  ‘To continue the war.’

  ‘And what has it cost? You have destroyed Eagle’s Rest.’

  ‘Better stone and wood than lives.’

  ‘But this was our home!’

  ‘You think they cared? The elves, the dwarves and all the rest? They would have destroyed it anyway, eventually.’

  Naimh raised her palms up and looked around.

  ‘And what do we do now? You want us to rebuild? You don’t think they’ll come again?’

  Owen sighed. The truth was, the enemy knew where they were. This was just one victory, one battle. Someone would be back.

  ‘You are right, Naimh. They will come again. And there are not enough of us to hold them back.’

  She crossed her arms. ‘What are we going to do?’

  Owen paused. He had an answer. One that had come to him only recently. One that he had not believed was possible.

  ‘We are heading north.’

  Naimh’s eyebrows rose.

  ‘North?’

  ‘To the Brevis Sea. We’ll join up with the survivors. We can regroup.’

  Naimh was silent a moment, her eyes boring into his. Then she snorted.

  ‘You’ll drag them into your war as well.’

  His war? Our war.

  ‘They are already in it, Naimh. Even so, that’s where we are headed.’

  She shook her head. ‘Fine. Take us where you will, Owen. There’s nothing left for us here.’

  Naimh pushed past him and stalked out of the barn.

  Owen rubbed his forehead. What did she expect of him? They had all agreed to this. And they agreed to him being in charge. To make the decisions. He turned his head at the sound of a polite cough. Killen was climbing out of the trap door.

  ‘I think you got off lightly there,’ he said, getting to his feet and holding his hand out.

  Owen took it. He was pleased the Major had made it.

  ‘I have had worse.’

  ‘Me and some of the lads were taking bets on whether she was going to lay you out.’

  ‘Do you think I deserve it?’

  Killen shrugged.

  ‘That depends who you are trying to serve with your decisions.’ He looked away, out of one the open stalls to the mountains beyond. ‘Heading north, then. Not a bad shout.’

  ‘Seems a sensible choice.’

  ‘Hmmm …’ He turned and smiled. ‘If you don’t mind, General, I’ll take my scouts on a sweep into the woods below and go collect our camels. We’ll need them for the journey ahead.’

  ‘Yes. Please do. Be careful.’

  ‘Goes with the job, doesn’t it?’

  Killen returned to the trap door and shouted down, ‘Captain Rashad, go rouse the troops. We have a sweep to conduct.’

  A muffled acknowledgment drifted up.

  Killen looked at Owen. ‘As I said. It’s a dangerous game you played, Owen. I’d say you just about got away with it.’

  Owen shrugged. What more was there to say? It’s them or us.

  CHAPTER 26
– KANYAY

  In the pre-dawn, light Kanyay pushed himself up from the ground and rolled on to his back. He took a deep breath trying to ignore the stench of cooked flesh which assaulted his nostrils. What had happened last night? He could not quite recall. It was all just images, flashes of memory. Scenes playing out of fire and heat, of the night bathed in a red and yellow glow. Of his people dying, screaming as they burned. Others choking, suffocating with the lack of oxygen. Of winged demons spitting flame.

  Perhaps it was just as well that was all he could remember, to recall more might cause madness. It might be enough anyway. He coughed, turned his head and spat out dark stained phlegm. His throat was dry and his whole body ached like he’d been beaten to within an inch of his life. Why was that? He looked up. Just ahead of him was a structure, a barn of some sort. A little blackened on its sides but standing.

  Another memory surged forwards.

  As the flames had taken hold, as they realised escape was impossible, he and a few others had made for the barn. It was the only damned structure not alight. But he had been too close to another building, one that had exploded with such force that he had been thrown through the air, like so much chaff, and had, it would seem, landed in the one patch of ground that had not been soaked in whatever substance the humans had used to drench the place.

  He rubbed his eyes. They stung a little to his touch and his vision blurred briefly. He shook his head and pushed himself up on to his knees. He took more breaths as he felt a wave of heat bathe him. The whole plateau was smouldering. Fires still burned in a dozen places, not least the great hall where the humans had made their stand. It had collapsed in on itself, and was it not now one great funeral pyre? Had they truly sacrificed themselves in one great act of bloody defiance? Had this always been the plan? To cut and cut again, to make the wood elves bleed out a thousand times before one last glorious night of death? It horrified him.

  And was that why Patiir had ordered the great purging? Such savagery. He had not thought the Tissans so uncultured, even by wood elf standards. Yet these Highlanders had always been a breed apart. He stood, his body sore and stiff, fought him, complaining.

  Were they gone? These Tissans. Were they done?

  He walked towards the barn. Perhaps his kin were still in there? He reached for the latch, opened the door and stepped inside. He narrowed his eyes a little. Spotting the individual stalls. Their eagles lived here, then. That would explain why it was so close to the edge. He smelled it then. Blood. And other voided juices. He moved further in. Some of the stall doors were open and a cold breeze filtered in, as did a little weak light. And in that light, he saw the bodies.

  ‘Blessed Mother, Blessed Father,’ he whispered, reaching up and pulling on one of the fetishes entwined in his hair. He counted only wood elves, no humans. How could that be so? Unless there was more at work than he realised. Whatever the answer, he no longer wished to be here. He moved swiftly to the door and made to exit just as a dark shape passed overhead. A screech punctuated its passing. Kanyay ducked back into the shadows.

  An eagle.

  At least one Highlander lived then, and likely more. Those creatures had brought ruin to his kin last night. They were the winged demons. He looked out, his eyes scanning the sky and glimpsed another eagle passing over the hall on the far side of the plateau, heading in the same direction as the first. Not one to question the luck of his gods, Kanyay left the safety of the barn and made a run for the far ridgeline. He did not try the central square, it was too open and too full of death. Instead he followed the southern perimeter of the settlement. He leapt over hot trenches and black, smoking mounds that he dared not look too closely at. The walls that surrounded the perimeter were gone as well but there was little point in climbing over their remains, on the far side was only a steep drop to nothing. Moving quickly, he reached the gate, now little more than a wide pile of glowing embers. It would be a shit to cross. But he had little choice. Increasing his speed, he aimed for the nearest end of the gate’s palisade walls and leapt. One foot landed on to yielding ash, and he forced another stride, this time striking something more solid underfoot. Then he remembered what lay beyond. He pulled up sharply, not wishing to discover a hidden spike trap that dotted the open ground ahead.

  Easy. Easy. You are out.

  He took a moment. He glanced back at the plateau of death, hawked and spat. ‘Human scum. I hope you died screaming,’ he whispered.

  Kanyay navigated his way to the track, stepping around numerous bodies. There were too many to count. Some burned, others further back, were untouched by the fire. A hand appeared, clutching at the sky, a little way off the track. He moved toward it and crouched down. A female wood elf looked up at him. Her forehead was covered in blood and looked swollen. He did not recognise her.

  ‘Will you help me?’ she asked weakly.

  ‘Aye,’ he reached out and took her hand. ‘Can you stand?’

  She nodded.

  Kanyay stood up and pulled. She groaned but did little to resist him. If anything, she was a dead weight. He snarled a little as his leg muscles howled, then he got an arm tucked under her shoulders and hauled her upright.

  ‘Come on,’ he hissed. ‘I’m not fucking dragging you all the way back.’

  Getting on to the track, she finally started to find her feet and together they struggled along the ridgeline. Kanyay divided his gaze between the straight ahead and for the greater part the skies above and the slopes to either side. He hadn’t seen those eagles for a while, but that meant nothing. Halfway along, a wood elf sprawled lengthways across their path. His limbs were bent at strange angles and the head was tilted round so much that it looked freakish. He manoeuvred around the body, his companion almost collapsing at the effort. He lifted her higher. ‘Almost there.’

  The ridge started its descent towards the trees and now he had to fight the forwards pull of her weight. ‘You had better not die on me,’ he muttered.

  Movement just ahead caught his eyes, figures in the tree, dark and unrecognisable. They had seen him, were beckoning him to hurry. Thanking the gods, he struggled on with renewed vigour. The fear that at any moment an eagle might take him up in its talons helped. Within moments he was at the trees and arms were reaching out to take his wounded companion. As she slipped from his grasp he collapsed against a tree. Breathing heavily, he wiped sweat from his brow. A water bottle was thrust in front of him and he took it, swallowing greedily. His throat caught, and he started to cough uncontrollably. As he fought for breath, a hand reached out and clapped him with some force against his back.

  ‘Let it out, lad.’

  After some panicked sucking of air, Kanyay finally managed to hold a breath in. As his racing heart slowed, the proffered hand pulled back. It was gauntleted. The chainmail covering the arm chinked a little. Kanyay took another pull of water and then gave over the bottle. He leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes.

  ‘My thanks.’

  There was a sour grunt in reply. ‘I’ve done nothing.’

  Kanyay opened his eyes and focussed on the speaker who loomed over him.

  ‘Marmus,’ he croaked.

  The dwarf leaned in close and inspected him with a critical eye.

  ‘I thought we’d lost you in that damnable conflagration.’

  ‘So did I. Should be dead but the gods smiled on me. In their way.’

  ‘Then your gods are cruel. And unforgiving.’ Marmus turned his gaze to the plateau. ‘They chose many of your kin to sacrifice in their honour.’

  ‘Are we the only ones that made it?’

  Marmus shook his head.

  ‘Others came in during the night. Those lucky enough to have been just outside the gate. Or near enough to get over before it fully caught fire. Many did not make it from that ridge. Those eagles took a toll.’ He finally turned to look at Kanyay. ‘My guard and I have done what we can to ease their suffering. Some are burned. Badly.’

  ‘Thank you, my friend.
’

  ‘As I said. I have done nothing. Except guard your horses because none of your lot would stay behind.’ He made a deep growling noise in his throat. ‘I told you, Kanyay. I bloody told all of you. There was no need to charge like that. You had them in a trap.’

  ‘And we did not listen,’ Kanyay growled back, feeling his cheeks flush with heat. ‘It is not our way. Mantlets and rams and siege weapons.’ He waved his hand. ‘It is not how we fight.’

  ‘Aye, you fight hard and bravely. I won’t deny that. But those mantlets saved a few lives, did they not?’ He turned to glance back at the devastation. ‘At least for a while.’

  Kanyay closed his eyes and quelled his anger. Marmus was right. The dwarf had done right by his kin, offering advice and tactics that they would never have embraced otherwise. His guard had even helped build the bloody mantlets which got them over the barricades in the valley to the north.

  ‘Yes, you did, my friend. And I am grateful you asked to join us.’

  Marmus shrugged. ‘I wanted to see who you were fighting. I needed to see if they were part of that damned rabble who carved their way out of our lands.’

  ‘I guess we can agree they are not.’

  ‘No, indeed,’ the dwarf assented.

  Kanyay sighed deeply. He was, he knew, quick to anger, full of emotion, just like all his kin. But he was too tired, too damn worn out to work up any energy. ‘Do you have any wine?’

  Marmus’s eyebrow raised.

  ‘We’re not in the bloody Silver Chalice!’

  ‘Just thought I’d ask.’

  ‘Here.’ Marmus thrust out another canteen. Kanyay unstoppered it and sniffed. He wrinkled his nose.

  ‘Ale?’

  ‘Proper dwarf ale. That will put some hairs on that bare chest of yours.’

  Kanyay found he had no argument and took a large gulp. The heat hit his throat almost immediately and he started to cough again.

  ‘Gods, Marmus!’

  The dwarf took the canteen and partook from its contents, displaying no discomfort whatsoever.