The Wildcat of Braeton

by Claire M Banschbach

  “I knew there was a reason we let you stay,” Martin said.

  Martin began to hand Corin the cleaned gear. After thoroughly inspecting each piece and brushing invisible dust flecks away, Corin was satisfied and pulled the last buckle into place. Martin reached out and straightened the general’s belt.

  “You know, I never felt like I earned this,” Corin said. “You’d make a better general. I know you still have your father’s belt.”

  Martin smiled a little sadly. “No, Darrin and your father both asked me, but after what happened in the war…I’m happier where I am.”

  Corin understood. Martin’s father had been the King’s General but was brutally killed in the Calorin invasion. King Celyn had given Martin the position. He had only held it for a few weeks before the army was destroyed. After that, Martin had been reluctant to take command of any sort.

  Corin picked up his cloak, and they left the room. The castle hummed with activity as warriors hurried back and forth to various duties or grabbed a meal if they had time. Andras left to join the rest of the Hawk Flight that sat around a table. Men from Trey’s deugain mingled freely with them.

  Trey himself was also at the table, leaning his chair back and resting his boots on the table. He was sharpening his favorite dirk as he talked with Liam.

  “Look who decided to grace us with his presence,” he said, seeing Corin.

  Corin spread his hand in apology. “When did you get here?”

  “A few days ago. I heard about Kieran,” Trey said.

  “We were able to give him a full burial,” Corin said.

  “Good. I had Gerralt put his name on the Hawk Flight’s scroll,” Trey said.

  “Gerralt is still around? I thought he would have left,” Corin said in surprise.

  Martin came up behind Trey and tugged on the chair, ignoring Trey’s curse as he felt himself falling.

  “Aye, apparently he’s partially responsible for Gwilym also still being here.” Martin pushed Trey’s chair back on all fours.

  “Where is Gwilym now?” Corin asked. This was the last place he wanted the young boy.

  Trey waited until Martin sat down before tilting his chair again.

  “Hiding from all of us,” he said. “And it’s too late to send him away now.”

  “Don’t worry though. He knows exactly what to do when the fighting starts,” Martin said.

  “Good. Have either of you seen Darrin?” Corin asked Liam and Trey.

  “I’m right here,” Darrin answered as he approached.

  “What news?” Corin asked.

  “Samir and his men are still a few miles out. It doesn’t look like they’re leaving much behind them,” Darrin said.

  Men who heard this muttered quiet curses. Samir was keeping his promise to lay waste to Aredor, and they could hardly afford to rebuild when the country was still recovering from the first war.

  Corin looked at his brother. He was dressed for battle, and the gold circlet around his brow declared his rule of Aredor. Seeing Darrin’s anger at Samir’s destruction brought Corin a faint hope that they could hold out against the powerful enemy. With the Calorins and Durnians drawing ever nearer, men were ordered to the walls.

  The Hawk Flight and Corin’s deugain took the west wall above the main gate. Trey and his Sharks were stationed on the south wall along with the mountain lords. Darrin paced the east and the north walls, making sure the other lords were positioned.

  More archers manned the turrets and towers of the keep that rose silently behind them.

  “General, I have been appointed to help you hold the gate,” a familiar voice said. Corin turned in surprise to see his father.

  Celyn smiled. “I might be getting old, but I’m not infirm yet. I can still fight for my home.”

  “It will be honor, sir, to finally fight by your side,” Corin said.

  “Something long overdue,” Celyn said. “What are my orders?”

  Corin hesitated for a moment, not sure if he could give orders to his father, but he said, “Place your men at the northwest corner. Send any archers to reinforce the tower.”

  “Yes, sir,” Celyn replied, then he leaned in closer. “Try not to enjoy this too much.”

  Corin caught the gleam in his father’s blue eyes and smiled.

  “General.” Captain Pedr bowed respectfully before following Lord Celyn.

  It was not long before they heard the tramp of thousands of feet. The neighing of horses echoed in the still air. Corin’s standard flew bravely beside the wolf of Aredor. The sun set, torches were lit on the walls, and they waited.

  Chapter 9

  Aiden squinted as he watched the path of his opponent’s spear. Logan, Clan Gunlon’s Champion, smiled and indicated it was Aiden’s turn. Seeing how far Logan had cast made Aiden regret being talked into the contest the night before.

  Blair brought Aiden his javelin. Logan eyed it critically. It was smaller than the standard spears used by the northmen. There was open speculation among the spectators, many of whom had never seen a javelin, about whether Aiden could match such a throw. Even many of Clan Canich shook their heads.

  Aiden stepped behind the starting mark, ran a few steps, and threw. As it was, the javelin only landed a few inches behind Logan’s spear.

  “Not bad,” Logan graciously admitted. He was a master of the spear and, whether on foot or mounted, he could not be overcome.

  “Seems a bit flimsy,” Marcas, the Champion of Clan Mavor, commented as he handled the javelin. Marcas was not as tall as other men, but he could easily be twice as strong. He looked as thick as a tree, but then he had to be in order to wield the battle-axe strapped to his back.

  “Everything looks flimsy when you hold it,” Eornan commented drily. “Except your ale mug.”

  Marcas laughed with the others. His strength was legendary through the Clans as was his fondness for ale.

  “Ah, Eornan, so good tae see you. That merry face of yours makes me want tae dance a jig,” Marcas replied.

  Clan Strowen’s Champion’s mouth twitched, the closest he ever got to a smile. The laughter continued. Logan, Marcas, and Eornan had been Champions for years and were well known by each other and the Clans.

  Marcas handed the javelin back to Aiden. “Is Captain Artair still pottering around?” he asked in an overly loud voice. At Aiden’s nod, he continued. “Then tell him that I demand another round of our wrestling match from the last Gathering. He cheated.”

  “Tell me yourself, you great windbag!” Artair pushed forward.

  “I will then. You cheated, you horrible excuse for a Captain!” Marcas declared.

  “I cheated? A baby could’ve beaten you!” Artair snorted contemptuously.

  They proceeded to throw insults at one another, and Aiden could see it was part of a well-rehearsed routine.

  “How long have they been doing this?” Aiden asked Logan.

  “Since they were young lads at their first Gathering.” Logan listened in amusement. “They get more creative over the years.”

  At length, Neason was imperiously called to oversee the match, and both contestants stripped to the waist. The crowd parted to allow some of the Lairds through.

  “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” Laird Finley whispered to Aiden. “Marcas, you slender shadow of a Champion, do your Clan proud!” he shouted.

  As if that were their signal, the other spectators added their own shouts. At long last Neason declared a winner.

  “Betrayed by my own pupil,” Marcas said ruefully of Neason as Artair helped him up.

  “That fair enough for you?” Artair asked.

  “Sadly, it almost was,” Marcas replied. “Don’t forget, it’s your turn tae challenge at the next Gathering.”

  “Sure, and I have two years tae think up a grievance against you,” Artair said.

  “Make sure it’s a good one then.”

  “I will. Cheating indeed!” Artair snorted.

  * * *

  That ni
ght at dinner, the Clans mixed freely. Marcas and Artair sat next to each other, regaling a wide audience with outrageous tales as ale flowed freely. Rona sat next to Aiden and handed him a plate of food.

  “This looks good,” he commented, handing her a mug.

  “It should be. I helped make it. Tell me what you think.” She sipped at her drink.

  Aiden took a bite of food, then paused.

  “Well?” Rona frowned in sudden concern.

  “Maybe you should stick tae fighting.”

  Rona stared at him for a moment. “Why you…!”

  Aiden clapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from spitting out food as he started laughing. Rona pursed her lips.

  “I’m sorry! It’s delicious! It really is,” Aiden said.

  Rona relented with a shake of her head.

  “When will you ever learn?” Aiden teased.

  “One day, I will pay you back,” Rona threatened, but she was smiling.

  “All right, I’ll make it up tae you. I’ll cook tomorrow,” Aiden said.

  “I still have my doubts about that.” Rona sipped at her drink.

  “You don’t think I can?” Aiden challenged.

  “Let him, Rona,” a woman joined in. “See if he’s worth keeping. Logan here would burn a salad if I let him try.”

  “Och, you give me too much credit, my dear,” the Champion said, leaning to kiss the woman. “Aiden, this is my wife, Mairi.”

  Mairi reached over to clasp his hand, and Aiden was surprised to feel the strength in her hand.

  “Mairi is one of the best warriors in Clan Gunlon,” Logan said proudly.

  “And now you give me too much credit, darling,” Mairi replied. “He only says that because we’ve been fighting each other since we could walk.” She leaned forward as if confiding in Aiden and Rona.

  “Aye, we only married tae do it more conveniently,” Logan said.

  “Shush!” Mairi laughed and kissed him again.

  Aiden and Rona smiled, and she slipped her hand into his. They set their empty plates down and Rona leaned against his shoulder as Aiden stole another kiss. They heard one of the bards begin to sing as the flames of the campfire jumped and crackled into the peaceful, perfect night.

  * * *

  The next day Aiden, along with Tam, Logan, and several other warriors, went out hunting. There was never any complaint for fresh meat, and the forest wasn’t far away. They were riding back to the Gathering grounds after a successful morning when Aiden reined in his horse. One of the hunting hounds pricked his ears and turned south. The thunder of hooves echoed louder and Logan saw the riders.

  “Look!” he pointed to where a grey horse galloped gamely as its rider kicked it on. Four more riders followed, and the sun glinted off pointed helmets.

  “Calorins!” Aiden shouted to the others and spurred Narak forward. He heard the others follow.

  “Spread out!” Logan called, setting his spear.

  The lead rider pulled the grey horse to pass between them. Tam and the rider recognized each other, and they reined up while the others made short work of the pursuing Calorins.

  “Kara, what are you doing here?” Tam asked.

  “I…” She tried to catch her breath. Then she saw Aiden. “Corin sent me. I have tae speak with the Lairds!”

  “Just a minute, lass. Who are you?” Logan asked.

  Her gaze swept over his purple plaid and the tattoos.

  “My name is Kara, Ewein’s daughter and a member of Clan Gunlon. I serve the Hawk Flight and bear a message from King Darrin of Aredor,” Kara said.

  Logan’s nod confirmed he knew of the young Clan members who served in Aredor. “The Lairds are meeting right now. Let’s waste no more time,” he said.

  * * *

  Activity ceased as they rode into the encampment. Men stared at the sweat-coated stallion and his bedraggled young rider. As Kara dismounted, her legs nearly gave way beneath her, but Tam was there to steady her.

  “How long have you been riding?” he asked.

  “Nearly two days,” Kara said. “I thought I had lost the Calorins in the forest last night, but they found me again at the border.”

  “Wait,” Logan said before they began the short walk to the Laird’s tent. He unbuckled Kara’s bracer and rolled up the sleeve. “So no man can dispute your right tae be here."

  Kara had almost forgotten about the six pointed star tattoo of the Clan on her left forearm. The Lairds would hear her.

  As they entered the tent, Laird Dandin stood. “Kara?” he exclaimed.

  “My Laird,” she replied with a bow.

  The other Champions entered the tent as was their right. Kara suddenly faltered. How could she speak before the Lairds and Champions, the best among the Clans? There was a reassuring touch on her arm, and she glanced up at Aiden. He nodded encouragingly. He had helped her before. She saw Tam and then she found her voice.

  “My Lairds, King Darrin sent me with a message. Calorin and Durna have united against us. Their attacks began in early spring, and we have gradually retreated before them. A force, five thousand strong, marches on Kingscastle, and ships were sighted off our coasts four days ago. Our strength is not enough tae counter them. We ask for the aid of the Clans. Any assistance you would be willing tae send we will welcome, and we will repay you how we may.”

  There was silence in the tent as she finished. Then Laird Dandin spoke.

  “Kara, find somewhere tae rest. We need some time tae discuss this,” he said.

  Aiden looked to Tam who understood and led Kara from the tent.

  “What do you think they will decide?” Kara asked.

  “Och, I don’t think Danny will give them much of a choice,” Tam said.

  “I hope it won’t take long,” Kara said anxiously.

  “Are you hungry?” Tam asked.

  Kara’s eyes widened as she finally realized that she was. He took her to the cook tent where she devoured the food set in front of her. Rona met them as they left the tent.

  “I just wanted tae make sure you were all right, Kara. From what I’ve been hearing, the whole Calorin army was chasing you,” she said.

  “I’m still in one piece for now.” Kara tried for a smile. There had been too many close calls to remember.

  “Tam, let me steal her,” Rona said. “Kara, you look like you could use a wash.”

  “That sounds wonderful!” Kara said gratefully.

  Rona led Kara to her tent and fetched a bucket of water. Kara washed her face and neck, and Rona brushed and re-braided her hair.

  “I wish I had some clothes you could use,” Rona said regretfully.

  “Och, I’ve been dreaming of clean clothes and a hot bath for weeks!” Kara said.

  “Well, you look a little more human now.” Rona used a cloth to brush some dirt from Kara’s clothes.

  “Thank you,” Kara said.

  “Ready? We don’t want tae keep Tam waiting,” Rona said slyly.

  Kara began to blush. “Do you really think he likes me?”

  “Och, sure and no one can tell,” Rona said. “And what about you?”

  “I don’t know. I just feel so different around him. Like someone finally sees me.”

  “I know. I never felt that way until I met Aiden,” Rona agreed. “It’s kind of wonderful, isn’t it?”

  Kara smiled happily. “But do you think I look all right?” She glanced down at her clothes.

  “You picked a fine time tae worry about your appearance, Kara. I don’t think he cares!” Rona pushed her out of the tent.

  * * *

  “Let’s talk about this before we go rushing off anywhere,” Laird Searc of Clan Strowen interrupted before Laird Dandin could speak.

  “They need help,” Laird Dandin said.

  “I know. But we have tae think of our own people. Durna can spare men tae invade Braeton. And if we’re away…” Laird Searc let the thought hang.

  “Aye, he’s right. You and Ranulf would be fighting f
irst,” Laird Finley said. “As it is, Canich’s already fought the Durnians, and we’ve been tussling with the Enladi tribes across the mountains. I left most of the Clan at home so I can’nae offer that many warriors,” he continued.

  “Och, the Durnians can only think of one thing at a time,” Laird Dandin scoffed. “If they do invade, it will have tae be with the Calorins, or they’ll be facing a war with their allies.”

  “You seem confident of that,” Laird Searc commented.

  “If I learned anything from the last war, it’s that the Calorins are a wee bit selfish when it comes tae invading people’s lives. If they’re in an alliance with Durna, then I can bet that one of their own men is in charge. The Calorins are still looking tae take over the North, and if the Durnians try tae take any land without them, the Calorins will be even less friendly,” Laird Dandin said. “What say you, Colwyn?” He looked to the Laird of Clan Gunlon.

  “Aye, sounds about right,” Laird Colwyn said. “They’ll take Aredor and come for us.”

  “It’s already been two days since Kara left. How do we know the Aredorians are still alive?” Ranulf asked.

  “If the Hawk is still alive, then so is Aredor,” Laird Colwyn said.

  “But they say he came from Calorin. How do we know he didn’t bring them himself?” Laird Finley asked.

  Aiden tried to remind himself that most of the points the Lairds raised were valid, but he seethed with impatience. Corin needed help, and Lleu only knew where Will was.

  “You’ve never met him, so I’ll excuse you for that once, Finley,” Laird Dandin said calmly. “Now, I’m going. Clan Dyson has already fought in this war, and we will again.”

  “We will too. I’d see this settled before war comes tae Braeton,” Laird Searc said.

  Laird Colwyn also voiced his assent. Clan Gunlon had fought with the Aredorians in the first war, and they would not abandon the northmen this time. Aiden looked to Ranulf who had yet to speak. He knew this wasn’t a light decision, but he hoped his brother would see.

  “Clan Canich will also go,” Ranulf said, and Aiden sighed in relief. “My brother William fights with the Hawk Flight and we would be proud tae fight alongside them. Besides that, I think my Champion is going no matter what I say.” He smiled wryly, and there were light laughs.