Pagan Rage

by Sam Taw

  “Some time?” I queried, puzzled by his statement.

  “Oh, the illness didn’t kill him. By all accounts, the stupid kyjyan thought he could fly.”

  I snorted and covered my mouth. It was not the right occasion for levity. There was far too much at stake.

  He stood up and collected the mallard. “Pity we can’t stay and cook this.” He chucked the bird into the reeds for the foxes and turned to Tallack. “We shouldn’t linger here, Chief.”

  My stomach grumbled, making Tallack smile.

  “You’re right, Ren. Time to go.” Tallack approached his brother who still sat on the bank.

  Blydh had stripped off his head gear and tunic and was wringing out his clothing. The inner fleece of his helm was as soaked as the rest of him. “Kyjyan waste of time. I don’t feel any different.”

  Endelyn waded to the edge of the pool, swishing her hands about in graceful sweeps. “It won’t happen immediately, Chief Blydh. The gods often wait until we sleep to bestow their gifts on us.”

  Blydh grunted, eased the helmet back on his head and turned his back to her. Tallack helped her out of the water instead. Whether Airmed had blessed him or not, it seemed that the evil demon was still in control of my nephew. Ren and I looked at each other, sharing our unspoken concern. There was no need to voice our suspicions. Cernonnus had not favoured us.

  Before we could round everyone up and head back towards the boats, Tallack muttered in Endelyn’s ear. “Is there anything that you might have forgotten, another ritual or a different incantation? Is there nothing else to be done?”

  The priestess levered herself up from the muddy bank and dusted the bits from her hands. The tiny shake of her head made my heart sink in my chest. My botched treatment of his skull had condemned Blydh to misery and us along with him.

  My belly wasn’t the only one making itself heard. We were all ravenous and in need of a long drink of fresh cool water, or our strength would fail us.

  “We can’t go back the way we came.” I said, glancing about for any roots or shoots that would curb my hunger.

  “No indeed, unless we want the Belgae and Durotriges to pick us off one by one with their lethal arrows.” Tallack said, looking to good old Ren for a solution to our problem.

  “If I remember rightly, the Avon branches upstream. I’m fairly sure that if we take the right-hand fork, we’d paddle into the heart of the Duros region.” Ren offered, although few of us could see the advantages of such a course of action.

  “Why would we want to cruise right into enemy territory?” Blydh growled, his temper no better than before.

  Tallack grinned. “Because all those in the north will expect us to return to sea, while the rest of their tribe are at their coastal camp with Brea in the south. It’ll be deserted.”

  I scratched my head. “How wide is this tributary? Can we navigate through most of the Duro region?”

  Ren shook his head and waited for the twins to catch up with what that meant. At some point, we would have to abandon our boats and walk for days along the trail back to the Exe across treacherous lands. Our choices were limited and stark. Only the Chiefs could decide our fate.

  As we walked around the edge of the pool back towards the boats, we heard horses snorting and men urging them forwards. Ren hurried along the trail to where the new growth of reeds was shorter. “Belgae!” He yelled. They were closing in on us, their steeds struggling through the boggy ground.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Thank the gods for that marshy ground. On anything drier, the Belgae would have ridden right through us while we were still at the sacred springs. Tallack, Blydh and the warriors all ran ahead, leaving Endelyn and I to dash as fast as my old bones would allow back to the boats.

  Our men formed a line between the pontoon and the enemy to allow us safe passage, but none had better weapons than broken willow poles. The Belgae were a couple of boat lengths away from us, giving me the chance to climb into our vessel, untie the mooring rope and hang onto the pontoon until the men could jump aboard. Endelyn caught sight of my movements and copied me in the other boat.

  One or two of their warriors hurled their spears, but they were easily deflected. It allowed two of our men to discard their wooden staffs in favour of bronze tipped weapons. There were so many of them. The smallest ponies carrying the lightest men made it through the swampy ground before our men could reach the boats. Our only hope was that the thick mud would slow down the heavy horses, giving our warriors an opportunity to fight a few at a time.

  Paxton led the charge, roaring and cantering full speed into the marshy ground. You’d think that a young man growing up in these regions, he would have avoided the swamp and led his men around the edge.

  Paxton’s naivety worked to our advantage. Some of his men got fully stuck in the soft ground, their horses exhausting themselves just like Senara’s had done on the moors. Before his warriors could dismount, two of Tallack’s sailors clouted them about the head with their poles, knocking them from their steeds and stealing their axes and blades.

  Paxton was in the drier reaches on slightly higher ground. Tallack caught hold of an axe from his crewman. He swung it about his head, taking enormous strides towards the heir of the Belgae tribe. Blydh’s Head Hunters attempted a similar manoeuvre but met greater resistance. The Belgae left their horses in the swamp and slogged through the mud on foot, meeting our men armed to the teeth and in greater numbers than we could’ve imagined. Only five of our men had metal weapons. We didn’t stand a chance.

  Blydh’s Head Hunters stayed close to protect him in his vulnerable state. Tallack, Ren and Hellyer stood firm, having the advantage of an axe, sword and spear between them. The first young Belgae lunged at Tallack with his lance, over-balancing to the point where Tallack could swipe at the shaft. The boy felt to Tallack’s feet. One swift blow with the axe head and the young lad was no more.

  Ren chucked the boy’s spear to another of our men at his side. I held my breath, not expecting our luck to hold. They wouldn’t all be as green and eager to die as that one. Paxton squared up to Tallack, picking him out and gesturing for his men to attack our warriors either side.

  I had no idea who had the better weapon, Tallack’s heavy and exhausting battle axe or Paxton’s finely forged bronze short sword. My nephew was strong, but Paxton was agile and speedy. If I had to guess, I’d say that Tallack would be weakened after so little sleep and food for the last few days. All the Belgae had to do was tire him out.

  Our men fought with whatever weapons they could snatch. There was no skill nor sophistication involved, such was the sheer bloody-mindedness of our warriors. They were desperate to survive. They kicked, punched and head butted those who came close enough. Others were run through with confiscated spears. By the time Paxton had made his first lunge, two of our warriors had already met Cernonnus in the Summerlands; one with a swift blade through the gut, the other with a spearhead embedded in his face.

  I couldn’t take my focus away from Tallack, even though the skirmish was fought on many fronts by our brave men. Endelyn screamed at our heroes to turn tail and run to the boats, which only distracted them further. The jetty was deceptively narrow. None dared to shuffle backwards for fear of losing their footing. At the same time, the onslaught of warriors would not allow our men to turn around and run.

  Paxton’s agile moves made me nervous. He danced about Tallack skipping closer to the swinging axe and dodging the blows just in time for what seemed like ages. He was clever, but he had to know that the reach of his sword was no match for Tallack’s axe. One false move and Tallack could behead him with a single swipe.

  “You sullied our sacred springs with your brutish and foul ways, prepare to make amends and die.” Paxton goaded, although coming from someone so young and inexperienced, it failed to have any impact. My nephew laughed in his face. The Belgae heir was not done. “Submit to us now and I might spare your men. My father will give you a dignified and honourable end as an offer
ing to the gods.”

  “I’d rather take my chances with the Morrighan. She’s favoured our tribe for years, picking off our enemies for her victims in battle.” It was not so much the words as Tallack’s sneer that fuelled the violence in Paxton’s eyes. He lunged at my nephew’s chest with his bronze blade. Tallack saw it and stepped aside, jabbing the butt end of the axe handle into Paxton’s face until his nose streamed with blood.

  Ren had a small pile of young men heaped up to his right, but there were more making it through the mud every moment. They had to clear a path back to the jetty or they’d be completely surrounded. Another of our Sea Warriors lost his life, protecting Blydh from two large Belgae.

  Our ailing Chief stepped up admirably, disarming one and dispatching the other enemy in rapid succession. He may not be at his best, but Blydh was a Head Hunter through and through. He swung at a third and missed, falling to the ground before his weapon made contact with his attacker. He looked to me as though his sight was failing him. The Belgae fighter drew closer, determined to finish the job.

  Just when I thought Blydh’s days as Chief were finally over, Ren launched himself across the mud and blocked the spear aimed at his heart. It was as though the whole world stopped for a moment to consider the scene. Tallack gasped, distracted by his brother’s brush with death. Paxton saw his chance.

  He twirled about on the spot, using all his might to swing his blade about for a fatal blow to Tallack’s throat. At the very last moment, Tallack returned his gaze to see the blade coming for him. Twisting to the side, the sword failed to slice his neck, but landed at an angle to my nephew’s upper arm, knocking the axe from his grasp.

  The keen edge scored a thick trail right through Tallack’s muscle and sinew. His face contorted as he struggled to steady his stance. Paxton had knocked him off guard. Before my nephew could find a better footing, Paxton lunged for a kill shot. With a little guile and no grace, my nephew rolled onto the ground scooping up the fallen axe before righting himself further away.

  A quick glance told him that Ren and Hellyer had cleared a space to the wooden dock, and that Blydh was spent. More Belgae were wading through the swamp and mud to replenish the horde of attackers.

  “Ren! Get Blydh and the men onto the boats.” Tallack meant to hold the line at all costs. He was just one injured man against an army. Hellyer hovered at his side until Tallack shouted at him again. The young Alchemist would not budge. He had his Chieftain’s back, fending off any who would approach from the opposite direction.

  Paxton grew angrier as more of our people staggered down the jetty. With a deafening roar, the Belgae warrior ran at Tallack, his sword held in both hands, ready to strike.

  Tallack stood firm. As his enemy charged, he raised the axe and swung it with all his might. The two blades connected with a deafening ring, followed by a discordant clunk, as Paxton’s sword splintered into pieces. Tallack’s axe carried right on through Paxton’s ribs and cleaved his heart in two.

  My nephew let the warrior drop to the soggy earth, before treading on his chest to tug the axe free. “Go!” He pushed Hellyer towards the pontoon. “Go now!” The two men ran at top speed along the jetty. Tallack launched himself over my head, while I clung onto the mooring post until Hellyer was aboard.

  He was within five strides of our boat, when his chest erupted with a spearhead, his face froze in panic and he crashed to the wooden planks below. I let go of the post and the men sculled for our lives. The Alchemist was no more. His lifeless stare will haunt me for ever more.

  Rowing at full capacity, the men took us out towards the west bank of the River Avon, ducking from stray spears and daggers. We’d lost five brave young souls in total, and all to fix a Chieftain that was beyond our help.

  I took the tiller in our boat, while Endelyn steered the other. With so few of us left, Ren sculled with two oars while Blydh came to his senses. Tallack tried to keep up with the men in our vessel, but his arm was torn to shreds. We struggled between us, but we managed to move far enough upstream to be safe from further attack. Thank the gods that there were no archers among them or we’d all be fuel for pyres come nightfall.

  There was no opportunity to tie the tiller and tend to the wounds. The Avon was as winding as a snake and twice as tricky. I did my best to keep on the same course as the lead boat, but with Endelyn steering according to Ren’s instructions, the currents carried us apart several times. Tallack rummaged in my healing kit and cleaned the gash as best he could, but he was losing blood at an alarming rate.

  At least the river was fresh this far inland. We had plenty to drink but no food. I could see my nephew getting sleepier the more humours oozed from his arm. As soon as I saw the fork in the river, I knew that we’d be deep in the heart of Durotriges’ territory within a short while.

  “Tallack, we should pull in to get the men stitched and bound.” He didn’t argue. I called ahead to Ren who nodded his agreement. I suspect he was contemplating the same thing himself.

  We continued up the tributary into Durotriges land, hoping that their scouts would still be at the northern reaches. The men were tiring fast, especially since we had lost five able men. Tallack was slumped at my feet, with little more than a strip of cloth tied about his arm to hold the wound together.

  Ren found us a stretch of the river bank where it was easy to land, making sure that visibility around us was good. While the men took it in turns to keep watch, I did what I could for the injured; stitching, binding, and covering with plantain paste.

  Endelyn soothed Blydh with quiet words, but he seemed particularly agitated to me. I watched them for a while. Every time she said something that he disagreed with, rather than speaking directly to her, he would turn his head to his blind side and whisper over his shoulder. It was as though he thought someone was sitting there listening to his murmurs.

  Packing away my kit, I moved closer to Ren. He too had noticed Blydh’s strange behaviour. Keeping his voice low, he muttered; “Doesn’t look as though it worked.”

  I shook my head. What was there to add? Blydh was worse than ever. His moods went from placid and contrite to spiteful and venomous in moments. I admired Endelyn’s patience with him. No matter what he said or did, she remained calm and comforting at his side.

  There was still plenty of daylight left and Tallack was keen to make a move. Before we returned to the boats, I needed to know just how we intended to get home.

  “How far up this river can we go before it’s impassable?”

  Ren smoothed his whiskers and sniffed. “Not much farther. See how the banks narrow and the current speeds up? We’ll bottom out before long.”

  “And then what? Just how far are we from the Exe?”

  He shrugged. “We’ll have to abandon the boats and go on foot, few days, maybe a quarter moon if we don’t hit trouble.”

  I scoffed, my hand resting on the top of my head. How could we walk right through enemy territory with weak and injured warriors for a quarter of a moon? We’d barely escaped with our lives, had no food and no metal to trade other than the stolen weapons. Ren’s forehead pinched with anxiety. The more youthful members of our party might be filled with enough pride and hubris to quell their fears, but we elders knew better.

  Tallack urged us all back into the vessels and tried to take his turn at sculling, but his stitches ripped with each stroke. It must have been painful, but he bore it with a smile. Every now and then, he would tell us a story about his travels at sea to cheer us all, but they fell on deaf ears.

  We’d lost dear friends, young warriors and old, and felt their absence keenly. I wondered how the leader of the Alchemist Clan would react when he heard the news. Both his children were dead, one by fair means and one by foul. They were a powerful clan, with secret knowledge of smelting and processing that no one else in our tribe possessed. If Hellyer’s father chose to rebel, we would lose access to the most valuable commodity in our land.

  As I pondered on what the future might hold, R
en did his best to skewer fish during the rest periods between rowing furiously upstream. A cold supper of raw fish was all we had ahead of us. At dusk, we spotted grey smoke trailing up to the orange glow of the sky. Mooring in among the new growth of reeds, Tallack sent one of the men to scout ahead on foot. All was silent, but for the addled murmuring of my poorly nephew. Endelyn did her best to keep him quiet, but he was insistent that he went ashore. Nothing would stop him.

  It was fortunate that the scout returned when he did, or Blydh would have stomped off towards the smoke looking for more trouble.

  “Well?” Tallack hissed. “How many Duros did you see?”

  The scout panted, holding his side as if it was cramping. “It’s a homestead. As far as I could tell, it’s just a couple of families, mostly young ‘uns.” He took a few breaths. “Best of all, they have horses. Most look wild, but there’s a few that are broken - still wearing reins.”

  Blydh stumbled to the bank with his Duro axe in hand. “Then we’ll slice off their heads and take the lot.”

  I didn’t expect anything else from Blydh. That demon was most definitely still in charge of his body. I stole a glance at Tallack, hoping that he would see reason without me having to spell things out. If the Duro elders discovered the indiscriminate slaughter of two defenceless families, they would never forge a peace treaty with us.

  No one dared to argue with Blydh. Tallack looked indecisive.

  I had to do something to lessen the bloodshed. “Can we not trade with them? We have spears, a couple of swords and that axe.”

  Blydh snorted. “And leave us defenceless. Not a chance.”

  Tallack Stepped onto the bank. “They’d recognise the weapons anyway. We don’t exactly look like Duros, none of us have the distinctive neck tattoo. We don’t want them to ride out to warn the scouts of our whereabouts.”

  “Alright then, if trading is out, we can steal the horses and maybe a little food, but we don’t have to kill them.” I tried to sound forceful, but it came out as pleading. Blydh scowled at me, tossing his axe from one hand to the other.