by Robert Ryan
And if Char-harash were rebirthed, how great would his powers be then? Could he really ascend above all the gods? What strife would that cause among them? Would there be wars, of gods and men, as there had been in the ancient past?
One thing was clear though. The army coming to their aid was key. Through this, other lands and realms would be conquered. Blood would be spilled, and worshipers converted by the sword. Nor would the god-king stop. Once the Duthgar fell, the next realm would follow. And the next.
It was the path to glory for his people. But the price in blood would be high.
8. Is it True?
The army moved forward, and Brand was the head of it, the Helm of the Duthenor marking him as leader, if not king. Though he allowed no one to call him that. Time enough to make choices like that later. For the moment, deeds counted more. And the task at hand was to travel swiftly and try to surprise the enemy.
They left the forest, and entered a different type of land. It was flatter here, and green fields and farmhouses dominated the scenery. Many of the houses had turfed roofs, which Brand found a little strange. But they existed in the Duthgar too, and he knew they were effective.
The Duthgar was behind them though. Now, they had entered into the lands of the Callenor. At least the edge that bordered the wild country to the south.
There was no one in the fields. No farmer worked, tending cattle or sheep. The land seemed deserted, but Brand knew it was not so. They were in those houses, watching and waiting and hoping the army passed without incident.
The road was no longer the High Way. It was dilapidated and narrow. But it served their purposes and the army moved quickly along it. So too the scouts, and they began to bring word of an armed force ahead.
This was not unexpected. They were Callenor warriors. But how they would react to a joined army of Duthenor and Callenor warriors was another matter. No word had yet come back to Brand in reply to the messages that had been sent.
Brand turned to Furthgil, the gray-bearded lord of the Callenor who accompanied him in the leadership group.
“What will these warriors ahead be thinking?” he asked.
The man stroked his beard carefully. “They’ll have heard of events. They’ve not replied yet, but my messengers will have reached them. How they’ll respond is impossible to say. I think they’ll join you, but they’ll be uncertain.”
That was what Brand thought himself. All they would really know was rumor. They would doubt what they learned, but they would know one fact for certain. An army had entered their land. The way ahead was dangerous.
The news did not alter Brand’s plan though. The army continued, though he gave strict instructions that no one was to leave the road. He did not want any incidents, and the tenseness in the air told him there would be if his warriors trampled fields, some with ripening wheat, oats and barley, or if they helped themselves to a stray pig or fattened steer. Farmers didn’t take kindly to that, and he didn’t blame them.
Soon, the road wound around in a loop to avoid a scattering of hills, and on the other side the gathering of Callenor warriors came into view.
Brand studied them. They were arrayed for battle, yet there were only a few hundred of them. They could not intend an attack. Not unless it was a trap. Yet his scouts had reported no other gathering of soldiers.
Warily, Brand went ahead. His gaze missed nothing of the countryside round about. Every copse was scrutinized, every fold of the land studied for potential enemies. It was not that he doubted his scouts, it was just that a man was a fool if he left his life unnecessarily in the hands of others.
He drew the army to a halt a quarter of a mile away from the gathered Callenor warriors. To go further was to invite battle. Now was a time for diplomacy. It was a time for words, not a show of arms.
Sighern felt nervous. He was not sure why. The Callenor warriors ahead were not a threat. There were too few of them. Yet it was an important moment. How they acted might determine, probably would determine, how the remaining Callenor warriors throughout the land acted. It was important that hostilities were avoided. It was even more important that every single warrior capable of fighting joined Brand’s army and fought with him. How else could he have a chance of winning the great battle to come? How else could he hope to defeat gods, as the Lady of the Land said he must attempt to do?
At just that moment, Brand had called him over and he did not know why. Furthgil was already there, and it was plain that he would be sent to speak to his countrymen. What need had either of them for him?
“I have a job for you, Sighern.”
“Name it, and I’ll do it,” he replied quickly.
Brand grinned. “You’re always so quick to agree. I like that, but it could see you in trouble before the end.”
“No man gets through life without trouble.”
Brand sighed at that. “True enough. Hopefully there’ll be none now. I want you to go over to the Callenor tribesmen,” he gestured with his hand toward the warriors ahead. “You’re my spokesman. Tell them I want their help. Tell them why. And answer any of their questions with honesty.”
This was not what Sighern expected. Why on earth would Brand send him? He was barely old enough to fight as a warrior, though he had accounted himself well lately.
“As you wish.”
Brand studied him. “You have no questions?”
Sighern shrugged. “Your instructions are clear enough. Do I go alone?”
“No. Furthgil will go with you. He’ll represent the Callenor that have already joined my army. But you represent me.”
“Very well.” He glanced at the Callenor lord. “We might as well get going.”
But Brand was not quite done. He went to his horse and retrieved the Raven Axe of the Callenor. “Take this with you.”
Sighern took the weapon, and he felt the hard gaze of the Callenor lord upon him. He understood. It was a symbol of the Callenor, and it should not be in his hands. And yet it was Brand’s now, and he had given it to him, at least for a little while. Furthgil would just have to accept that. The why of things did not matter, although Sighern would certainly try to figure it out. It seemed strange to him.
“Good luck,” Brand said. “And remember. I need these men, and all the others like them. If they join me, the rest will more easily follow their example.”
Sighern gave a bow. It was not something that he normally did, and Brand never encouraged it anyway. The Duthenor were free men, although it was said that men groveled to kings and lords in the cities far to the east such as Cardoroth.
He left then, Furthgil leading his horse by his side, until Sighern mounted his own. Then they nudged the horses forward toward the Callenor warriors.
Furthgil said nothing. The man seemed upset, and Sighern did not blame him. Possibly, the lord had more claim to the Raven Axe than any other. Certainly more than he did.
He hefted it in his hand. It was much lighter than it looked. A careful inspection revealed that the handle was not even wood. It was some sort of metal, strong but very light. It was hollow too. This was why it was so light, and there were slits in it. This was what caused the strange sounds when it was swung through the air. Ingenious.
They merely rode the horses toward the gathered warriors at a walk. Anything faster could give the wrong impression, and that might end badly. But it gave him time to think, too.
Why had Brand sent him? Why had he given him the axe? He could not be sure, but it seemed to him that a leader accrued authority by others doing his bidding. Had Brand gone over himself, it would have lowered his status. That much was easy enough to see. But anyone could carry out such a task, and most were better trained and more experienced than he was.
That was a line of thought that yielded something. Brand was not stupid. He knew all this better than he did himself. So, was there a benefit in sending someone over to accomplish the task who was young and inexperienced?
It took him a few moments, but then the answer bec
ame clear. Brand had picked him for exactly those reasons. He was young and inexperienced. He was no trained negotiator. The warriors he was going to talk to would know that instantly. They would discern quickly if he lied, exaggerated or tried to manipulate them. Not something he would have tried, but he also had Brand’s only advice to go by. Answer their questions with honesty.
Sighern was a lesser figure than the warriors he would talk to. He posed no threat. He would tell them the truth, and he would be trusted more than anyone else. The warriors would believe what he said more than anyone else, even Furthgil. He was one of their own, but he was old and wise enough to lie without being caught. Brand might have given him inducement to do so, in gold or some other reward.
It made sense. The worst choice was the best, and Sighern’s estimation of Brand went even higher than it was. But why give him the axe? Might that not cause animosity? The warriors would not like to see it in Duthenor hands.
For this also there would be a reason. It was just a matter of working it out. What would Brand achieve by it? No. That was the wrong way of thinking. It was not about Brand or the Duthenor. Everything was about the Callenor.
The Callenor warriors were clearly visible now, just a few hundred feet away. Soon, they would recognize the axe. What would they make of it?
One thing Sighern knew. It would not intimidate them. Not in his hands. Not when there was just he and Furthgil facing hundreds of them. That was surely not the purpose Brand had in mind. Was it intended to surprise them? Certainly it would. But was surprise an advantage? He did not think so. It would not achieve much.
There was no answer to the question. Giving him the axe served no purpose that he could see. But again, it was not about him, Brand or the Duthenor. It was all about the Callenor.
The warriors ahead would be surprised by it. And uncertain. They would not be able to decipher its meaning any better than he could.
He considered that. Uncertainty. It was a powerful mental state. It made people pause and think. It stopped them from rash actions. And more than that. It showed that Brand was not undecided. Rather the opposite. It showed that he knew what he was doing, and why, and all the more so because he was making decisions they did not understand themselves. As well, it showed that he was in complete control of not just the Duthenor but the Callenor with him.
Sighern grinned, and Furthgil gave him a strange look. But there was no time to explain what he thought now. Perhaps the other man already knew. Afterall, Brand had spoken to him first.
They drew their horses up, and dismounted before the line of warriors ahead of them. Sighern gazed at their faces. They were hard men. They were true warriors, and they carried themselves with that sort of casualness that could burst into deadly action in the blink of an eye.
Sighern admired that. Brand, Taingern and Shorty were like that as well, only more casual and more deadly. But he was used to it. He held it in the highest of esteem, but it did not scare him. These men would not attack him. It would be a cowardly act, and he knew just by looking at them that however violent they could be, it was controlled and directed only toward protecting themselves and their land.
He led his horse forward a few paces, holding the reins in one hand, while in the other he held the haft of the Raven Axe. He gripped it high, near the double-bladed head to indicate he had no intention of swinging it, but still the eyes of the warriors flickered between it and him, and their gazes were hard. They knew it for what it was.
Tension filled the air, and Sighern spoke first, before Furthgil who was both his elder and one of them.
“Hail, warriors. My name is Sighern, and I’ve come here at Brand’s bidding to talk.”
He was met with a wall of silence from all these men, but one stepped forward a pace and answered. He was, perhaps, a little older than the others. Certainly his armor and clothes were of a better quality. He was of the nobility and their leader.
“Hail, Sighern of the Duthenor. My name is Attar, and I lead this band. Hail also Furthgil, who once dwelt in Callenor lands.”
Furthgil grimaced. “I know you, Attar. Why do you say that I once lived in Callenor lands instead of calling me a Callenor? Do you truly believe my allegiance has changed?”
Attar looked him in the eye. “You’ve been gone from us a long time. And you come here now, you and other men who once lived here, joined to a Duthenor army. What am I to make of that?”
“You know why your countrymen are here,” Sighern said. “And why the Duthenor are as well. You’ll have received messages. But if you doubt them, then speak to us. Ask questions. I’ll hold nothing back, and answer you truly.”
Attar studied him, surprised again that he took the lead over Furthgil.
“We’ve received the messages. Interpreting them is another matter.”
“It makes sense to be cautious,” Sighern replied. “I don’t blame you. But now you have a chance for more than messages. I’ve been with Brand since first he returned to the Duthgar. I’ve seen everything with my own eyes. Where you have doubts, ask me and I’ll tell you what I know. Truthfully.”
The other man seemed thoughtful. It threw him that Sighern was in charge, and that Furthgil did nothing to try to change that. But he showed little of this on his face, even if a glimmer of uncertainty gleamed in his eyes. But it too was quickly suppressed, and he asked an unexpected question. Sighern was prepared to talk of gods and foreign armies, but Attar appeared to have other concerns, or at least was not yet willing to go direct to the heart of the matter.
“What’s Brand like? What sort of man is he?”
Sighern was not sure how to answer that. “What can I say? He’s like no other man I’ve ever met. There’s no one braver than he is. Time and again he’s risked his life for his people. I don’t think there’s anything he wouldn’t do for them. And the rumor is that he could have been king of Cardoroth had he wanted. But he kept his word and stayed regent only. He returned to the Duthgar, when he could have been a king, or lived like a king. That says it all.”
Attar pursed his lips. “So, Brand would die for his people, you think?”
Sighern didn’t hesitate. “He would. I believe that.”
The Callenor warrior nodded. “And what of you? Would you in turn die for Brand?”
Again, it was not the sort of question Sighern expected. But he answered it truthfully.
“No one knows for sure what they’re made of until they’re tested. But yes, I think I would. At the least, I hope I have the courage for that.”
Furthgil looked at him, then at Attar. “The boy has courage. Whatever else you doubt, don’t doubt that. He and one other accompanied Brand and walked into our camp to speak with Gormengil. Three surrounded by thousands. That took guts.”
Attar raised an eyebrow. “Guts indeed. I don’t doubt it.” He turned his gaze on Sighern again. “Tell me of this army that supposedly comes against us.”
“We know it’s coming. We don’t quite know where or when, but it’ll be near here and soon.”
“And who is this army made up of? What do they want?”
“They’re the Kirsch. They want to conquer the Duthgar and wake … I’m not sure. A long-dead king of theirs who is buried somewhere in the Duthgar. Supposedly he’ll be a god, and he’ll conquer the world if he isn’t stopped.”
“And you believe these myths? For surely that’s what they are.”
Sighern held himself tall. “If someone had just told me, perhaps I wouldn’t. But I’ve seen one of the gods of the Kirsch. She was real enough to me.”
“I saw her also,” Furthgil stated. “And sorcery besides. The times are changing, and the world shifts. There’s danger in every action, but the greatest danger is to do nothing and hope things pass us by.”
Attar looked at them long and hard. Then he glanced at the leaders of his men. What passed between them, Sighern could not tell. None of them spoke, but they still seemed to have arrived at a decision, or supported what decision they knew Att
ar had made.
He turned to Sighern. “Then we will join Brand and fight.”
Sighern slowly raised the Raven Axe. “I expected nothing else. You’re Callenor.”
9. A New Banner
Brand was pleased with what Sighern had done. Hundreds of Callenor warriors had joined his army, and Attar now rode in the leadership group. He was a minor lord, but he looked a hard man, and used to fighting. More importantly, he sent his own messengers out. Word of his joining Brand would spread. It would convince more to do the same.
The army pressed forward. A sense of urgency descended, and though Brand did not know where the enemy was or how close, he felt that soon the scouts would bring him word.
They moved across the edge of Callenor lands. It became flatter still, most unlike the Duthgar, and the turf-roofed houses became bigger. This was a more prosperous area, and Brand could see why.
There were many fields, and they were quite large. But each grew a good crop of some kind of cereal. Oats dominated in the Duthgar, but here it seemed to be wheat. The grain heads were filling, but harvest was still some way off.
Almost it seemed peaceful. The late summer sun shone warm and hot, but autumn was at hand. The fields rippled to every breeze, the grain heads nodding. It was drawing on to harvest time, a period of hard work and then celebration. There would be many barn dances, and beer would be drunk while sausages were made and hung from kitchen ceilings to smoke. It was a defiance of the hard winter to come. But this winter would be harder.
War was coming. Blood would be spilled and lives lost. Men who should reap wheat and thrash grain would instead cut and stab at an enemy. Women who should sing harvest songs would weep. And many would die, perhaps all, if he failed.