The Long War 01 - The Black Guard (63 page)

He tried to focus on the fact that Joror had agreed to help them and not to dwell on the
Rham Jas Rami saves the world
element. He’d killed one of the Seven Sisters, almost by accident, but to conspire to kill them all struck him as a little out of his league.

Brom and Nanon had been talking about Canarn and they had similar ideas about how to approach a potential assault. Nanon had spent enough time with Rham Jas to have a good grasp of humour and irony, and Brom had responded well to the forest-dweller’s blunt appraisal of their chances.

‘If we kill enough of them quickly, we can win,’ Nanon was saying. ‘If not, we’ll all get killed.’

‘We don’t know how many there are,’ responded Brom as he took a sip of his own tea. ‘And Joror has yet to tell me how many of you will be coming with us.’

Nanon tilted his head, indicating that, despite his peculiarities, he was still Dokkalfar.

‘Does it matter?’ he asked.

Rham Jas knew that the forest-dwellers had a strange grasp of numbers. They found the concept of armies difficult to understand, because they generally thought in terms of individuals. As a long-lived race, they did not think of anyone as expendable or less important than any other, whereas the race of men had a habit of fielding masses of faceless soldiers. Rank, wealth and law left humans constantly questioning their station in life, and the habit of placing one man above another inevitably created a structure of perceived importance. This was bewildering to the Dokkalfar, who had no concept of leadership or seniority, but rather a society built on shared need and respect.

Brom was unaware of this and said, ‘Of course it matters. If they have two thousand knights, we need enough to stand against them.’

‘We’ll have whoever comes with us,’ responded Nanon, in a way that infuriated Brom. ‘And that will have to be enough.’

‘Enough?’ Brom asked with irritation. ‘Enough is whatever takes back my home.’

‘Then whoever we have will have to be enough,’ Nanon repeated.

Rham Jas thought he should interject before Brom became too annoyed. ‘Your Brown cleric friend will be able to give us an idea of numbers. If you and I go and see him first, we’ll form a plan based on that.’ This calmed his friend somewhat. ‘Nanon, do you have any black wart?’ Rham Jas asked, his ever-present grin becoming broad enough to cover his whole face.

Both of them looked up at the Kirin – Nanon smiling and Brom looking confused.

‘I’m sure I could find some,’ replied the Dokkalfar. ‘What are you thinking, Kirin man?’

‘I’m thinking about a way to thin the ranks of knights and give us a chance.’ Rham Jas was used to coming up with creative ways of killing people and a few sacks of Dokkalfar black wart would make a lovely surprise for the knights of the Red.

‘I know I’m only an ignorant Ro,’ said Brom, exasperated, ‘but what the fuck is black wart?’

‘It’s like Karesian fire or Ranen pitch, but…’ Rham Jas looked at Nanon and grinned, ‘it’s a little more explosive than flammable.’

Something seemed to occur to Nanon. ‘That reminds me, every Dokkalfar that falls must be burned to ash within a few hours of death.’

Brom looked back at him. ‘That’s the Ro way of doing things anyway. Is it a particular funeral rite of your people?’

‘No, it’s simply the best way of stopping a hundred new Dark Young sprouting up from our bodies,’ he said with deep sorrow in his eyes. ‘Our gift from Jaa caused us to burst into flame upon death. But now we are without the Fire Giant’s gift, and we need to think of other solutions… in your terminology, it’s quite shit.’

* * *

They had spent a restless few hours trying to sleep in the high trees and now, just after midnight, they found themselves at the edge of the Deep Wood.

Brom stood next to Rham Jas and the two of them looked out across the duchy of Canarn. The young lord was wistful as he had his first glimpse of his home since he had been named to the Black Guard.

On either side of them a line of Tyr emerged from the trees, each carrying several small woven sacks containing explosive Dokkalfar black wart as well as a number of knives for throwing and fighting. Their blades were heavy and leaf-shaped with ornately designed handles, far more beautiful than the functional weapons of men. Brom had acquired one of the blades and wore it in his belt as a secondary weapon, and Rham Jas had been given a fresh quiver of finely crafted arrows, several of which had black wart on their tips. Both their swords had been sharpened and their armour reinforced with hard wooden struts. The two men felt as ready for combat as they would ever be.

They had forty Dokkalfar Tyr with them, including Nanon, Sigurd and the huge figure of Rafn. They were an intimidating presence, even to Rham Jas, but he was sceptical whether their numbers were sufficient. As things stood, they didn’t even know how many knights held Canarn and it would require a stealthy incursion to see Brother Lanry before they could even begin to formulate a plan.

‘Bronwyn had better still be alive,’ grunted Brom, focusing on his sister’s safety to distract himself from the dangerous job at hand.

Rham Jas simply nodded.

CHAPTER 8

Bronwyn rose early from her bed and walked up to the forward battlements of Ro Hail. She had been sharing a small room with Stone Dog’s mother, an old wise-woman of Wraith called Freya Cold Eyes, while Al-Hasim slept in the communal room surrounded by the Free Company men.

They’d be in Ro Hail for nearly two weeks while Horrock Green Blade and Haffen Red Face supervised the fortifications of the ruined city. The gate had been rebuilt using solid planks of hard wood, the battlements reinforced with fallen stones and mortar, and the buildings surrounding the central courtyard turned into axe-throwing platforms. The two hundred and fifty men of Wraith Company had gone about their tasks with gusto and solidarity, daily prepared to undertake back-breaking work in order to defend their land. Now, as time was beginning to run out, the city looked like a fort rather than a ruin.

‘You can’t hold it, you know,’ Hasim was saying to Haffen as Bronwyn walked up the stone staircase leading to the gatehouse battlements overlooking the Grass Sea to the south.

‘Horrock thinks we can,’ replied the man of Wraith.

Hasim looked doubtful. ‘No, he doesn’t, he’s just hoping that you can hold them off long enough for Scarlet Company to arrive.’

‘What’s wrong with that?’ Haffen asked with slight annoyance.

‘How many men does Johan Long Shadow command at South Warden?’

Haffen shrugged. ‘I don’t know… maybe a thousand axe-men.’

‘A thousand… added to your two hundred and fifty makes one thousand two hundred and fifty – against five thousand knights, clerics and guardsmen. You can’t win,’ Hasim said plainly.

‘And the Fjorlanders?’ Haffen showed a stubborn refusal to accept defeat, a trait Bronwyn had noticed frequently among the men of Wraith Company.

‘If they come, they’ll come by sea and attack Canarn, which means they won’t be here for a month at least. You can’t hold out that long. I hate to say it, but you should listen to Verellian.’ Hasim had counselled a withdrawal in line with the Red knight’s insistence that a massacre would help no one.

‘Horrock says we stay, so we stay,’ Haffen grunted.

Bronwyn reached the battlements and approached the two men. It was just starting to grow light and the wind was biting and cold as it whistled north off the Grass Sea. Both men wore armour, though Hasim’s was light and made of leather, in sharp contrast to the heavy chain mail worn by Haffen. Bronwyn had not yet donned her armour and wore a simple cotton dress which Freya had provided.

‘We could still fall back,’ she said by way of a greeting.

‘Don’t you start…’ snapped Haffen. ‘You two don’t represent the bravery of Ro and Karesians, do you?’

‘Do you represent the stubborn pig-headedness of the Ranen?’ Bronwyn shot back.

‘You say stubbornness, we say honour… did you roll over and accept the Red knights when they marched into your home?’ Haffen asked, not happy at being ganged up on.

Bronwyn smiled slightly and shook her head. ‘I didn’t get much chance to fight, but no… I didn’t,’ she conceded.

The Grass Sea was barren and quiet as the three of them gazed southwards. The rain had stayed away for the past few days and, though a mist clung stubbornly to the plains, the weather had been kind to the defenders of Ro Hail, allowing them fair conditions to fortify their base. Most of the entrances to the underground complex had been sealed and Freya had been given the task of protecting the young and infirm once the time came to fight. Behind them, men of Wraith began their daily duties of patrolling and construction, intended by Horrock to keep every man ready for when the army arrived.

Bronwyn liked these men – they were commoners who had chosen to join the Free Companies and to defend the lands of Ranen from invaders. Although they had not been required to repel an attacking army for decades, they were stubborn now that the time was rapidly approaching when they might be required to die for their land.

‘Al-Hasim,’ shouted Stone Dog from below, ‘Horrock wants you downstairs.’

The young man of Wraith had been assigned by the captain to look after William of Verellian during the knight’s incarceration and this meant both Bronwyn and Hasim had spent much time with him. He was a proud young man who spoke with conviction about his duty to Wraith Company and the Freelands of Ranen, and he never went anywhere without his large, hook-pointed axe.

‘What does he want?’ asked Hasim.

‘I don’t know, just get your arse down here.’ Stone Dog was frequently aggressive and blunt in his language, but he was a consummate soldier and did whatever Horrock asked of him, whether he thought it worthwhile or not.

‘All right, give me a minute,’ replied Hasim wearily. ‘Maybe I’ll get some sleep one of these days.’ He winked at Bronwyn before turning to walk down the stairs.

‘Lady Bronwyn too,’ shouted Stone Dog.

‘What does he want with me?’

‘How am I any more likely to know that than what he wants with the Karesian?’ he asked ironically. ‘Just get a move on, he’s impatient.’

Haffen smiled broadly and pulled his bearskin cloak tightly around his shoulders as the wind picked up and Bronwyn and Hasim turned to leave.

They walked down the newly repaired stone steps which ran parallel to the forward defences and headed across the courtyard. Either side of them, where before there had been only crumbling stone ruins, there now stood wooden constructions built to defend inwards should the knights breach the city gates. Bronwyn could see men of Wraith moving bundles of throwing-axes around and stowing them in hidden places behind the fortifications. The men were all clad in chain mail and Bronwyn knew they’d been on high alert for several days now, expecting an attack at any moment. From the newly constructed wooden walls, stairs had been built leading up to the stone battlements that looked out over the Grass Sea, and men stood at the high points, keeping a watch on the realm of Wraith.

Although the city was now well defended, Bronwyn could still not conceive how so few men could turn back five thousand knights of the Red.

‘You and I could leave, you know?’ Hasim said, echoing her thoughts. ‘None of them would blame us if we fled north.’

Bronwyn looked at him and considered chiding him for cowardice, but she had to admit to herself that the idea of escape had occurred to her over the past two weeks.

‘I couldn’t do it,’ she said. ‘Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t bring myself to abandon them.’

Hasim stopped and held Bronwyn’s arm, pulling her to face him. ‘You’re not thinking about drawing that toothpick and attacking the knights are you?’

‘I’m not staying in the basement with Freya. I have as many reasons to want to fight the knights as any man of Wraith.’ Bronwyn knew that Hasim would play the part of a protector sooner or later, because his friendship with her brother dictated that he should try to take care of her.

‘They won’t think twice about cutting you down, noble or not. These men are not coming here to make a point: the fuckers are marching to war; they want to invade and conquer Ranen.’ Hasim had a deadly serious look in his eyes as he spoke.

Stone Dog was a little way ahead of them and had reached one of the few doors to the basement that was still visible. He noticed that Bronwyn and Hasim had stopped in the courtyard and the young man of Wraith turned back to face them.

‘Am I interrupting something?’ he asked, with a mocking tone in his voice. ‘I know you two foreigners need your sexual tension in order to function, but hurry the fuck up.’

Al-Hasim laughed and playfully slapped Bronwyn’s behind. She didn’t wait for more than a second before turning and punching him hard in the face. Stone Dog erupted in laughter and Hasim staggered back, feeling his bloody lip.

‘Brom would kill you if he saw you doing that,’ she threatened with a smile. ‘And I might if you touch my arse again.’

Stone Dog sauntered slowly over to stand next to Hasim. ‘When you’ve quite finished your bizarre flirting ritual,’ he said with a grin. ‘Horrock is long-suffering, but he did say to hurry up.’