Leaping Wolf, page 35
part #2 of Caledon Saga Series
‘It was good of you to ask us along on this trip. We have waited for days on end for a chance like this.’
The contempt in her voice was painful to hear; a hate that had obviously been festering her whole life. Rylion snarled from his other side.
‘Of course, it’s only the two of us who have waited mere days for this. I have been waiting for this for more years than I can count, I’m almost surprised you didn’t see it coming.’ His boot found Gawan’s injured leg and the First Man ground his teeth to keep back a scream. ‘But then how would you have noticed? It’s been many winters since you decided that I wasn’t worth knowing.’
Gawan’s breath was coming out in gasps but he tried to pour some anger into it.
‘Perhaps I’d hoped you were above murdering your own brother. You truly hate me enough to fall from the bridge?’
A man who slew his own kin risked angering Annwn, and a fall from the Soul Bridge meant centuries of grappling with the other lost spirits of the Pit as the killer tried to climb back out again. Gawan knew that Rylion had felt resentful towards him, but to do something like this? How much must my brother detest me?
Rylion sneered down at him.
‘I would dearly love to kill you brother, but I am not such a fool as to anger the gods.’ He nodded to where the Panther was still struggling with Heartreaver. ‘But if half of what I hear about these sorcerous Gaians is true then eventually he will free himself from that tree.’
Gawan felt a cold shiver run through his whole body, sufficient even to block out the pain for a moment. He was unarmed, weak, and could barely see let alone fight. He didn’t know how badly his leg was injured but he knew for damned sure that he couldn’t put his weight on it. He could barely muster the strength to clench his fist. Memories of White Ridge and Nantwyn came back to him; memories of the dreadful things the Panthers had done in those battles. If this one got free he would rip out his eyes and chew out his innards, at that was likely the cleanest death that he could hope for.
On top of that cold fear he felt his shame washing over him again. He would die knowing that his only kin felt nothing but hatred for him. Part of him wanted to rail at his brother, to spend his last breaths defying the man who had all but murdered him, but the thought of his daughter held him back. Tegwen would remember her father as nothing but the coward who never cared for her as a child, nothing but a broken man spitting curses as he lay helpless in an unnamed wood. Unless he spoke to her now, before it was too late. He thought of Emeryn, and the last memory they had shared together, and he knew he couldn’t let that happen again.
He saw the pair turning around to head back to their ponies and managed to raise himself onto one elbow and call after them.
‘I am sorry Tegwen. For everything. Camelas grant you long life.’
He felt his arm buckle beneath him but he steadied himself with an effort. His whole body ached and his vision was still hazy. He heard Rylion scoff beneath his breath but Tegwen’s voice sounded uncertain.
‘Is that a trick? Some curse disguised as a blessing?’
Gawan shook his head, regretting it at once as the pounding in it increased. Sprites and suchlike might twist their words but it wasn’t his way, and he hoped Tegwen knew that, but nonetheless he left no room for doubt.
‘I am no trickster. I wish you a long life, without sickness or grief and full of joy.’
He saw her walk back towards him, her gait slightly clumsy, and though he couldn’t really see her face he heard the anger in her voice.
‘And I suppose this is the moment where you ask me to forgive you?’
Gawan suspected she had wanted something like that so that she could take some pleasure in refusing him. He could hardly blame her for wanting that but he knew it would do her no good. Bitterness was a weary companion in life, and the least he could do was spare her that.
‘No. I do not deserve it. I was afraid to be a father and it is too late to be one now. But I would sooner have it that your last memory of me is with a blessing, not a curse.’ She opened her mouth to speak but he carried on before she could. ‘I do not blame you for hating me. I do not blame you for my death.’
Tegwen was silent for a moment and Gawan felt his arm collapsing again. This time he hadn’t the strength left to steady himself and he fell onto his side. He heard Rylion’s voice from behind her, short and angry.
‘You shut your damned mouth! Come along Tegwen.’
Gawan could only just see her but for a heartbeat he thought his daughter hesitated. But then she turned away from him and started limping towards her uncle and the ponies. He heard the distant sound of people mounting horses and the First Man of the Gorvicae let his head fall back onto the earth. He had tried, it was all he could do. Part of him regretted not having done more, and done it sooner, but he put it from his thoughts. He had ended it as well as he could under the circumstances, and Mabonac would know that. Hopefully Taran or the Dragon God would speak well of him to Annwn and Damara, and his dishonours might be forgiven in the end. He closed his eyes. There was nothing more he could do now. Emeryn, Bronwen, Tarwyn and Anryn would all be waiting for him should Annwn let him pass, and he could make his peace with them in the Otherworld.
He felt his breathing slow and wondered if he might die of his headwound before the Panther escaped. It was hardly courageous but a part of him hoped so. Lying powerless while a madman tore at his flesh was not the way he’d pictured himself leaving this world. But then no man chooses his ending. All is as the gods will it, and the best we can do is to meet them with our heads held high. Gawan almost smiled. It was the sort of thing Anryn would have said.
A noise above and behind him broke through his tranquil thoughts and he edged himself around painfully. The Panther had finally pulled Heartreaver from both his body and the tree behind him, and was trying to grip the weapon in his mangled hands. With half his fingers missing and his palms a shredded mess he soon realised it was futile, and Gawan saw him cast the weapon aside. He wouldn’t need it anyway.
The Gaian turned his frenzied eyes on the Gadarim and started towards him, shuffling awkwardly. Magically enhanced or not the man had a gaping hole through his chest, and that was plainly enough to slow him down at least. His face was contorted with a mix of agony and hunger, and Gawan wondered if there was any way that one or both of them might die before he reached him. He doubted it. The gods might forgive him his wrongs in the Otherworld but it seemed they were not done punishing him in this life first. Well, best try to give the bastard a challenge at least.
Gawan tried to ease up to a sitting position but immediately collapsed back down again, his vision swimming. His head began to pound even harder and the pain in his ribs redoubled. He cursed as the Gaian staggered closer. Just one punch, that’s all. Just let me punch the bastard once and I can die contented. Once again he tried to lift himself up to sit. Let me at least tell Annwn that I died with a warcry and not a scream! The Panther leered at him as he closed the distance and Gawan drew in his will and heaved himself up. His stomach roiled and his head throbbed but he managed at least end up sitting rather than lying. He gasped out a breath. It will have to do.
But then something blew past him and he swayed to one side, almost toppling over again. He blinked and saw Tegwen galloping her pony towards the Panther, her axe held high and a shrill cry on her lips.
‘Taran!’
She swung the weapon low and it bit into the Gaian’s shoulder, spinning him on the spot and almost felling him. He kept his footing though and grabbed the haft as she struck, yanking the weapon from her hand. Gawan’s breath caught in his throat as he saw her lose her balance and fall from the saddle but then suddenly Rylion was there, hurtling past his helpless brother. He charged his own pony straight into the wounded Gaian and the sheer weight of it knocked him to the dirt. He lay there unmoving and Rylion leaped from his mount, his arms waving in rage and his voice loud and harsh.
‘Damn it all Tegwen! What is wrong with you?’
The young woman didn’t answer as she heaved herself up and Rylion shook his head, disgusted.
‘So much for fooling the gods.’ Gawan saw him draw his knife and start walking towards him, his face set. ‘Looks like I’ll just have to ask their pardon later.’
Gawan knew there was no point to it but he glared into Rylion’s eyes anyway, purely out of his own stubborn pride. He hadn’t the strength for anything else. The blonde man closed in on him but Tegwen scurried up and placed herself in between them.
‘No! You can’t…’
Rylion barely looked at her.
‘I can, and I will!’
Gawan had no idea how far Tegwen might go with her sudden change of heart but the mere fact that she had returned for him was enough to cut through his fear. He knew Rylion would either shove past her or try to talk her back into hating him, but as it turned out his brother had little chance for either option. The Panther, his torso drenched in blood and his face as pale as milk, appeared out of nowhere and pounced onto the blacksmith’s back, and before any of them knew it he had borne him to the ground. Tegwen screamed and ran for where her axe had fallen, and Gawan simply sat and watched, unable to move, as strong thumbs crushed his brother’s eyes into his head. His scream was terrible but mercifully it didn’t last for long. The Panther soon sank his teeth into his neck and Rylion’s cry was reduced to a rasping gurgle.
Gawan tried to shift his weight but his skull felt like it might burst with pain and he hunched forward with his chin on his chest, his breathing ragged. He saw Tegwen looking around frantically for a weapon but he knew it was already too late. The Gaian was done with Rylion and was almost in arm’s reach of where he was sitting. His only hope was that she’d find her axe and slay the monster while it was busy killing her father. It was something at least.
But then a strangely familiar whistling sound went past his ear and the maddened Gaian suddenly stopped still. Gawan had to squint to see the arrow that had grown out of his chest, but then two more whistles came in quick succession and a pair of long shafts thudded into the madman, one in his throat and then another through his cheek. The Panther reeled back but was quite clearly still alive, and Gawan saw him ready himself for a final lunge. Then another arrow slashed through the air by the Gadarim’s head and buried itself to the flights in the dying man’s right eye. He slumped to the mud without another sound. Gawan tried to look around to see who had saved them, but all he got was a glimpse of iron mail and pitch black cloth before he keeled over again, and darkness took him.
Chapter 30. The Blackbirds
He’d woken up thrown across the back of his horse and despite everything had insisted that he was perfectly capable of riding. He wasn’t of course but that hadn’t stopped him from arguing, and he now sat slumped in his saddle with a Gaian scout knee to knee with him, the young man propping him up whenever it looked like he might fall. Which was often. Gawan tried his best to sit up straight but it was easier thought than done, so he swallowed his resentment as best he could and settled for a quiet scowl at his escort whenever he was forced to lean on him. His head felt like his father’s anvil must have done after a long day of horseshoes and ploughs, and his body was wracked with fresh agony every time his mount’s hoof struck the ground.
The battered Gadarim sighed, though only partly for his pain and injured pride. The image of that monster tearing into Rylion kept playing across his thoughts. No matter what his brother had done, or would have done, he had not deserved to die in such a manner. Perhaps it was that image that was keeping him from hating Rylion for his betrayal, or perhaps it was just that he understood why he had done it. For as long as he could remember Rylion had been resentful of him, both for overshadowing him as a Gadarim and an elder, and for taking Bronwen as his wife. Gawan had never really appreciated to what depths his brother had hated him, but he supposed he had no right to feel surprised. What he did feel was a heavy sadness, like a sodden cloak draped across his shoulders. He had come home to find his father dead and had hoped to build something from that wreckage by making peace with Rylion and Tegwen. A lot of good that hope had turned out to be.
Gawan’s head was still throbbing horribly and he closed his eyes for a moment. He wondered to himself how long ago it must have been that Rylion had first poisoned Tegwen against him. He let out a slow breath as he thought. Rylion probably hadn’t needed to try all that hard. He couldn’t imagine Harlen speaking highly to Tegwen of her absent father, and even if Rylion barely exchanged a word with his niece he would be building on a solid foundation of anger. And yet she came back for you.
He opened his eyes and looked across to her. Tegwen’s face was still pale and her ankle looked painfully swollen, but beyond that she looked as relaxed as could be expected under the circumstances. She was in the middle of a group of Gaian soldiers, having just witnessed two fellow tribesmen being torn apart by inhuman foes, yet her face was calm and dignified as she rode. Gawan couldn’t help but feel proud to know that she was his daughter. On top of her courage she had come to the aid of a helpless man whom she had every good reason to hate, and had risked her life to save his despite everything. He sighed. Such innate goodness in a person was a rare thing indeed. She must get it from her mother.
The young woman looked back at him and managed an awkward half-smile, and Gawan saw through her calm façade to the genuine worry beneath it. He remembered that she had only known the Gaians as her enemies, and the concept of travelling with them was likely more unnerving for her than it was for him. As if she hadn’t had a hard enough day already! The fact was that the troop of men, around twenty of them, had been perfectly civil to them both and their optio had spoken enough Lurian to explain that they were being taken to the camp to have their wounds tended. Granted, Gawan had the impression that coming with them had not been a matter of choice but the legionaries had done nothing overt to make the two Gorvicae feel like they were prisoners. It was a good sign that no objection had been made to their keeping their weapons, though Tegwen was carrying Heartreaver for the ride. Presumably she had retrieved it after the Panther had been killed and Gawan had deliberately not asked for it back yet. He barely had the strength to lift it and his sword deserved better than to be dropped by a wounded weakling.
His mind began to drift back to the fight he’d barely lived through and despite himself he felt his palms begin to sweat. Gawan couldn’t even guess how many times he had been close to death, but it had been many a long winter since he had last felt so helpless before it. He tried to push the thought aside but found himself thinking of Anryn instead, and the First Man shuddered a little. The old brewer had deserved a far better end than that. He would have to send word to Gelion he supposed, though he had no idea at all what he would say. Grief washed over him as he thought of all the stories and legends that Anryn had known and shared; a lifetime of wisdom and learning, all gone in an eyeblink. The image of his friend’s last bloody moments flashed before his eyes, horribly vivid, and he turned again to Tegwen in an effort to shove it away.
‘Are you alright?’
From the way the Blackbirds ignored them he guessed they either didn’t care about their conversation or that most of the legionaries simply didn’t speak the language. It was probably both. Tegwen hesitated for a moment before dipping her chin a fraction.
‘I shall be.’
There was an awkward pause and Gawan simply asked the question out loud. He could hardly make things worse between them after all.
‘How long were you planning it for?’
Tegwen didn’t seem surprised but she still took a breath before replying.
‘Years, in a way. Though I never really thought that it would happen.’ She cast her eyes down but then made herself look back up at her father. ‘When I was young, Rylion, he… he told me that we would do it one day. Together. I hated you enough and so I promised him we would. I never knew that we would actually meet.’
Gawan nodded. No wonder she had been so shocked when she’d first seen him at Graigarw. Not only was her father suddenly there in front of her, but so was Rylion, and the reminder of the murder they had committed themselves to.
‘So you waited until a chance came?’
Tegwen nodded her head.
‘Rylion said that you planned your own death for us when you suggested leaving the main column. He said we only needed to wait for Anryn to sleep or make water or something and then we could set upon you. He said we could leave you wounded somewhere to bleed to death or starve, or with talk of Panthers still in the woods we could always blame them for it.’
Gawan felt his eyebrows rise. It seemed a pretty thin plan, but then Rylion had clearly seen it as their best opportunity. His brother must have been desperate to get it done. Gawan frowned again in dismay and considered asking Tegwen why she had changed her mind, but he realised that was both foolish and selfish. She was a good woman and had decided to save her father, there was no need to make her say it out loud. A part of him hoped she had decided that she wanted a father now, but he had no right to ask her such a thing. He would offer himself with his actions, not with promises.
The rode in silence for a little while before Tegwen spoke again.
‘I…’
But she was interrupted by someone ahead of them barking some words of Vulgare. Presumably it was a sentinel because their optio barked something similar back to him and the little group of scouts passed by without further talk. Gawan noticed that the Gaian gave them a distinctly uncertain look but he said nothing as they rode past him. The Gadarim began wondering just what would happen when they reached the camp, which he assumed was now quite nearby. He had told the optio that he needed to see Galerian but the soldier had simply nodded, neither confirming his request nor denying it. Well, neither of us is in any state to argue at present. We shall just have to wait and see.
About thirty paces on from the sentinel the trees began to thin out, and they soon found themselves in open land again. The grassy plain ahead of them was crawling with Gaian soldiers, some wearing mail but most dressed only in the black tunics of their legion. White canvas shelters were being propped up on poles in neat rows beside one another, with centurions and optios striding up and down between them. Gawan didn’t have to speak the language to know what they were hollering at their men; he knew criticism when he heard it, and perfect though the shelters seemed to him, the legions’ attitude to discipline bordered on the insane. Tegwen looked uncomfortable at best as they moved closer to the Gaians but she hid her fear quickly and turned to face him again. She took a breath and for a moment Gawan thought she was going to say something, but her eyes were fixed on a point over his shoulder and he twisted awkwardly to look. And he understood why she hadn’t said anything.
