Leaping Wolf, page 2
part #2 of Caledon Saga Series
‘That we shall. My back is too old for rutting in pine-groves these days.’
Gawan smirked. Emeryn had seen barely thirty winters but she loved to complain about feeling old. She probably just did it to tease her lover, who had seen his fortieth.
‘I am still young enough to try it.’
Emeryn gave him a mock-stern look through her brows.
‘Then you can bloody well go into the woods on your own on the trip back. We’ll see if you can make the badgers blush.’
He gave her arm a playful shove and she held up the waterskin as if to throw it at him, but he knew it was an empty threat. It was too hot to waste the water. Instead she took another gulp then stoppered the leather flask.
‘Do you think we will catch up with Duran when we go north? The legion aren’t all mounted after all.’
Gawan shook his head.
‘He said he’d leave Nantwyn only a day or two later than us. Unless he lingers on the journey he’ll be home long before we get there.’
The Wildcat’s Gaian husband, Marius, had taught the Lurians to fight in formations the way the Gaians did, and though Gawan had never liked him, the man had known what he was doing. The Gorvicae cohorts of the Dragon Legion would now be making for White Ridge and then on to Graigarw, probably leaving some of their number at the edge of Gorvicae land. Treaty or not the Gaians were still far too close for comfort, and whoever became the Gorvicae’s new chieftain would want his borders well protected. Emeryn either read his thoughts or was thinking along the same lines anyway.
‘Who do you think will stand for Baercban’s Chair?’
Gawan shrugged his shoulders.
‘I would say either Karadoc or Taliesyn, or maybe Boryn if he puts his name forward.’
Emeryn nodded slowly.
‘Do you know who you will choose?’
The Gadarim shrugged again. As First Man he would have a voice in the moot but it would be the headmen and the druids who truly made the decision.
‘Boryn’s a decent man but he is contented where he is and may not stand. I know little enough about the other two.’
Emeryn spoke again.
‘Whoever becomes High Chieftain will want you on his side. They will probably all seek to be your friend in the days beforehand.’
Gawan pressed his lips together irritably. Lurian politics were fairly simple affairs but they existed nonetheless and he did not want to get involved in them. Emeryn had tactfully left out the fact that whoever became High Chieftain would remember that Gawan had killed his predecessor over a matter of principle, and he would want to be sure that his First Man respected him. Gawan still felt sad for having had to kill Baercban but he harboured no real regret. He’d had no choice and the chieftain had known that, and Gawan liked to think he reached the Otherworld without a grudge. Baercban had been weak in many ways but he’d not been an evil man, and Gawan hoped that Annwn’s Bridge had been broad for him.
He turned his attention back to the conversation.
‘They may seek all they like.’
Emeryn smiled.
‘But you are not an easy man to befriend?’
She said it in jest but it was fairly accurate. Gawan was on good terms with his brother Gadarim and had few living enemies, unless you counted his real brother, but he could count his true friends on one hand. It was how he liked it. It meant fewer names and stories to have to remember. He snorted at her little.
‘You seemed to find it easy enough?’
Emeryn raised a golden eyebrow.
‘It may cause a stir if they befriend you the same way I have. Besides,’ she tossed her hair casually, ‘I may tire of you soon.’
The gesture revealed a long length of her neck and Gawan was tempted to stop right there and drag her from her horse into the trees. No doubt she would complain about rutting on hard earth and not a soft bed but she wouldn’t really object, and he considered it seriously for a moment. She was obviously teasing him on purpose and it might be just what she wanted him to do. But he fought back the urge. The rest of the column would hardly thank them for holding them up so close to home, and if they sated themselves now Emeryn might be less keen to couple later on. And admit it man, you too prefer a straw mattress to hard earth and wet grass. You may not be ancient but you’re no romping youth either. He settled for leaning close and running his hand along one of her legs.
‘You’ll be tired all right by the time I am done with you.’
Emeryn gave him one of her wry looks.
‘You men and your promises.’
Gawan was thinking of what to say back to her when Gwydion, one of his fellow Gadarim, came trotting up. Like Gawan his limbs were covered in tattooed battle-marks but where Gawan was stocky Gwydion was lean, and while Gawan’s thick hair and beard were black, Gwydion’s were blonde and fine. He was a few summers younger than the First Man but very nearly as experienced in warfare, and he was someone Gawan respected. Even if he did have a habit of grinning like a fool at the slightest excuse. The fair man wasn’t grinning now however and he nodded to them briskly. Gawan returned the gesture.
‘Problems?’
Gwydion had been scouting the countryside since Nantwyn looking for any stragglers from the scattered Panther Legion. The Blackbird Legion were looking for them too, claiming they were rebels that they would bring to justice, but Gawan for one had little faith in Gaians of any sort and had made sure to have his own people keeping an eye out for them. Gwydion shrugged his shoulders.
‘Likely nothing but I felt you should know; Tarwyn heard from a local that Gaians had been seen north of here. The man said they wore no armour so they may just have been enforcers fleeing Caderyn lands.’
Gawan frowned a little. During the occupation the governor had employed various mercenary peacekeepers, most of whom had left quietly when the Caledon had been formed. There were bound to be stragglers about the place. All the same...
‘Has he gone after them?’
Gwydion nodded.
‘He took a few of the boys with him to see. Like I say, probably nothing.’
He was probably right, though Gawan still felt pensive. The Panther Legion had been men twisted by Lepidus’ sorcerer, and armoured or not they were still inhumanly dangerous.
‘If you’ve heard nothing by dusk send someone out to bring him back. We cannot be too careful with those bastards.’
Gwydion dipped his head.
‘As you say.’
The blonde man eased his mount’s head around and made his way back along the column, leaving Gawan looking thoughtful behind him. He hated to admit it but the men of the Panther Legion had frightened him. It was perfectly sensible to feel fear for such men of course, given their strength and bestial nature, but all the same Gawan didn’t like acknowledging it. He might have started brooding but Emeryn knew him well and decided to take his mind from it before he could. She sighed and jerked her head towards the west.
‘I wonder how it will feel to make love in the fortress of an old enemy?’
Gawan showed his appreciation with a small smile, glad of the change of subject. On reflection it would probably be a strange feeling indeed. But then being there at all is a strange feeling. Just a few years ago the tribes of the Caledon had been killing each other, yet tonight the First Man of the Gorvicae would sit among the most honoured of the Caderyn’s guests. Not there as a prisoner or a mistrusted ally but as a war hero and a friend. He shook his head a little, still struggling to believe it. The Wildcat had done something exceptional in making this happen, there was no doubt about it. But how long will this new world of hers last? Gawan couldn’t guess, and he didn’t really want to.
*
Emeryn was back to complaining about the ride when Gwydion returned, though she fell silent as she saw him canter up. Once again the blonde man’s face was unusually serious, and Gawan didn’t waste time with pleasantries as his brother slowed his mount.
‘Well?’
Gwydion answered through heavy breaths.
‘Tarwyn found something.’
Gawan resisted letting his hand stray to Heartreaver’s grip.
‘Trouble?’
In the corner of his eye he saw Emeryn’s face grow concerned, but he kept looking at his fellow Gadarim. Gwydion shook his head.
‘Not anymore, but you may want to take a look all the same.’
Gawan saw Emeryn’s shoulders drop in relief as he turned to face his lover.
‘I’ll be back soon.’
They both knew that Emeryn would be in no mood for a gallop back down the column and she simply nodded to him with a smile.
‘I will try to manage without you for a while.’
Gawan’s lip twitched slightly and he swung his pony around. Gwydion had already turned his and Gawan followed his lead as he spurred his mount into a canter, first back east along the track and then veering northwards to the beginnings of a beech wood. They made it there in swift order and slowed their horses as they broke the treeline. Both men dismounted after a few more paces, with Gwydion still leading the way. The trees were not quite so thick as to make riding impossible but it was easier just to walk and guide the ponies by their bridles. In any case, Gawan found it was nice to be out of the saddle.
Gwydion spoke as they walked.
‘Tarwyn’s boys found him trekking roughly southwest. I doubt if he knew where he was going.’
Gawan nodded slowly.
‘Panther?’
Gwydion simply grunted and nodded back.
‘Any of ours hurt badly?’
Though not so deadly as the Aborans the Panther men were still dangerous, and Gawan had lost enough of his people already. Gwydion shook his head.
‘They took him unawares and made sure to work together. Tarwyn says he took some bringing down but he’d discarded his mail and helmet and they managed to bleed him out. Hewin took a heavy clout but nothing more.’
Gawan was quietly relieved that they had come off so lightly, though he felt a stab of annoyance that they would not be gaining another mailshirt. A few Lurian smiths were trying to learn the craft of making them but most had been occupied in forging swords and shield-rims for the Dragons and besides, the process was time-consuming. Every mailshirt worn by the Caledon’s legion had been looted from a Gaian corpse, and even after the carnage at Nantwyn they were still in shorter supply than he’d have liked.
He kept his disappointment to himself and they walked on a little way, and soon the pair came to a small clearing, and the first thing Gawan saw was Tarwyn cleaning his bloody sword on a cloth. His fellow Gadarim was dark-haired and dark-eyed, plainly dressed in grey tunic and breeches, and though he was already a tall man he appeared taller still because he was so slender. Nearby him young Pryder was trying to help the much larger Hewin onto his pony, the latter’s injured ribs making it a painful process for the both of them. Between them, lying at the base of one of the thicker trees, lay the soldier.
He looked young, but then with the beardless Gaians it was always harder to tell. His cheek was dark with stubble and his short hair ragged, the skin tanned a little browner than one tended to see among Lurians. There was blood all over his body and limbs and Gawan noted the ragged cut that ran across the dead man’s throat. He felt no pity for him. The Gaian would have done far worse to them given the chance.
As Gwydion had said the man had abandoned his mail but he’d apparently kept his short sword which lay a few feet from his hand. Perhaps he’d thought to be less conspicuous without the armoured shirt but had been reluctant to discard his weapon. He was still wearing the thigh-length green-and-black tunic of the Panther Legion, though it was now torn and stained with blood in several places. Gawan felt his gorge rise. Green was the colour of the Gorvicae, and seeing an enemy wear it always felt like a stab to his pride.
The others were standing about looking rather uncertain and Gawan took command of the situation.
‘Right, first of all get that tunic off him. We can keep the belt and sword but I’ll want the shirt burned when we get to Bryngarth.’
There was a heartbeat’s hesitation before the Gadarim complied and Gwydion gave him an uncomfortable look before speaking to Tarwyn.
‘Did he have a dagger on him?’
The tall Gadarim bobbed his head, his voice laconic.
‘He never drew it though, it’s still in his belt.’
Gwydion nodded.
‘Very well. We’ll dig a pit for the body and throw the knife in with him. I know we need swords but he ought to have something to give to Annwn.’
Gawan couldn’t help but sneer at that.
‘Why waste time and iron? Do any of you think this bastard would ever cross the bridge in safety?’
The others shuffled uncertainly for a moment. They must have known that the chances of Annwn allowing such a man into the Otherworld were slim, but nevertheless they were clearly feeling awkward. Tarwyn, his eyes serious, spoke for them.
‘Likely he would not, but that is not for us to say.’
Gwydion and the others nodded their agreement. Gawan scowled. Truth be told they had a fair point, but few men hated the Gaians more than Gawan son of Dearg. He shrugged his shoulders.
‘Very well. Let’s get him off those roots and onto some clear earth.’
Pryder wrestled the tunic from him before Tarwyn and Gwydion took an armpit each and hauled the legionary up, his head lolling forward. He wasn’t that large a man and the two Gadarim were strong, and they moved him to the open ground with relative ease. Gawan didn’t pause even for a heartbeat. In a single smooth motion he drew Heartreaver from its sheath and brought it down onto the Gaian’s neck, severing the head in one stroke.
It hit the ground with a dull thud and rolled in the dirt. Gwydion and Tarwyn dropped the body in shock, the headless corpse crashing onto the grass. Both men stumbled a pace and then glared at Gawan. They knew his skill well enough to know they had been in no danger from his blade but they looked at him with quiet anger all the same. The First Man ignored their disapproval and then ignored his aching legs as he leaned down. He grabbed a fistful of dark hair and picked up the dripping head before gesturing contemptibly at the body.
‘Bury that much of him if you wish.’ He tossed the head to Pryder who almost fumbled it, clearly discomfited. ‘Find an old spear and stick that on it, and put it on the road facing back east.’
Gawan doubted many Gaians would be travelling this way by road but if even one of them saw it the message it was enough. The younger Gorvic seemed ill at ease but didn’t want to contradict him, and the injured Hewin came to his rescue.
‘Hand it here lad. We’ll go back to the road together then you can come back here with some spades.’
Pryder nodded thankfully to the big man and took his pony’s reins. The two men left the clearing, leaving the other three in an uncomfortable silence. Tarwyn made as if to speak but Gawan cut him off.
‘Someone will bury the head too sooner or later, and then this damned Gaian can go to wherever it is his gods like to send murderers.’
Neither Tarwyn nor Gwydion seemed particularly appeased but neither one argued back either. Gawan sighed. He didn’t like having to throw his weight around when it came to his fellow Gadarim, but soft warriors were no good to anyone and these cursed Gaians had earned no kinder fate. This one could wander blind for a while as he searched for his afterlife, and have his head back when some passer-by took pity on his spirit. Gawan felt no sympathy for the soul of such a man as for a moment he remembered Nantwyn, and the dreadful slaughter he had witnessed there at their hands. Let him travel to the next world in a dozen bloody pieces. It’s no more than the bastard deserves.
Chapter 2. Bryngarth
The hill of Bryngarth was broad and flat, its green slopes dotted with patchy grass and clumps of heather. They had made good time, and the sun was only now sinking behind the mound of the Caderyn capital. Rhia felt barely a drop of relief at the sight of her old home but she tried to remain positive as she urged her pony onward. Bryngarth was where she belonged at least, even if it might never truly feel like home again. Back when it had been home Rhia had shared it with two brothers, two sisters, a mother, a father, and a husband. Now only her mother and Olwyn were left alive. She bit back tears as she thought of all the family she had lost these past few years.
First had been Dane, killed at First Nantwyn along with Rhia’s first husband, Bevan. Gwen had fallen to her death in Tamora, taking her terrible Gaian husband with her and saving Rhia’s life in the process. Ewan had been killed by Gaian enforcers during the occupation and Carradan, their wonderful father, had been murdered by Sedryn, the son of Baercban. You had vengeance on him at least, but for all the others, and for Marius...
Rhia held the tears at bay, they would come back later anyhow, and held on to little Lucan that much tighter. Even in the worst fits of her despair, she could always hold her son and see a tiny speck of light in the blackness. If Lucan found the extra squeeze uncomfortable he didn’t show it, but rather continued with his lecture to Owain. Meghan, riding beside them, had been keeping him occupied on the long ride by teaching him the names of various flowers, and Lucan was at a stage where he loved nothing more than to repeat everything he knew to anyone who would listen. Right now he was speaking to the Caderyn’s new First Man and educating him on every plant he could remember.
‘That one’s a faerie’s glove,’ he pointed his little hand towards a clump of purple flowers, ‘and you mustn’t eat them, you know.’
He spoke with an adorable earnestness in his voice and Owain played along perfectly, though Rhia suspected his heart was melting as much as hers was.
‘Must I not?’
