The Rawn Chronicles Book Four: The Dragon and the Daemon (The Rawn Chronicles Series 4)

by P D Ceanneir

  Havoc nodded. ‘I expect she would. You’re a good friend, Furran.’

  Three torches bobbed along the tunnel, and Velnour with two of his men, ran up to the king.

  ‘Foxe has found an exit, up ahead. It does bring us out at the lake,’ said Velnour with a twinkle of hope in his single eye.

  ‘Well what are we waiting for, let’s go,’ said Furran, and Velnour’s group took the lead, but Havoc stopped Furran, allowing the others to move out of earshot.

  ‘What I said about Lorimar, tell no other,’ he said.

  ‘My lips are sealed, boss.’

  They started to make a move, then Havoc gripped Furran’s arm again. ‘Thanks, Furran,’ he said and the stocky warrior gave him a rueful smile and a nod.

  Overall, they had spent an hour in the cave and, as they neared the exit, the late evening light lit up the wide mouth of the entrance. The river shot out of the opening in a narrow waterfall and down towards tree level to pool near a collection of large boulders. This eventually emptied into the river that then ran through a thick pine forest.

  The Raiders formed up into a defensive group ready for marching when their king exited the river cave. Through the trees he could clearly see the blue waters of Lake Furran twinkling in the sunlight and he realised that the daylight was fading fast.

  As they moved off, following the river as it meandered down the forested slope, they had to reorientate themselves to head north then west. After a time they found the smaller River Furran that trickled down from the dam.

  Suddenly, six of Hexor’s pathfinders appeared from a ridge to the east before running down through a high-forested slope, shouting down towards the king as they did so.

  ‘They have found us, sire!’ one said, ‘the Ulundi are almost upon us.’

  Powyss stopped for the day at the dam. Magnus had just finished his shift and returned to the castle to rest. Tia stayed, but sat with that evening’s guard high on the dam’s ridgeline. They endured their stint on watch as the biting south winds chilled their bodies. This was a common thing for Tia to do; she enjoyed the company of men, especially Gunach, whose watch this was. She also liked the view of the lake and the forested slopes of the mountains to the east.

  Down on the river floor, Kern and his team of engineers had planned to install six Krump Pots at the base of the Hold. They had only managed to place four charges, and only three of them had lightly charred hemp rope primed into the wax cap to act as a fuse, the other end of which sat coiled by their operations tent on the east side of the river.

  Powyss remained behind with Kern to help move more of the pots. Up on the cliff edge he could see Tia standing beside Gunach, both had thick furs wrapped around them.

  Dwarves are notoriously short-sighted but can “perceive” some things at a distance far better than any human, this was why Gunach ’’saw’’ the king’s men running along the east side of the river before Tia noticed.

  ‘Back already?’ said Tia, when she finally caught the movement of the Raiders as they left the safety of the forest edge and ran full tilt along the river. ‘Something is wrong, Gunach, there are too few of them.’

  ‘I think I see why,’ he pointed to the distance and the cliff edge of the mountain. Down on the narrow strip of grassland where it met the forests, he could see a large army of thousands come running around the cliff side and straight towards the king’s men.

  ‘You’d better go and tell the commander,’ said Gunach, ‘you’ll be quicker than me.’

  Tia ran down to the dam floor, jumping from rock to ledge like a nimble Tattoium Mountain Goat. She was out of breath by the time she reached Powyss.

  ‘Havoc is on his way back!’ she said, ‘and has picked up some friends along the way, from the looks of the standards they carry, they are legions from Fort Tressel.’

  ‘How far away?’ said Powyss with some concern in his voice.

  ‘He and his men are nearly at the ford. The enemy are not far behind.’

  ‘Get back up there with Gunach and signal to me when the enemy are crossing the river.’ Tia nodded and ran off. Powyss shouted to Kern as the fat little engineer swaggered towards him.

  ‘I need that other fuse in place quickly!’ said the commander. ‘How long will it take?’

  ‘About ten minutes, sir.’

  ‘You’ve got two.’

  The Furran River was not deep, but what it lacked in depth it made up for in width. An age ago, before the Cromme Hold existed, the river was one of the widest on the continent. However, as the dam slowed the flow from the lake the river channel now remained mostly dry with only a few feet of water running down the centre of the old riverbed. Although some modicum of danger still made it problematic for those who wished to cross, because some areas were unfordable as the depth was twice that of the tallest man. Throughout the years after the dam’s construction, the local cattle farmers had filled in shallower parts of the river with stone to make man made fords for their cattle to cross; these were several hundred yards apart. Havoc and his men now ran towards one of these fords at a disorganised sprint. With so few men to clog the ford, they quickly traversed it even though the width of the crossing itself was only twenty feet wide. Once over onto the other side, Havoc ordered his men to race towards the castle while Linth and his archers remained behind to loose arrows in an attempt at slowing the advancing enemy.

  Kern surprised himself by attaching the fuse in record time. His heart thumped in his chest as he splashed his way back across the river to inform the commander that he had finished the task.

  Powyss was watching the cliff top. After a few minutes, Tia stood and waved her arms to signal for the fuse to be lit.

  ‘This is the moment of truth,’ announced Powyss, as he nodded to the engineer.

  Kern lit the end of the hemp rope with his tinder and flint box. Powyss stared at the sparking fire as it spluttered its way along the rope, going out of sight behind the granite rocks at the base of the dam then appearing again as it shot back into sight.

  Powyss turned to Kern to compliment him on a job well done, but was offered a view of the fat man’s retreating backside as he ran towards the rock-cut stairway that led to the cliff-side exit. Powyss ran after him at a sprint, realising that this was not a good time to linger.

  The mass of enemy soldiers flooded the plain on the east side of the river. Soon they crossed without any hesitation as they chased the fleeing Raiders. Two thousand, five thousand, more... and still they filled in from the grassland before reaching the river.

  Havoc ran on and noticed the ground rose slightly as the route took him to Cromme Castle. He realised he was in the wrong place. The original plan had his host marching in from the east not the west and so the Raiders had to cross at an angle and then climb the steepest area of the Motte to reach safety. He could already see some movement inside the ruins and hoped they would keep out of sight for Creed to fall into the trap. Havoc turned and estimated the amount of enemy that swarmed over the river. He could see the standards of the Ulundi, Gazzen-Sel and the legions of the Wyani had started to cross. Amongst that crowd was Prince Creed, his standard flapped in the breeze.

  ‘Come on Powyss, break the dam!’ he said through gritted teeth.

  The stairway leading to the exit, hewn out of the rock face hundreds of years ago, now covered in rock plants that grew out of narrow cracks in the granite, was very slippery underfoot. Days earlier, Powyss’s men had cleared most of the plant life away only to find that the combination of weather and plant roots had eroded the top section of zigzagging steps. Therefore, a twelve-foot long ladder had to suffice in order to link to the upper level. Kern was at the ladder by the time the commander was halfway up the steps and Powyss wondered how such a large man could run so fast up the steepness of the stairs. Kern shouted something that Powyss could not hear because the wind at this height whipped away his words, but he was pointing down towards the base of the Hold’s basin. Powyss looked and saw the smoke of the burning fus
e drift away over the Furran River that reflected the grey cloud sky on its churning surface.

  Powyss wondered what the engineer was so excited about and then he noticed that there was no more smoke.

  The fuse had gone out.

  ‘Bugger!’ cursed Powyss, ‘My’thos if you are listening, I promise to be a more diligent observer of your faith and have no truck with loose women, if only you would blow up this bloody dam.’

  Nothing happened.

  ‘Alright, you saw through my bluff about the women,’ he sighed.

  Powyss jumped in shock when four puffs of white smoke jettisoned out of the large charge holes that the engineers had made at the foot of the dam. They shot out one after the other as the flame ignited the gunpowder inside the porcelain pots making, to Powyss’s actual surprise, a loud “KRUMP!” noise as they exploded. The pressure wave pushed him against the cliff wall and he had to find a hand and foot hold to stop himself from falling off.

  The high wall of Cromme Holt crumpled to the ground, the base lost in dust and smoke. Even before the top section of the shattered debris was tumbling halfway down, the water of the lake pushed its way through the breach and cascaded down the natural V of the mountain valley, ripping up plants and churning the bed of the river into a frothing brown wall of silt.

  Havoc’s men had reached the first series of old broken castle walls that jutted out from the ground at odd angles near the foot of the slope. These ivy covered mounds proved difficult to move around and that was what Havoc had intended for the enemy. The enemy in question was crossing the river and charging after the king, who sprinted with Linth’s men. Puffing and panting in their full armour as they ran, leg muscles burning as they climbed the slope. Once they reached the defences, they jumped over the walls and helped others to climb over; it was a slow and desperate process.

  A sound like distant thunder issued from the mountains, growing into a loud crescendo as they climbed. The King stopped and watched in amazement as a huge wall of water spewed its way out of the hills and thrashed over the old flood plain, covering the river bed completely as it churned its way into the Dragorsloth to the west.

  Those soldiers that were attempting to cross the river now faced a conundrum of which direction to run. In reality, their only destination was where the wave would eventually take them and deposit their battered bodies along the fringes of the marshland. Thousands ran, most died, those who still had to cross about turned, and managed to avoid the rushing water, but they found themselves trapped on the opposite side from their leader.

  Creed’s men did not escape the flood. Those at the tail end of the charging host met the wall of water and it washed them away down the river amidst tons of frothing and churning debris. Their heavy armour pulled them out of sight under the dirty brown surface.

  Havoc sighed with relief. The flood water worked far better than he expected. It had helped to cut Creed off from part of his main force, although he still outnumbered Havoc by a couple of thousand men, yet the odds were slightly better.

  Once again, he had turned a desperate situation to his advantage. The Raiders behind him, and those defending the castle ruins, understood this also as they cheered and chanted his name just loud enough to hear over the bubbling flood waters and the screams of the drowning enemy.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  The Second Battle of Dragorsloth

  Sixth of Feran 3041 YOA

  T

  he girl giggled as she ran through the snow.

  This type of weather was not common inside the enclosed wall of the mountains where the Little Dell sat. Its location created its own micro-climate and it would have to be an extremely rare cold snap to allow the snow to fall this thick inside the valley.

  The girl did not know this, of course. She had never seen such a wonder before.

  ‘MUUULLLVEEEND!’ her mother was calling her inside. No, not her mother, her adopted mother, yet the girl loved her as much as any daughter could. She laughed as the large snowflakes tickled her nose. The laughter was the only sound to have come out of her mouth in many months.

  A loud shriek overhead, a raven flew past her. She smiled and watched it land in the snow, another joined it. Strangely, they did not search for food. Instead, they watched her intently.

  ‘MUUULLLVEND!’ her adopted mother’s voice was far off. Was she searching for her by the Cheese hut? She made a move to go to her when another voice called her name. This one came from behind her.

  ‘Mulvend.’

  She turned; the snow disappeared, replaced by a carpet of sleek black-feathered ravens silently watching her. In the centre of their mass stood the girl that haunted her dreams, wearing the same blue dress and clutching the doll to her chest as if afraid to be amongst the avian congregation. Her hair in pigtails, held at the ends by thin claps of gold and silver, her cheeks rosy with youth and the chill of the morning.

  Her eyes glowed red like two burning chunks of coal. They hissed as the snow fell past her face.

  Mulvend was not afraid. The girl did not represent any danger to her. She always brought warnings.

  ‘He needs you,’ she said.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The Blacksword.’

  Mulvend, in this youthful form, would not have any clue who the Blacksword was. In an instant, she became more aware of the dream. In a few seconds, she aged and she noticed the heavy battle gear she wore and the sword she held in her hand.

  ‘There will come a time, in his darkest moment, when you will aid him,’ said the girl with the burning eyes.

  ‘What will I have to do?’

  The girl smiled. ‘Do what you do best. Now, however, what is to come will test him. Know this; you are aware that the Queen of Sonora is a Waternymph?’

  Mulvend/Bleudwed nodded.

  ‘Are you also aware that she aided in creating the enchanted armour that Prince Creed wears?’

  This was a surprise, yet she did not understand what this entity was trying to tell her. She said this to the girl.

  The girl smiled again. ‘In time, you will understand. He, they, need you. Destiny together is the gift I give to you…now wake, countess…wake…

  ‘…countess…my lady…My Lady!’ Bleudwed woke with a start. Sir Colby raised his arms and moved backwards, his eyes wide. It took a few seconds before she realised that she had her dagger at his throat. She quickly slotted it back into its sheath at her hip.

  ‘Apologies, sir knight, I…’

  ‘It is alright, my lady. I should not have woken you so abruptly, but the king has returned.’

  She was on her feet in an instant and grabbed her sword baldric. Soldiers were running about in all directions and she pushed through them to get a better look at the land below the ruins. It was only then she realised that a roar of thunder was getting closer by the second. She reached a long outcrop of moss-covered boulders in time to see the lower marsh banks flood with dirty, frothing water. She quickly scanned the ground towards the east and saw a large dark mass of soldiers running from the flood. She recognised green armoured Raiders picking their way through the uneven ground of the ruins.

  Sir Mactan’s Dark Company was moving with all haste towards the danger. Somewhere, amidst the officers shouting out orders, she heard Sir Felcon call for more archers.

  Bleudwed grabbed for Sir Colby’s arm. ‘Get the Eternals attention and tell them to follow me down there!’ she said as she pointed eastwards.

  By the time the countess, and several dozen soldiers of the Prince’s Legion, were half way through the collapsed walls of the castle’s east annex, the Eternals were already moving into position. Sir Whyteman had spread them out along a narrow wall, which gave them significant height, but an insufficient view of the ground below. There was no time to find a better location. Bleudwed, standing in a better position to see the mass of the enemy below, screamed for Whyteman to loose arrows.

  Over a thousand shafts filled the air over the heads of Havoc’s climbing Raiders and
fell amongst the packed formation of the Unduli and Gazzen-Sel Regiments. It was enough to slow the enemy advance and push them backwards.

  At the top of the steep slope sat a long stone dyke, which once formed the base of the main keep-tower of the castle. Part of it was in ruins, but it still held the old walkway that skirted the outside walls, and it was on this that fifteen hundred of the Dark Company grouped together with spear and shield to defend it. They helped their comrades over the dyke and cheered as their king was the last to leap down from the wall to the uneven flagstones of the courtyard below.

  Havoc nodded to them all and held up his hands for them to quieten down.

  ‘Thank you gentlemen, but that was the easy part, I think.’ He looked across at the mouth of the cave, which sat at the rear of the courtyard. Bleudwed smiled at him from the entrance, he smiled back. He looked up above the cave and saw the line of Eternals and Legion archers standing on the crumbling brickwork of the second level of the old tower. He caught Whyteman’s attention.

  ‘Send the signal major, we must let the duke know that the fight has started,’ he said. Whyteman acknowledged with a nod and issued orders for two of his men to climb higher up the mountain pass that sat behind their ruined walls.

  The other Paladins gathered around their liege lord. Bleudwed joined them and resisted the urge to hug Havoc. She looked around her at the other soldiers that had survived the flight from Prince Creed’s army.

  She frowned. ‘Where is Queen Bronwyn?’ she asked. Silence from the king, Furran, Little Kith, Hexor, Foxe and Linth was their only reply. They all wore sad, miserable expressions; Bleudwed knew the answer before any could give one. She gasped and put her hand on her mouth.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ said Magnus, as he pushed through the throng of officers behind her, obviously concerned about the countess’s reaction. Everyone was looking at Havoc.