Leaping Wolf, page 24
part #2 of Caledon Saga Series
‘Stand your men down, general.’
The soldier stared at her for a beat but then nodded grimly and addressed his guards.
‘Stand down.’
The legionaries sheathed their swords as one and Rhia stepped between the two who stood in front of her. She held her open hands out to Alraig and looked him in the eyes, hoping fervently that he wouldn’t see her tears in the rain. Owain and Meg still lay unmoving in the mud, and Rhia fought to keep her voice from trembling.
‘I am your prisoner, comrade.’
*
Gawan was oblivious to the wind and rain as he galloped his pony northwards. The water lashed at his face but he paid it no mind, simply gripping the reins hard and snarling at himself. Emeryn, a woman he had loved, was not even laid to rest and already he had betrayed her memory. In a single moment of madness or grief or simple lust he had spat in the face of someone he had once wished would bear his children. He drove his heels harder into the horse’s flanks, desperate to gain more distance from the scene of his crime. The beast put on an extra burst of speed as they thudded along the dirt track.
After a lifetime of priding himself on his sense of honour he had thrown it all away, and for no reason. What did all of this say about the man who’d been named the Leaping Wolf; the man who’d sworn to serve the Gods of War with honour to the end of his days? Did you ever really have honour in your soul to begin with? His inner voice was dripping with contempt. Perhaps you were just a youth too bold and stupid for his own good, and the Gadarim mistook it for nobility? Perhaps it was just pride that made you seek fair fights and work so hard to protect your precious reputation? Was it just conceit, or a wish to feel greater than others that made you think yourself so decent a man?
Gawan couldn’t find it in himself to argue back and allowed what he supposed must be his conscience to rail at him some more. You truly think you were an honourable man before you betrayed Emeryn? What about the tribe that you betrayed in letting the Gaians take Lurian lands? What about the day you killed your own chieftain for the sake of an enemy of the Gorvicae? And today, when you let Tarwyn fight Broad Kellas instead of you and then left Emeryn so exposed that you had to kill her yourself in mercy? The First Man gripped the leather so tight he felt his knuckles pop.
He only had a vague idea of where he was going but it was roughly north and that was all that mattered. He would probably need to head east a bit to get back on the road towards Nantwyn, but that was something he could worry about later. Right now all that mattered was distance, and he put his head down and spurred his pony on through the rain. Amidst his cursing at himself he found time to damn the old man from the woods as well. It had taken until now for him to realise the full cruelty of Emeryn’s dream, and the true nature of the beast that had killed her. He gnashed his teeth and wished the old ghost was here on this road so that he could ride the bastard down, and see how damned ethereal he’d be beneath the hooves of a charging horse. Gawan strongly suspected that the old man had been responsible for the dream, and that his words to him about Rhianwyn had been meant to cause more mischief.
The thought of the Wildcat brought the image of her back to his mind and he detested himself even further as he felt the arousal was still there, nestling within the endless guilt. He took one fist from the reins and struck himself hard on the forearm. The bone ached only a little and he punched it again, harder still, seeking any form of pain to take his mind away from it. Have you no shame? Even now as you berate yourself you think of that Caderyn bitch? Gawan had few real memories of his mother, but the golden-haired woman had given him one lesson at least that he had always remembered; if a boy said he was sorry for something it meant he didn’t do it again, otherwise the words became empty of their meaning. He scowled as he rode on and hated himself even more, knowing that for all his guilt a part of him was unrepentant.
He forced away his lust and focused on what must happen now. Even if the old man’s words had contained some measure of truth, or half-truth, there was no way that he could face Rhianwyn after this. He worried fleetingly if she might tell others of his actions, and if the world would then think of him as he did himself. The Caderyn and the Gaians could boil themselves for all he cared but Boryn was still back there, as were Gwydion and Pryder. What would happen if they found out about what he had done? He shook away the fear quickly enough. Rhianwyn would not be sharing his shame with others. She was likely almost as embarrassed and confused by this as he had been and would be keen to simply forget it. And besides, she had some integrity for all her deceptions.
For a moment he wondered if he ought to have stayed long enough to give some word of support for her regarding her decision, but he didn’t dwell on it. She had just won a great victory and saved her people, and the bloody Gaians had been vital in that. She had no need of him there, and in all likelihood he would only have made things worse by his stubborn need to argue about everything. Besides, he couldn’t have faced being with her again.
The rain began to grow heavier and a peal of thunder rolled overhead. If Taran was angry at him tonight then Gawan could hardly blame him for it, and if Mabonac opened the earth up in front of him then he had surely earned no better fate. Nonetheless he slowed his pony a little as rocky ground gave way to grass and thickening mud. The beast was sure-footed but continuing at speed was dangerous, and he had galloped for long enough to gain some distance from his shame. It’d serve you right if he stumbled right now and you broke your bastard neck! He sighed, agreeing but trying to think beyond his hate. But it will not serve your people.
He might have just made the most dishonourable mistake in his wretched life but he was still Gorvicae, and his duty was clear. If nothing else he could hold on to the fact that he still owed all to his tribe, and he could at least still serve them as best he could. He was the First Man of his Gadarim, for now at least, and his people would expect his presence at the moot. What little amends he could make for all this could be made by getting north as soon as possible and helping them choose the best man to lead them as their new High Chieftain. Then he would step down as the First Man and pass the honour on to Duran; he and Gwydion were more worthy to be called Gadarim than he was, and he would be content to follow their lead. Or perhaps you should go back to making horseshoes and nails?
He couldn’t see the stars above him through the clouds but he locked his gaze ahead and hoped he was travelling the right way. Rhianwyn and the Caderyn could fend for themselves well enough without him, and perhaps in time she would forget the shameful thing that he had done. Ahead of him was the north and the lands of the Gorvicae. Ahead of him lay his duty, and that at least he could try to hold on to.
Chapter 21. Undefeated
Caserach was sorely tempted just to kill Edryd and have done with it. For all his clever plans his promises had led to nothing but disaster, and choking the life out of him might at least make the captive chieftain feel a bit better. He was sitting on the floor of a cramped and leaky hut with a handful of other prisoners, miserable and dejected and ready to punch the next man who tried to speak to him. The great battle that ought to have broken the power of the Caledon had collapsed into chaos just as victory was in their grasp. And now the Breiryn had made peace with the damned Caderyn, and what living Dariniae that Caserach had left were either scattered or else stuck in here with him. Damn Edryd and his bloody promises!
His own original plan had been so simple; secure his position as the new chieftain by raiding some Caderyn towns and bring back tribute and glory to Niswyn. It was Edryd and his stinking scheme that had led to his approaching Asrec and his scruffy band of southerners, and turning a plan of raids into a war. In truth Caserach had fairly jumped at the chance but nonetheless, that skinny Gorvic still bore the blame. He had made it sound easy, which perhaps should have put Caserach on his guard. Few things worth having came easy. The idea was that the alliance would break both Rhianwyn and her people, and the prestige it gained him would silence any Darin who might challenge him for leadership. Caserach kicked at his heel, irritated at himself for having been so blindly eager, but he quickly transferred his anger back to Edryd again. He glared at his fellow prisoner with naked contempt.
The Gorvic was sitting across from him, not nervous exactly but avoiding his gaze. He was a man of around Caserach’s age, though his blonde hair was already thinning at the crown and his beard was so pale it was almost invisible in some lights. He was slight of build with thin wrists and narrow shoulders, his chin very pointed and his nose very flat. The Darin looked at the man’s skinny neck and imagined his hands clamped around it. His enemies might have taken Greyfang but Caserach had killed with bare hands before, and in this case he might actually prefer it.
Another stab of anger hit him as he thought of his sword in the hands of that Gaian-humping bitch. When Caserach had been forced to yield her First Man had taken it from him in a blatant insult to his status. The cocky bastard would not have dared behave so to another chieftain or a fellow Gadarim, and Caserach had only offered it because he’d assumed it would be refused. Yet he had taken Greyfang with barely a word, and handed it to that short-arsed sow as though she’d done something to deserve it. As if she did anything bold or cunning today! Her precious Gaian friends were the ones who won that battle for her. Likely all she did was suck a few of their shafts to pay for it! The memory of that black wall charging into them made him want to shiver, and he focused on his anger to chase it away.
Broad Kellas was leaning against one of the earth walls, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his longsword at his side. He of course had been treated with the utmost respect, and the Caderyn’s First Man had waved away his massive sword when he had offered it. His wounds had been cared for, the lime washed from his hair with hot water and soap, and all he had to suffer for it was to lose a couple of bracelets. Bloody, bastard Gadarim! Most people revered the warrior elite like they were some kind of gods but Caserach felt nothing but scorn for them. What were they but good killers with white hair and blue tattoos? What made them so damned special among a whole race of born warriors? Caserach had been a fighter since he could barely lift a blade yet not once had he been told that he was ‘worthy’ of their rank. And now, when he was High Chieftain of his tribe, they still treated that bumbling giant as if Belenos shone from his arse, and had taken Greyfang from a chieftain without a word!
Caserach tried to calm himself down. In a way it was a good thing that Broad Kellas had been allowed to accompany him, even if the gesture had been two-edged. Most of the Breiryn had simply been sent along their way but, in the most patronising concession to his status the Darin could think of, their First Man had been loaned out to him as an escort up to Bryngarth. It was a hollow and insulting act on both Asrec and Rhianwyn’s part, a reminder that Kyran still held him in contempt and that none of his own tribe’s Gadarim would join him. What advantage there was in having the big man around was undermined by the obvious slight to him personally. Caserach’s resentment was in real danger of boiling over but he fought it down with an effort and simply let his anger simmer, directing it once again towards Edryd.
The Gorvic noticed him glaring and spoke up with surprising confidence.
‘There is no use in becoming angry. We knew that this might happen and plans were made in case of it.’
Caserach yearned to cross the room and punch the little bastard in the throat but he reined in the instinct for the moment. He’d not paid that much attention when the Gorvic had spoken of the backup plan. He’d been convinced that the battle would go well. With Asrec’s men beside them victory had seemed inevitable, and Edryd’s prattling about contingencies had merely bored him. He enjoyed a devious plan as much as anybody but the gods had always loved the strong, so why waste time listening to doubters? Now however he rationalised that a new strategy was called for, and so he forced himself to sit still and listen, though the anger still showed in his voice.
‘Tell me then Edryd, what great plan does your master have for getting us out of this? Even if you have trickery of some kind to set us free, we are still in enemy land and with little enough support. Tell me, just how bloody clever is this man of yours?’
Edryd’s eyes were fearful but he kept his voice steady.
‘He was clever enough to anticipate Gaian involvement through Rhianwyn, and his second plan can take advantage of that.’
The Gorvic shuffled where he sat, leaning forward a little. Caserach and Idwal did the same, though Broad Kellas stayed sitting back, his flat face uninterested.
‘Rhianwyn’s own people may now do our work for us. Many of her headmen will turn against her because of the Gaians’ intervention and they will call her to account for it. And with her ideals of a united Caledon she may well ask to be judged by all of them, not just the Caderyn.’
Caserach sneered at that.
‘So? Your people fought alongside hers and doubtless plenty are still grateful for her defeat of Lepidus. You can offer no guarantee that the Gorvicae will turn against her.’
Edryd didn’t seem discouraged and even shook his head at him. Caserach wanted to grab that chin of his and rip it sideways hard, but he kept hold of his temper and paid attention as the man spoke.
‘Some will and some will not, and the same is true of the Caderyn chiefs. But you forget the third tribe of the Caledon.’ Caserach frowned for a heartbeat, then his eyebrows rose as Edryd went on. ‘Even after your defeat you are Ierryn’s only living heir, and until a moot can be called to prove or disprove your rights you are still the High Chieftain of the Dariniae, or the closest thing there is to one. If she wishes to appear to hold all tribes of the Caledon as equals then she must honour your opinion should she be tried. If she refuses to let you speak she will harm her cause by showing prejudice in an alliance that is still in its infancy.’
Caserach felt a flutter in his gut that was equal parts hope and malice, but he kept his answer cynical all the same.
‘There is much that is assumed in this clever plan of his and in any case, it still leaves us to rot here until she is tried. If she is tried.’
Edryd shrugged.
‘He is confident enough that it will happen, though I must be gone from here soon to tell him what has occurred.’
Idwal smiled a nasty smile at the Gorvic and Caserach openly scoffed. The skinny bastard had already tried to flee after the battle but Idwal had cornered him and forced him to come with them. He was not getting away now that they were captured.
‘Do you think we are fools? You give us this plan that brought us nothing but disaster, and now you think to leave us and scamper on your way?’
Broad Kellas had still not shown any interest in the discourse, but the Dariniae in the hut glared menacingly at Edryd. The lone northerner did a good job of hiding his fear.
‘I have to get back to Graigarw to tell him what has happened. He must know of it before word reaches there by other means.’
Caserach curled his lip and lowered his voice.
‘I trust your clever friend less and less the more I hear of him, and since you are the one who landed us in this you can bloody well stay and share the consequences.’
Edryd shuffled a little, clearly sensing the chieftain’s wrath, but he kept up his argument nonetheless.
‘If I am kept here then sooner or later some other Gorvic will recognise me, and our involvement will become known to all.’
Caserach wanted to tell him that his precious secrecy could go to the wolves, but then he stopped himself as his brain began to work. If it came out that he’d been a part of something like this then his tribe would see him as a conspirer and schemer, rather than as a war leader to be respected. Raiding with the Breiryn at his side was one thing, but having it known that the idea had come from some unknown Gorvic was something else. And if Edryd decided to talk then he might easily make the whole thing seem far worse than it was already, and imply that Caserach was a mere puppet for another man. Perhaps it would be better just to kill him after all?
He looked again at that scrawny neck and figured it would not take long to silence him once and for all. He could tell the Caderyn that they had quarrelled and he had killed him in a fair fight, and even if some Gorvic thought he recognised the corpse, the conspiracy at least would be kept a secret. But what if there is truth in what he says? What if his master can help you to topple this traitorous bitch once and for all?
The idea of Rhianwyn winning a battle only to fall at her own people’s hands had a certain vicious appeal to it. Crimes punishable by death were rare among the Luriae, especially on the mainland, but betraying her own people would surely be one of them? And with Rhianwyn gone the Caledon would crumble, and the old days of raids and tributes would be back before ever they had left. Caserach half-smirked. It was a pity she hadn’t fallen into his hands after the battle, but if this scheme led to her downfall then it was probably the next best thing.
Edryd might have been a straw-necked little turd but he was clearly a bright enough man because he seemed to follow Caserach’s thoughts. He began to stand up as he spoke.
‘There is only one man outside. I can slip away easily enough if you can cause a distraction?’
Idwal looked ready to stop him in his tracks but Caserach waved a hand at him.
‘Very well. Idwal can distract people as well as anyone.’
The rangy man didn’t seem pleased at letting Edryd go but he was somewhat pacified by the chance to cause some mischief. Caserach heaved himself up and enjoyed looking down at the Gorvic. Edryd was still hiding it well but he could tell he was intimidated, and the larger man took him by the throat with one hand. He squeezed a little and looked him in the eyes.
‘You can go now. But if you play me false then I swear by Taran’s thunder I will find you and feed you your own balls, you understand?’
