‘You haven’t seen him?’
‘No – only his medics – and I understand they don’t know what is wrong with him but I hear he is feeling better today – he has a new medic.’
Always suspicious of change, Conn asked if he knew anything about the Medic.
‘I though he was one of yours. I heard he had been trained in Gatinak…’
‘Not one of mine. And Alduni?’
‘He is with Bran – they have gone to Farah – Alduni’s uncle, the Eaorl Penda died last week – his horse fell on him. He was only thirty six. Bran and Alduni have gone to pay their respects.’
‘Let me get this right – Driscoll is seeing anew Medic who is Gatinan, and days from death, while Bran and Alduni are away – and travelling together back from Farah. How many men does he have with him?’
‘The usual – about twenty.’
‘Did he take any Valkeri with him?’ Because of Ana, Conn had arranged for squads of Valkeri to move to Moesiak – as well as Susa.
‘No, he said he didn’t need them.’
‘I wonder why. Anyway, somehow I don’t think it’s going to be enough.’
He stood to leave. He instructed the four wiga who were waiting to get the horses.
‘Finghin; do what you have to do to find Ana – tell her that Driscol has been poisoned and that the Medic is an imposter and there will be an assassination attempt on him – sometimes soon. Get her to tell the Valkeri. They will believe her.’
As Conn headed outside to his horses, he noticed that Fainche was waiting for him on horseback.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked her. ‘You are welcome to stay.’
‘I think I’ll go for the ride’ was all she said.
‘It will not be a sightseeing tour – at worst it will be a complete waste of time.’
She shrugged. ‘Be that as it may…’
Waiting for Conn was one of his black gelding; young, he was a third generation horse, and although not perfect, he still two hands taller than everything else there. The Chief Groom explained that he had been left by Aerlene a week previously; he had gone lame but he was fine now. Conn was very grateful, and minutes later they passed through the main gate. Conn stopped to ask the guards if anyone unusual had left recently.
‘No one unusual; mostly Moesians, some Lykians, some Trokians, and a couple of Gatinans.’
‘The Gatinans – they were merchants?’
They looked at each other searching for an answer. ‘They didn’t have any pack animals – they said their animals were out of town because they got lame. They were looking for replacements.’
‘So which way do they go?’
‘Towards Farah. They will have to pass the other gatehouse so they will be able to confirm if they passed.’
The Gatinans – though Conn was sure they were in fact Rakians – had indeed passed the other gatehouse; and had continued on towards Farah. Farah was typical four day ride from Moesiak. Conn was intent in doing it in less; each rider had an extra horses, and when they go to the livery at the ferry crossing, they swapped the tired horses for others. Conn kept his black gelding however; he was worth two of any other horse.
At the ferry, the Rakians had increased to ten in number – and over the river, they now numbered thirty. Conn wondered where these men had been hiding all this time, but Farah was fairly rough country and it backed on to a huge mountain range. There would be plenty of places to hide.
What was certain was that they were catching them – ever so slowly. They also weren’t travelling on the roads all the time and every now and then the trail would divert off the road to avoid a minor settlement.
On the third day, the Rakians had divided into two groups; Conn presumed that they must be setting a trap somewhere ahead. As far as Conn could tell, they were half a day from the town of the Eaorl of Farah; and like most of Moesia, the population was sparse, settlements were intermittent, and the rest of the demesne was forest and bushland. There were many places ideal to ambush someone if that was your intent. For them to choose this place, they must know that the Aebeling was near – there must be a traitor inside the entourage.
Conn split his group into two as well; he sent Aghy’s men one way and kept his Lykians with him. He had trained them; he knew what they would do, and he knew that they would follow his instructions to the letter. He told one of them to kill Fainche if she made a noise; a suggestion she thought was joke until she saw Conn’s expression – and the look on the wiga’s face.
It was soon clear where the trap was; the roadway followed a natural valley between two hilltops; and the hilltops on either side provided perfect cover for bowmen. From his outlook, Conn used his telescope to see that a party of riders was about to head into the ravine from the other end – Bran’s group.
A new course of action presented itself and he told his wiga to hasten up the side of the valley and attack those hidden. He would attack from the front. Not good policy but his best option at this time.
Fainche looked at him as he prepared his bow. ‘What are you going to do exactly?’
‘Create a diversion so too many of my men don’t die.’
‘Isn’t that your men’s job.’
‘Not unnecessarily.’ With that he kicked the horse into a canter and as it hit the flat he kicked it into a gallop towards the oncoming riders perhaps a mile away. Big, fit and strong, the gelding gained speed as he went.
It didn’t take long for the Rakians to realize that the rider galloping towards Bran was going to interfere with their plans, and they commenced their attack earlier than they would have liked – and by exposing themselves to the Moesians, they exposed themselves to Conn’s bow. After about five died from too far a distance then they understood, they took cover in the trees – to find that Conn’s wiga were arriving from behind. Forced down the hillside, they concentrated their fire on Conn. The Bran’s wiga had gone into a defensive mode, to protect their Aebeling, and Conn hoped that they didn’t fire at him as well, but the golden sun on his shield was clear enough.
He continued to fire as he galloped; and the Rakians continued to fall. As he got closer, Conn felt arrows being deflected by his shield and armour, but unfortunately the horse was not so protected – the gelding staggered – he had been hit with arrows, and he valiantly struggled to stay upright as Conn prepared for the inevitable fall. Conn loosened his feet from the stirrups and as the gallant horse drew its last few breaths, its head fell forward and Conn threw himself over the side; pushing himself away from the dying horse and using his life of training to complete a barrel roll as he hit the ground. As he completed the roll, he stood as Rakians leapt down the embankment to finish the job.
Conn drew his swords quickly to parry a blow by a Rakian sword, and then in a flurry of motion and skill, dispatched the three men who had simply taken him too lightly. The last sword he parried was not a Rakian blade – it was an Ancuman sword. The sword owner spoke.
‘Well, well, well. If it isn’t that meddling feorrancund – what are you called – I remember – Taransay. Remember my name – Andu il Axum. It will be your last memory.’
‘Seriously? You just killed my horse. I’m in a very bad mood.’
With that Conn engaged – not his normal procedure – but he was tired – and he knew everything there was to know about Ancuman fighting techniques. Within a couple of minutes of clashing swords, Conn rolled to the side to avoid a blow and stood.
‘Well, Andu il Axum, are you still confident?’ The look on the Ancuman’s face indicated that he wasn’t but he tried again – and again, until he found himself looking at the wakizashi embedded deep in his chest. His sword fell from his hand and he gripped the wakizashi as if to pull it out. He then fell down, dead.
Conn walked the last fifty yards to where the Aebeling’s men stood huddled around a man on the ground. As he got closer Conn could see that it was Bran. Alduni was standing, waiting for him, and he greeted Conn warmly.
‘Thank you Conn,
you have saved us. But my father is dead – he was attacked from behind. He was stabbed. A merchant wished to travel with us as we returned and father let him. But it seems he really was just an assassin.’
‘Where is the assassin?’
He pointed. ‘Over there – he is dead; he tried to kill me too but I wasn’t taken by surprise. The Valkeri have trained me well.’
Conn’s wiga soon arrived; they had chased down those that thought to escape – none had been successful. Fainche arrived with them; and Conn had to stop Bran’s men from arresting her. He explained that she was his prisoner. He then introduced her to Alduni; her kinsmen. She apologized.
‘I am sorry, Alduni, this is neither of my making nor of my liking. It is a cowardly act. You have my sympathy. I cannot believe that my kinsman, the Healdend of Rakia, would sanction such an evil act.’
They collected the dead and dug a long grave, burying all the Rakians – Conn knew for certain now that they weren’t Gatinans – together, with the Ancuman wiga.
Conn called Fainche over to show her. ‘Do you know this man?’
She nodded her head sadly, ‘Yes I do; he was part of the same group as Fara and Anup; his name is Andu. He left by boat last autumn – I thought he was returning to, umm, wherever the Ancuman come from.’
‘Kishdah. Fainche, how many more of them are there? There is only one Ancuman here dead. Are there others who travelled with him?’
For some reason, she decided to tell him. ‘There were six who left together as I recall.’
Conn was concerned, and he spoke to the Folctoga.
‘How many Rakians did we bury?’
‘Twenty eight – and we have lost ten of our own – not including the Aebeling.’
Conn had lost four of the men that he had brought with him – an unacceptable percentage in his mind.
With the knowledge that reinforcements were on the way, they set up camp and set up guards – it was inconceivable that the other Ancuman – there were five out there still – would run – they would have a backup plan of attack. And it would be during the night. One trap deserved another. Conn had camp set up to protect the wounded and the Aebeling, and positioned his sentries in pairs. He positioned his sentries very poorly however, and an experienced wiga would be able to see an unsighted path through the middle of the guard posts. He even positioned the horses down the valley a little – grazing. He had to assume that the Ancuman were experienced.
He had Alduni accompany him as he kept guard. Conn felt obliged to apologize.
‘I’m sorry I was too late, Alduni. I liked your father. I will miss him.’
Alduni nodded. ‘I don’t know why you are apologizing – you shouldn’t even be here! Grandfather is dying and with both my father and I dead; what would Moetia do? Why are you even here, Conn?’
‘A good question – I was heading to Kadash but the weather turned bad and I went to Batra instead – which is the longest way to get to Moesiak that you can imagine. Then I rode here – after a week in the saddle, my backside is sore and I haven’t had a bath in days. I’m having a long chat with Badb when I return to Moesiak. If they want me to do something, they should just say so.’
Alduni laughed and then turned serious. ‘Are they safe at home? Would they attack my grandfather in Moetiak?’
‘Good luck to them if they try – I’ve warned the Valkeri. And why didn’t you bring some Valkeri with you? That is why they are there. The merchant would never have gotten so close.’
‘It was supposed to be a quick trip – my father thought that it would slow us down if they came – they are a little too security conscious sometimes.’
‘But who made him think that it was going to be a problem – what was the hurry?’
Alduni was only eleven, and his small shoulders were going to be burdened even more now; he was the heir. But he stood and thought. ‘I wish Ana was here to help me – she always knows the answer to those questions. But there are many new people in Moesiak – the increased trade means more people in and out. There is a man – I think he is Silekian, and he is a musician and singer. He regularly performs – performed – for my father. I think it was him that made the suggestion. I know my father enjoyed his company.’
‘Maybe we will have the opportunity to interrogate him; but I’d imagine he would be dead by now.’ Conn was replaced on watch and he went to add the final touches to his trap. He gave the Ancuman two possible entry points; down through the trees or up a small incline from another group of trees. Both would give them cover. He had the sentries numbers increased to be noticeably over manned – instead of one there were three men sitting and watching. If they were observing, the Ancuman would know that only left six people in the centre; and they only wanted to kill one of them – even, probably, if it meant they would die in the process.
He ensured that Alduni was seen walking around and going to where he would sleep. It was a good protected site in line with the four sentries; but not from the other two entry points. He was sure they would attack as soon as the sentries quietened down and everyone was asleep. Conn sat quietly under a large tree a short distance away from their bed rolls – they would not have been seen leaving them, as the lie of the land would have prevented that.
After midnight the hairs on the back of Conn’s neck rose, and he nudged one of the wiga. He whispered; ‘Three men coming through the trees and two up the incline. They are determined. Now remember, don’t look.’
Conn had collected an emergency pack from the Inn in Moesiak as he left – and in that pack was a small supply of fireworks – designed to be fitted to arrows as a kind of flare, Conn had amended them for a special display. There was also a small container of black powder.
When the intruders were about twenty yards away from the ‘kill zone’, Conn lit the black powder with a flint; and it quickly flared across the ground in a specially created tunnel, Conn counted down quietly; ‘Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one!’ On ‘one’ the first cracker flared into the air, exploder and emitted a shower of coloured sparks, lasting about five seconds. Almost immediately another flew – and then the last one. Soon the night sky was filled with light – just enough for the intruders to be clearly seen and, given their surprise – they were standing in some kind of reflex surprise position. As they stood, they fell; each dying with arrows embedded into their chest or necks. The sheer number of arrows meant that one was lucky enough to evade their armour, except for one.
He was lucky; he avoided all the arrows and turn and fled back into the forest. Conn immediately gave chase, calling a cease fire as he ran. The Ancuman had about a seventy yard lead on Conn, and in the darkness it should have been a huge advantage. But Conn easily followed the noise, bounding through the forest in leaps and bounds. Where was Derryth and his night vision when you needed him?
When the noise stopped he stopped running, and went forward slowly. The pale moonlight meant that it was not totally pitch black, but the shadows held a lot back. Conn stilled his breathing and heightened his senses until he was one with the trees. He crept forward – his movements giving his position away. He had no advantage in stealth so decided to speak.
‘You know it was only the other day that I was speaking to one of your colleagues – well, speaking is a bit generous. Her name, I believe, was Fara.’ Conn heard a breath intake not ten yards away, ‘She was very beautiful but all she wanted to do was kill me.’ Another intake – behind the tree, ‘At which endeavour she obviously failed – they both died – her and the toy boy of hers… I was hoping that she would surrender – I would like an Ancuman theow to fornicate with at will…’
Conn ducked as a great broadsword struck just where his head was a moment before, missing him by inches. ‘Hey, nice swing; shame about the miss!’ The sword swung at him again and he parried, and deflected the strike. The young man was a bit upset and using a lot of energy in his attempt for the easy kill. After several near misses, he was starting to tire and C
onn elected to engage him more to tire him more. The man had another disadvantage – he wore the black necklace and the Gyden’s frustration and hate was seriously interfering with her man’s inability to fight. She was very strong in this wiga’s mind.
After the ‘lesson’ in swordplay, the Ancuman realized that he wasn’t going to win; and was becoming confused why Conn hadn’t killed him already – he had avoided opportunities. With a sudden desire to die and not be taken prisoner, the Ancuman raced at Conn carelessly – but Conn simply avoided the kill shot every time. In desperation he reached for his dagger, just like Fara, but Conn was waiting this time and he was close enough to strike out with the side of his sword, striking cleanly on the temple with enough forces to stun the man long enough for Conn to get him into a choke hold. He struggled, using every ounce of strength he had to get out of the grip Conn had on him. Over the years, many have tried, but none had every succeeded, and with his airway blocked, he fell unconscious.
Conn was now surrounded by his wiga. He stood. ‘He’s unhurt – make sure he stays that way. Take him back and keep his under guard. Make sure his doesn’t have an opportunity to kill himself.’
Conn returned to the camp and found his bedding and lay down for a nap – it had been a long night, and when Conn woke a few hours later, light was starting to filter through the trees. He checked in with the guards and all was quiet. That was the backup plan; so there shouldn’t be any more of them out there. The prisoner was sitting at the base of a tree; a guard on each side. He saw Fainche walking back from the tree; she turned away when she saw that Conn had seen her. He called out.
‘Fainche, do you know him?’
She turned back, her moment to escape lost. ‘No, but I have seen him with the others. He is just a lowly wiga.’
Conn thought the last comment was unnecessary and shook his head. ‘If you say so Fainche; but I think you lie – he was last coming down the hill, and chose to run instead of fight. I think he is somewhat more important than that. Fainche, I don’t mind it if you don’t tell me anything – but if you tell me lies, I might just sell you as a Theow.’ He didn’t give her an opportunity to answer, turning his back on her and walking to where Alduni sat. He didn’t see the blood rush from her face.
The Eaorl (The Casere Book 2) Page 23