The Final Battle

by Stuart Daly

  Soon the fire was all but a distant glow on the western horizon. Eventually this was swallowed by the night, and Caspan navigated his way via the north star. Feeling hungry, he reached into one of the saddle bags and rummaged around until he found some chunks of salted pork and slices of crusty bread, which he and Skye gulped down. It was bitterly cold, and Caspan was grateful Roland and Sara had packed blankets, which he and Skye wrapped around their shoulders. Skye pointed out some landmarks, but for most of the flight they rode in silence.

  A long time seemed to have passed, and Caspan was fighting back a tremendous yawn when Skye tapped him on the thigh and pointed to the black silhouette of a hill up ahead. ‘Mah father’s camp’s just on the other side,’ she announced.

  Caspan nodded and set Frostbite down in a glade on the leeward side of a hillock. He waited for Skye to dismount, then tossed her an extra blanket and a lit lantern.

  ‘I guess this is it,’ he said, extending a hand in farewell.

  Skye frowned. ‘Yer nae comin’?’

  Caspan shook his head. ‘I know you’ve promised no harm will come to me, but I’m not so sure how the highlanders will react when they see me wandering through their camp.’

  ‘But mah father will want tae talk tae ye,’ Skye insisted.

  ‘I’m not in any position to negotiate terms with Roy Stewart,’ Caspan replied pointedly.

  ‘Ah’m nae expectin’ ye tae, but he might hae an urgent message for ye tae deliver once he hears o’ what happened tae his scouts,’ Skye said. ‘Ah cannae say for certain what his reaction will be, but it might hae a huge impact on the war. Imagine if he decides tae call a truce between Caledon an’ Andalon? He might need ye tae run an urgent message south tae the Iron Duke. What if yer nae here tae deliver that message, an’ the Iron Duke marches north tomorrow mornin’ tae attack? All o’ this would hae been for nothin’. Ah donnae think ye’d want that guilt on yer shoulders.’

  Caspan shook his head doubtfully. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Ye’ve brought me this far. What harm will it do if ye hang around for a little longer?’ Skye regarded him for a moment. ‘Look, how about ye give me two hours? That’s nae much tae ask. Wait here, an’ if mah father doesnae come out tae speak tae ye, then ye can leave.’ She considered Caspan earnestly. ‘What happens here tonight might determine the course o’ the war an’ save the lives o’ thousands o’ men. Ye wouldnae hae brought me all the way out here if ye didnae believe in me.’

  Caspan sighed and nodded. ‘Okay. But I’m only giving you two hours.’

  Skye smiled. ‘Thanks. Ye wonnae regret this.’ She then hurried off into the night.

  ‘Well, it looks as if it’s just you and me again,’ Caspan said, as he slid off Frostbite and rubbed some life into his thighs. He led the drake over to the shelter offered by a large oak on the edge of the clearing, then untied his bow from the rear of the saddle and pulled off its calfskin cover. Slinging a quiver over his shoulder, he glanced around the trees and selected a position that allowed him to peer back towards the stretch of open land that led to Sharn O’Kare Glen. Hopefully he’d be able to spot any highlanders before they snuck up on the copse.

  As Frostbite nuzzled against him, Caspan reached around to pat the drake on the snout. ‘Better to be safe than sorry,’ he muttered. In the ghostly half-light of the crescent moon, Caspan noticed the almost pensive expression on the Warden’s face. ‘What? You think we should trust Skye?’ Perhaps it was a coincidence, but Frostbite raised his chin in a nodding motion. Caspan smirked and wiggled a cautionary finger at his guardian. ‘I know you’re a lot older and wiser than me, and you probably think you’ve seen it all, but you’ve still got a lot to learn about people, my scaly friend. Especially highlanders. Here.’ He reached into one of the saddle bags and placed a chunk of pork on the ground for Frostbite to eat. ‘Keep your mind at ease by chewing on that.’

  Again the drake regarded him thoughtfully, then, sitting back on his haunches, picked up the meat with his front claws and nibbled at it.

  Caspan chortled. ‘Well, I’ve seen it all now. Next thing, you’ll be needing a plate and fork.’

  The night dragged by. Caspan felt himself starting to drift off to sleep when he spotted the bobbing, wan glow of an approaching lantern. Suddenly alert, he reached instinctively for an arrow, then caught himself, believing confronting Roy Stewart with a readied bow mightn’t be the best way to establish trust. Slinging his bow over his shoulder, he studied the dark shapes illuminated in the lantern-light, detecting four people.

  ‘That was a wise decision,’ a voice commented from behind the treasure hunter.

  Caspan spun around to find a man standing by the trees, his bow aimed at him. As the stranger stepped forward, two other men emerged from the darkness surrounding Caspan, their swords half-drawn from their scabbards.

  Frostbite growled and tensed, but Caspan grabbed the drake’s reins and held him in check. If the highlanders wanted to attack, they could have done so long before now.

  The highlander with the bow rested it against a trunk and lit the lantern attached to his belt. He waved it above his head, signalling the group approaching from Sharn O’Kare Glen. They waved theirs in return.

  ‘We meet again,’ the highlander announced, stepping closer to Caspan, all the while keeping a close eye on Frostbite.

  Caspan studied the man intently, only now realising it was Ewan, the leader of the dreaded Gall-Gaedhil, the band of black-clad highland assassins who were acting as Roy Stewart’s personal guards. The last time Caspan had seen the highlander was inside the central keep of Tor O’Shawn as Ewan battled Lachlan.

  Caspan raised his hands. ‘I mean you no harm. I’ve come here on a peace mission.’ In spite of Skye’s assurance, he feared he might be taken prisoner … or worse.

  ‘Ah’ll let Roy Stewart be the judge o’ that.’ Ewan retrieved his bow and set a precautionary arrow to the string. His dark eyes studied Frostbite as he waited for the other group of highlanders to reach the glade.

  Caspan was relieved to discover that the person carrying the lantern was Skye. She hung her lantern on a branch as she entered the copse, and started when she saw the Gall-Gaedhil. She turned to the hooded man standing beside her. ‘Ah told ye we could trust the boy an’ his magical beast,’ she said. ‘Ah told them no harm would come tae them. Donnae ye trust me?’

  ‘Ah’m merely being cautious,’ the stranger replied calmly.

  Skye exhaled disparagingly and glanced at Caspan. ‘Ah’m sorry, but this is typical o’ mah father. Ah invite him tae a secret meetin’, an’ he turns up with half a dozen bodyguards.’ She strode over to a log on the far side of the clearing, sat down and gave Caspan a smile. ‘But thanks for waitin’. Ah’m sure ye remember mah father, Roy Stewart.’

  The stranger drew back his hood and set his piercing blue eyes on Caspan. ‘Ah owe ye mah gratitude for returnin’ mah daughter tae me. She’s had her mother worried sick for the past week since she disappeared.’ He considered his daughter, a faint smile playing at the edge of his lips. ‘Unfortunately she takes too much after me in mah younger days. Fancy dressin’ as a scout an’ joinin’ the band that went west tae join the Roon? Now there’s a tale for mah grandchildren.’ He cocked an eyebrow at his daughter. ‘That is, o’ course, if ah’ll ever hae any.’

  Skye bristled. ‘Oh, be quiet.’

  The Stewart Laird sat down beside Skye and motioned for Caspan to join them. ‘Ah hope mah men didnae startle ye, but ah had tae make sure ah wasnae walkin’ into a trap.’

  ‘I would have done the same,’ Caspan replied.

  Roy nudged his daughter. ‘Ye see – ah’m nae the only cautious one here.’ Skye rolled her eyes and mumbled something under her breath as her father turned to Caspan, his expression serious. ‘Yer no doubt keen tae return tae yer friends, so let’s get straight tae the point. Ah hae a gift ah’d like ye tae deliver tae the Iron Duke. Ah’m sure he’ll appreciate it.’

  Roy jerked his chin at
two of his company who were waiting at the edge of the clearing. Caspan was able to identify one of them as a member of the Gall-Gaedhil by the man’s black shawl and kilt. The other person was cloaked and hooded. His hands were bound. He was shoved into the clearing by the highland assassin, who then reached up and pulled back the stranger’s hood.

  Caspan’s eyes flashed with surprise.

  It was General Brett.

  ‘Circumstances forced me tae seize the opportunity tae form an alliance with the Roon,’ Roy said to Caspan. ‘But as o’ this day, havin’ heard what they did tae your prisoners and mah scouts, Caledon will hae nothin’ further tae do with the giants.’

  Brett snarled at the Stewart Laird. ‘You traitorous dog!’

  Roy regarded him calmly. ‘Ah donnae think yer in any position tae make such comments.’

  ‘Wait until the Roon hear of this! They’ll invade Caledon, burn every village, and put every man, woman and child to the sword! Highlanders will live to regret the day Roy Stewart –’

  Roy nodded slightly, signalling for the highlander standing behind Brett to shove a rolled up piece of cloth in his mouth. He secured it in place with a leather cord.

  ‘What the Roon did to mah band o’ scouts was nothin’ short o’ an act o’ war,’ Roy said to Caspan as the highland guard moved the General out of the clearing.

  ‘So you’ll side with Andalon?’ Caspan could barely mask the surprise and hope in his voice.

  Roy pursed his lips pensively. ‘That remains tae be seen. Caledon an’ Lochinbar hae been enemies for hundreds o’ years. Ah donnae think a hatred that has spanned generations can be so easily overcome.’

  ‘Yet you united the highland clans,’ Caspan countered.

  Roy nodded slowly. ‘True, ah did. But a prudent man doesnae take bold steps. He inches forward, carefully considerin’ each move. That way he doesnae make mistakes.’ He reached beneath his cloak and produced a sealed letter from his shawl. ‘Consider this mah first calculated step. Make sure the Iron Duke receives this. Hand it tae him personally tonight. Can ye promise ye’ll see it done?’

  Caspan nodded as he accepted the letter and tucked it inside his tunic. ‘You have my word.’

  Roy signalled for Brett to be brought back into the clearing. ‘An’ as mah second step, ah’m placin’ Brett in yer custody. See tae it that he’s also delivered tae the Iron Duke. Consider it a token o’ mah good will.’

  ‘It will be my pleasure,’ Caspan said, overwhelmed by the responsibility the laird was placing in him.

  ‘Ah would hae also given ye Lady Brook, but she’s been wi’ the Roon for the past week,’ Roy said.

  Caspan shuddered. There was something about Brett’s tight-lipped, stern-featured co-conspirator that scared him. He remembered her sitting in a darkened corner of the great hall in the central keep of Tor O’Shawn. He hoped that would’ve been the last he’d see of her.

  Roy patted Caspan on the shoulder and looked wistfully about the clearing. ‘Life is a strange thing. Who would hae thought ah’d be out here tonight, discussing alliances an’ treaties wi’ one o’ mah enemies.’

  ‘He’s nae an enemy, Father,’ Skye said pointedly.

  Roy Stewart looked deep into Caspan’s eyes. ‘Ah’m startin’ tae see that.’

  Skye snorted. ‘Pity it’s taken ye forty years tae do so. Still, better late than never.’

  Roy smiled fondly at his daughter and nudged Caspan. ‘Ye see what ah mean about her bein’ just like me? She’s as wild as the highlands she was born in.’ He slapped his thighs, rose and extended his open palm to Caspan. ‘Ah wish ye the best o’ luck, lad. Ah’m sure we’ll meet again, an’ next time in more favourable circumstances. Remember tae give the Iron Duke that letter. Ah really donnae care what he does wi’ Brett, although ah imagine a nice cold prison cell will suit him nicely.’

  Caspan smiled as he shook the laird’s hand. ‘Don’t worry. I promise I’ll pass on your message.’

  The highlanders made their way back across the glen, leaving Caspan and Frostbite with the prisoner.

  CHAPTER 19

  THE DUKE’S CAMP

  Caspan kept a careful eye on Brett during the entire flight south. He made sure the former general of the Eighth Legion sat in front of him, gagged, his bound hands strapped to the thick leather cord that served as a saddle grip. Caspan also kept his longbow in its calfskin cover at the rear of the saddle, well and truly out of reach.

  They weren’t long into their flight when Brett made some plaintive wheezing sounds and slumped forward in his harness, but Caspan refused to remove his gag. The traitor was as crafty as a fox, and Caspan wasn’t going to fall for any of his ruses. Caspan’s suspicion was confirmed when, after several minutes, Brett stopped gasping, sat back and glared daggers over his shoulder at him. Caspan tried his best to ignore him, fixing his gaze on the land below, searching for Duke Bran’s encampment.

  It wasn’t long before he spotted the distant glow of campfires glistening in the darkness like rubies on a black carpet, and he steered Frostbite towards the military base. They flew slowly over the camp until Caspan spotted a large central tent, which had twin banners that bore the royal wolf crest of House MacDain flapping above it.

  Caspan saw the sentries start as Frostbite hovered above the Duke’s shelter. No doubt the arrival of the large magical beast had raised the alarm. They dispersed when two familiar faces strode among them, urging them to lower their weapons.

  Caspan set Frostbite down in a clear section to the side of the royal tent and slid off his saddle. The widest of smiles crossed his face as he hurried over to greet Master Scott and the Duke’s son, Prince Dale.

  Caspan barely recognised the Prince. It had only been a month or two since they had battled alongside one another on the parapets of Darromere against a Roon horde, but Dale seemed to have aged dramatically. His youthful blue eyes now looked grey and weary, and he had grown a thick beard. Although only eighteen, the Prince could easily be mistaken for a man in his mid to late twenties.

  Dale smiled broadly as he approached Caspan, greeting him with a handshake. ‘Ah, it’s good to see you again,’ he said, before pointing a finger in warning at him. ‘But let’s make sure that the next time we meet, it won’t be in battle! I promised you we’d go hunting one day, and I mean to honour that.’

  Caspan beamed. ‘Just name the time and place.’ He longed to take his bow and head off into the woods of Lochinbar to hunt game with the Prince, but with the country engulfed in war, such a carefree activity seemed all but a distant dream.

  Scott clapped Caspan on the shoulder in greeting then stepped back to inspect his former student. ‘You’re looking well. A little worn and tired around the edges, but I’ll let that pass.’

  ‘That’s only because I was trained by the best,’ Caspan replied, grinning. Considering all that he’d been through over the past few weeks, it was nothing short of a miracle he hadn’t been injured.

  Scott chuckled. ‘Now that’s the answer I was hoping to hear.’ The smile slowly faded from his lips and his forehead creased with concern. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m delighted to see you, Caspan, but what are you doing here? I hope nothing’s happened.’

  ‘Quite a lot has, actually, as I’m sure you can see.’ Caspan jerked his chin towards Brett, who remained strapped into the harness on Frostbite.

  Scott’s eyes grew wide with shock. ‘The General!’

  ‘Former General, before he turned traitor,’ Dale corrected. He ordered some soldiers to get Brett down from Frostbite, then glanced at Caspan. ‘But how?’

  ‘It’s a long story, but it’s been an even longer night.’ Caspan rubbed his thighs wearily. ‘Do you mind if I sit down for a minute and have something warm to drink? I’ll fill you in on what’s happened.’ He looked around the camp questioningly, failing to spot Duke Bran amidst the crowd of curious soldiers. ‘I hope the Duke’s here?’

  Dale nodded. ‘He’s inside his tent, discussing tactics with his officers
.’

  Caspan cocked an eyebrow. ‘At this time of night?’

  Dale’s expression was solemn. ‘At dawn we march to fight Roy Stewart. Father wants to make sure his commanders know where they’ll be deployed on the field and what role they’ll play in the battle.’ The Prince strode over to a large tent with a banner of House MacDain flying from a spear near its entrance. As he drew back the flap, a cold blast of wind buffeted the camp, making a nearby group of tethered horses neigh and stamp restlessly. Dale shivered. ‘This night isn’t even fit for wolves, let alone men. We’ll wait in my tent until my father’s ready.’

  Caspan shook his head. ‘My drink will have to wait.’ He reached beneath his tunic and pulled out Roy Stewart’s letter. ‘Duke Bran needs to read this right now.’

  Dale inspected the letter’s seal and looked at Caspan, confused. ‘I don’t recognise this.’

  ‘It’s from Roy Stewart,’ Caspan explained, much to the Prince and Master Scott’s disbelief. ‘Like I said, a lot’s happened. But this can’t wait. I need to see the Duke right now before it’s too late.’

  A few minutes later, Caspan sat beside Dale inside the Prince’s tent, a warm tankard of cider nestled against his belly. Opposite the table sat Scott and Duke Bran. The Duke’s grim features were drawn and drained from lack of sleep, but he studied Roy Stewart’s letter intently. His gaze lingered on the message for some time before he lowered it and stared at Caspan, dumbstruck.

  ‘This changes things somewhat,’ he muttered, a glimmer of hope in his weary eyes. ‘I’ve been discussing battle tactics all night, and now we mightn’t have to fight Roy Stewart after all.’ He waved the letter before him. ‘He’s made an offer of peace.’