The Rouge, or the Red Castle, was the main seat of the Red Duke. It was a large square stone keep surrounded by a high, wooden palisade. The village, which sat in its shadow, housed one hundred families. The Red Duke’s factor, a hardy old mountain man by the name of Azzen, left the Rouge in the dead of night and sought out Lord Rett.
He travelled over high peeks so he could shortcut to his destination and miss out the closed passes. By the time he had arrived at the Rogun camp, he was exhausted, and close to the dead sleep of the cold, but he insisted on speaking to his master and told Lord Rett all he knew about the Vallkyte force that occupied the Rouge and their defences.
Intelligence reports from his factor received with grateful thanks. However, the Red Duke was already aware of Captain Leask’s violation of his home and he had made plans accordingly. He had personally asked the king for men to go and evict the invaders and make an example of anybody who would be gullible enough to cross the Red Duke. The king was very drunk with ale, but he gave his authority with a grunt.
Lord Rett asked volunteers to join him on a very dangerous mission; he would leave in the morning with them. His factor insisted on coming with his lord as his guide on the route he had used to find the camp; he assured his master he remained fit and well to accompany him. The Red Duke reluctantly agreed, and they gathered together weapons and provisions for the journey.
In the morning, Lord Rett exited his tent to wash topless in the snow. To his surprise, two hundred and fifty volunteers had assembled by his tent; all were armed and standing in formations. Fresh snow had covered their steel helmets and capes. They had been standing in wait for him for some time.
They were the Prince’s Legion. Lord Rett was overwhelmed. He thanked Havoc and Magnus, who stood in front of the ranks of soldiers.
“I was only expecting fifty men,” he said to them.
“The more the merrier,” said Magnus.
He clasped both of their arms in a warrior’s handshake and smiled proudly.
“This is your mission, master; you may take command,” said Havoc, holding up his hand to stop the protests from the Red Duke. “Just answer me one thing in return. Is this mission fraught with danger with a chance to kill or maim many Vallkytes?”
Lord Rett thought for a moment, and then smiled. “Of course,” he said.
“Then what are we waiting for?”
As Sir Colby prepared to march the columns of men out of the camp, Eleana appeared, kitted for battle. Magnus was angry and forbade her to go.
“I’m no servant anymore,” she snapped at him. “Who is going to look after you lot? I can dress wounds and cook. I can fight just as well as any man.”
This got a ripple of laughter from the legion.
“You will stay here where I know you’re safe,” shouted Magnus. “You know why.”
She did not argue any further, but did not move. Magnus turned on his heels and ran after Lord Rett and the legion. Havoc noticed tears in Eleana’s eyes.
“Do not do this because of me!” he said.
“Please be safe,” she said. “I need both of you; come back to me.”
Havoc put his hand on her cheek and she closed her eyes at his touch.
“I will watch over him. And my heart will always be here with you.” He kissed her and left.
Two hundred and fifty men trudging through deep snow and over high peeks was slow going, but these men were hardy and used to the winter extremes. They marched hard and rested often, ate well and slept in turns while other guarded. Havoc and Magnus also took their stint on guard and took the same physical punishment as the marching soldiers without complaint. This endeared them to the legionnaires’ hearts.
Clear blue sky, clashing with the white peeks at the horizon, told of the cold and arid terrain they trudged through in a long twisting formation through the many passes. Scything blizzards chilled their lungs and their furs glistened with ice crystals.
On the fifth day, they reached the Silit Lake, now frozen over. The legion walked over it in small groups as night fell. They rested on the other side and, in the morning, they pushed on the last few miles to the Rouge through a long, narrow valley.
“Eleana is only concerned about you, that is all I’m saying,” said Havoc to Magnus as they trudged up the valley.
His brother was still in a foul mood and had not spoken much to anyone.
“She’s just stubborn. These days, she just shouts at me for no good reason, then she’s all over me; she needs to be careful and watch what she is doing.”
This last bit confused Havoc. “Why is that?” he asked.
Magnus stopped and sighed; to Havoc, he looked sad and lonely.
“She thinks she is with child.”
“Oh... congratulations... That’s good, isn’t it?” Havoc felt happy and sad at the same time; he tried to control his feelings and told himself that Eleana and he were not meant to be together.
“Suppose so,” said an unsure Magnus.
The Rouge and its nearby village seemed to be the only signs of civilisation for miles as it sat on a wide white canvas of snow and trees. Life was going on as normal; people walked to and fro carrying out their daily chores and the black smoke that seeped out of the smithy roof was whipped away by the cold breeze. Sounds of hammering came from within.
Guards walked the wooden palisade and horsemen rode out every so often, probably to fetch supplies or patrol the mountain passes. The keep itself was quiet. Ice on its red sandstone walls gave off a watery sheen in the early evening sun.
“Pretty little scene,” said Magnus as he, Havoc, Sir Colby, the Red Duke and his factor hid in the tree line on a high ridge that overlooked the keep.
Sir Colby pulled back the low pine branches to get a better view. “So just three guards on the palisade at all times?” Sir Colby asked Azzen.
“That’s right, sir, but there are two at the gate also; however, not at night when the gate is locked.” Azzen was shivering under his furs; he had not fully recovered from the outgoing trip and the return had taken a lot out of him. Lord Rett was concerned for the old man.
“When it gets dark, Azzen, I want you to go to your sons, Palo and Morin, and get them to rouse the village,” ordered the duke. “I want every able-bodied man to rush the gates on my signal.” He was not that bothered about the extra help, only getting Azzen into the warmth.
“Yes, master.”
“What’s the plan?” asked Havoc.
“I, you, and Magnus will take out the three guards on the palisade and then open the gate. The legion and the villagers will storm in and help us kill every last one of the bastards.” The Red Duke grinned.
“Sounds like a plan with no drawbacks,” said Havoc.
“Explain to me again, how we three are going to get in and kill the guards?” asked a concerned Magnus.
“We are going to jump the walls,” Lord Rett said, as if the answer was obvious.
They had walked back to the men of the legion who were camped a couple of miles west of the Rouge hidden in trees at the foot of a mountain near to the head of the valley.
“You look worried,” said Lord Rett to Magnus.
“The walls just look high, that’s all.”
“I have seen you jump higher when you use the wind element.”
He mumbled something unintelligible, but Havoc heard Eleana’s name mentioned.
“What about Eleana?” Lord Rett asked Magnus.
“She just wants me home safe, that’s all.”
“Is she afraid you will catch your balls on the palisade or something?” Lord Rett laughed. “Has she not taught you how to use them, then?”
Sir Colby chuckled and Havoc smiled.
“Bit late for that,” said Havoc under his breath.
“Eh?” asked the Red Duke, and Magnus gave Havoc a scowl.
“Tell him; he deserves to know, anyway,” said Havoc.
“Tell me what?”
Lord Rett and Sir Colby were looking at both
Havoc and Magnus with bewilderment.
Magnus realised Havoc was right, and he could not keep anything secret from his uncle for long anyway; besides, in a few months’ time, the whole camp would know.
“You’re a great uncle,” he said with a sigh.
“I know I’m a great uncle.” Lord Rett shrugged, but Sir Colby understood at once and beamed.
He leant over to the duke and whispered in his ear.
“What?” He looked astonished. “Does Eleana know?”
“It is Eleana.”
Magnus looked hurt and Havoc laughed. Sir Colby hugged Magnus and congratulated him; so, too, did Lord Rett, who turned to Havoc.
“I don’t know why you’re laughing; you’re an uncle now, so you can protect the child. I’ve got my hands full with this one,” he said, pointing to Magnus.
The factor had done his job well as night fell; as soon as the villagers heard that the Red Duke was here with the legion, they took up arms immediately and waited for their lord’s signal. The legion waited in the tree line as the cold night deepened; torch braziers on the Rouge wall was the only light around and it cast long shadows onto the village.
Two off duty Vallkyte soldiers walked out off the village tavern arm in arm and staggered up the street towards the Rouge. They were singing a song about the Red Duke that the villagers always sung at closing time, but they did not get the words right.
“Goodnight, goodnight hushes to keep
Sleep do not flee
Hush now do not weep
Least the Red Duke gets thee.”
A black shadow disengaged from the tavern wall and stood in front of the two drunks; they were too far gone to notice he had a sword.
“The Red Duke is already here,” he said, and Selnour swung. “And it’s ‘wishes to keep’, you idiots.”
Their blood stained the snow.
Havoc and Magnus were in position when Lord Rett joined them. They followed the guards as they walked around the palisade, using the shadows to hide them on the ground, but kept their master in sight. The trick was for all three to go at the same time. Then the Red Duke judged the correct moment to attack, and gave them both a nod.
Havoc ran at the high wall, and, at the same time, summoned the wind element. It lifted him off the ground and shot him up just to the height of the sharp wooden stakes of the palisade. However, he misjudged where the guard was walking to, so he called up another strong gale to hit his left side, and it pushed him to his right in line with the daydreaming sentry. He landed in front of him. The guard opened his mouth in astonishment, but could not call out because Havoc had slashed his throat with Tragenn.
Magnus’ jump had a little less flair. He was worried that the height was too much for him, but he unexpectedly managed to overshoot. Luckily enough, he was bang on target with the sentry and grabbed him on the way past. He and the guard both landed with a thump in the courtyard and Magnus quickly snapped the guard’s neck.
Havoc had grabbed his dispatched guard as he fell, so there was no sound. He turned to watch Magnus land and kill his man, and hissed through clenched teeth at the noise his brother made. Magnus looked up at Havoc and gave him an apologetic shrug.
Lord Rett, however, cocked everything, up. His jump went well. It had all of the Red Duke’s hallmarks of grace and flair. He floated over the palisade and decapitated his man quickly and quietly.
The trouble happened when he landed.
One of the Vallkytes’ whores, a striking brown-haired woman, was walking from the barracks to the Red Castle. She would not have seen the Red Duke land in the courtyard, because he was so silent and she had her back to him. Unfortunately, something clanged on the ground with a metallic thud that made Havoc grimace. The girl gave a little yelp and turned around to see Lord Rett looking as guilty as a puppy sitting next to a pile of its own shit. The duke smiled ruefully at her, and gave a cheeky little wink.
She paused, stunned, and looked slowly down at her feet to see what had made the clanging noise. It was the guard’s helmet with his head still in it; his wide eyes looked straight at her.
Then she screamed.
Magnus, who was closer to the girl, ran at her and slapped her into silence. Nevertheless, the garrison roused to the racket.
“Open the gate; I’ll hold them,” he shouted behind him.
Havoc leapt off the palisade and ran to the gate with Lord Rett; together, they got the gate open. Half-dressed enemy soldiers rushed out of the keep, only to find a fully dressed Magnus and his sword pushing them back.
Sir Colby and the legion rushed into the open gate and quickly formed a line beside Magnus with sword and shield. The villagers followed behind; some had swords or spears, most had gardening implements or makeshift clubs, and one man was deftly wielding his wife’s rolling pin, which made both Havoc and Lord Rett laugh, despite the impending battle.
The actual battle took an hour. Most of Captain Leask’s men were caught by surprise and despatched where they stood, or lying in their beds.
Leask and a good portion of his men retreated into the safety of the keep, where a large ground-floor dining hall saw the blood-soaked end to the battle. The captain stood in the centre of his soldiers shouting out orders and trying to keep the enemy from breaking into the defensive circle they had formed around him, and at his commands, it was holding.
Havoc aimed to put a stop to this or the fight would take all night. Therefore, he picked up a fallen sword in his left hand and, with Tragenn in his right; he hacked his way through to the centre of the enemy group. The first Captain Leask knew of Havoc’s infiltration was when he felt two crossed swords at his shoulders. He saw the prince’s fierce face for a second, and then both swords pulled across his neck in opposite directions. The enemy soldiers saw their captain’s head fly through the air and the fight went out of them after that.
The Red Duke’s men slaughtered them to a man.
Lord Rett ordered the dead bodies of the enemy placed in a pile outside in the courtyard. He also ordered the Red Castle’s livestock killed and added to the heap. Then he had everything flammable, chairs, tables, pictures and tapestries, placed onto the corpses.
He then burnt the lot.
The flames from the castle lightened up the whole land for miles. It cast flickering shadows over the snow-covered trees and the watching legion as they stood in the warm glow that welcomed the coming dawn. The legion left not long after that; the smell of burning flesh stayed with them for hours as they marched away. The villagers knew that, because they had helped their lord, the Vallkyte general would view than as outlaws. They took only what they needed and burnt their homesteads, and threw in their lot with the Red Duke.
The whole episode became known as the Red Roasting.
The legion moved down the River Silit. With no enemy at their rear, the Red Duke decided to march them down by the mountain fringes to find any Vallkyte patrols. Havoc agreed; he was happy that someone was making progress in this war; he was finding himself more upset about his father’s drunken lethargy, but he did not, could not, allow his emotions to fester.
They stopped at the small village of Perch two days later to drop off some of Lord Rett’s people and a much-weakened Azzen. They picked up supplies there and quickly moved on. It was on the third day as they made their way west towards the Rattan Plateau that Havoc noticed the ravens.
There was a cloud of them spiralling down over the plateau; there were other scavengers among them.
“Something at the Rattan, dead horse or cow maybe,” said Magnus, who looked when Havoc pointed them out.
“This far to the north; I doubt it.”
“We will take a look when we get closer,” said Lord Rett, who had also seen the dark cloud. “The camp is not far away, anyway.”
The Rattan Plateau was a flat, wide expanse of prairie land that had sat on the edge of gigantic glacier that existed millions of years ago. The Aln Plain now represented the floor of that glacier while the Rattan now ro
se a hundred feet above it. When the legion came closer, they could see four tall, thin wooden poles driven into the plateau earth. From the distance, they could judge that the poles were about twenty feet high and each had something on top.
“Oh no, no, no... By the gods, no,” yelled Magnus, who had realised what he was seeing.
His uncle tried to hold him back, but he ran straight towards the macabre scene, scattering the scavengers to the air. Havoc and the rest jogged after him; they ran faster when Magnus screamed. It was a scream of pure anguish.
The legion could only stare in shock at what they saw when they arrived; some turned away; others vomited.
Lord Rett and Sir Colby held back an inconsolable Magnus.
“The barbarians... They have used the Rawn traitors’ execution,” wailed Lord Rett.
In the ancient days of strife and war, kings would execute Rawn traitors in a painful way. Aware that Rawn masters could heal instantly, they had devised a slow, cruel death. They would impale them through the anus and the spear tip would come out through their mouths, then sliced open at the stomach and their guts pulled out and left hanging from their bodies.
The resulting trauma would eventually kill them.
The men of the legion sensed a change in the air as if an oppressive pressure pressed down on them. Most looked Havoc’s way; he stood stock-still and looking at the four corpses that used to be his sisters and cousins in a calm, detached manner. The men thought that this seemed more chilling than the picture before them.
Havoc was looking at Mia. The spear tip had exited her mouth and her eyes were missing, plucked out by the ravens. Rigor mortis had pulled her arms up to waste height and her hands were claws; some of her fingers were missing. Her bowls hung in loose red and purple tatters.
The Rawn Chronicles Book One: The Orrinn and the Blacksword: Unabridged (The Rawn Chronicles Series 1) Page 13