Aiden smiled himself. His brother knew him well.
“Well, Finley?” Laird Dandin asked.
The Laird of the Boar sighed. “You all raise compelling arguments, so Clan Mavor will join you, but only because I’d never hear the end of it.”
“Sure, Chief. You’ve been wanting tae go ever since you heard the message,” Marcas said.
“Maybe that’s true, but I had tae do a wee bit of arguing, didn’t I?” Laird Finley said, and the other Lairds had to agree. Finley, as any good Braeton, loved to argue, but he was also never one to turn down a fight.
“I have near six hundred men with me now,” he said.
“Aye, same for me,” Ranulf said.
The three other Lairds had brought nearly the same number with them.
“Call the lass back in then,” Laird Searc said.
Aiden offered to go and hurried from the tent. He saw Kara and Tam waiting nearby. Kara quickly rose when she saw him.
“What did they decide?” she asked breathlessly.
“All five Clans will go,” Aiden said. “But the Lairds want tae talk tae you again.”
Kara and Tam followed Aiden into the tent.
“Perhaps you can tell us more about what we’re up against,” Laird Colwyn said to Kara.
“As King Darrin said, the Calorins and Durnians have formed an alliance, and our defenses are stretched thin. There are perhaps sixteen hundred men at Kingscastle. Any other warriors are at Castle Martel on the coast. Lynwood Keep has been under siege for the last few weeks. At least, the last we heard,” Kara faltered. “That’s where Will is, my Laird.” She looked to Ranulf.
There was a sharp intake of breath from Tam who stood behind her, and Ranulf looked as if he were estimating how hard it would be to mount a one-man assault on the Keep.
“I’ll send tae the Clan tae muster more men. They can follow and take the Keep,” Laird Dandin said.
“Aye, I’ll do the same,” Laird Colwyn said. “We’re the closest Clans, but I suggest the rest of you send tae your Clans tae be ready in case.”
The council was done as the Lairds agreed to leave by first light the next morning.
“I’ll give you an escort home tae your family,” Laird Colwyn said to Kara.
“No,” came her sudden refusal. “I’m sorry, my Laird, but I’m going with you.” She faced the men staring at her and plunged ahead. “I’ve ridden for the Hawk Flight for four years, and I’m bound tae return tae them. And…the Calorins killed my brother. Someone should be there tae fight in his name.”
“Well said, lass,” Eornan said.
“Aye, if Eornan agrees then I’ll have her along,” Marcas said.
“I’m sorry about Kieran. He was a good man,” Laird Dandin said.
“Thank you, my Laird,” Kara said quietly.
“He’ll be honored among Clan Gunlon,” Laird Colwyn said.
Kara could only nod her thanks again, blinking rapidly against threatening tears.
“Let’s tell the lads and waste no more time,” Laird Finley said after a respectful pause.
The Lairds and their Champions left the tent, and soon the encampment was thrown into activity. Messengers were dispatched to all the Clans, and fires were stoked as blacksmiths prepared for a long night’s work.
* * *
The sun was setting when Rona found Aiden. He was carefully cleaning and oiling Narak’s saddle and bridle.
“I want tae come with you,” Rona said.
“No.” He shook his head.
“Why? You let me fight at Scodra!”
“And I would have spared you that.”
“Is it because I’m a woman? Kara is going!” Rona argued.
“It’s different for her,” he said.
“I don’t care! I’ve watched you ride away too many times. You try tae protect everyone else, but who will look after you?”
“I don’t need anyone tae look after me, Rona. Believe me,” Aiden said sharply.
“I won’t lose you because of your pride. I can fight, and I’m coming with you!” she said.
Aiden caught her hand and stood. “I ride so you don’t have tae see war! I’ve fought enough battles tae know it is the last place for you. Have you ever looked out over a field and seen the dead? Your friends, your brothers? Do you know how hard it is?” He was almost shouting.
A tear trickled down her cheek.
“Rona,” he said more gently. “I’ve fought other men’s battles for years and never had anything of my own tae return tae. Not until now. So I’m asking you tae stay behind because if anything happened tae you…” He couldn’t finish.
“I understand,” she said and walked away.
Aiden didn’t call her back, and he hoped she would stay behind.
Men snatched what sleep they could before rising well before dawn. Horses were packed with only the necessary supplies. Kara saddled Frithun. She had hardly slept at all, wrung with nervous anticipation. Tam joined her with his horse. They rode with Clan Canich as lines of men and horses formed.
Aiden looked for Rona, but she was nowhere to be found. Her tent was neatly folded and her horse and belongings had disappeared. He hoped that meant she had returned to Scodra, but no one seemed to know if she had. He tried not to worry. She could take care of herself.
Horns echoed in the early morning, and the army began to move. Kingscastle was more than a day and a half’s journey, and Aiden prayed that they would make it in time. They made camp that night and scouts reported as the Lairds made their battle plan.
He watched Kara and Tam talking on the other side of the fire and wondered again where Rona was. He thought he had seen her that afternoon riding with Clan Mavor, but he was probably mistaken.
The camp was filled with quiet conversation as each man thought about the next day. They rose early again, and the warriors painted themselves for battle. Each Clan used the color of their plaid: a savage red for Strowen, blue for Canich, green for Dyson, dark purple for Gunlon, and brown for Mavor.
Aiden applied the woad as it had been for his fight with Torsten. Mairi, who always rode with her husband, helped Kara with the war paint of Clan Gunlon. She again mounted beside Tam, his features also transformed by the woad. The Braetons rode out again, an intimidating sight. They saw none of the enemy. They rode on and began to taste smoke in the air. Finally they came to Kingscastle.
An army camped outside its walls. Smoke billowed from the towers and keep. A ram thudded against the gates adding to the clamor of battle. But above all flew the blue wolf standard. The Aredorians still stood.
Chapter 10
The defenders spent an anxious night, watching fires spring up in the town below. There were shouts and dull explosions as buildings were destroyed. In the light of morning, the Durnians rolled forward massive catapults. They used the masonry from the fallen houses to begin a barrage against the castle.
Calorin archers stepped forward as siege ladders were carried toward the walls. The sun beat down upon the beleaguered defenders, and Samir did not halt the attack even as the sun sank.
Finally, at midnight, the enemy retreated. Weary defenders sagged at their posts. The seriously wounded were carried from the walls. The great hall was turned into an infirmary, and the healers worked tirelessly.
Corin and Darrin paced the parapets, looking over damages to the walls and quietly encouraging the men. Celyn watched approvingly as his sons brought fresh confidence wherever they walked. A horn rang out at dawn, and in the dim light they could see a small party coming toward the walls.
“Can’t they bloody well let us enjoy a sunrise?” Martin grumbled.
“I don’t see a white flag, do you?” Corin asked hopefully. “Where’s Flynn?”
“Lynwood,” Liam reminded him.
“Why do I never have my best archer when I need him?” Corin complained.
“You can’t shoot anyone, Cor, they have a flag up now,” Darrin said.
“Oh, and look! It’s eve
ryone’s favorite psychotic warlord,” Martin said, catching a glimpse of Samir in the midst of his guard.
“You two are so pleasant when you haven’t eaten or slept for hours,” Darrin commented. He passed along orders to the men on the other walls to be on guard. It would be the perfect time for an ambush.
“I seek an audience with the esteemed King of this land!” Samir shouted, sarcasm heavy in his voice.
“You should start talking like that, Corin,” Liam said.
“It would make you more intimidating,” Martin sagely agreed.
Corin stifled laughter as Darrin replied to Samir.
“I am the King. What would you say?” he asked.
“Haven’t you Aredorians had enough? Realize that you cannot resist the Sultaan forever,” Samir said.
“You’d think they would have had enough by now,” Martin grumbled.
“You cannot win. And this will be worse than the war before!” Samir said.
“And yet here we are,” Darrin said.
“Indeed.” Samir smiled. “But I feel that I have the advantage.”
“Lleu’s Hands! Does he ever stop?” Corin muttered. “Just shoot him!”
“An advantage?” Darrin ignored Corin.
“Look at your situation. I will win this war. But turn over the Hawk to me, and I will consider sparing some of you. The Hawk and I are very much alike and I have much I would discuss with him.”
Corin laughed outright. “A tempting deal, Samir. How long did it take you to come up with that?”
“Then it is true when they say the arrogance of the Aredorians will never fade,” Samir said. “But think, Corin, you know everything I have said is true. Would you really stand helpless while your men fall around you?”
“Do you want me dead, Samir?” Corin asked. He signaled behind the battlements to one of his men who slowly laid an arrow on his bow. “I would choose your next move carefully. If your man down there even thinks about shooting, you’re crow meat.”
The Durnian hiding among the houses froze, and Samir cursed the arrow that was now pointed at his heart.
“I will kill you, Hawk! It will be more painful than anything Balkor ever did! You will burn!” Samir screamed.
“Then what are you waiting for? Do it!” Corin shouted. “But I promise you that my death won’t make a difference. As long as one man still stands here, you will not win.”
“You have just sealed your death!” Samir said.
“And so have you,” Corin said coldly.
Samir wheeled his horse and galloped away with his men.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Darrin clapped him on the shoulder and then began to shout orders as the enemy began their advance.
The catapults began again. More siege ladders were thrown against the walls and the defenders pushed them down as they were able to. Darrin strove to hold the east wall against a force of axe-wielding berserkers from Durna. Trey stood over a wounded Lord Siarls while he and his Sharks held the south wall from all comers. Martin’s blade danced in his hands, and Corin came like a deadly whirlwind as the Calorins threatened to overwhelm the western wall.
Liam steadied Celyn as the wall shuddered again. The catapults had hurled their power against the northwest corner and tower the day before and were now continuing.
“Will it hold?” Liam shouted.
“Not forever,” Lord Celyn replied grimly.
Corin ran up. “Liam, we need archers!” He raised his voice above the tumult as he pointed down into the town. The Durnians, master craftsmen, had built a steel-tipped ram and covered it with a protective roof. They were now wheeling it toward the gates.
Corin looked to his father. “You and your men protect the archers,” he said and was gone.
Liam collected as many men as he could in the confusion to try and stop the advancing ram while Celyn and his men protected them from the enemy who still poured over the wall.
At sunset, the attacks mysteriously stopped. Men collapsed exhausted where they stood. Corin slid down against the battlement and, before he knew it, fell asleep.
Darrin came looking for him some time later and thought him dead, but a panicked shake woke him. Corin saw his brother kneeling by him and tried to stand, but every muscle protested. For the first time in a long while, he felt like giving up.
“I don’t know if I can keep going,” he said to Darrin.
“Don’t say that, Cor,” Darrin replied.
“Darrin, I’ve fought to survive for years. I’m tired. I just want to stop. Besides, it only matters if you’re here.”
“Corin.” Darrin laid a hand on his shoulder. “I might lead this country, but you are its soul. You give the hope of another day to everyone, including me.”
“How? Why me?” Corin asked.
“Because you are still alive.”
Corin understood what he meant. By all rights he should have died years ago, but something refused to let him.
“If nothing else, Cor, I need you because I can’t do this on my own,” Darrin said.
“Then let’s see if we can make another dawn,” Corin said.
Darrin smiled and helped pull him to his feet. In the fading light, they walked the battlements. The dead and wounded lay everywhere. The catapults had torn gaping holes in the northern walls, and the tower was beginning to crumble. Those who could, rested, and took the food brought up to them. The ram was too well protected from the archers, its covering even repelling fire arrows. The west gates were battered but held for the moment.
In the new torchlight, the defenders looked like ghosts with red-rimmed eyes and faces pale from exhaustion. They rested while they could, knowing another attack was not far away.
A warrior cried a warning as the first fireball arced toward the castle. It landed in the courtyard, breaking and spreading its fire. More and more came—giant boulders soaked with oil and set ablaze. They hit the weakened walls, tearing more ragged holes. Some hit the store houses. Servants and the reserve forces rushed to save the food stores. The northern tower erupted in flames as a boulder destroyed it. There were screams as rubble fell onto the defenders, crushing some and wounding more.
Corin ran to help, and a smaller fireball struck in front of him. It broke, sending fragment and flame everywhere. Some hit him, engulfing his sleeve with fire. He desperately tried to smother it with his cloak. He peeled what was left of his sleeve away from his burned arm, stifling a cry as he did. Everywhere he looked there was fire. He remembered Samir’s words. “You will burn!” How could they fight this new battle?
A moan distracted him, and he saw a man trapped under the fallen stones. Ignoring the pain in his arm, he worked to pull the man out. Others came to join him, risking the crumbling, burning tower.
Corin saw his father lying on the parapet. He crawled toward him, avoiding another burning missile. Celyn jerked back to consciousness under his ministrations, but he refused to leave the walls.
Liam rushed over when he saw Corin’s arm. The vambrace was intact, but everything above was a blistering red. The anger Corin felt at seeing the limp body of a warrior of the Hawk Flight overrode the pain as Liam inspected his arm.
“This looks bad, Corin, you should—”
“No, just put a bandage on it. I’m not leaving this wall,” Corin interrupted grimly.
Liam wordlessly did as he ordered. Corin saw the panic in the faces around him, but Liam finished and gave him a look of expectant trust. Corin forced himself to stand calmly even as he exposed himself to the enemy missiles.
The courtyard was a scene of chaos. He saw Darrin on the south wall illuminated by the fire, establishing an orderly convoy to take the wounded down to the Keep.
“My lord,” Corin said to his father. “There is a well not far from the walls. Get this fire out.”
Celyn nodded in understanding and began to give orders as Corin ran down the wall steps. There were several wells throughout the castle grounds, and Corin gradually sorted ou
t the confusion, organizing bucket lines to save as many buildings as possible. The stables were still intact, but the grooms had their hands full with the panicked animals inside. The roof of one of the barracks had caved in. Even some of the keep was ablaze.
Corin helped a wounded man inside the castle and was met by Gerralt. The scribe had his old broadsword buckled around his waist.
“Gerralt!” Corin greeted him.
Gerralt hitched up his sword belt around his waist. “You look surprised, Captain.”
“Can you still use that?” Corin gestured to the weapon.
“If I have to,” Gerralt replied. He glanced outside. “It looks like they might have destroyed my office, so rest assured, I’m ready to do my part.”
Corin laughed as he wiped soot from his face. He caught sight of Mera tearing fresh bandages. She glanced up and smiled at him.
Gerralt saw his gaze. “For what it’s worth, sire, if anything happens, I will guard her with my life,” he said seriously.
“Thank you, Gerralt.” Corin pressed his shoulder before returning to the battle.
* * *
Another dawn came through the smoke. The fires had finally been reduced to smoldering embers. General Samir ate his breakfast and smiled. Kingscastle was a smoking ruin. The town around it had not escaped either. Fires still burned there, and he could hear houses collapsing upon themselves. Captain Askel joined him.
“An impressive display last night,” Samir complimented him.
“Shall we begin again?” Askel asked.
“No, not yet. I will allow them to rest before I completely destroy them.”
As it was, the Aredorians gained three precious hours of sleep and rest. There was hardly a single warrior awake. If Samir had known that, his victory would have been assured, but when he rode forward he saw warriors lining the walls, and a dark figure stood beneath the tattered standards. A hawk shrieked defiantly as it came to perch on the figure’s outstretched arm.
Samir felt a slight chill. They would not die! The King came to stand by the figure; the sunlight glinted coldly off his drawn blade. They were ready. Samir found his voice and ordered the attack.
The enemy pressed hard, and the weary defenders were ready to crumble when unfamiliar horns cut across the noise. Men turned and saw the rows of horsemen to the north. The Clans had come!
The Wildcat of Braeton Page 36