Leaping Wolf, page 34
part #2 of Caledon Saga Series
A sudden, and very unwelcome, thought struck him and he turned a little in the saddle to look behind him. The idea was risky to the point of foolishness but it was the best one he could think of at that moment, and time was of the essence. He let Karadoc continue blustering as his mind delved into it further, wondering as he did whether he had finally gone mad.
*
Edryd sat quietly on his grey pony, succeeding for the most part in not looking guilty. To the outside observer he was just another rider in the column, waiting around for the chiefs at the front to finish their talking so they could all get on. He fixed his face in an expression halfway between boredom and impatience, while inside he felt as wretched as he could ever remember feeling. He hadn’t thought it would be like this. He had gone along with this scheme because he’d thought it in the best interests of his tribe. He’d been assured it was a subtle plan that would weaken their enemies and leave the Gorvicae the strongest of them all once more. And now a Gorvic admired by one and all was dead by his hand, and Edryd was beginning to foster serious doubts.
He could still see the blind trust in the old man’s face as he had poured him his applewine. It had been so simple. Faerie’s glove given to a man of that age would make it seem that his heart had simply given out of its own accord, leaving no reason to suspect that the elder chief had been murdered. Edryd sighed quietly to himself. Murder. No-one had told him there would be murder to be done. And yet you did it, didn’t you? You could always have said no. He pressed his lips together hard, trying not to let anything more show on his face. If I’d said no he would have killed me too and another would have been sent in my stead. Boryn would still be dead, only I’d be in the Otherworld with him.
A tiny voice in his head wondered if that might not have been better for all concerned but he pushed it away with an effort. Things might still work out. He looked over to where the chiefs and Gadarim were still talking. Everything had gone more or less as predicted; the Dariniae had attacked the mainland, the Wildcat had called for the Gaians, and the Caderyn would now try her for breaking her own law. Now she would likely die at their hands, and Caserach would die soon afterwards. With their nearest rivals leaderless the Gorvicae, under a strong chieftain, would become the greatest of the tribes once again.
Edryd tried to believe in it but it was a struggle. Having seen what he had, he doubted if the new chieftain’s ascension would be a clean affair, not with such obvious distrust between the followers of Karadoc and Taliesyn. He slumped in the saddle, his shoulders rounding and his eyes on the ground in front of him. He felt tired and depressed, and somehow stained by his involvement in all this. But you are in on it now and there is no turning back. Perhaps all will be well and the tribe will thrive because of what you’ve done? The Gorvic frowned at the grass as he failed to convince himself. Or perhaps your actions will only succeed in making a bad situation worse. He sighed as quietly as he could. All in all that seemed a lot more probable.
Chapter 29. The Detour
Gawan had long given up on counting how many times Rylion had shaken his head on this ride, and was not at all surprised when his brother started grumbling again.
‘I still say this is madness.’
Gawan ignored him but then Tegwen spoke up.
‘I agree. There is so much that can go wrong.’
The First Man held back a sigh; they hadn’t had to come after all. He had asked them along mainly to show that they had his trust, and while in some ways he was glad to have them with him, all the same he was growing tired of their attitude. He was tempted to snap something at them about turning around if they wanted but he held his temper in check and spoke to the bachelor instead.
‘What do you say Anryn?’
The white-haired brewer shrugged his shoulders a little.
‘It may indeed be madness. But if you fear for a friend’s life then I can understand your reasons, my friend.’
It was odd to hear Rhianwyn described like that, and it was hardly a statement of support, but Gawan supposed it was the best he was going to get. He nodded at the older man and looked back to the path ahead. They were travelling through a little patch of woodland, barely large enough to qualify as a proper wood but wide enough that to go around it would rob them of precious time. The trees were mostly oak and beech with the occasional red-berried yew growing between them. Gawan, Rylion, Anryn and Tegwen rode quietly for a while until Tegwen spoke again.
‘What good will this do anyway?’
Gawan wanted to scowl. He knew this was a foolhardy plan and he didn’t need to be reminded of it. They had left the column on the pretext of Tegwen wanting to see the Canwyns closer to, and she probably resented being the focus of the deception. Especially if she felt she had to keep secrets from her lover. It was mainly because of Taliesyn that Gawan had not shared his full plan with her, not that that made him feel any better about it. He didn’t want to deceive his only child, but even now that they were away from the column he was hesitant to tell her the whole truth. He doubted if any of his little company would welcome it. Annwn’s blood even I don’t welcome it!
‘I will get General Galerian to explain to the Caderyn that his men were already nearby and that Rhianwyn’s request for help was barely needed; he would have come anyway when he heard that the Breiryn were attacking.’
Tegwen’s brow furrowed and Gawan made sure not to look away. Whether she was sensing the half-truth or just not liking what she’d heard, he couldn’t tell. Rylion spoke from behind them.
‘I can’t see it being that simple, brother. For a start we’ve no sure idea of where he is, nor any guarantee that he would come with us if we found him.’
Tegwen nodded.
‘And might the sight of him not anger the Caderyn, given all that’s happened?’
She phrased it as a question but her tone made it clear that she was confident of the answer. Gawan wasn’t sure if he was more proud or irritated that his daughter could be so self-assured. Though she is clearly still uncertain where you are concerned. You she still has no idea how to take. He was spared from having to dwell on that by Anryn’s quiet comment.
‘Yet he may also be a figure of both fear and respect. He did come to their rescue after all and the Caderyn have seen the effectiveness of his men.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘He may encourage some of them to save Rhianwyn out of gratitude for his assistance, and others may wish to keep her as chieftain out of fear of angering the Gaians.’
Rylion snorted a little at that. He was clearly still of the same mind as Karadoc in his opinions about Caderyn and Gaians. Not so long ago Gawan’s opinion would not have been much different, but he had fought against and beside both forces more than once now, and his views on his old enemies had changed. He nodded along, hoping not to provoke his brother into an argument.
‘As you say, and as to finding him it shouldn’t be that hard. They will be heading back northeast along the road on the far side of these trees. If there are signs of their passing then we follow them, if there are not then we take the road southwest until we encounter them.’
He wished he was as confident as he sounded. This truly was an act of desperation with a very real chance of going wrong. And of course, he hadn’t told them his real reason for seeking the Blackbirds. If all went ill and Rhianwyn’s life was at stake, there was no better force to take her back to Tamora in safety. The thought of it still made his guts squirm a little. It was wrong in so many ways but he couldn’t help but follow through with it, as if compelled by something he didn’t fully understand. Or don’t you?
They rode on a little further and Gawan scowled as he thought on it, though he didn’t get the chance to brood too heavily before his pondering was interrupted. Up ahead of them somewhere he heard a noise of rustling in the undergrowth. He couldn’t yet see any movement through all the trees and ferns but instinctively he sat up straighter in his saddle, his eyes scanning around him, and a heartbeat later he felt the others tensing as well. Gawan’s hand moved to rest close to Heartreaver though he didn’t move to grasp it yet. It might be nothing after all. Anryn and Rylion carried only their long knives but he suspected that they too were keeping their hands near to their weapons, and beside him he saw Tegwen wrap her fingers around her axe-haft.
The First Man slowed his breathing and kindled dragonfire in his belly. It didn’t burn with the same intensity it once had but the warmth was still there, and he felt it begin to flow into his limbs. The noise grew closer and he flexed his fingers, still ready beside his sword but not yet touching the leather grip. He moved his head slowly from side to side, his eyes taking in every detail of the wood as the sound got gradually louder. When they came, the First Man was ready for them.
A trio of figures burst from the green-brown undergrowth, moving faster than any man had a right to run. They wore plain-looking clothes and their hair and stubble was ragged but even without their inhuman speed, the legion swords in their hands left no doubt as to what they were; they were Panthers. Gawan drew forth Heartreaver and kicked his heels into the pony’s flank, taking the beast from a walk into a canter. The magic-maddened men might be moving fast, but he’d been prepared from the moment he’d first heard their noise and he charged the nearest man head-on.
The Panther raised his short blade but Gawan’s blow fell just an eyeblink too soon for him, crashing down hard onto his crown. The Gadarim had time to smirk, thinking the bastard was probably missing his helmet, before the second man shoulder-charged his pony from the left, half-toppling the beast and throwing Gawan from the saddle. He rolled clear with Heartreaver still in his grip and brought it up to a guard as he stood. Gawan felt the blood pounding in his veins and for the first time since Moon Ridge all trace of guilt and shame vanished from his thoughts. Mabonac’s fire had taken hold of him in earnest, and with a bellowing roar he remembered that for all the terrible misdeeds he had to his name, the Dragon God was still with him; he was still Gadarim!
‘Gorvicae!’
He rushed forwards, taking in the situation at a glance. One of the Panthers was heading towards Anryn while the other was sprinting flat out towards Tegwen and Rylion. He saw as he went that the one whose skull he’d split was on the ground and unmoving, though with these creatures you could never be sure what would put them down for good. He was out of the fight for now though, and they could finish him off later.
Rylion was swiping his knife down at the Gaian beside him but the man was too quick and dodged to one side, grabbing for Tegwen’s leg as he did. Tegwen hacked her narrow axe into his shoulder but the madman barely noticed as he hauled her from her mount. Gawan saw her land awkwardly but by then he had closed the distance, and with another shout he swung Heartreaver two-handed, the iron crashing into the base of the Panther’s spine. Most men would have fallen but Gawan knew from experience that these boys took some hard work to kill, and was unsurprised when he simply stumbled forwards.
Rylion had leaped from his horse and now moved to stand in front of Tegwen. The blonde man’s face was pale but determined, and his hand was steady as he held his dagger before him. Gawan followed up on the Panther but then swayed away as the Gaian flung out a blind backhand. The blow clipped him with less than half its power but it stung all the same as it struck the Gorvic’s temple. Gawan recovered quickly though and used the momentum to twist on the spot, bringing Heartreaver up in a solid cut that sliced through flesh then bone then flesh again. The Panther’s head hit the ground with a dull thud, his lifeless body following a moment after.
Gawan wanted to check on Tegwen but he knew Rylion would be taking care of her, so instead he rushed towards the last of the frenzied legionaries. Anryn had been pulled from his horse and had somehow regained his feet before the Gaian could get on top of him. Both men had lost their weapons but the Panther now had Anryn pinned up against a thick beech, his teeth bared in a bestial snarl. The brewer had him by the wrists and was pushing back furiously, his normally-friendly face locked in a desperate grimace. Anryn was a strong man, exceptionally so for a man of his age, but the Panthers drew their power from unnatural sorcery, and try though he might the effort was in vain.
Gawan reached them just as the Gaian’s teeth found Anryn’s throat. The Gadarim screamed as he saw the bachelor make one last ditch effort free himself. He dropped suddenly to the grass and shoved the Panther’s legs hard, and for a moment the legionary backed off, unbalanced. It was all the Leaping Wolf needed. Gawan hurled Heartreaver with all his might and the iron spun in the air once before impaling the Panther through his chest, passing straight through him to thud deep into the beech tree behind him. Anryn collapsed to his side with blood gushing from his neck and Gawan hurried towards him, keeping one eye on the Panther. He wasn’t dead, though he probably had little time left to him, and he was struggling and spitting as he tried to draw the sword out from his sternum. Heartreaver was sharp, and all his efforts seemed to do was slice his hands open on the cold iron. Not that he stopped trying. Pain was no deterrent to the Panthers.
The First Man reached Anryn’s side but he knew after barely a look that it was far too late to save him. Scarlet blood was pumping from his neck like beer from a broken barrel, and Gawan knew his friend had only moments left to him. He took him by the hand and tried to look him in the eyes, but they were wide and panicking and darted around without seeing anything. Within five heartbeats his grip on Gawan’s hand became boneless, and in five more his eyes were simply staring sightlessly at nothing, his last breath coming out in a wet rattle.
Gawan reached over and closed his eyes, and was surprised he was not angry at what had happened. The comfort of rage was denied to him, replaced instead by a grey sadness that gripped his heart like an icy hand. He sighed slowly and felt more than saw it when his brother and daughter approached. At first they both seemed unsure about what they should look at; their dead comrade or their pinned enemy, and morbid fascination seemed to win over their views. Tegwen especially was looking at the Panther in horror and Gawan saw that her hands were shaking.
He glanced over at the man and almost pitied the poor wretch. Almost. His face was twisted into something that could barely be called human and he was still desperately trying to free himself from the tree. What in Taran’s name had Lepidus done to his soldiers to make them like this? Gawan’s look hardened. Whatever wrong had been done to him the man was still a mad killer, and if they didn’t put him down he might succeed in freeing himself. His wound would kill him eventually, but the magics running through his blood could still keep him alive long enough to cause them trouble.
Gawan spoke over his shoulder to the other two, not wanting to turn back and see the body of his friend.
‘This one may still be a danger, we need...’
But a blinding pain in the back of his head cut Gawan off mid-speech and he toppled forwards, dark spots appearing before his eyes. He landed on his face and felt cool mud against his skin, and for a moment he forgot where he was. He tried to turn himself over but a solid kick in his ribs made him double up in pain, and before he knew it he was vomiting on the grass. Another kick rolled him over onto his left side and he felt the stamp of a heavy boot go through his knee. Pain shot through the limb and he almost cried out but another foot into his torso drove the air out of his lungs. He coughed once or twice and then lay still, his eyes closing as blackness beckoned to him. He managed to stay awake with an effort, helped along by the strong scent of the vomit beside him.
A voice came that he knew rationally must have been from nearby but it was faint and muffled, as if he was hearing it through a wall.
‘Is he dead?’
A second voice, this one lower, answered gruffly.
‘I doubt it, he’s a thick-skulled bastard.’
Gawan managed to half-turn himself and opened his eyes slowly. His head was pounding and the sky was uncomfortably bright overhead, but he could just make out the two shadows standing over him. He felt something wet hit his cheek and guessed that one of them had just spat on his face. It still echoed but he recognised Rylion’s voice.
‘You have no idea how long I have waited for that, brother.’ He kicked him again, though mercifully this one glanced from his shoulder. ‘Were you really so arrogant as to think that a clasped hand and a word of apology could undo twenty winters’ worth of hate?’
Gawan wanted to retch again but he managed to hold it in. The images above him were growing gradually clearer but he still felt too weak to move his limbs. Rylion began pacing around his fallen brother, punctuating his words with more kicks every now and then.
‘You had the best woman in the world, in the whole damned world, and how did you spend your married life with this goddess among women?’ He spat at him again. ‘You ignored her for a chief you barely knew, for nothing more than your own stupid pride. And when she died and left you a daughter to remember her by you tossed her aside as if your own child was no more than a broken cup!’
Gawan tried to speak, though inhaling alone was painful.
‘Rylion, I...’
But the blacksmith thudded another kick into his brother and Gawan coughed out what breath he had left in him, curling up onto his side. What little thoughts managed to penetrate the pain were cold and despairing ones. Rylion was right. Bronwen had been the finest woman alive and he had ignored both her and her child first out of pride and then out of grief. No matter how hard he’d been struck by his wife’s death he’d had no right to abandon the daughter they had together. All his life Gawan had thought himself to be stronger than other men, yet with Bronwen he had been the weakest craven that he could imagine.
He heard Tegwen begin to speak from somewhere above him, and the sound of her voice made his heart ache in his chest.
