The Final Battle

by Stuart Daly

  Prince Dale’s eyes flashed with surprise. ‘Peace?’ He reached across the table. ‘May I?’

  Bran obliged, and Dale quickly read the letter. He handed it back to his father. ‘How did you come by this?’ he asked Caspan, stunned.

  Caspan spent some time explaining everything that had happened during the past few days, from the Battle of the High Coast and Bandit’s injury, to the defence of Rivergate, the chance encounter with Skye, and the subsequent meeting with Roy Stewart.

  Bran rose from his seat and paced the tent once Caspan had finished. The wind howled outside and caused the candles on the table to flicker, but the Duke barely seemed to notice, his steel-grey eyes deep with concentration.

  ‘Normally I wouldn’t entertain the idea of meeting with the enemy,’ he announced eventually, glancing at the three expectant faces that looked across at him, ‘but this is too valuable an opportunity to turn down.’

  ‘So Roy Stewart wants to meet with you?’ Scott asked.

  Bran nodded. ‘There’s a stone circle several miles from here. He’s requested I meet him there an hour after dawn.’

  ‘On your own?’ Scott pressed.

  Bran shook his head. ‘We can each bring two people, but no more.’

  ‘And you trust him? You don’t think it will be a trap?’

  ‘I know the area,’ Dale commented. ‘The stone circle lies on top of an exposed hill. The nearest trees are several hundred yards away. You’d be able to make your escape long before the enemy got close.’

  Scott regarded him sceptically. ‘Still, it doesn’t mean they mightn’t try.’

  The Duke stopped pacing and turned to Caspan. ‘What do you think? Can Roy be trusted?’ Caspan shifted uncomfortably and gave Bran a blank look. ‘You’d be the best judge of his character, seeing that you spoke to him less than an hour ago. How did he seem?’

  Caspan hoped he didn’t seem disrespectful, but he couldn’t help but snicker at the irony that he should be the one being asked about trust. Trust was something fools placed in others because they lacked the ability to take care of themselves. At least, that’s what he’d been conditioned to believe back in Floran, during his time with the Black Hand. Trust no one was the creed by which he had lived. There were no such things as friends. Only rivals, who’d sooner put a blade against your throat whilst you slept than share the day’s takings. Greed and jealousy governed men’s hearts. Not trust. That’s why he’d become a lone wolf.

  But now he knew otherwise. Barely four months had passed since he’d joined the Brotherhood, but he had learnt so much in that time. The Brotherhood Masters had honed his thieving and fighting skills, but the most valuable lesson Caspan had obtained had been that nobody could survive in this world alone. Even a lone wolf needed friends – to join the pack, where his skills would be complemented and strengthened. And that didn’t come without having faith in your friends to watch your back.

  Caspan cleared his throat. ‘I think he can be trusted. He seemed honest enough, and was angered by what had happened to his scouts. He referred to it as nothing less than a declaration of war. And I know he doesn’t like Brett. I learnt as much when I spied on their meeting back in Tor O’Shawn.’

  ‘Roy’s also given us General Brett,’ Dale said pointedly. ‘He gained nothing from doing that.’

  Scott folded his arms warily across his chest. ‘Other than earning our trust, which he might then use against us.’

  ‘That might be so, but I can’t refuse this offer,’ Bran said.

  Dale straightened on his stool. ‘I’ll come with you.’ The Duke regarded his son for a moment. ‘No. If it’s a trap, I can’t risk having both of us captured or killed. And if anything happens to me, I need you to lead the army and govern Lochinbar.’ He rubbed his grizzled chin, his eyes narrowing conspiratorially. ‘I can only take two people with me, but what if they had the ability to summon magical guardians?’

  Scott nodded his approval of the plan. ‘This is sounding better. Even if it were a trap, you’d be able to fight your way out. So who will you take – Caspan and me?’

  Bran gave Caspan a sympathetic look. ‘I know you’re tired, but Roy seems to trust you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have given you this letter or handed Brett over to you. You might have a calming presence on these affairs. And Frostbite and Shimmer will be able to deal with any surprises the highlanders have in store for us. One of the commanders in the Seventh Legion also has a Warden, and some others have magical Dray weapons, but I’d prefer to have you by my side.’

  Caspan nodded, but he felt torn. He’d promised his friends at Rivergate that he would return before dawn, but one thing had led to another, and now he was being pulled even further from his original course. As desperately as he wanted to go back to his companions, he also didn’t want to miss the meeting between the Duke and Stewart Laird. Bran was right: Roy seemed to trust Caspan, and the highland laird might be more comfortable in his presence. Besides, he could always fly back to Rivergate after the meeting. He took a long draught of his drink, felt its warmth fill his belly, and nodded.

  Bran peered outside the tent flap. ‘It will be dawn in a couple of hours. I suggest you get what rest you can. We’ll need to be up at sunrise.’

  ‘There’s ample room in my tent,’ Scott informed Caspan. ‘I’ve get plenty of spare blankets, too.’

  Caspan smiled as he stood up and stretched. ‘Thanks, but I should dismiss Frostbite first. He’s tired, too, and I’d like him fresh and ready for the morning.’ He glanced at Duke Bran. ‘But what of General Brett?’

  The Duke’s lips curled contemptuously. ‘I’ve got enough to think about at the moment. I’ll deal with him once we’ve returned from our meeting.’ He turned and smiled softly at Caspan. ‘Now, go and get some sleep. We’ve a long day ahead of us.’

  CHAPTER 20

  THE MEETING AT THE STONE CIRCLE

  Dawn crept timidly across the land as Duke Bran, Scott and Caspan cantered out to the stone circle. The wind had died down, but dark clouds had settled in overnight, heavy with the promise of snow and painting the forest in shades of bone. It was still bitterly cold, and they all wore thick, padded jerkins beneath their cloaks. The Duke also wore a chainmail vest, pauldrons and gaunt-lets, which clinked and rattled as he guided his mount along the trail.

  They rode to the accompaniment of birdsong, which Caspan found comforting. If enemy soldiers were waiting in ambush then surely the woods would be ominously silent. Still, he wasn’t leaving anything to chance and he gripped his bow in his left hand. The heavy pommel of the longsword strapped to his side slapped reassuringly against his thigh.

  Caspan had only had a few hours sleep, but he felt alert and ready for action. He’d always found the cold invigorating. It also helped that he’d washed his face in a bucket of freezing water as soon as he woke.

  Reaching the end of the forest, the trio drew rein and peered up the open hill that rose before them. Cresting the slope was the stone circle, reaching into the sky like the outstretched fingers of a giant hand. It was a distance of perhaps three hundred yards up to the monoliths, and the companions studied the surrounding woods for some time before Master Scott nudged his mount forward and led the way up.

  Caspan felt exposed and vulnerable as they rode up the grassy incline. He imagined dozens of highlanders hiding in the forest fringe, their bows drawn at him and his companions, waiting for the command to fire. Guiding his horse with the pressure of his knees, he set an arrow to his own bow and scanned the screen of trees, but not even his sharp eyes could detect any movement.

  He drew a breath of relief and returned the shaft to his quiver when they reached the top. In the centre of the stone circle waited Roy Stewart, Ewan and, much to Caspan’s surprise, Skye. Scott rode around the perimeter of the monoliths, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword, checking that no enemies lay waiting in ambush. Satisfied, he nodded at Bran. The Duke gave the command to dismount, and Caspan and Scott led their horses over to the si
de of the stones, allowing Bran to discuss matters with Roy in private. The treasure hunters were joined shortly by Skye, giving Caspan the opportunity to introduce her to Scott. Ewan came over halfway and leaned against one of the monoliths, his dark eyes carefully studying the Brotherhood Master.

  ‘Ah’m glad ye trusted us,’ Skye said to Caspan. ‘Ah was worried the Iron Duke might hae laid an ambush or stormed this hill wi’ an army o’ hundreds.’

  Caspan glanced at Scott and smiled softly at the irony of her words. ‘We thought the same,’ he replied, turning to Skye. ‘It appears we’re not that different after all.’

  Ewan humphed and pulled his black tartan shawl higher around his neck. He looked back towards the centre of the monoliths, where the Stewart Laird and Duke Bran were sitting on a stone slab that had toppled over and now served as a makeshift bench. They were speaking in hushed voices.

  ‘He doesn’t look like the talkative type,’ Scott whispered to Skye, motioning towards the leader of the Gall-Gaedhil with a flick of his eyes.

  ‘He lets his sword do the talkin’, as do all the Gall-Gaedhil. Still, they never leave mah father’s side. They watch him like loyal guard dogs. I’m sure one sleeps at the base o’ his bed.’ Skye turned to Caspan. ‘It didnae surprise us one bit when we saw ye ridin’ up the hill wi’ the Iron Duke. It was a wise choice, considerin’ ye can summon yer magical drake.’

  ‘Yet you waited regardless?’ Caspan queried.

  Skye shrugged. ‘If ye wanted tae harm Father, ye could hae easily done so last night. He believes he can trust ye. As do ah.’

  Caspan swelled with pride. Earning the trust of the leader of the highland army and his daughter was quite an achievement for a former street thief who once had no greater ambition in life than to scrounge enough food out of alleyways so he wouldn’t starve.

  One of the horses neighed and stamped the ground restlessly. Caspan whispered soothingly in its ear and stroked its neck, calming it down. He pointed at the leaders. ‘How do you think this will go?’

  ‘Ah think it’s safe tae say they both want peace, otherwise they wouldnae hae agreed tae this meetin’,’ Skye replied. ‘Hopefully they can find a middle ground an’ come tae an agreement that meets the needs o’ both parties.’

  ‘Which is easier said than done,’ Master Scott muttered wryly.

  Skye regarded him flatly. ‘Ah donnae see why it’s such a difficult thing tae do. They’re nae bickerin’ children. All they hae tae do is put on the table what they’d each like tae gain from a possible alliance an’ come tae a mutual agreement.’

  ‘And that’s where the problem lies,’ Scott replied. ‘Agreements of this nature are not made without concessions.’

  Skye arched an eyebrow at the Master. ‘Maybe the problem lies nae in the concessions that must be made, but more so in the fact that they are men an’ are too proud tae take a step back. Hae ye ever considered that?’

  Scott smirked and turned to Caspan. ‘She’s not related to Kilt, is she?’

  Skye glanced questioningly between the treasure hunters. ‘Kilt?’

  ‘One of our friends,’ Caspan explained. ‘She’s quite, well, strong-willed.’

  Skye held her chin high. ‘Ah’ll take that comment as a compliment.’ She considered Caspan for a moment. ‘How’s General Brett? Ah hope nothin’ untoward happened tae him durin’ yer flight last night – like fallin’ out o’ his saddle.’

  Caspan chortled. ‘I hate to disappoint, but no, we made it safely to Duke Bran’s camp. He’s now kept under guard.’

  ‘Keep a close eye on him,’ Skye warned. ‘Ah’ve never trusted that man. He reminds me o’ a snake, full o’ venom.’

  It was about an hour later that Bran and Roy finished talking. Flecks of snow began to drift from the sky. Caspan was thankful he’d put on his warm tunic and Brotherhood cloak as he and the others led the horses over to their leaders. They mounted up, bid farewell and rode back down the hill in opposite directions.

  ‘Well?’ Scott asked the Duke as they approached the forest.

  ‘It went much better than I thought it would,’ Bran replied. ‘Roy Stewart seems an honourable man. I’m sure, had fate not seen us born on different sides of the border, we could have been close friends.’

  ‘It’s not too late yet,’ Caspan commented.

  Bran nodded thoughtfully. ‘We’ll see. It’s a shame, though, that Roy and I had to wait this long to meet. If we had, our countries might never have gone to war in the first place.’ He brushed the snow from his cloak as they rode, three abreast, along the forest trail. ‘Roy’s terminated his alliance with the Roon. He’s going to join forces with us.’

  ‘An alliance between Lochinbar and Caledon!’ Scott whistled. ‘I never thought I’d live to see the day that happened.’

  Caspan could barely control his excitement and he reached across to pat the Duke commendably on the shoulder. ‘Well done, my lord.’

  The Duke smiled warmly in return. ‘There are, of course, a few concessions and demands we both want met,’ he said, prompting Caspan and Scott to exchange a wry glance, ‘but they’re reasonable, and we’ve already agreed upon most of the terms. The rest we can settle over the coming weeks.’ He steered his mount around an exposed root and settled more comfortably into his saddle. ‘As soon as Roy returns to his camp, he’s going to send a false report to the Roon that a major battle was fought this morning, and that he has defeated the legions in Lochinbar. He’s also going to tell the Roon that he’s now marching west, and the giants are to hold off from fighting the remaining Andalonian army until reinforced by the highlanders. When the final, decisive battle is fought, Roy will move his force around to the rear of the Roon, cut off their retreat and attack them in the rear. Combined, our armies should be enough to defeat the giants.’

  ‘It all sounds so simple,’ Scott commented.

  Caspan sighed longingly. ‘And then the war will be over.’

  ‘Not only over,’ Scott said, ‘but more importantly won.’

  ‘Roy’s also agreed to my demand that he withdraw from Darrowmere,’ Bran added. ‘His troops will begin leaving the city later today.’

  Scott cocked an eyebrow in question at the Duke. ‘And what does he want in return? One does not give up such a possession without recompense.’

  ‘I’ve agreed to grant him control of the northwestern section of Lochinbar. The region contains rich farming land, so the highlanders will be able to sow their own crops. It will put an end to the border raids every winter. The only problem, of course, is that I will have to persuade the people living in the area to relocate south, making room for new Caledonish setters.’

  ‘They mightn’t take too nicely to that,’ Scott remarked.

  Bran nodded. ‘I know, but this is too good an opportunity to turn down. All I can do is try to put it to them as gently as possible and hope they see my reasoning. If not for this agreement, they might have lost their land and possibly their lives.’

  Scott gave the Duke a gratifying look. ‘So you avoided fighting a major battle this morning, got back your capital and made a new ally. Not bad for an hour’s work.’

  ‘I’ll send word to my brother, the King, as soon as I get back to our camp.’ The Duke gave a self-satisfied smile. ‘I think he’ll be a little excited by this sudden twist of events.’ He peered up through a break in the canopy and kicked his heels into his mount’s flanks. ‘Now, let’s hurry up. The wind’s picking up and the snow looks like it’s going to set in.’

  CHAPTER 21

  THE MARCH WEST

  Duke Bran’s army packed up and began the long march west shortly after midday. By now the wind had risen into a howling gale, which drove the snow in icy blasts that bit to the bone and made men curse and wish they were indoors before blazing hearths. Soon the countryside was blanketed in white swathes that made footing unpredictable, and the column crept like a lame lion across the land.

  The Duke hadn’t gone into much detail with his commanders abou
t what had been discussed at the stone circle, but he did instruct them to tell his troops that today they would not be marching to battle the Caledonish army. Instead, they had formed an alliance with the highlanders, and were heading west to join the First Legion in what would prove to be the decisive battle of the war. In spite of this news, the ensuing battle and the blizzard gnawed at the men’s morale.

  Bran instructed special barrels of October Cider to be distributed amongst his soldiers before they set off. He’d been saving the kegs for a celebratory toast when they defeated Roy Stewart’s army, but decided now was as good a time as any to crack open the barrels. Soldiers toasted to Lochinbar, to the health of the Iron Duke and King MacDain, and for the accursed snowstorm to pass. Then they packed up their tents, collected their belongings and headed west.

  The troops tried to stick to forest trails as much as possible. The trees offered some respite from the wind, although care had to be taken to avoid falling branches. The canopy collected much of the snow, but the buffeting wind tore it free, blanketing the woodland paths in a thick carpet of white that hid rocks and roots, making footing treacherous and progress slow.

  Caspan and Master Scott rode behind Prince Dale and the Duke, who were at the head of the army. Caspan peered down the trail, trying to spot the green-cloaked scouts who moved ahead of the main column. They drifted like ghosts through the woods, there one second and gone the next, clearing a safe route west. There was no longer any fear of attack from Roy Stewart’s highlanders, but there might be bands of border reivers in the woods. These rogues came from Caledon, but acted independent of the Stewart Laird and were notorious for waylaying travellers through these parts of Lochinbar. Though it was highly unlikely they would dare make an assault on an army of this size, some might be hiding and staring down their drawn bows, unable to resist the opportunity of loosing a shaft that could hit the Iron Duke or his son.