by Hume, M. K.
The Dene warriors charged into the town with their customary tribal cries to which were now added roars of sorrow for the children of Lund. The defenders had heard of the massacre of the children, because Heardred had ordered word of his feats to be spread throughout his kingdom. The townsmen paled as they realised their danger and hurried to find any objects that could be used as weapons.
Arthur had ordered that the town should be left unburned; he wished to secure a supply of food sufficient to last the Dene forces for several weeks. However, the off-shore breeze carried sparks from the burning vessels to adjacent vegetation where it inevitably caught alight. The noontime soon became scarlet from uncontrolled flames below a leaden sky that threatened the release of rain. But the gods turned their faces away from the town of Calmar, for no rain came.
Once the town had been taken, Arthur took possession of the Great Hall, a pretentious title for a mud-daubed structure with only a sod floor and a straw roof to keep out the inclement weather. The long room was dim, cold and cheerless, even when the fire pit was lit. Dust motes danced in the fitful afternoon light, while smoke filled the roof. Arthur’s eyes began to sting from the moment he entered this grimy space, but as a headquarters for a single day it would suffice.
The Dene secured the port and began to plunder those houses that remained intact with ruthless efficiency. The women, children and a small number of ancient grandfathers were herded into the headman’s house where they huddled together in a sullen group. The smell of fear added its own distinctive reek to the miasma of woodsmoke, wet infants, sweat and closely packed unwashed bodies. When Arthur spoke to the guards, his nose wrinkled at the stink.
‘These people don’t seem to wash very often,’ the guardsman joked, scanning the miserable sixty or so bodies packed into the small and draughty house.
‘They wash and use the sweat-boxes, just like we do,’ Arthur replied. ‘But they’re terrified and they reek from it. They think they’re going to suffer for the fate of the children of Lund. They’ve heard all the details of how the Dene children were sold to brothels.’
The guard shrugged noncommittally. Arthur nodded to him and passed on, checking the town, the growing piles of plunder which were transferred to Sea Wife and several other vessels, and the stores of food which were being kept for use when the campaign began in earnest.
He issued his instructions to the skeleton crews who had agreed to man Sea Wife and the other plunder ships. Their task was to return to their safe harbour in Skania where the riches of Calmar and the Geat slaves taken in various raids would be held in a secure base camp. The emptied ships would then return to Calmar. As well as the plunder taken during the skirmish, Arthur also sent supplies of grain, cured meat and beer for use by the base camp guards if the campaign should fail. Even now that Calmar had been taken and secured, Stormbringer’s people in the base camp could need supplies during the winter months, especially if some disaster should overtake the Dene force during the main battle that would soon begin.
The warriors were elated but, even so, Arthur insisted that sentries should be set in case Heardred had warriors in the vicinity whose presence was unknown to the Dene force. Then, tired, but still buzzing from the ease of his success, he slept on a makeshift bed of mouldy furs and dusty wool.
The long, uneventful night was sliding towards a grey morning when Arthur awoke with a jolt of fear as the voice in his head suddenly began to shriek. He rose out of his bedding with his bare chest shivering from the early morning cold. The town seemed to be still and secure through the shuttered window, although thin threads of smoke still rose from one of the hulks on the shoreline and the rows of ruined houses.
Deep in the shadows, he watched the muddy street outside. Intent and silent, he concentrated his attention on a dark object that passed across the road, skirted the holes of sucking mud and then joined another dark shape beside the entrance to one of the deserted houses. Slick as eels and as formless as smoke, two shapes disappeared into the house and the door was carefully closed behind them.
On hands and knees, Arthur moved silently along the length of the hall with the Dragon Knife held in his right hand. He remained in the shadows until he reached the steps that led upward to the hall doors where two Dene warriors stood on guard, yawning behind their hands.
‘Stay still and don’t turn around,’ Arthur hissed. ‘You’re being watched by enemies who’ve breached our defences and are hidden in one of the buildings further up the street. They are in the mud-coloured hut with the stack of firewood next to the door. I don’t want these men to be alerted. Act as casually as you can, but stroll back to the guardhouse as if nothing is happening and you’re just going to check the perimeter. Do you understand me? Clench your fists behind your back if you do.’
Two sets of hands slowly went behind two strong backs and clenched into fists in response.
‘There are at least two warriors hiding in the building, and there may be more of them in the adjoining house, the one with the sagging gate that’s leaning against the picket fence. The infiltrators I saw were definitely interested in that building before they disappeared. Can you see the houses I’m talking about?’
The hands of the guards clenched in unison.
‘When you leave here in a few minutes, move to your right along the centre of the street but stay away from those two houses. There could be more enemies holed up in other houses inside the perimeter. Your job is to warn the guard commander and alert our warriors. They must return here at speed and surround the house. I’ll give the attack order when they are in position. Now go!’
With feigned nonchalance, the two guards moved off at a leisurely pace towards the makeshift barracks, as if they were completing their shift and were irritated by the late arrival of their replacements. Arthur made a mental note to discover how these Geat infiltrators had managed to bypass the Dene scouts and guards.
As he considered the punishments he would mete out to any sentries who had been asleep while on duty, three shadows made their way out of the ruined house across the street. They were followed by half-a-dozen more warriors who sprinted down the roadway towards the barracks, while the first three men headed towards the long hall which was undefended except for Arthur who, fortunately, was awake, unlike the half-dozen warriors who were his unofficial bodyguard. Snorri and his friends had been sound asleep when Arthur passed their pallets near the fire pit. Unless luck was with the Dene garrison, his warriors would be locked inside their own barracks and, by the torches that the infiltrators now carried with them, Arthur guessed that the enemy intended to set fire to the barracks building with the sleeping Dene warriors inside it.
‘This is a very clever plan put together by some very brave men,’ Arthur told himself as he prepared to confront the three men intent on destroying the hall.
Cautiously, the three men spread out to attack the building from three sides, but only the middle man approached the steps to the door of the hall. Inside the gloom of the doorway, Arthur cursed the stupidity that had made him leave his sword beside his pallet. Somewhere in the darkness in the centre of the building, a man coughed in his sleep and Arthur belatedly remembered Snorri and the other crew members of Sea Wife who would be taken unawares if he failed to raise the alarm. Because of his oversight, his men could die if they weren’t warned.
‘Awake! Awake! Awake!’ Arthur roared. ‘Enemies in the hall! Arm yourselves.’
Now that the time for pretence was over, the enemy at the main door charged up the steps with his sword drawn and his face disfigured by a rictus of fury. Arthur stepped out of the deep shadows behind the door and thrust out with the Dragon Knife at the dark shape that crossed the threshold. The weapon tasted blood, but the main force of the blow glanced off the Geat warrior’s breast-plate with a slither of metal on metal.
Arthur grunted. Otherwise, the encounter was carried out in deadly silence. On
bare feet, he edged into open space where he had room to manoeuvre, while the light from the open door, although fitful from a setting moon, outlined the enemy’s face and form with a line of argent. All the while, Arthur used the point of the long knife like an extra sense to probe the air and the shrouded figure’s defences in order to determine what he could of his enemy’s ability.
After several minutes of feint and tentative probing, the attacker realised that Dene reinforcements must already be searching the empty houses between their barracks and the hall, so he knew he must despatch this irritating, half-dressed warrior without delay and press on to clean out the sudden swarm of enemy Dene who had invaded the town. With a screamed battle cry, the shrouded figure charged with his shield raised as a battering ram, while holding his blade ready to impale Arthur when he lost his balance.
But Arthur somersaulted away from the embossed shield. As the young man tumbled over, the Dragon Knife scythed out at thigh level, slicing through muscle until it struck the long leg bones. The force of the blow almost wrenched the knife out of his hands, but the cunningly designed hilt of the knife kept his fist in place.
The Geat grunted in surprise and pain. Arthur narrowly avoided an arc of blood and wondered if he had struck the great vein in his enemy’s thigh during his knife stroke, but he had no time to dwell on it as the jet of blood slowed. The Geat lowered his shield to clutch momentarily at the wound, but Arthur’s hands continued the attack independent of his conscious thoughts. The Dragon Knife sprang upward with all the force of his kneeling body, so the blade punched into the hollow under the Geat’s chin, smashing the frail defences at the roof of the mouth before burying itself deep inside the enemy’s brain.
The Geat hung above Arthur, with eyes suddenly blank and sightless. He yanked his blade free and then the body fell loosely, barely missing Arthur and pinning his legs to the ground.
As he struggled to free himself, he heard the sound of a desperate struggle from both the hall and the street outside. Then, in a flurry of woollen cloaks and drawn swords, the guard returned, dragging a single captive in their wake. Arthur pointed towards the sounds of affray and all the reinforcements, except for the two warriors guarding the captive, hurried to clean up the last of the infiltrators.
The captive had all the marks of a physical beating from his captors. His lip was split and one eye had already swollen shut, so he was forced to peer myopically out of the other.
‘Who are you?’ Arthur asked gently. His voice was conversational, but the Dene guards could sense the iron underlying the calm words.
The captive spat at Arthur’s feet.
Arthur examined his boots to ensure that they weren’t sullied and then casually slapped the man’s face with a stinging blow.
‘Let me explain something to you, my friend. You’re a dead man, regardless of whether you speak or not. I refuse to act like your king, so I can assure you that I won’t torture you, regardless of how offensive you might become. However, a full and frank explanation from you will earn you a good and honourable death.’
The Geat raised his shaggy head, his blue-green eyes sharp and knowing.
‘And why should I believe you? I don’t even know who you are.’
‘I am Arthur pen Artor, the Last Dragon, and I am second in command to Valdar Bjornsen, who is known as the Stormbringer.’
Arthur spoke casually, as if the names he repeated were unexceptional. The Geat infiltrator widened his eyes in surprise, but said nothing as Snorri hurried into the room, followed by other members of the guard.
‘You’re safe, Arthur. Thanks to the gods! When I woke at your call, I was sure that you were sorely pressed. Unfortunately, we were forced to kill the rest of the intruders. I’d like to have kept at least one alive because it would have been useful to question him. But it’s of no real matter, because you’ve bested us all with the one you’ve captured.’
Arthur shrugged with embarrassment.
‘Not me, Snorri. One of the guards caught this man and I’m very grateful for his efforts.’
The guard who had captured the Geat blushed along his high cheekbones and was clapped on the back by his friends. Arthur sketched him a half-bow.
‘You’re more talkative than usual, Snorri. Where are the rest of your men?’
‘I’ve ordered them to do a complete search of the village in case we’ve missed any of the intruders. It seems they were hiding and waiting for darkness so they could attack us when our guards became overconfident. They’ve discovered now that we’re slightly better prepared than the children of Lund.’
‘Indeed,’ Arthur replied. ‘What happened to our sentries? Did they fall asleep?’
‘No, they didn’t,’ the captain of the guard stated bluntly. ‘The infiltrators were well hidden and must have entered the village after our attack was completed. They came out of hiding at nightfall, once we were certain that we had secured the village. They attacked our guards in pairs by pretending to be Dene warriors in the darkness. It was a simple matter for them to slit the throats of our guards and hide the bodies. They killed the single guards at the port, the entry to the village and the headman’s house. Later, they intended to re-form and attack the barracks and the hall. They thought to destroy us in our sleep, using fire as their weapon of choice. I suppose they considered flame a fitting punishment, since we had set fire to their vessels and the village.’
‘It would have worked too, if not for you,’ the Geat prisoner snapped in perfect Dene, and spat at Arthur once again. This time, Snorri backhanded the man, despite his bound hands, and a narrow trickle of blood escaped from the warrior’s split lip.
Arthur looked directly into the eyes of the prisoner and smiled softly to demonstrate his self-control.
‘My master, Stormbringer, plans to strike directly into Heardred’s heart and make your king feel just as wretched as the children of Lund whom he took pleasure in humiliating. He has instructed me to commence the campaign against your king, to show him that we shall not sail away and leave Skania open to Geat attack. Stormbringer intends to make your king weep tears of blood in the few weeks until the first of the winter’s snowfalls and then, in the spring, we will own your lands. It doesn’t matter what I tell you now, my friend, because you will die in the morning. You’ll be able to watch our attacks on the Geat lands from the place you occupy in the shades. I hope you derive some pleasure from our victories.’
The man was dragged away by the guards. As the captive was being taken from the room, he heard Arthur ask Snorri to inform Stormbringer of the fate of the sentries who had been ambushed. Fortunately, the captive had no opportunity to see the confusion on Snorri’s face.
‘What—’ Snorri only had time to get out one word before Arthur clapped a hand over the helmsman’s mouth.
‘Be quiet, Snorri. You’ve been an unwitting part of some trickery. I’ve told that Geat everything that I want him to pass back to Heardred, and all I need to do now is to ensure that he escapes in such a way that he is convinced that he gained this information through our stupidity. I can do without any intelligence we might have gained through his torture, because it isn’t all that important to us. I believe he was a part of a small troop of Heardred’s warriors who were in our vicinity and saw the smoke from the burning trade ships. They were far too few in number to be an actual raiding party.’
Snorri looked around the mean little hall with its cracked and splitting benches and the grime that coated every surface. The filth was so thick that it could be seen even in the half-light. Calmar might be a rich port, but the wealth hadn’t filtered down to many of the common inhabitants.
‘But how do you propose to organise the Geat’s escape so he doesn’t realise he’s being tricked?’ Snorri asked.
‘I’ll leave it to you and the captain of the guard to decide on the details, Snorri. I think you’re quite capable of l
etting him escape without causing unnecessary suspicion on his part. Perhaps you should arrange for a short period of inattention on the part of our guards.’
Snorri looked nonplussed, but he and the Dene captain walked away to discuss how best to comply with Arthur’s requirements. They were arguing over what quantity of beer would be needed during the coming campaign as they disappeared from view.
Arthur returned to his pallet to resume his sleep, considering how fortunate he was to be surrounded by men who so readily provided for his needs.
A short time later, during a moment of inattention on the part of a seemingly drunken guard supervising the captive’s holding cell, the prisoner managed to strike him on the back of the head, a blow which felled the man to the ground. Immediately, the Geat broke into the open to sprint towards the shadows of the deep woods nearby. Within half an hour, he had found and released the dozen tethered horses that his companions had hobbled there before their infiltration of the village. Then, riding one horse and leading another as a change of mount, he galloped off into the pre-dawn light.
He swore to himself that Stormbringer and the arrogant Briton would pay for their destruction of Calmar.
The late morning sun was fitful with promises of the ugly winter to come. The Geat prayed that he’d see the Last Dragon again and have the privilege of watching the arrogant figure crawl on his belly like a broken snake.
Thoughts of revenge sustained him throughout the two days and nights that elapsed until he reached the Geat army – and the great plan began.
CHAPTER IV
THE BEST INTENTIONS
And he gathered them together into a place
called in the Hebrew tongue Armageddon.