Leaping Wolf, page 15
part #2 of Caledon Saga Series
Gawan sighed and tried to be grateful for small blessings; few people had seen the exchange between him and the Caderyn chieftain, and the three tribes on the march had remained on good terms with one another. Had their confrontation been witnessed it might have caused some serious discontent between them. In the absence of a High Chieftain, the Gorvicae looked to Gawan for their leadership more than anyone, and if discord was seen at the top it would inevitably trickle down. Fortunately the only rumour going around was that Rhianwyn was embarrassed that a Gorvic had found her boy first, and angry though he was at her, Gawan was happy enough to play along. It was better that way.
Better still was that her notion of summoning Gaians to their aid had been abandoned, though he suspected it was more due to Alraig’s calm persuasion than to his own more spirited argument, and even so her new plan was far from ideal. It seemed they had reached a compromise whereby a request had been sent to General Galerian to move his people to defend Bryngarth should the Dragon Legion be defeated and the Breiryn begin moving north. How well they could be trusted to stand by that arrangement Gawan couldn’t say, but it was a good thing that young Lucan had been left at the Caderyn capital. By his understanding, what loyalty Galerian and the Gaians had would be to Rhianwyn and her son personally. He doubted if they would give a crow’s squawk for the tribes she was trying to rule.
He continued walking his pony and tried not to brood. The movement ought to have helped him to relax, but the First Man had a good deal on his mind. The legion was fairly confident, despite being outnumbered, and Gawan only wished that he could feel the same. They had suffered so much against Lepidus at Nantwyn, and to be tossed back into combat against such fierce odds so soon...
He was scowling to himself when young Pryder came up to him. Gadarim or not, as the youngest of their group he was given most of the boring work and was leading the other ponies in the direction of the stream. Gawan handed him his horse’s reins without a word, settling for a simple nod of his head. Pryder didn’t even try to engage him and nodded back in silence. It was a pity that Hewin hadn’t been able to join them, the two were good friends, but he’d been in no state to fight after their clash with the Panther and had been left at Bryngarth in the care of the herbwives. He was likely kicking his heels pretty hard by now.
Gawan watched Pryder go for a moment before heading off through the various huddles of fighters. Before long he reached the fire where his fellow Gadarim sat, though a glance at the flames made him twitch his lip.
‘Did Pryder do this?’
Tarwyn replied laconically, sitting with his long legs stretched out in front of him.
‘That he did. And before you start yes, we told him. Gwydion is fetching some more wood now and Pryder’s under orders to do the same once he’s done with the horses.’
Gawan grunted and eased himself onto the grass, his legs aching a little as he sank down. Pryder might be bold but the lad was impatient. The key to getting a proper fire going was good preparation; you needed to do more than just light your kindling and stick some branches on top before you wandered off in search of more fuel. Unless in dire circumstances, the intelligent fire-builder would always have his kindling, twigs, branches and heavy logs all ready before he began. It was a fairly basic idea, but Gawan had found that young men these days were less fond of hard work than they used to be.
He might have begun ranting at the general state of today’s youth but Tarwyn spoke first, quite possibly just to forestall him.
‘So, from what I hear it’ll be seven hundred of us against two thousand of them?’
He didn’t sound worried, though with Tarwyn it was hard to tell, merely curious about the situation. Gawan smiled inwardly. Fear was as natural as autumn rain and the man who didn’t feel it was either mad or just plain stupid, but no Gadarim worth a crumb would ever show it.
‘Something like that. But then we’ve seen legions facing odds like that before.’
Tarwyn nodded quietly and Gawan suspected he was not convinced. He couldn’t blame him. The fact was that they’d only seen Gaian legions fight like that, and for all his pride in the Dragons they had only been formed a few short moons ago. The legions he and Tarwyn had faced at White Ridge, and fought beside at First Nantwyn, had been made up of soldiers with years of experience of fighting in the shieldwall.
Gwydion came striding up before either of them had to comment further, a bundle of medium-sized branches held in his arms. He nodded in greeting before dropping them at the Gadarim’s feet, and he and Tarwyn proceeded to build up the fire properly. The taller man pushed branches in from the outside while Gwydion placed more across the flames to burn through slowly. Gawan hoped that one of them would change the current subject but it seemed Gwydion too was thinking of the coming battle. Are not we all?
‘Sounds like we’ll have a hard job of it against Caserach and this Breiryn rabble. Do you think Broad Kellas will be there?’
Gawan blinked for a moment. He’d been so preoccupied with the numbers he’d forgotten about the one Breiryn name that he knew. Broad Kellas, he didn’t know his birth name, was First Man of the Breiryn Gadarim, and had a reputation fierce enough to carry even as far as the Gorvicae. Named for the deadly kellas cats of the mountains, he was said to live up to his warrior name, being swift, strong and truly deadly in combat. Gawan had never met him but he knew him to be a rare big man by all accounts, and young for a tribe’s First Man. Inevitably he found himself wondering if he could take him in a fight. In the last twelve winters only Madoc had beaten him man to man, and Madoc had been practically a legend. Whoever this Broad Kellas is, he’ll be no Smiling Fox, that’s for sure.
Tarwyn interrupted his thoughts, his voice as casual as ever.
‘Maybe his chieftain won’t let him come? Until Caserach can show his worth the Breiryn’s leader might not want to be seen helping him?’
Gwydion nodded.
‘You may be right.’ He paused a moment and then said aloud what all of them had been thinking. ‘Should we be hoping for his presence or not?’
It was an interesting question and Gawan mused on it a little. A Gadarim should not shrink from a fight of course but all the same, perhaps it would be better if he was not there. Even discounting the damage he might do personally, the presence of the tribe’s First Man would be a sign that their High Chieftain was invested in this fight, and so might send more warriors to fight the Caledon later on. Better all-around if he stayed at home, doing whatever these damned Breiryn did with themselves all that way down south. Nonetheless, a part of Gawan wanted to test himself against this kellas cat, and prove to himself as much as to anyone that the wolf was still top of the predator’s chain.
‘Let us hope only for honour and victory. The gods can work out the rest.’
There were nods from the other men, Tarwyn’s sombre and Gwydion’s smiling.
‘I’m sure they will.’
Gawan wondered if he ought to tell them about the plan to bring the Blackbirds to Bryngarth should the battle go ill for them. He’d had visions of the Dragons being driven back from Three Willows, wherever that was, and forced to retreat through Caderyn land towards the capital. He couldn’t believe he was alone in worrying about this, and the knowledge that, should that happen, a legion would be there to support them might give comfort to his warriors. Then again, if they thought that everything hung on victory down here, it would strengthen their resolve to fight that much harder. Besides, he wasn’t the only one to feel misgivings about Gaian support.
Tarwyn’s face was serious and Gawan wondered what he was thinking. The lean man was arguably the sharpest of the Gorvicae Gadarim and had probably thought through this whole thing pretty thoroughly.
‘We will need Mabonac’s good will.’
Gwydion was still smiling broadly. The blonde man was no fool but around Tarwyn he could sometimes seem like one.
‘I don’t doubt we shall, but why the worry? Have you pissed on a snapdragon or something?’
Tarwyn raised an eyebrow. The bright flowers were, understandably, sacred to the Dragon God and the idea was plainly ridiculous.
‘Bold words from a man who’d spill his seed on mistletoe if it meant a chance to touch his member.’
Gwydion looked ready to return the banter but Tarwyn continued, his voice serious again.
‘No, I was thinking about how he would look on this battle.’
Gawan frowned a little. He didn’t want to admit aloud how much the odds were concerning him.
‘The legion is well-trained and experienced. They may have the numbers but our warriors are ready for them.’
He spoke with a confidence he only half-felt and the lean man nodded slowly.
‘Oh I don’t doubt that we have the better men, and hard though it will be, with a little help from the gods we should prevail.’
Gawan suspected that Tarwyn too was speaking with more faith than he truly had. The First Man tilted his head a little as the thoughtful man went on.
‘No, what concerns me is how the battle is fought. Mabonac’s love is honour, and what honour is there in fighting as the Gaians do? Hiding behind shields and stabbing out as real warriors charge is hardly worthy of Mabonac’s chosen.’
Gawan felt familiar discomfort at the thought, but at least Tarwyn wasn’t bringing up their chances of defeat. He replied casually.
‘You had no such worries before Nantwyn?’
Tarwyn gave a tiny shrug.
‘That was a legion fighting against other legions and besides, Lepidus would have destroyed us all given the chance. Mabonac understood that we did only what we had to. This fight is against fellow Lurians; men raiding another tribe as we all have done for years. How will he and Taran see it when we fight them the same way we fought the invaders?’
The conversation was becoming deeper than Gawan generally liked and he was glad when Gwydion answered first.
‘I think they will remember that Caserach is a murderer. He would threaten the Caledon, which is all that stops the Gaians from coming again, and the man has no honour of his own. What more does he deserve than to be put down as we see fit?’
Gawan nodded in agreement.
‘Besides; bringing so many warriors with him shows that he wishes to overwhelm the Caledon. He does not intend to give us a fair fight, why should we concern ourselves with using different methods to fight back?’
He felt odd, arguing for something he wasn’t quite sure he agreed with. Tarwyn was quite the thinker and made an excellent point, to say nothing of the fact that the Breiryn were the Caderyn’s enemies, not theirs. Once again he wondered at the thought of Gorvicae dying to help Caderyn, and his resentment of Rhianwyn re-surfaced. The Wildcat might be a strong leader but she thought too much of herself, and she could well create real trouble for his tribe once all this was done. But better her than the Gaians, that’s for damned sure. Her Caledon is important, at least for now, and if we’ve learned nothing else in these last few years it’s that we survive only by unity.
Tarwyn tilted his head in acknowledgement.
‘True enough, in a way. Yet does his fighting foul justify our doing the same? If a man murdered my father am I right to murder his?’
Gawan wouldn’t have called legion fighting foul exactly, though his brother was right about there being little honour in it. He wanted to curse Tarwyn for being too clever for his own good, but mercifully Emeryn arrived at that moment and the trio broke off their argument and turned to face her. She was carrying a huge bowl of steaming liquid in her hands, and the smell coming from it was deliciously rich. She smirked at the sitting men.
‘I see you’ve made no effort to start your suppers yet?’
Gwydion smiled almost sheepishly and even Tarwyn’s lip moved a fraction. The fire was still too low to cook anything, and Gawan had been content to settle for a boring meal of bread and dried mutton. Until the smell from Emeryn’s bowl had reached his nostrils. Gwydion spoke for them, a beam across his face.
‘We were living in hope that someone like you would take pity on us.’
Tarwyn rolled his eyes at his friend but Gawan was glad of the interruption. Emeryn pursed her lips at the blonde man and walked towards Gawan.
‘Lydwen gave me this for you, though you’ll have to fetch your own bowls.’
Gwydion had already fetched his from his saddlebag and tossed another one to Tarwyn, who caught it one-handed. Gawan made for his own bags to find his and Emeryn’s bowls and spoke over his shoulder as his lover put the big vessel down.
‘I hope you thanked her for us?’
Emeryn nodded and began ladling stew out for Tarwyn.
‘Naturally, and she said it was a pleasure and to pass on her blessings.’
Gawan almost smiled as he nodded back. People often gave food to Gadarim when a tribe went off to war but if old Hedrin had taught him nothing else, it was to never take their kindness for granted. He dug out wooden bowls and spoons and shuffled over to Emeryn, who was now serving a smiling Gwydion. The stew smelled wonderful and Gawan paused only briefly to thank Camelas for his bounty before shoving his spoon into the liquid. It was hot but very welcome, with soft vegetables and a subtle seasoning that he couldn’t quite identify. The meat in it was rabbit, chewy but delicious, and Gawan wondered, as he always did, whether it reminded him more of pork or of chicken.
Emeryn filled her own bowl and sat down beside him. She snuggled in close, and the little group was silent for a while, all enjoying and appreciating Lydwen’s welcome gift. The feel of Emeryn next to him helped take Gawan’s mind off things, and he found himself relaxing as he ate. He found he liked to just sit with her like this, not even needing to talk but just enjoying being with one another. It felt... right. Perhaps you should just tell her that you love her? It’s as true of her as it is of anyone isn’t it?
Eventually some quiet conversation resumed, and Gawan was glad that the subject of Mabonac’s approval did not come up again. It wasn’t something he cared to dwell on right now. Instead the talk mostly revolved around Gwydion and Tarwyn exchanging insults, with Emeryn joining in every now and then. Gwydion might be the more jovial man but Tarwyn had a cutting wit, and Emeryn could banter as well as anyone. They bickered happily for a while, with Gawan rarely passing comment, until Pryder arrived with some newly-filled waterskins, and then they all began mocking him instead.
For the most part Gawan just sat back and enjoyed it, the sound of his brothers’ happiness washing gently over him. Combined with Emeryn’s presence it did a great deal to calm his spirit, and he watched the fire contentedly as the darkness around them deepened. Eventually the other Gadarim kicked off their shoes and began to lie back with their feet towards the flames, the talk slowly dying down as they prepared themselves for sleep.
With the lack of talk some of Gawan’s cares returned to him, and he thought of the test that the Dragons would soon face. Combined with his annoyance at Rhianwyn, and the Caderyn in general, his mood might have turned sour again had it not been for Emeryn. As Pryder’s snores began to drift across the fire, she shifted closer and locked her gaze onto his. In the light of the flames her eyes were almost black, and her hair seemed to shine reddish-gold. Maybe it was that she’d sensed his tension, or maybe she was just feeling in an amorous mood this evening, but whatever the reason he read her eyes as easily as she would read tracks.
Without a word the First Man eased himself up and extended a hand to help her to her feet. Emeryn reached up languidly and took his arm, lifting herself up smoothly to stand close to him. He kept hold of her hand and began to walk, away from the flickering light of the fires and out into the night. They hadn’t gone far before they found a patch of ferns and they walked around the edge of it, both stopping at the same time. Gawan made to lift his tunic off but Emeryn placed a gentle hand on his chest to stop him. She kept her eyes on his as she stepped away and began gathering up her skirts. Given that dresses were generally removed by pulling them up over the head, there were few women who were able to make the movement look even remotely sultry. But Emeryn was one of them. With a single smooth motion the green garment was up and off and Gawan stared at her nakedness in the silvery moonlight.
Her skin was naturally pale and almost shone in the night, her whole body tight with muscle yet still curved and feminine. Gawan stepped forwards eagerly and drew her into a kiss, his hands beginning at her hips before running slowly up to her breasts. Her milky skin was as smooth as it looked and the flesh beneath was soft but firm. Gawan felt himself harden as the kiss deepened but then Emeryn backed off again, placing a long finger on his lips. Her mouth quirked up mischievously as she took hold of his tunic and drew it upwards. Gawan raised his arms above him and Emeryn paused as the garment was halfway off, leaning forwards to kiss his chest before removing it fully.
The moment his arms were free again his hands returned to the glory of her skin, stroking gently down her sides until he reached her upper legs. Her thighs and buttocks were both strong and firm, and Gawan smiled as he took hold of her and drew her closer to him. Emeryn continued kissing his chest as she pulled at his breeches’ ties, teasing his manhood with her other hand as she did. Gawan wanted to tell her to just get on with it but he restrained himself. Back in his youth he had always rushed these things and while he’d never walked away unsatisfied, Bronwen had taught him the value of taking his time. For a moment he thought about his wife and he even saw her face flicker before his eyes, but he closed them tight for a count of three and when he opened them, only Emeryn stood before him.
She had finally undone the cords of his breeches and he stepped out of the garment, Emeryn’s hands still toying with his hardness. He kept a hand on her flank while the other reached up to her hair, his fingers running slowly through the fine golden strands. Everything about her was perfect, and all Gawan wanted to do was to throw her down and take her right now, to use her body for his own pleasure; to make her his. They’d coupled like that before, like beasts driven by urgency and need, but tonight it seemed Emeryn was in a teasing mood, and if she could do it, then so could he.
