Leaping Wolf, page 9
part #2 of Caledon Saga Series
‘He was badly wounded when Sawel and Gorin found him,’ he nodded to the two Caderyn who’d carried him in, ‘and I fear he has only grown weaker.’
Gawan looked at the two men. One was old and grizzled-looking with a pot belly and greying hair while the other was a lanky youth, little more than a boy, with watery eyes and a wispy moustache. Bradan gestured to a third man.
‘This is Dyfan, who brought him to us from Niswyn.’ He looked earnestly at Rhianwyn. ‘They have come with terrible news.’
Most of the hall looked at the man he indicated but he shied away from their gaze nervously. Gawan got the impression that the Darin might well be simple-minded, and he cowered behind Bradan a little. Hywel and Kyran were gently raising Fearghal’s head and it seemed they hoped to get some sense from him before he crossed the bridge. Now that he looked, Gawan could see that the man’s breeches too were soaked through with blood and he was fairly sure he smelled corruption from his wound. He was not long for this world. The Gorvic druid shook his head at Rhianwyn, confirming Gawan’s suspicions.
‘We have taken much of his pain, but there is little more to be done. Had he come to us a few days ago maybe...?’
He tailed off with a gesture and what looked like genuine sadness on his face. No matter the tribe a druid cared for life above all things, and both Hywel and his Caderyn brother seemed distraught that they could not help the dying islander. Rhianwyn nodded back, her features grave but understanding.
‘You have done all you can, father. We cannot ask more.’ She turned her attention to the fallen man. ‘Can you speak at all, um...?’
She seemed to flounder and Kyran, gripping the man’s hand hard in his own, supplied the name.
‘Fearghal!’
His voice was quiet as ever but there was anger in it, though whether at Rhianwyn’s forgetfulness or at those responsible for his brother’s wounds, Gawan couldn’t tell. Probably both. The Caderyn chief looked suitably apologetic and spoke again.
‘Forgive me Fearghal.’
The man still looked pale as death but he did not wince as he replied.
‘I can speak.’
His voice was weaker than a child’s and Gawan had to lean forward to hear him. Kyran held the man’s hand even tighter.
‘Brother, what has happened to you?’
For a few heartbeats he said nothing and simply stared blankly at his First Man. He seemed not to know where he was and blinked rapidly several times. Hywel placed a hand on his forehead and the Gadarim seemed to calm a little, his eyes turning towards where Rhianwyn stood. Then he took a few breaths and seemed to muster his nerve, and the dying man told her his tale.
*
By the time Fearghal was done all the Gadarim and half the hall were on their feet. Kyran’s face was white with rage, and he was the first to speak as his brother sank back onto the straw, exhausted.
‘Caserach will die for this, brother! I’ll nail his head to a ship’s prow and he can drink salt until his flesh melts!’
All around there were sounds of agreement and Gawan nodded his head along with the others. Former enemy or not the murder of a Gadarim, and a High Chieftain no less, could not be tolerated. He stepped up to Kyran and put a hand on the lean man’s shoulder.
‘I will come with you to avenge our brother.’
Similar promises came from a dozen other Gadarim, Gorvic and Caderyn alike. There were few enough Dariniae in the hall but they made their voices sound out louder than all the others as they swore vengeance for their slain chieftain. Behind him Gawan heard Rhianwyn calling out for calm, and even before Owain started banging on the table the hubbub began quietening down. She took a breath to speak but a nervous voice came out of the silence before she could.
‘Could this not be a mistake? After losing so much blood...’
Like with Emeryn’s comment earlier Gawan suspected he had not meant to be heard by everyone and Sawel, the young Mobryn man who’d spoken, looked shamefaced as his words carried through the hall. Tarwyn responded in a very controlled voice, and Gawan suspected there were few men there beside himself who would sense the anger beneath the words.
‘Would a Gadarim lie to us about the murder of his chief?’
The boy shook his head and backed away a little. In all likelihood he had spoken purely out of fear, not wanting to believe what he had heard.
‘Of course not, forgive me.’
Bradan spoke up, partly to cover his man’s embarrassment.
‘So, what are we to do? We are all of us sworn to the Caledon, should we not unite to help our neighbours?’
Kyran nodded curtly.
‘Assistance would be appreciated. Caserach is not loved by my people but many will fear him and think they have no other choice for a leader, especially now he has shown that he is not above murdering his rivals.’
His normally hard voice now sounded like it might kill all on its own, and Gawan thought he would have spat in disgust had he not been in a chieftain’s hall. Once again Rhianwyn began to speak but Alraig got there before her.
‘I agree we must send help, but we need some greater plan than just rushing off to Niswyn this very instant.’
There were nods, mainly from the senior men there, and Rhianwyn nodded too.
‘Fearghal, is there any more of help that you can tell us?’
All eyes went to the Darin but he was lying motionless and silent, and Hywel looked up and shook his head at them. He gently closed Fearghal’s staring eyes with one wrinkled hand.
‘It was a miracle that he lived as long as he did. He held on until he felt his duty done and now his spirit has moved onward.’ He shook his head again with sadness in his eyes. ‘A remarkable man. May he cross the bridge unharmed.’
The hall echoed the blessing and all around it open hands were placed over hearts.
‘May he cross unharmed.’
Gawan spoke the next words only in his head, and he knew the other Gadarim would do the same. Mabonac guide you, brother.
Rhianwyn’s voice was the first to break the silence.
‘You may take his body home should you think it right, Kyran. But I offer him a barrow among the bravest of Caderyn fallen, should you wish it.’
The Dariniae’s First Man had tears in his eyes but he bowed his head respectfully to the chieftain.
‘Any Gadarim would be honoured to sleep beside men like Smiling Fox. I accept.’ Rhia nodded back and Kyran turned to Alraig. ‘A strategy would indeed be wise if you are to come to our aid, but I ride for the coast at first light.’
Gawan was the first to answer that.
‘I shall ride with you.’
His offer prompted a dozen others, including Emeryn, to raise their voices in support, but just as many were voicing caution and the hall was soon chaotic with noise. Owain banged the high table hard enough to topple one of the jugs and eventually the arguing died down. Rhianwyn raised her hands to speak. She was too short to be seen by everyone but her words carried well through the crowd.
‘I shall consult with my chief advisors regarding strategy, but Kyran is right in saying that we must not delay. The Caledon has a duty to protect all the tribes within it and more than that, Ierryn’s spirit must be laid to rest. Without him and his people we might all have perished at Nantwyn. He served his tribe and the Caledon with courage and loyalty, and his bridge to the Otherworld will be a broad one indeed.’
The blessing for him had already been said but the Dariniae and a few others still placed hands over their hearts and muttered the words under their breath.
‘But before he crosses it he will wish to know that justice has been done, and that the people of Niswyn are not ruled by this murderer.’
Gawan agreed, surprised that he did not feel more conflicted. For years Ierryn the Black had been the scourge of the coast, Caderyn and Gorvicae alike, and he had only been their ally for a moon’s turn or so. Yet Gawan felt almost as angry as if one of his own people had died, not a lifelong enemy whose death he’d once thought he would celebrate. But then the man was formidable, even among Gadarim, and without him we would have been lost. Foe or not he deserved a better end than a knife in his back from a kinsman.
Boryn answered first. He lacked the obvious anger of Kyran but like Rhianwyn, he spoke with passion.
‘I say we let Caserach and whatever traitors that stand with him feel the might of the Dragon Legion!’
Gawan nodded to his fellow Gorvic.
‘Aye. My cohort and Kyran’s together would scatter them like Samhain apples before a gale!’
Both cohorts were severely depleted after Nantwyn but nonetheless Marius had taught them to fight together in a solid shieldwall, and even weakened they were more than a match for a rabble of Dariniae. The hall rumbled with approval and once again, Kyran nodded his thanks.
‘We shall be grateful for the help, but I shall be the one to take Caserach’s head from his shoulders.’
His tone was not the type that invited argument and Gawan returned the nod smartly before clasping wrists with the man.
‘Agreed.’
He turned to face Rhianwyn and looked into her eyes.
‘Will the Caderyn come with us?’
For all that he was confident that his and Kyran’s cohorts were enough, it would be good for Rhianwyn to show solidarity among the Caledon. Besides, the greater the odds in our favour, the fewer loyal warriors will die. Her face was grave but she nodded her head.
‘I had hoped to avoid more bloodshed so soon after the horrors we have faced, but this crime cannot go unpunished, no matter how much we wish for peace. The Caledon must show this wretch what we think of those who murder their own kin. The Caderyn will send a cohort to march alongside the others, and Caserach will feel the Dragon’s fire for this foul act of treachery!’
The cheer that went up was almost deafening and even the nervous-looking Sawel raised a fist and shouted with them. Cries to the War Gods, and of ‘Caderyn!’, ‘Gorvicae!’ and ‘Dariniae!’ went up, and Gawan was surprised at how many also shouted, ‘Caledon!’ or ‘Wildcat!’
Belatedly, he thought about how the Gorvicae moot would now have to wait even longer. And there’ll be yet another one for the Dariniae after all this – what a bloody mess! But that didn’t matter for now; there was battle to be getting to. Emeryn was grinning fiercely between her cheers and Gawan struggled to keep a smile from his own face. Battered though it was the Dragon Legion would crush anything that Caserach could throw at them, and they would likely not fight alone in any case. There were plenty of fighters from each tribe who were not part of the legion but who would still want to come with them to Niswyn and deal out justice to this murderer. Gawan sneered quietly. This would-be chieftain would be a mound of sand trying to stop the oncoming tide.
He looked around and saw Tarwyn and Gwydion and the others, all bellowing out oaths and warcries as they clapped shoulders with warriors of the Dariniae and the Caderyn. You wouldn’t think they had only just come from the hardest fight of their lives. Gawan felt a swell of pride in his chest to know these men were his brothers.
He looked to Rhianwyn, who was standing up straight with her face set firmly, but he was sure he saw a sadness in her eyes as she heard them roar. She was no coward but he could tell she wasn’t keen to see more death. You can hardly blame her for that I suppose, not after all she’s seen. But this shouldn’t mean too much bloodshed, at least not on our part. Caserach would be cowed quickly and then she could go back to running the tribes in peace. Assuming they let her, which likely they would. For himself Gawan had no wish to see his comrades placed in danger again, but like the others he was swept up in the eagerness for combat. After his fears of what a Gadarim would do with himself without warfare, here was perhaps his final chance to let Heartreaver taste blood again. The Caledon could be something for Rhianwyn to care about for a few days more, while he marched off to do the thing that he had always done best. He gave in and smiled down at Emeryn as she cheered away with the others, and let himself go in the euphoria of heading off to a righteous fight. The Dragon Legion would ride forth and destroy a foe who had damned well earned his fate. Gawan came perilously close to actually grinning. Caserach did not stand a chance.
Chapter 7. The Raid
The Caderyn headman kept a pair of hulking dogs at his longhall, probably thinking they would intimidate any would-be attackers. Many men who would gladly charge someone brandishing a sword or an axe would baulk at the thought of dogs being set upon him. But of course, Caserach was no common man. The first of the black hounds leaped at him with its massive teeth bared, but the Darin sidestepped neatly and swung a backslash into its ribs. Greyfang didn’t bite deep but it was enough to make the animal yelp with pain and it tumbled to the ground behind him. The second beast was not so quick to attack and Caserach smashed the sword across its muzzle in a heavy two-handed stroke. The iron half-severed the black hound’s jaw and Caserach’s next blow hammered down onto its head, splitting the skull almost in two and spattering the Darin chief with canine blood and brains.
The warrior spun on the spot, careful not to slip in the pink-and-red mess, and turned to face the first beast that had charged him. It was on its feet and seemed ready to launch itself again but Idwal appeared from behind it with his axe already raised, and he buried the narrow blade deep into the hound’s broad back. The dog whimpered pathetically but then another stroke crashed into the base of its neck and the black beast dropped, as silent as stone. The chief who’d set them loose came charging at them, screaming defiance, but he was a stout old man who had hidden behind his hounds and was no match for the Dariniae raiders.
The Caderyn tried to rush them but Caserach slipped left while Idwal went right, and the white-bearded man whipped his head from side to side, unsure of what to do. He jabbed out at Idwal before lunging at Caserach, but the Darin parried him with ease and scored a counter-cut on his shoulder. The man cried out and fell back, though he kept his blade up. He swung clumsily at Idwal but the rangy Darin shuffled back out of range, and before the chief could turn to face him again, Caserach had stepped inside his reach and hammered Greyfang’s guard into his head. The old Caderyn crumpled, red blood staining his white hair, and his sword hit the mud a mere heartbeat before his wrinkled face. He was probably still alive and Caserach nodded to Idwal to watch him while the chieftain cast his eyes around the settlement.
The late afternoon sun was dipping in the west but there was still plenty of clear light to show the scene. Three Willows was a middle-sized village set on a low hill that was barely a bump in the rolling landscape. A little more than a hundred houses were dotted around the hillside and plain, and nearly every occupant who could hold a stick was fighting hard. Caserach had brought nearly two hundred warriors with him from Niswyn, and Three Willows had almost as many people of fighting age. On another day it might have been a fair fight, but as a rule that was something Caserach did not approve of.
In fairness to them the Caderyn had responded quickly to the raiders’ attack, but the element of surprise had been a crucial advantage and the Dariniae clearly held the upper hand. Caserach liked to take credit for that but it probably helped that the islanders were the only ones wearing battle-marks, and so Taran was likely watching over them more keenly than he was the Caderyn. He smirked. Even so far from Morannan’s waves the gods were still on his side. But then the old words are true; the gods love the strong.
Not that the Dariniae were having it all their own way. Caserach watched as a female Caderyn, with stringy copper hair and a face like a pig, hacked brutally into Gerat’s stomach and spilled his entrails onto the mud. She thudded her axe into his belly a couple more times for good measure before whipping a knife across his throat, screaming in his face as he bled. Gerat toppled, and the ugly bitch yanked her axe free of his guts as he fell. She turned to face Caserach with a snarl on her lips.
She charged forward with a shout and tried a low swing at the Darin’s midriff, but Caserach was a strong man and Greyfang stopped the blow cold. The Caderyn recovered quickly and tried to slash her knife at his head but the sword was back up in an eyeblink and the iron bit deep into her forearm. She cried out and Caserach took her by the wrist and pulled hard as he shoved his blade into her neck. The initial cut went in clean but then he wrenched it sideways to open up a gaping wound, and the woman staggered backwards, gurgling. She was already dying but Caserach’s blood was up, and another swipe of his blade took her head clean off her shoulders. Her body thudded to the ground and continued twitching for a few moments, a dark pool slowly forming on the muddy grass.
The Darin looked around. It was as good as done by now and most would know it, but these Caderyn could be damnably proud and the fewer of them he left alive, the fewer people there would be to pay the tribute. So long as their best warriors were cut down in the fight, the rest of them should be cowed enough to do as they were told by the victors. Caserach half-smiled to himself. Like any predator grazing a herd we take what we must without wiping them out. I for one don’t feel like farming this land myself!
But before that could be sorted out they had to call a halt to all this. The tall Darin stalked back to the fallen headman and dragged him up by a handful of white hair.
‘Tell them it is enough.’
The old man gargled something unintelligible and Caserach dealt him three rapid punches to the face. His nose almost burst in two, streaming with blood which stained his straggly beard red before dripping from his chin into the mud. Darin shouted down at him.
‘Say enough!’
If this kept up for too long not only would people who could be paying him end up dead but also, much more importantly, Caserach’s own force might be further depleted. The old man croaked out what sounded like compliance but it was too quiet for anyone to hear. Caserach hauled him fully to his feet and raised his own voice above the din of combat.
‘Enough! Enough!’
