Leaping Wolf, page 50
part #2 of Caledon Saga Series
The hall quietened with curiosity and Gawan tilted his head to listen. Taliesyn cleared his throat a little before continuing. ‘I would ask both your leaves that Gawan son of Dearg return to his people, and once more be the First Man of our Gadarim.’
The offer was met with noises of agreement from the headmen and Gawan felt his heart skip a beat. It was an amazingly generous offer. To say nothing of the rarity of a man changing his tribe, Gawan was now a one-handed warrior, and a First Man was nominally the best fighter of his people. Though experience to pass on to others is always valued as well I suppose, and Taran knows I have my share of that! He allowed himself to wonder how it would feel to call himself a Gorvic again. He concluded almost instantly that it would feel good. And he could live in his old house, right next to where Tegwen would be. He bit back a sigh as reality interrupted fantasy. The decision had been made.
‘I am Caderyn now and besides, I have already named Duran son of Syrwn as the next First Man of the Gorvicae.’ He made a small gesture towards his brother. ‘Flying Hawk is the best of the Gorvicae Gadarim and we all of us are in agreement. We have only to perform the proper rituals.’
Taliesyn nodded slowly, hiding his disappointment. No doubt he was doing him a kindness by the offer but it was also in the new chieftain’s interests to bring a man of Gawan’s reputation back into the tribe. And Tegwen might well have put him up to it too. It was pleasant to think that she probably had.
‘I would never wish to interfere with the rites of the Gadarim.’ The chieftain glanced at Rhianwyn and then back to Gawan again. ‘But will you consider becoming Gorvicae again?’
It was tempting; so much of who he was had been based on his pride in his tribe, and would the Gorvicae not always be his tribe in his heart? He felt his brow furrow in resignation. But there can be no pride without integrity. He had a new tribe now. He had a loyalty. He shook his head and then turned to face Rhianwyn.
‘I am your First Man, now and always.’
She smiled at him, and the look suited her.
‘That you are, my friend. The Caderyn is glad to have known you, however briefly, and you will always have a home at Bryngarth should you wish it.’ She placed a hand on his arm. ‘But if you wish to return here to your home then I will not begrudge it you, and with your blessing we will have Elfed become First Man of our tribe in your stead.’
Despite himself Gawan felt a glimmer of hope. Elfed was a solid enough man. But he had made a choice.
‘I…’
Rhianwyn stopped him.
‘Your loyalty to the Caledon is unquestioned, and that will mean much in the days and years to come. More so than what town you choose to live in and what tribe is fortunate enough to keep you.’ She smiled again. ‘Your family is here. You have earned the right to be with them.’
There were more rumblings of agreement from the hall, most of them coming from Duran and the other Gadarim behind him. Gawan pictured Tegwen, and how he might be a real part of her life if he stayed, then he looked at Rhianwyn. Her face was as open and honest, and as beautiful, as ever. She had known him well enough to understand his sense of obligation, and she had assuaged his conscience with a few simple words. She may be young, but she is wise far beyond her years. He gave her a half-smile before turning back to Taliesyn.
‘Then with the blessings of you both, I will accept. Taliesyn son of Cylren, may I be Gorvicae once more?’
The young chieftain bowed his head gravely.
‘Of course you may, Gawan son of Dearg, and welcome.’
The rumbles turned to cheers and Gawan found himself lost for words. He was Gorvicae again. Just like that. He didn’t feel different exactly but he felt… something. He couldn’t really describe what it was. Before he could dwell on it he felt Duran’s hand on his shoulder and he turned to see his brother giving him a knowing smile. He lifted his other hand and the noise quietened.
‘I will raise no objection, Lord Taliesyn, though I would say this; I have never known of a warrior who has fought as First Man for two tribes before, and the duty of a First Man is to train and inspire new Gadarim, as much as it is fight beside them. I would not have Leaping Wolf lost to us.’
Gawan frowned as Gwydion appeared next to him.
‘Nor would I.’
Pryder piped up from behind them.
‘Nor I.’
Kyran’s harsh voice came from his other side.
‘Nor I.’
Gawan looked at the Darin in confusion but the hard-faced man gave away nothing. Rhianwyn was still standing close to him and her smile turned almost mischievous.
‘Nor would I.’
Gawan opened his mouth to speak but the Wildcat got there first.
‘I have discussed this matter with many of our Gadarim brethren, both here and at Bryngarth. We are agreed that you have shown yourself to be the finest Gadarim of the three tribes. We would ask you to be First Man of all the Caledon.’
There was an intake of breath throughout the hall and Gawan felt his eyes widening. It was… it was unheard of. He heard fists banging on tables as he tried to make sense of it all. He would have his old tribe back, his daughter nearby him, and now a new and greater honour than he’d ever thought possible. What was this?
Rhianwyn hid her wince well as she raised her arms for silence.
‘Does any man here doubt the strength, the loyalty, the courage, the focus or the will of Leaping Wolf?’
With an unwelcome jolt Gawan thought about his missing hand, his changing of tribes, and all the many things he’d done to bring shame upon himself. There was every cause to doubt his virtues, but it seemed that the men of that hall had either forgiven or forgotten. Not a sound came from them. Rhianwyn smiled that smile of hers once again.
‘Then let Gawan son of Dearg be First Man of all the Caledon! And may he live and die with honour!’
Duran and Gwydion alone must have shaken the beams with their shouting, and the rest of the room almost rivalled their enthusiasm. Rhianwyn stepped closer to Gawan and clasped his good wrist. In all the noise she needn’t have bothered lowering her voice but she did so all the same, tapping her heart with her other hand.
‘You don’t have to be Caderyn to be in here, brother.’
Gawan smiled at her and gripped back before tapping his own chest.
‘As you are in here, sister.’
Rhianwyn’s mouth twitched upwards before she turned back to the high table. She had to shout to get the words across.
‘Since Gawan is of the Gorvicae the rites can be arranged at your discretion, Lord Taliesyn.’
The young chieftain brushed aside the title.
‘There need be no formalities between us, Rhianwyn. And I shall consult with my Gadarim tomorrow.’
His tone was friendly but Gawan suspected he would have preferred to keep his First Man to himself. But he would accept it, and be glad of it in the long-term. Taliesyn had always believed in the Caledon and he would soon learn that Duran was a worthy replacement to lead the Gorvicae Gadarim. Besides, supporting her father in this would make Tegwen very happy. Gawan tried not to think of how she would show her new husband her appreciation!
The noise began to die down and Taliesyn stood up from his new seat. He took a cup from the table and raised it in front of him, his first drink as High Chieftain of his tribe.
‘I welcome Gawan son of Dearg back to the Gorvicae, and once again offer my thanks to Rhianwyn daughter of Carradan for her support today, and for all that she has done for us. May we all prosper in the years to come through the unity of the Caledon!’
There was another cheer as he drank and the assembly of chiefs soon became a throng as Taliesyn and Gawan both were congratulated with hand clasps and backslaps, and Rhianwyn thanked by almost every man there. Even those who had doubted the Caledon were relieved that the Gorvicae would not be sundered by the lack of a single leader.
The Caderyn’s High Chieftain smiled at him through the crowd and Gawan found himself smiling back. Brother might not be as good as lover but he was happy nonetheless. After the nightmare that had begun at Moon Ridge he had somehow woken up with his honour, with duty and with peace, and even the beginnings of a family. There would still be trials ahead of course, the gods had made life that way, but he knew now that he was once again a man who could conquer them, and that he wouldn’t have to do it alone. He looked around at the roomful of chiefs and thought of Tegwen, awaiting him outside, then of his brothers who were slapping hands against his aching back. He thought of Rhianwyn, who no matter what else would be a friend and a sister to him for life. He was not alone. He was surrounded by those who cared for him. And for the first time in a long time, there was hope in his world again.
Epilogue
Edryd’s knee was still paining him, but compared to the ache in his heart it was almost unnoticeable. He’d seen more than thirty winters come and go in the northlands and had worked in some way or another since he was old enough to lift a basket. He sighed to himself. And never in all that time had he worked so hard at something and taken so little pride in it. He shivered in the icy wind. Winter had come early this year, and he wouldn’t be surprised to see the first flurries of snow in a day or two. Something damp hit his cheek but it was only a droplet of rain, and he quickened his pace before it grew any heavier. It was one thing to feel depressed, but to be damp and depressed just added insult to injury.
It wasn’t far to walk and before long he was standing before the door. The weather was still holding but Edryd wasn’t about to take a chance on it and he slipped through the door almost before he had finished knocking. It might not be polite but his errands were generally important enough for manners to be overlooked. It wasn’t much warmer in the little back room but at least there was a fire going and he shuffled over to it, his joints aching. The room’s two occupants watched him do it and Edryd made an effort to control his fear. The tall man in the chair could be intimidating enough but the one pouring his drink for him, the greasy-haired little Basian, was frankly disturbing. There was something about his empty eyes, his pointed face, and his strange accent that unnerved Edryd, and he knew he wasn’t the only one to think so.
He paused to bow to the man in the chair before continuing towards the flames, his hands extended. If they were displeased enough to dispose of him too, he could at least die warm.
‘All things considered, I am struggling for good a reason not to kill you here and now.’
Taliesyn sounded disappointed but Edryd had prepared his arguments. He had done only as he was told after all, and it was no fault of his if Caserach and the Breiryn had seen fit to make a mess of things. The new chieftain looked at him expectantly and Edryd readied himself to answer, but then the Basian, Sagris, spoke up for him.
‘In fairness, my chieftain, much of what has happened was no fault of Edryd’s. And things have still worked out well enough.’
His voice had a cringing, almost sickly tone, but Edryd knew better than to think him a weakling because of it. He had a will of iron and was the root cause of so much that had lately led Edryd to become ashamed of himself; of all the voices to be raised in his defence, Sagris’ was by far the least welcome. More and more these days Edryd found himself wishing they had just left him where they’d found him.
Edryd had been with his chief that fateful day, when their party had stumbled across the Basian slave knifing his former master. The Oaken Bridge men had been too late to fight in the great battle at Nantwyn, but they had proved themselves useful in rounding up fleeing legionaries who might otherwise have escaped the Caledon. And of course, they had found General Lepidus.
His sorcerer had abandoned him it seemed, shortly after he and the general had killed a scouting party of Gorvicae. Sagris had told them how the magicker had disappeared into a green mist and how his master had been enraged by his desertion. Lepidus had threatened to flay his slave alive simply for having witnessed it and Sagris had realised he had no choice but to kill him first. Edryd could still remember the little man scurrying up to Taliesyn and himself, thanking them all for coming to his rescue. As if they’d done anything.
Edryd forced his mind back to the present. The Basian was now standing with his hands cupped before him, awaiting his new master’s commentary. Taliesyn spoke over his shoulder, a concerned look on his face. Edryd couldn’t blame him. I’d be worried too if I was sat in that chair.
‘I have no wish to kill him Sagris. He has been a loyal man for many years. But after all that has happened…’
He left it hanging in the air and for a moment Edryd considered bolting. He was close to the door to the hall after all, and there might well be people still in there. They would not dare to kill him in front of witnesses, would they? Sagris’ eyes met his and he seemed to read the tribesman’s thoughts. He shook his head very subtly. Edryd stayed put. He tried telling himself it was out of loyalty to his old chief but he knew he was fooling no-one. The Basian spoke calmly to the chieftain.
‘All has gone as intended my friend, or mostly as intended. You are the chieftain now after all.’
Taliesyn grimaced.
‘Just barely, and with far more complications involved than you led me to think.’
Sagris shrugged his narrow shoulders.
‘All life is complicated.’
The chieftain didn’t seem comforted, and Edryd couldn’t blame him for that either. Sagris had known him a matter of days before coming up with his plan for how to win him Baercban’s chair, and damned near everything he had predicted had come to pass with a disturbing accuracy. Just how many complicated things did this foreigner know? And how many had he told them about?
If Taliesyn was thinking the same thoughts as Edryd, he didn’t voice them.
‘So, what now for Karadoc? He can still cause us much trouble.’
He was speaking to Sagris but it was Edryd who grimaced. He already had one murder on his soul. At the least. The Basian sounded relaxed.
‘He will be dealt with, but it cannot be straight away. Murders that benefit a man directly are never wise. It was a risk removing Boryn. We are fortunate so much else has happened to draw men’s eyes away from his death.’
Taliesyn’s voice became defensive.
‘He would have caused immediate problems and besides, he was already old.’
Once again, Sagris answered casually.
‘I do not say it was not necessary, merely that it was a risk.’
Taliesyn looked as if he’d have been more comfortable if the Basian had argued. A simple fight would feel fresh after all of Sagris’ promises and plotting. The chieftain pressed his lips together and looked first at one of them, and then the other. Edryd didn’t like that look.
‘And what of the Wolf? And the Wildcat?’
Edryd prayed quietly, to gods who would be quite justified in ignoring him, that he would be given no more murders to commit. He was Gorvicae damn it all, it was not their way! But Sagris simply smiled and bowed his head to the chieftain.
‘All in good time. Patience, my friend. Patience.’
About the Author
JP Harker is the pen-name of James Thomas, an obsessive martial artist and a committed geek of various types, who apparently didn’t drive his fiancée mad enough with those things and so took up writing fantasy books as well. A proud Welshman with just enough Saxon in him to make things interesting, James hails from glamorous Glamorgan where he currently works in the exciting world of hospital admin.
www.jpharker.co.uk
J P Harker, Leaping Wolf
