Leaping Wolf, page 26
part #2 of Caledon Saga Series
‘Of course, it’s not just Graigarw men who love my beer, but almost all that I have here is bound for them.’ He nodded at his stock behind them. ‘I just need to make one stop along the way.’
Gawan looked at him and knew the answer as soon as the question was asked.
‘Where are we stopping?’
‘Green Hollow.’
*
They came into sight of the village just as Belenos was passing his zenith. Anryn had chattered a little on the journey but Gawan had not responded in kind. It was not so much in anger at him for his bringing him on this road, but for the reminder that Gawan himself had been so ready to turn back. So much for your commitment to make amends with your family! What answers he gave the older man were short and grumbled but Anryn didn’t seem to mind, nodding along pleasantly with a smile on his face. Gawan had spent most of the trip so far either wanting to shove him from the cart or else feeling guilty about wanting to do it.
Green Hollow was named for the shallow bowl in which the village lay; a cluster of houses built around a narrow stream that wound down from the hills. Even in autumn the grass was green enough to put Gawan’s cloak to shame, and the fields were dotted with sheep and goats as they grazed and bleated in their pastures. A little way from the main huddle of buildings he saw the familiar stone house in which he had been born, with the old workshop still standing beside it, weathered but solid. Dearg the Smith had been the ninth man of his line to take up the blacksmith’s hammer, and Gawan knew some of the tools inside were old enough to have been used by his grandfather.
From the lack of smoke emanating from the forge it seemed that Dearg was not at his anvil today, though puffs of grey were coming out of house’s chimney beside it. At first Gawan wondered why his father was not working, but then remembered he was not a young man any more. In all likelihood he was leaving most of the work to Rylion by now, and hopefully that meant his brother was away somewhere, trading their iron for silver.
The village grew steadily closer and Anryn slowed the cart.
‘I have some casks to deliver to Lann before we can move on. I can meet you by the well once you are done.’
Gawan nodded to him and slid from the seat. The track was firm beneath his boots and Anryn spoke again as the cart rolled on.
‘Try not to butt heads with Rylion now, he is your family remember.’
It was maybe a hopeful thing to say, but then Gawan was quietly hoping to avoid him altogether. He nodded his head again at the white-haired man and started off towards the blacksmith’s house. He couldn’t help but notice the smaller, neglected-looking building opposite the workshop, and a pang of painful memory shot through him. Once, long ago, that house had been a home for a man and his wife; a humble little place but a home nonetheless. Gawan shoved the memories aside and strode towards the larger house with its smoking chimney. He would pay his respects to his father and then leave about his duty. It would not be a pleasant experience, Dearg son of Aur was a stubborn old goat, but it had to be done and best that it be over with quickly, he supposed. He was within ten long strides of the place when the door creaked slowly open, and Gawan bit back a curse as a hard-faced man emerged from within.
He had the same solid build and low brow as Gawan himself, though where Gawan’s hair was dark and tangled, this man’s was golden blonde and hung straight down past his shoulders. Like our mother’s. He wore a bluish-green tunic and a pair of checked trews, and on seeing his visitor his face took on the look of a man who’d just drunk his own urine. Rylion barely spared his brother a glance and continued around towards the workshop. Gawan didn’t particularly want to follow him but it was too late for avoiding now, and he might as well just grip the thorn and do it. He strode after his brother and spoke to his back, his greeting simple.
‘Rylion.’
The younger man only turned around when he reached the open front of the workshop, and that was only to fetch a tin pot from its hook. He eyed his brother with obvious malice but he kept his voice dull and disinterested.
‘Come back have you?’
Gawan felt some of his habitual guilt fade away as irritation flared in him. He was an impatient man with most people but Rylion brought it out in him more than anyone else ever could.
‘Nothing like coming home to a warm welcome.’
His brother wasn’t impressed by the sarcasm and pushed past him on his way back to the house.
‘This stopped being your home twenty winters ago.’
Gawan fought to keep himself civil, he was here to make amends after all.
‘I did not come here for a fight, Rylion. I just wanted to pay my respects to Father before I go to the chieftain’s moot.’
The blonde man didn’t break his stride and spoke in the same monotone voice.
‘Off again of course. Best of fortune talking to da though, he’s dead.’
He said it with absolutely no emotion and simply kept on walking towards the house. Gawan’s steps faltered. Dead? Dearg had been a strong man his whole life, even after his hair had turned grey. When last he’d seen his father he’d been as robust as ever and that was only... Gawan stopped himself. How long had it been since he’d last come here? How many winters had come and gone since last he’d seen his only parent? Rylion was still sounding disinterested as he spoke over his shoulder.
‘I buried him just over there,’ he nodded his head vaguely eastwards, ‘you can say something to his grave if it makes you feel better.’
Gawan knew that he was doing it to rile him and deny him the simple right to grieve for their father, and he took his brother by the shoulder and spun him around. Rylion glared at him but Gawan was just as angry.
‘Why did you not send word to me?’
Rylion sneered and shoved him in the chest. Gawan might be the greater swordsman but Rylion was easily his equal in size, and the First Man was forced back a pace.
‘Maybe because you were too busy with your precious chieftain to ever come here, and even after you killed him over some Caderyn bastard you decided to stay with them rather than return to your own people.’
His voice was beginning to gain some feeling. Gawan’s first reaction was to be impressed that word of what happened had reached him so quickly, but then it was like their mother had always said; gossip outruns the wind. His next reaction was simple anger and he squared up to his brother again, looking him in the eyes.
‘Charging Bull was a fine man, he deserved justice.’
Rylion looked ready to spit at the mention of the Caderyn’s name, but he settled for another sneer.
‘Our father was a proud Gorvic his whole life, the Caderyn were his enemies.’ He twitched his lip. ‘But then if it meant avoiding your family for the sake of a brawl, I don’t suppose you asked too many questions about who you’d be fighting with, Gaians or southerners alike.’
Gawan set his jaw. He had plenty to be ashamed of it was true, but siding with the Caledon was very different to fighting beside Lepidus’ legions. He had never truly wanted to in the first place but Baercban had insisted it was the best thing for their people. He had been wrong. Baercban hadn’t been a wicked man, but he’d been weak at heart and had sired an even weaker son, and they had grasped at a foolish chance in their weakness. Their deaths were no loss to the Gorvicae. Rylion spoke again before Gawan could say anything, clearly getting into his stride.
‘I mean, you let Harlen take away your only child without a thought…’
Gawan’s gorge rose further and he shoved his brother hard.
‘What do you know of it? What do you know of my thoughts for my daughter?’
His anger was starting to bubble over. He might have let Tegwen go but it hadn’t been the easy choice that Rylion was making out. The blonde man righted himself and faced up to his brother.
‘I at least know where she is, which is a damned sight more than you know or care!’
Gawan might have been surprised by that but a flash of anger quickly dissipated it. His brother was obviously trying to provoke him, and if that was what he wanted then so be it. He thumped his open hand against Rylion’s chest again, hissing out his answer.
‘Liar!’
His brother kept his footing this time and shoved back again, just as hard. Gawan rolled with it but all the same he was rocked onto his heels. Rylion’s face twisted into a snarl.
‘Is it so hard to imagine a man keeping in contact with those of his blood? Or perhaps it is hard for you?’
Gawan squared up to him again, baring his teeth.
‘You lie!’
Rylion gave him a parody of a smile.
‘Do I? You could go and see for yourself if you had the nerve; she lives at Ymlan Pass, or did until a year ago.’ Gawan blinked and it was enough to make Rylion continue. ‘Harlen told me she went off to fight when the Gaians came again, and unlike you I was planning on looking for her. You might not care a dog’s turd for your child but I wished to make sure my only family is still alive.’
Hate was dripping from his words but Gawan’s mind was whirring. Even stranger than finding his father was dead or hearing what Rylion knew about Tegwen, was the notion that she was old enough to fight. In his mind she had always been that tiny, featureless bundle that he’d never understood, or else a vague picture in his head of a little girl who wouldn’t recognise him if she saw him. But of course Tegwen was no little girl anymore. Gods above she was old enough to be a mother herself by now! And she was old enough to go to war. Perhaps old enough to die in one.
Rylion seemed to be enjoying his reaction and carried on, unleashing years of pent-up resentment.
‘But then she’s been dead in your eyes for years hasn’t she, just as da might as well have been? Have you even spared one thought for her or for Bronwen while you’ve been away fighting for our enemies? Or were you too busy enjoying life as the whipped dog of Baercban and that Gaian bitch...’
Gawan’s fist crashed into his brother’s cheek before either of them knew what was happening. The older man’s face was bright with rage and all thoughts of guilt were burned away as he felt the blow slam home. Rylion was no weakling but the punch caught him off guard and he stumbled into the workshop’s wall. He recovered himself in an eyeblink and hurled himself towards his brother. Gawan’s hands came up and two heavy blows bounced from his forearms, but then Rylion threw an uppercut that sliced through Gawan’s guard to thud hard into his chin.
The Gadarim staggered a pace and Rylion didn’t let him recover. The blonde man charged in low and grabbed his brother by the waist, driving him back across the grass. Gawan twisted sharply and hauled him over his thigh, sending him tumbling with the force of his own momentum. The throw was fast but it was clumsy, and the younger man managed to keep hold of him as he fell, dragging his brother down into the dirt along with him. The two rolled a few times and Rylion wound up on top, pinning Gawan down with his legs. The Gadarim managed to keep his arms from being trapped and he held them up beside his head as Rylion hammered blows down on him. The punches were strong but they mostly struck his torso and limbs, and Gawan simply grunted and took the punishment. Rage was still burning in him but Gawan could no more forget how to fight than a bird could forget how to fly, and even pinned in place he knew exactly what he was doing. There were limits to how much damage empty hands could do without striking the head, and when a man was on the attack was when he made himself most vulnerable.
Rylion was pounding down at him for only a heartbeat or two before he left his brother an opening, and Gawan exploited it with ruthless efficiency. One arm, slightly sluggish in withdrawing from its strike, was suddenly grabbed by the pinned man, and before he knew what was happening Rylion was being rolled to his back, and Gawan’s elbow slammed into his nose. Gawan hit him twice more and then shifted his position, holding himself across his brother with his weight on the other man’s sternum. He pushed one hand down on Rylion’s cheek and drove his knee into the younger man’s ribs. He could feel his brother coughing but he didn’t stop, kicking him again, and then again, forcing more air out of his lungs.
The fight was out of him, it was obvious, but Gawan couldn’t stop himself. He swung his leg back across to hold him pinned and started raining blows down into Rylion’s face. Didn’t he know what he’d been through? Didn’t he realise that all he’d ever done he’d done for his tribe and to make their father proud? He’d fought and bled and he’d lost everything, and now his own brother was spitting in his face when he came to make amends with his family! Rylion was twitching beneath him but had no strength to defend himself, and bright blood began to drench his blonde beard. Gawan might well have killed him then and there had it not been for that sight.
In a flash he saw Emeryn again, red blood in her golden hair as she screamed her life away, and he rocked back as if kicked by a mule. He toppled sideways and fell awkwardly, coming up onto one knee. He was shaking. Rylion’s blood seemed to be everywhere, his hands were soaked in it, and for a moment Gawan thought that he would vomit. This man is your family. This blood is your blood. After everything you’ve lost, will you throw this away too? He stared down at the red on his hands as Rylion groaned softly to himself. This blood may still live in your daughter as well. Would you greet her by telling her of how you killed her uncle? Is your foolish pride and anger worth so much?
It took a moment but he managed to steady his trembling limbs and then slowly shuffled back towards his brother. Their father was dead, so was Bronwen and so was Emeryn, and his precious Gadarim honour was in tatters. But perhaps with Rylion he might start to rebuild something of what he’d lost, assuming it wasn’t already too late. The blonde man was still breathing, the tough bastard was even starting to move as if to sit up, but he was in no condition to keep on fighting. Ordinarily Gawan revelled in any victory over an opponent, but all he felt now was a sickish feeling laced with shame. For so long he’d been so confident that he could fight his way through anything. But not everything can be solved by fighting over it.
Rylion’s eyes were swollen but open, and Gawan took care not to seem aggressive. He kept his own eyes locked on his brother’s and slowly extended his hand, swallowing his pride as he spoke.
‘I am sorry.’
Rylion blinked but didn’t move and Gawan kept his hand stretched out to him.
‘You are right, I should not have let my daughter go. I should not have left you and Father here, ignored, for so long. And I should not be blaming you for what I have done wrong. I am sorry.’
The younger man kept staring at him and Gawan tried another approach. Anryn had been trying to tell him something earlier but he’d been too stupid and stubborn to listen to him.
‘With Father gone all we have is each other. I have made enough enemies, Rylion. I would sooner have a brother instead.’
Rylion kept on looking at him for what felt like a long time but eventually he shifted to a sitting position. He was in pain, he had to have been, but his face betrayed no sign of it.
‘Will you see Tegwen, and be a father to her?’
His voice was thick with blood and some of it dribbled from his mouth as he spoke. Gawan felt his stomach twist but he kept his eyes up.
‘I shall, if she will have me.’
The idea was frightening, far more so than any battle he’d seen, but he knew it was the only answer to give. He had done enough harm for two lifetimes; it was time to start trying to do some good. Rylion waited for a long breath before clasping wrists with him and squeezing tight.
‘If that is true, then you have a brother.’
Gawan felt the beginnings of a smile threaten his face but he held it back as he answered.
‘I must still attend the moot, that is my duty, but the moment it is done...’
Rylion shook his head and for a moment Gawan thought he would start arguing again, but instead he answered calmly.
‘Father would want you to do what is right by the Gorvicae. Go to your moot. But you will go to Ymlan once it is done.’
Gawan nodded his head.
‘I...’
But Rylion squeezed his forearm tighter and pulled him in close, locking eyes with him again. His face was a mess of blood but his expression was pure resolve.
‘And I know that you will go there, because I will go there with you. I am your brother for now Gawan, but if you let your daughter down again then I swear by Taran’s hammer you will wish that you had killed me.’
Chapter 23. Graigarw
The mountains to their left had been getting lower for two days before they finally caught sight of Graigarw, and it was most of another morning before they reached it. The Gorvicae’s capital was built on a round and rocky hill at the end of the Gedran Range, the last real high ground before the land opened out into a plain. There were some homes at the hill’s base but many more were built higher up the slope, where the terrain made them more difficult to attack. There was almost no deep soil at the top and so the town had no ditch around it, instead settling for a palisade of worn-looking wood. Gawan looked up at the town that for years had been the closest thing he had to a home and felt no sense of comfort as he approached. Graigarw had never felt welcoming exactly but for years it had represented the centre of what Gawan believed in; the solidity and strength of the Gorvicae tribe. Now it was just another hillfort full of bickering people, where a bunch of arguing headmen would compete for who would win the chieftain’s chair.
He frowned to himself as they passed the first of the houses, lost in his thoughts. It was still strange thinking that his father was gone, but it wasn’t his death that was adding weight to the First Man’s burden. It was that their last words together had been spoken in anger, and it only made his thoughts of Emeryn that much more raw and painful. To lose them was bad enough, but to have parted like that... Gawan could count on his hands how many times he’d apologised for something, but for those two he’d have done so in a moment had he only known what was to come. But it was too late for that now.
