The Nine

by Terry Cloutier

  ​ Four riders at the center of the massed Ganders moved forward, breaking the moment, with two of them falling back respectfully behind the other two men. One of the men was young, perhaps no more than twenty-years old, and was built wide like a bull. His polished armour shone in the sunlight and his hair was long and black like mine and was swept back from his high forehead. A fine purple cloak was thrown over his shoulders and was clasped with an oversized Pair Stone.

  ​ “Prince Tyro, the king’s heir!” Jebido hissed in a whisper as he leaned toward Einhard.

  ​ If Einhard heard him, he gave no sign of it. He just sat stone-faced as the Ganders approached. I turned my eyes to the rider beside the prince, realizing with dismay that this man was much older and dressed in the black flowing robes of a priest. Jebido and I shared a worried look and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. Killing Gandermen was one thing, but killing a priest was a sin that there would be no coming back from.

  ​ “Einhard, Sword of the King!” Prince Tyro boomed as he halted his horse ten paces from us. He was holding a lion-headed golden helm under his arm and his face was flushed red, whether from excitement or from the heat I could not tell. His beard was carefully trimmed, almost daintily I thought, as he grinned brilliant, perfect white teeth at Einhard. “You are the man known as Einhard the Unforgiving, are you not?” he asked with a smirk.

  I disliked him the moment he’d opened his mouth and I dearly hoped that Einhard would run his sword through the man’s pompous face.

  ​ “I am he,” Einhard acknowledged, barely nodding his head.

  ​ Prince Tyro took in a deep, self-satisfied breath and then let it out noisily. “You and your little band of heathens have certainly been an annoyance lately,” he said. “Much like a fly buzzing around your head, annoying, but easily swatted when the mood strikes.”

  ​ “I think you’ll find there are no flies waiting to be swatted here,” Einhard growled at him.

  ​ Prince Tyro laughed. “Perhaps a little more dangerous than a fly,” he conceded as his horse stamped its feet and shook its head. The prince snapped hard on the reins, yanking its head up and he glared down at the animal with cruel eyes before turning back to Einhard. “But in the end, your fate will be the same.”

  ​ “It’s easy for a weak man to talk strong words when he has swords at his back to do his fighting for him,” Einhard said contemptuously.

  ​ The prince’s face turned even redder and he spit on the ground in rage. “You’ll regret saying that, you shit-eating heathen bastard!”

  ​ Einhard grinned. I saw his green eyes light up and I felt a rush of relief. Whatever happened here today, whether we lived or died, at least the Einhard I’d come to know was back. “I’m thinking about shoving my blade up your pompous ass,” Einhard said, “but judging by the looks of you, I’d wager that would be something you’d probably enjoy.”

  ​ Prince Tyro dropped his hand to his sword, his body visibly shaking with rage. “I’m going to hang you from a tree and peel the skin off you myself you worthless turd!”

  ​ Einhard threw his head back and laughed heartily, then tossed a leg over his saddle and dropped easily to the ground. “Why don’t you prove to all these soldiers of yours what a big man you are and come and kill me then,” he said. He waved his sword at the watching Ganders. “Your prince talks big words in front of you,” he said, raising his voice so all could hear. “But I have fought you for days now and know that you are real men. Men to be respected in a fight.” Einhard grinned at them. “I don’t like you,” he said. “I admit that openly and will gladly kill any of you that I can. But even though most of you are uglier than a dog’s puckered arsehole, I still respect you as fighters.”

  Many of the Piths laughed at that and I even heard some of the Ganders chuckling as Einhard pointed his sword at the prince.

  “This one, though,” Einhard said, “this one I do not respect.” He moved several paces forward as Prince Tyro fought to control his horse. “Words are easy,” Einhard said, glaring up at the prince. “I think that’s all you have. I think under all your finery, you’re just a spineless coward and will run like a scared rabbit the first time you face a real man.” Einhard plunged his sword into the ground and then stepped back. “A real man wouldn’t accept what I just said to you. A real man would have to kill someone who said what I did or die trying.” Einhard put his hands on his hips and he tilted his head sideways. “But a coward would get his men to kill me for him.” He grinned up at Prince Tyro. “So which man are you?”

  ​ Prince Tyro opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated as the priest guided his horse closer and whispered something into the prince’s ear. The priest was thin, with greasy brown hair flecked with silver and thick red lips under a wide nose. A large Rock of Life pendant hung around his neck, suspended by a golden chain. I don’t know what the priest said to Prince Tyro, but the fire of anger went out of the prince’s eyes and he began to nod as he listened, before finally he lifted a hand to the priest. “As much as it would give me great pleasure to rip your heart from your chest and piss on it,” Prince Tyro said after a moment, speaking loud enough for all to hear. He motioned to the priest. “Son Oriell has forbidden it.”

  ​ Einhard snorted. “So you choose to hide behind the skirts of one of your lying priests, then?” he said. He spit at the feet of Prince Tyro’s horse. “You are a coward!”

  ​ “His Highness does not waste his time with the likes of you,” Son Oriell said in a surprisingly high voice.

  ​ Einhard laughed loudly as he turned his attention to the priest. “You look familiar,” he said. “Do you have a twin?”

  ​ “I do not,” Son Oriell said with an impatient frown.

  ​ “Really?” Einhard said doubtfully. “Because you look exactly like what dropped out of my ass this morning!”

  ​ “How dare you insult a Son of The Father!” the priest hissed. Behind him, it was now the turn of the Ganders to grumble in outrage.

  ​ “Enough of this foolishness!” Prince Tyro snapped. “The time for talking has ended.” He glared at Einhard. “Have your men,” he paused to sneer, “and your women, lay down their arms.”

  ​ “And why would we do that?” Einhard asked. “So you can kill us like sheep?” He pounded his chest with a fist. “Unlike you, we Piths do not run from a fight.”

  ​ “You are outnumbered four to one,” Son Oriell said slowly and carefully as though he were talking to a child. “You have no chance here. Throw down your weapons and I will confer with Father Above. Perhaps, if some of you choose to renounce your heathen god and accept His embrace, The Father will be merciful.”

  ​ “Merciful?” Einhard spat. He swept his arms behind him. “We are Piths you simple-minded buffoon. None here would worship your false gods. We would rather die.”

  ​ “Then die you shall,” Son Oriell said with a sigh. He let his eyes roam across us and his skinny face was set in an expression of distaste. We were sweat-encrusted and filthy, with most of us covered in blood, and I imagine we must have looked half-crazed to his eyes. He glanced at me and then looked away, then frowned as his puzzled gaze came back to me. “That man!” Son Oriell said loudly, pointing a shaking finger at me. “That man is no Pith!” The priest pointed to Baine and Jebido as well. “Nor are they! These men are Gandermen!” He turned to Einhard. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “You have taken hostages?”

  ​ “Of course not,” Einhard said with a smile. “Do they look like hostages to you? These men chose to join us.”

  ​ “Impossible!” Son Oriell said, looking horrified. He turned and glared at me. “You there! What’s your name?”

  ​ “I am called Hadrack,” I said reluctantly.

  ​ “Does this creature speak true?” the priest asked, gesturing to Einhard. “Did you and your companions join these heathens wilfully?”

  ​ “Yes, Son,” I said, unable to hold his eyes. I knew that The Son’s and Daughter
’s of The First Pair were the link between this world and the next. To lie to one of them was a deadly sin and I swallowed, worried by the look of anger and betrayal flashing in Son Oriell’s eyes.

  ​ “Father Below!” the priest whispered as he clasped the Rock of Life tightly against his chest. He stared at me in disbelief. “Do you mean to tell me that you have forsaken The Mother and The Father in favor of a heathen god?” he demanded, his face white with fury.

  ​ I knew I couldn’t lie and I opened my mouth to deny it, to tell him that I had not, nor would I ever forsake The First Pair, but then the priest’s horse skittered sideways and I got a good look at the face of the man sitting his horse behind him. He was heavily built, with a scarred face and he sat stooped over in the saddle. I saw he wore a great axe strapped across his back and I felt a bottomless rage explode across my mind. I remember Jebido had told me years ago down in Father’s Arse that the man’s name was Searl Merk, but I never thought of him by that name. For me he would always be Crooked Nose, the man who’d killed my father.

  All reason and logic fled from my mind and I screamed in fury, ignoring the startled look of fear on Son Oriell’s face as I drew Wolf’s Head and kicked my heels against the sides of my horse. Cries broke out all around me as the Piths and Gandermen converged on each other, but I only had eyes for one man and I urged my horse directly at him at full speed. Crooked Nose saw me coming and he tried to turn his horse, but I was on him too fast and the animals collided heavily as I swung Wolf’s Head wildly at the other man’s head. Crooked Nose ducked and he lost his balance and tumbled from the saddle to land heavily on the ground. I saw his helmet go careening away and I flung myself off my horse as Crooked Nose got to his feet and drew the axe from his back.

  ​ “I don’t know what your problem with me is,” Crooked Nose said as he hefted the axe with both hands. “But I’m going to cut your head open with this and spit on your brains.”

  ​ “You bastard!” I hissed in fury, lashing out at him with Wolf’s Head.

  Crooked Nose looked surprised by my speed and he dodged backward to safety, then swung my father’s axe at my head in one fluid motion. I barely managed to avoid it, ducking low in desperation as it whooshed over me, realizing even as I did so that it was a mistake as I saw his knee coming for my face. I couldn’t avoid it and light exploded behind my eyes as his knee crushed my nose. I fell back, just able to keep on my feet and spitting blood, trying to see through the tears filling my eyes. Crooked Nose was coming on fast and I backed away from him. My shield was still strapped to my back and I couldn’t take the time to reach for it. I cursed myself for being stupid and rushing into this even as I sidestepped a murderous overhead swipe from Crooked Nose. My father’s axe buried itself halfway into the ground in the spot I’d just been standing on and, as Crooked Nose fought to pry it free, I lashed out at him with my left fist, catching him on the cheekbone and splitting it wide open. I swung Wolf’s Head around in a vicious overhand cut, but Crooked Nose had the axe up by now and he blocked my sword with the handle. I saw a chunk of the carved wood go flying off and I ducked and whirled, trying to take the feet out from my opponent. Crooked Nose grunted and leapt over my blade, then swung down with his axe. I felt the edge graze my helmet and I cried out as the blade cut through my forehead, down my eye, and along my cheek. I gasped and fell back, swinging Wolf’s Head desperately as I tried to see. My right eye was full of blood and I didn’t even know if it was still there or not. Crooked Nose was grinning at me now as he stalked toward me with the axe held low. I shook my head, trying to focus. This wasn’t the end, I told myself. I would not die here. This man had killed my father and I would have my revenge! I bellowed like a wounded animal and I charged with Wolf’s Head held out in front of me like a spear. Crooked Nose had thought me finished and his eyes widened in shock and surprise as I ran the blade of my sword through his side. I spit wetness from my mouth and smiled bloody teeth at him. “For my father and my sister, you bastard!” I rasped as we fell to our knees together. Crooked Nose swung my father’s axe at me one-handed and I partially blocked it with my left arm just in time. I grunted as I felt the blade slice into my side and then I grabbed the carved handle and yanked it from his grasp. I tossed the axe aside contemptuously and stared into his eyes, our faces only inches apart. “Remember Corwick, you turd-sucking son of a whore?” I rasped at him. “I was the boy in the bog!” I saw Crooked Nose’s eyes flinch, the sudden light of understanding filling them before they hardened and he drew his head back and smashed his forehead into my ravaged face. I screamed and thrust Wolf’s Head deeper into him and he stared at me, trying to say something before he finally collapsed backward. I fell forward on top of him, gasping for air as I watched the light fade from his eyes before darkness took me and I knew nothing more.

  ​ The hour grows late now, and my hand holding the quill shakes with fatigue as I write these words of events that happened so long ago. I pause to rub the scar on my forehead and I allow my fingers to trace its length downward, across my cheek and through my beard to my chin. I remember my last thought that day as the blackness was settling in. All I could think of was that I’d failed. That I was dead and would not live to fulfill my vow to my family. The sense of failure hung heavy over me in those last moments of clarity before my death and, I confess, no one was more surprised than I was when finally I was able to open one eye and blink up at a rough stone ceiling.

  ​ “What?” I managed to croak. I was lying on a four-posted bed in a small room with an open-slot window that let in sunlight that warmed a rectangular section of the stone floor to my right. I could only see out of my left eye and instinctively I raised a hand to my face, stopping as I encountered heavy bandages. I groaned as I shifted in bed, feeling a sharp pull in my side and I peered under the soft fur that lay over me. I was naked from the waist up, I saw, and my entire left side was bandaged as well. I noticed that a small trace of blood had seeped through the cloth bandage. I looked up as the door creaked open and I frowned in puzzlement as a girl of no more than thirteen stood in the doorway with a bowl of water in her hands and a sheet of rough cloth hanging over one arm.

  ​ “Oh!” the girl squeaked in surprise. “You’re awake.” She was plain looking, but in a pleasant way, and the few strands of hair that had managed to escape her wimple were dark brown in color. Her eyes were blue and enormous and filled with good-natured kindness. I liked her immediately.

  ​ “Where am I?” I asked.

  ​ The girl moved to a small rectangular cupboard about chest high and she placed the bowl and cloth on it before turning to me. “You’re in Gasterny Garrison, my lord,” she said.

  ​ “Gasterny Garrison?” I said in puzzlement. “Do you mean the garrison near the bridge?”

  ​ “Yes,” the girl nodded happily. “My name is Betania, lord.”

  ​ “You’ve been caring for me?” I asked, still trying to understand how I lived at all. Clearly the Gandermen had won the battle at the bridge and for some reason they’d saved me and decided to bring me back to health. Why, I couldn’t imagine. I wondered what had become of Baine, Jebido and the others, but was afraid to voice my concerns to Betania, reluctant to know the answer.

  ​ “Yes, lord,” Betania said. She picked up the bowl and cloth and set them on the floor near the bed, then sat down next to me. “May I?” she asked, gesturing to my face. I absently nodded as I thought about what my next steps should be. “Keep your right eye closed until I tell you, all right?”

  ​ “Yes,” I said, unconsciously holding my breath. Would the eye work or would I be blinded the rest of my life? I wondered.

  ​ Betania carefully removed the bandages from my face and I studied her with my one good eye, looking for some hint in her expression at how bad it might be. “This is healing nicely,” she said after a moment as she gently probed at the wounds with soft fingers. “Does that hurt?” I shook my head and she moved on. “How about here?”

  ​ “No, no
t at all,” I said truthfully, surprised that it didn’t. “How long have I been like this?” I asked.

  ​ “Almost three weeks,” Betania said.

  ​ “What?” I gasped in surprise.

  ​ “You came down with fever and raved like a lunatic for days,” Betania muttered. “We were convinced you were dying.” I felt her fingers on my eyelid, pushing and probing gently. “Any pain when I do this?”

  ​ I started to shake my head and she admonished me to stay still. “Sorry,” I said.

  ​ Betania nodded, looking satisfied as she sat back on the bed. “All right, my lord, try opening your eye.”

  ​ I slowly did as she said, expecting only blackness and I felt a rush of relief pour over me as my eyelid opened. I could see. Praise The Mother and The Father, I could see! There was some blurriness in the eye, but I could make out everything just fine and I told her that.

  ​ “The blurriness should pass,” Betania said, “and you’ve healed well enough now that we can leave the bandage off your face. Now let’s have a look at your side.” She moved the fur away and undid the bandages, nodding to herself distractedly as she washed and cleaned the wound. I looked down at the gash in my side from my father’s axe and I knew that I’d been lucky. If it had gone in any deeper, I wouldn’t be alive today. I thought about Crooked Nose, feeling a moment of intense satisfaction. He’d wounded me grievously, but he was dead and I wasn’t. My vow to revenge my family remained intact.

  ​ “There,” Betania said as she bandaged my side with fresh cloth. “All done, my lord.” She stood up and smiled at me, turning her head to look at me critically. “You don’t look nearly as bad as you might think,” she said. She giggled and grinned at me. “Quite dashing, actually, with that crooked nose and scar.”

  My nose, I thought, putting my hand to it and exploring it with my fingers. I felt a bump where the bone had snapped beneath Crooked Nose’s knee and I smiled ruefully at the irony of it.