Leaping Wolf, page 45
part #2 of Caledon Saga Series
Gawan was rocked by the blows but he kindled dragonfire in his gut and quickly replied with a strike of his own, his fist lashing out at a shadowy face. He saw the head snap back and but didn’t pause to see if he fell; instead he grabbed hold of the man’s comrade and forced up his chin before sending a right cross into his throat. The man fell back, gagging, but before Gawan could follow it up someone was grabbing his arms from behind. He tried to turn but it seemed both of the other men had recovered quickly and had taken hold of an arm each, pulling his limbs out and back and hauling his balance over his heels. A shape in front of him, which looked vaguely like a man who was tall but lean, stepped forwards and hammered blows into his face, ignoring his torso now his head was exposed. Gawan struggled and rolled with the punches as best he could but one of the men behind him was damnably strong. He grabbed a thin-feeling wrist and tried to heave the weaker one off-balance, but even as he stumbled the tall man in front of him came forward, and launched his knee hard into Gawan’s groin.
If anything the pain only served to make him angrier, but in the moment of distraction it bought them his attackers dragged him to the ground and pinned his arms above his head. He flailed with his legs and felt one kick crack into a knee, but then the tall man was on him again, battering down at his unprotected head while the others held him still. Gawan felt himself begin to black out and forced himself to go limp beneath the beating. The tall man kept it up for a while but then slowed down and finally stopped. Gawan could hear he was breathing hard and he groaned aloud as he stood up, mercifully taking the weight from the Gorvic’s lungs.
Gawan felt anger race through him at the craven attack. He ignored his ringing head and lifted his weight up on one hand, swinging his leg in a low arc that caught the tall man in both calves. He toppled and Gawan was about to spring at him when he heard an odd swishing sound just to his left, and suddenly he was collapsing onto his side. It was only when he hit the ground that the pain began. Only when he saw the ragged stump of his left wrist.
The fire in his belly vanished into nothing as searing pain flashed up his arm, and before he knew it Gawan was screaming. He just had time to see his severed hand on the moonlit grass beside him before feet began stamping down onto his head, and the whole world faded into blackness.
Chapter 39. Wounded
Rhia was worrying about Gawan. What he’d done was incredible as far as she was concerned of course, but what would it mean for the Gorvicae? And for him? The northerners at Bryngarth seemed to have taken it well enough, but then they were here and could see how dire the situation was. Would the rest of his tribe be so understanding about the Caderyn stealing away their most renowned warrior? And then there was Gawan himself to consider. He was a proud and stubborn man and fanatically devoted to his tribe. The Caderyn had been his enemies for most of his life and now he was not only fighting for them but abandoning his tribe to call himself one of them. It must have been having an effect on him. And he is doing it for me.
She thought back to that night after the battle at Moon Ridge. Gawan was no fool. He would know the broader implications of what her banishment would mean and it made good logical sense for him to fight in the trial, but she knew that wasn’t why he was doing it. Gawan cared for her. In his own strange way he might even have come to love her, though how and why was still a complete mystery. Rhia stared into her cup and felt shame in her heart. She respected Gawan of course, and had even come to like him after a fashion; she admired his finer qualities, cared for his welfare and had been truly touched by his actions today. But she didn’t harbour anything like the same feelings that he clearly did. Wherever they came from. And now you’re letting him fight Broad Kellas to save you from having to fight Caserach. You’re letting him risk his life for you because of how he feels for you.
She looked over at Lucan, sleeping peacefully in the little bed that had been brought in for him. At Bael’s request he had been permitted to stay the night with his mother, and Rhia had been immensely glad for it. Looking at him, she wondered if he would ever love her the same way she loved him, and if it would even matter if he didn’t. Rhia couldn’t imagine anything she would not do to keep him safe, and even if he grew distant from her, as she had seen some sons do, she knew that could never affect her devotion. She felt sad at the prospect of something like that happening but even if it did, it wouldn’t really matter. Her love for him was constant. Perhaps the only constant thing she had to hold on to.
Bael, sitting across from her, nodded his head in a way that made her think he had read her thoughts, and had understood them. She took a sip of rosemary leaf and reflected on how odd that was. Had it been Reaghan sitting there she might have expected to feel like this; Reaghan had been a father to them all for as long as she could remember, and though his powers had been subtle there was not a man of the tribe who had ever doubted their potency. Bael on the other hand was barely a summer older than she was. Rhia could still remember how they had played together when they were small, yet here he was, grave-eyed and calm and radiating the same energy she had always felt from the elder druid. When he spoke his voice was slightly lighter than Reaghan’s had been but it had the same quiet, serious quality to it.
‘You need not feel guilty, Rhia. The decision was his to make.’
Rhia frowned slightly and pressed her lips together.
‘I know it was, but it still makes me feel... cowardly. To let another fight in my place, I mean.’
Bael shrugged his shoulders.
‘Chieftains have often called on champions to fight such combats in their stead. There is no shame in it.’
He took a sip from his steaming cup as Rhia considered that.
‘True, and if this had been Madoc or Owain then I wouldn’t have thought so much on it. But with Gawan...’
The druid nodded, understanding written across his face.
‘You feel he fights for the wrong reasons?’
Rhia bobbed her head.
‘Yes.’
Bael took a slow breath before speaking again.
‘I take it that the main source of your guilt is the belief that he does this out of concern for you alone?’
From what she suspected of his powers Bael probably knew full well that was the source of it, but it seemed he was being polite by asking her out loud.
‘Yes.’
He nodded.
‘Gawan does indeed care for you Rhia, but he has many reasons for the choices he has made. I do not say that you were not a large part of his decision, but you did not ask for his help, nor are you responsible for what he chose of his own free will.’
Rhia frowned, not feeling much comforted.
‘Perhaps. All the same, it might be best if I volunteered to fight Caserach instead.’
The druid raised his hand in a gesture that was gentle but firm.
‘No. I mean no offence to your own skills but Caserach is a gifted killer. Gawan is perhaps the finest fighter in all the Caledon; strong though Broad Kellas is, Gawan stands a better chance against him than you would against Caserach.’ He took another short draught of his leaf. ‘And besides, whatever else happens you are more important to our survival.’
Rhia nodded again, though she felt uncomfortable. She didn’t like to be reminded of how damned vital she was. She was about to say something to that effect when Bael’s face suddenly changed. His brows furrowed and his eyes grew distant, as if he could hear something but couldn’t quite tell what it was. Rhia tilted her head in concern.
‘Are you...’
But his eyes suddenly widened and he cut across her.
‘Too late!’ He sprang from his chair fast enough to knock it over. ‘Damn it all!’
Rhia stood up as well, scared and confused.
‘What is it?’
Bael was already heading for the door and before Rhia could speak again she heard voices outside, followed by urgent footsteps on the boards. Bael threw open the door in time to admit Cerri, with a pale-faced Duran close on her heels. The Gadarim saw the druid and called out over his shoulder.
‘He’s in here!’
The shout caused Lucan to stir in his sleep but Rhia’s eyes were fixed on the doorway. Madlen the herbwife had appeared in the frame, tutting at a group of men behind her.
‘Blight you all be careful with him!’
A few grunts of effort came from the men but none of them spoke. As they entered Rhia recognised Gwydion and another of the Gorvicae Gadarim, along with a white-faced young woman and some warriors she knew only by sight. They had stretched their green cloaks between a pair of spears and on the cloaks, barely awake, lay the First Man of the Caderyn.
Gawan’s face was a mess of blood from a score of tiny cuts and a single deep gash, and ugly bruises had swollen his eyes almost shut. His lip was split open and the dribble from his mouth was reddish pink, but it was when she saw his arm that Rhia’s breath caught in her throat. His left hand was gone. The stump of his forearm was bleeding heavily through a soaking cloth, and Gwydion’s hands were drenched red as he tried to stem the flow of it. Rhia saw Lucan sit up and stare at him in panic and she quickly beckoned Cerri over to her.
‘Take him out of here. Take him... I don’t know just take him somewhere.’
Her cousin nodded and took Lucan by the arm without a word, half-dragging him from the room. Rhia saw her son still looking at the bloody man on the cloaks, and tears welled up in his eyes as Cerri led him outside.
Bael did not waste a heartbeat and gestured for the men to set their comrade on the table. Madlen quickly cleared it of cups and candles and the men laid Gawan onto it. The old wood creaked but it held firm. The herbwife put pressure on the gash in his head and almost at once Rhia saw blood soak through the cloth onto her fingers. Bael closed his eyes and began running his hands over Gawan’s body, his eyes closed but his mind still in the present.
‘His time runs short. He will soon be dead if we are not swift.’
Rhia’s heart was hammering hard and both she and the pale woman made to approach the table, but Bael waved them away with a flick of his hand.
‘Give us space please. Gwydion, Madlen, stay where you are.’
The rest of them backed away and Rhia saw Bael’s hands pause over Gawan’s midriff, the place where she knew Mabonac’s fire could be kindled. Her hands were clenching and unclenching and it was an effort to keep her breathing under control. What had happened? Had Caserach found a way to ambush him somehow? She felt anger building in her but her worry for Gawan conquered it. This is my fault. If he wasn’t my champion he would not have been attacked. She saw the half-conscious man grimace in sudden pain and tears threatened to blur her vision. Bael’s voice cut through her thoughts.
‘Tegwen, get a torch and hold it close by. Rhia, get something between his teeth.’
They both hurried to do his bidding, the pale woman fetching the light while Rhia whipped off her belt and folded it over several times. She took Gawan’s head in her hands as gently as she could and tried to ease the leather into his mouth. His hair was sticky with blood and he clearly didn’t know what was happening but she got it there eventually and the Gadarim bit down on it. He began to thrash and his right arm came flying up, but Bael caught it one-handed and held it firm.
‘Duran, hold onto this.’
The Gorvic obeyed and Bael’s hands went back to hovering over Gawan’s centre. Rhia heard him muttering something that sounded like the Old Tongue, though she was sure she caught the familiar words Leaping Wolf in amongst them. Gawan’s breathing slowed a little but he still struggled, albeit feebly. Rhia saw that blood was still oozing from his wrist and Gwydion’s face was contorted with the effort of keeping pressure on it. Gawan was biting down hard on the belt and Rhia hated to think how much pain Gwydion was causing him. And how the poor man must feel to be doing it.
Bael’s eyes twitched beneath their lids and she saw frustration flash across his face.
‘Damn it.’ He spoke over his shoulder. ‘All Gadarim step closer. Place one hand on him and the other on me.’
Rhia saw the same confusion she was feeling on the faces of the others but they all obeyed him without question. Gwydion seemed hesitant to touch his bloody hand to Bael’s white robe and the druid spoke without opening his eyes.
‘Touch my forearms. It must be skin to skin.’
Gwydion did as he was asked, and Duran and the younger man both placed a hand on Gawan’s arm with another on Bael’s bare wrist. Rhia kept hold of the side of his head with her left hand and reached out for the druid with her right. Bael’s skin felt as warm as Gawan’s was clammy. The holy man nodded once.
‘You all of you know how to kindle Mabonac’s fire. Fearless Wildcat, Flying Hawk, Blue Falcon and Rearing Horse; you must call upon the Dragon God.’
Rhia didn’t stop to think about it and shut her eyes tight, focusing as she never had before. She slowed down her breathing and summoned the glowing ball of power into her centre, holding it there just inside her abdomen. She shut away her fears and guilt and forced herself to focus. All around her she felt a humming that didn’t come through her ears and somehow she knew that the others could feel it too. Gawan’s head was still jerking beneath her hand but she held him steady and tried to ignore his groans of pain around the belt.
Bael’s muttering grew faster and then he spoke once more to the room.
‘Be ready to release your power. Think only of Mabonac and of the life of Leaping Wolf.’
Rhia kept her eyes shut and thought of the Dragon God, but more than that she thought of her memories of Gawan. She thought of the day at Broken Stream when he had duelled with Madoc, and the insults they had bandied back and forth at the feast afterwards. She remembered how she’d hated him that dreadful day when he’d killed Dane, and the shock and gratitude she’d felt when he had let her fight Sedryn to avenge her murdered father. She remembered the day he’d named both her and Marius to the Gadarim, and the day he’d brought her son home safe after he’d been lost in the woods. She remembered the night after Moon Ridge when she’d felt his lips on hers. All that she knew of him, all that he was, went rushing through her head like a river bursting a dam and it fed into her power somehow, making the dragonfire grow hotter inside her centre.
Bael kept on muttering and though she didn’t know the words she knew what it was she had to do. Though she’d no idea how she was doing it, she began to will her power towards the druid. She felt it flow from her body’s centre, up her arm and into Bael, helped along by a gentle drawing from the core of the holy man. It was a strange sensation and not particularly pleasant, but she knew it must be done and she let go of it willingly. The fire, or the ava or whatever it was, ran slowly away from her, and Bael’s chanting grew louder as it did. The process was exhausting and Rhia began to feel light-headed as more and more energy was drained out of her, and it reached a point where she was certain she would faint. Then the druid snarled out a single word.
‘Eurai!’
Power, raw and hot and dangerous, flooded back through Rhia like a tidal wave of fire, rushing up her one arm and through her body into the other. She gasped, and she heard the others do the same, and then Gawan began convulsing beneath her hand. Her eyes flew wide and she saw him arch up on the table, his own eyes as open as his swollen face would allow. Rhia’s legs felt ready to buckle and the other Gadarim looked just as unstable but Bael kept them steady somehow, the young man’s presence as solid as a rock before a storm. His eyes were still closed but his face was set and grim as he willed their precious energy into the wounded man.
The whole thing could not have lasted more than a dozen heartbeats but to Rhia it felt like a month of hard toil. Soon the flow of power waned and she held on as long as she could before her hand left Bael’s arm to steady herself against the table. She was breathing hard and her dress clung to her skin with sweat. Her head felt as if she’d been rolled down Bryngarth’s hill in a barrel and it was an effort to keep her queasy stomach from emptying itself onto the floor. She stayed there panting for a moment, the other warriors looking similarly drained, but Bael and Madlen continued with their work.
Gawan seemed to be breathing more easily, indeed he seemed to be asleep, the leather belt flopping limply from his mouth. The pale-faced woman was still holding the torch and though she looked as white as snow she was maintaining her composure. Rhia wondered who she might be but before she could start thinking clearly enough to speak, Bael had taken the burning brand and was holding it to Gawan’s wrist. A smell that was horribly reminiscent of searing pork filled Rhia’s nostrils and she felt the bile rise up in her throat, all thoughts of speech forgotten. She would have expected any man to wake from his sleep and start screaming, but Gawan merely shuddered and let out a feeble groan.
Beads of sweat were showing on the druid’s brow but his breathing was even as he looked down at the former Gorvic.
‘He will live, or should do. The bleeding in his arm and head are stopped, but we will need to take a better look at him.’ He turned to Madlen. ‘Go to your stores, you know what you will need better than I.’
Whether he was just being humble or genuinely deferring to her experience Rhia didn’t know, but the herbwife bowed her head and quickly scurried from the room. Only then did he turn to Duran, who was leaning on the table, his face grey.
