by J. W. Webb
“I always knew you should have been born a man, Shallan. Your heart is valiant, dearest. I never told you but The Horned Man is your real…” The duke’s words froze on his lips and his eyes glazed over. Duke Tomais of Vangaris was dead.
Shallan wept. Zukei stood over her in watchful silence. Outside it had grown strangely quiet but Shallan no longer cared. She felt numb, her head light and her limbs weak. She turned to the door and the room started to spin. She fell, and Zukei caught her and gently lowered her body to the bed.
“I have failed,” Shallan told the girl.
Zukei smiled. It made her look younger. “No,” the dark girl said. “You have done well, Lady Shallan. You have courage and a good soul. The rest can be learned in time. And,” Zukei’s smile broadened, “you will have a good teacher. I’m accompanying you to Car Carranis.” Shallan lost consciousness at that point. Her mind wandered down dark paths. Shallan saw a horseman tall and stern of face. He was calling out to her. Shallan…Shallan!
Clasped in his right hand was a blazing sword wrought of purest crystal.
Corin! But then he vanished and from far away she heard voices calling out to her. Sister, return to us while there is still time…
Chapter 45
A Sting in the Tale
Ariane controlled the horse with her legs and screamed as she skewered a masked warrior, she’d rejoined the fight when the enemy broke through. She’d lost her rapier in the melee earlier and now gripped the sabre in both hands.
There was no order now. No discipline. They fought back to back in tiny knots, their circle having broken. Most the Raleenians had fallen and half of her brave Kelwynians would never fight again. Despite that the survivors still fought on stubbornly.
The corpses of their enemies lay strewn in steaming heaps all about them. Ariane’s helmet and armour were splattered with blood and filth. At her side Captain Tarello still bellowed orders like a madman. A good choice, Tarello. She hadn’t known much about him before they left Wynais. Brave and smart. Shame he was going to die.
Tarello showed no sign of dying soon. He fought like a demon, stabbing and lashing out at enemy men and Groil whenever they broke through the defence, or came close to the queen.
Close by, Cale shared a horse with Galed. Neither looked happy. Ariane had yelled at Tarello to order some guards cover them. She’d stared daggers at the boy but lacked time to render him the verbal lashing he deserved. That would come later—if by some miracle they survived. And that prospect looked woefully slim. They were hemmed in on all sides, the sheer weight of enemy bodies alone would crush them soon.
A giant two-headed Groil leered in front of her. Ariane slashed across at its face but this Groil was more cunning than most. It stepped sideways and trapped her blade in the serrations of its black sword. It twisted the steel and the sabre was wrenched from Ariane’s grip. The Groil stood over her, dog tongues lolling, and its breath beyond foul.
“Queen, beware! “Tarello yelled a warning and tried to reach her but he was trapped between three enemies. Tw- heads swung its blade hard and Ariane dived low. Blood sprayed her from head to toe. She looked up just in time to see Wyrmfang split the Groil in two, sending a head each way.
Barin!
“This way, queenie!” Barin’s axe was working overtime. Groil and men were felled like saplings. They fell back in panic, buying Ariane’s survivors a modicum of time.
“To the gate,” Barin roared “Run! We cannot hold it open for long!” Barin’s sortie, though tiny in number had caught the enemy by surprise. They’d lacked motivation since Derino’s fall and were easily confused. While they hesitated Ariane and Tarello seized the opportunity.
The captain led the way forward in a final push for the gates. Horses’ hooves lashed out at the foe as they sought in vain to halt their escape. Barin’s crew minded the entrance slaying all that came near, while the Northman single-handedly kept the path clear along the wall for the young queen’s riders.
Ariane urged her steed forward. They reached the gates, clattered through and entered the city. In their midst Cale and Galed looked at each other in shattered relief. Neither could believe that they were still alive, and unhurt to boot.
Then just as the gates swung tight a huge Groil leapt through the gap. The dog-thing leapt high and seized Ariane from behind, its claws trapping her cloak and yanking her from the saddle. Together they tumbled between the small gap in the gates.
Ariane yelled out and tried to stab the Groil with her dagger but was caught off balance. The Groil cuffed her. Ariane fell and the Groil slunk to all fours and started dragging her out through the gateway. Black claws wrenched at the gates as its comrades sought to get in.
Amid shouts Barin, Fassof and Tarello all leapt for the gates.
But Cale was quickest.
Before Cale had realised it he had leapt from his saddle. Gripping his purloined sword with both hands, the boy stabbed down hard into the hind quarters of the Groil.
The creature’s blood spilled over Cale, making him gag at the stench. Barin, looming close, heaved the dog-thing aside and slammed the gate shut crushing the claws still prising from outside. The guards hurried behind and slung the heavy bars across it.
Job done.
Ariane, shaken but unhurt, had regained her feet. She watched as the ashen-faced Tarello helped the boy up.
“That was well done, lad,” the captain said and Cale beamed in return. Ariane’s riders dismounted, allowing the newly arrived stable retainers to see to their steeds. Ariane glanced across at her men. They’d done well, nearly half the force that left Wynais were still living. She approached the nearest Raleenian, Darosi’s second whose name she had forgotten.
“Your men fought with honour and courage. They will never be forgotten. From this day forward, Wynais is in your debt.”
The Raleenian smiled a grisly smile. “An honour to fight alongside Ariane of the Swords,” he said. “We still living are yours to command, Queen of Kelwyn.”
“Thank you. I don’t recall your name, Captain.”
“Jaan, your highness, and I’m only a lieutenant.”
“No, you are a captain.” Exhausted, Ariane managed a grin as Barin loomed over her.
“I was hoping you’d show up,” she said. Barin beamed in delight when he saw the two figures behind her.
“So, Master Cale,” Barin said. He lumped the boy a playful tap on the head. Cale felt like a tree had hit him but grinned back heroically.
“You and ‘Squire’ Galed here are warriors now,” he grinned across to Galed. “I knew you would be, eventually. It was only a matter of time. You both have courage.”
“Courage or madness,” grumbled Galed, choking as Barin hugged him enthusiastically. “What difference is there?”
“It’s a reasonable point of view.” Barin rubbed an ear and yawned. It had been a tiring day and it wasn’t over yet.
The queen, her officers and a score of fighters made for the east wall’s battlements with Barin and his men. “We had best make ready for their next move,” Ariane said. Once upon the wall they saw the enemy—still numbering several thousand—had withdrawn well out of bowshot. They resembled a dark untidy mass, leaderless and confused. Even now fights were breaking out between Groil and men. It seemed Caswallon’s beasts were starting to squabble.
“I can’t see that shower attacking any time soon. Think we’ve gained a respite at least.” Tarello looked down on the horde with contempt.
“My guess is that they’ll await fresh commands from their master in Kelthaine,” Barin said as he watched the spectacle. “They were obviously at a loss without Derino’s guidance. Caswallon shouldn’t have put all his faith in one man. He may be a sorcerer but he’s no general.”
“Luckily for us,” added Ariane. “And I suspect he won’t make the same mistake again. Still—we’ve done well, my friends. Calprissa struck the first blow. Caswallon’s ego will be dented at least.”
Just then the boy Pont appe
ared sweaty-faced and puffing. He’d evidently taken it upon himself to act a messenger.
“Barin—sir!” Pont didn’t realise who Ariane was. Covered in blood she hardly looked like a queen.
“What’s up, Punk?”
“Pont, sir. The Assassin, sir—he’s killed the sick duke and scarpered. There’s a bunch of guards after him but none have returned yet.”
Barin slumped against the parapet. In the chaos he’d forgotten about Shallan. If that girl was hurt…
“What of the duke’s daughter?” Ariane demanded.
“She’s sick, so they tell me. The crazy woman’s minding her.”
“Crazy woman?” Ariane awarded Barin a quizzical look.
“That’ll be Zukei,” Barin told her. “A stray we picked up in Syrannos.”
“Poor Shallan. I didn’t even know she was here.” Ariane bid Captain Tarello stay and keep an eye on the enemy below. “I must go see my cousin at once.” Ariane left the wall without further ado. Barin followed with Cale and Galed too. Barin’s crew stayed with Tarello to keep an eye on things. All except Sveyn, who was feeling guilty that he’d abandoned Shallan.
Ariane ordered fresh mounts and, as they rode through the city streets, Barin told her their reason for being here in Calprissa. He was angry with himself for leaving Shallan and her father to their fate. Not that there was much he could have done—couldn’t be in two places at once.
They dismounted beneath the west wall and hurried toward the physician’s quarters. Everywhere people waved and cheered at their young queen (word having got out) and the giant axe warrior that had saved their city. The Calprissans worshipped Barin now. Master Pont had lost no time recounting the great fight on the east wall.
Citizens clustered about him much to his annoyance, but he said nothing, just waved and grinned. These Calprissans had done well despite Barin’s misgivings. All of them were bone-weary. Most of the guards blood-splattered from head to toe. These drained kegs of ale while their womenfolk tended their wounds.
As he walked Cale studied the citizens of Calprissa. Considering the earlier chaos at the walls the cityfolk seemed rather dignified. Cale couldn’t help but admire them. They were his queen’s people therefore his people too. Cale was a Kelwynian now. A noble. And a hero. Gone was the cutpurse from Kelthara. That had been back then.
They reached the healing house and entered within. Ariane stopped several times to smile warmly and spare a kind word or two for the more serious of the wounded.
“Your queen has come,” she told them. “Your brave deeds here will not be forgotten. We have won the day thanks to your courage.”
Pride filled their faces as the wounded of Calprissa watched their beloved queen pass by. They didn’t care that she was covered in gore. She was one of them.
Ariane entered the back room the others behind her. The lone guard greeted them. “She’s been sleeping,” he said. “The wild one won’t let anyone near her till she wakes.”
***
Shallan had regained consciousness some time ago. Zukei, hovering close, had offered her some broth, and feeling better she’d sunk into a long dreamless sleep. Shallan woke hearing voices in the room.
She looked up in surprise, seeing her cousin smiling down on her. Behind the queen, Zukei scowled and gripped the handle of her foreign sword until Barin emerged and placated the black girl.
“Ariane…Am I dreaming?” Shallan blinked. “I thought you in Wynais.”
The queen reached down took her cousin in her arms. Shallan’s eyes were bleak as she stared into the nothingness of the wall. She’d long since shed her final tear.
“Beloved cousin, don’t fret.” Ariane felt awkward as she always did with Shallan. “I heard what happened—your father died bravely, they tell me. He rests in Elanion’s grace, your mother at his side.”
Shallan gave her a stony look. “He wasn’t my father,” she whispered then in a louder voice added, “I must return north at once. Morwella needs me, Ariane.”
“I know,” answered the queen, forcing a smile despite the continuing friction between them.
“You will sail with Barin in the morning. He too has itchy feet.” Barin, bulking beneath the doorway, raised a quizzical brow at that last statement. He had hoped to stay a couple of days at least to ensure no more attacks (and catch up with some serious ale draining).
They left after persuading Zukei to leave Shallan alone with the duke’s body for a time to deal with her grief. Her father’s corpse had been cleaned and adorned with fresh clothes as befitted his rank. The room too had been scrubbed clean of blood and Cormalian’s body carried to his kin, so that they could see to his last journey.
Shallan had watched their tidy up in silence. Ariane had urged her get some air outside but to scant avail. Thus she had left her cousin to her thoughts with a heavy heart. Shallan hardly noticed them leaving. Someone stayed behind though. Sveyn had pulled up a chair and sat moping in the corner.
They retired to the citadel where Lord Tolruan’s body rested in state arrayed in dignity on a long stone table. Outside on the balcony evening settled at last. It had been a very long day. The latest reports from the east wall stated that the enemy still lingered out of bowshot.
Barin, wielding a wine bottle in either hand, challenged the queen’s decision about Shallan and himself. “What that lass needs is rest and plenty of it. She’s been through a lot lately. And what of Calprissa? The enemy have not given up.”
“Of course not.” Ariane accepted a bottle from Barin. She spat the cork on the floor and glugged down half of it. “They’ll be back tomorrow or the next day, on that we can count. Caswallon will be furious.”
“He won’t make the same mistake again. That Soilfin creature has most likes informed him of how things stand.”
“Gribble.” Ariane nodded. “I heard that little shit survived its drowning.”
Ariane drained the bottle, belched and then smiled fondly at the Northman.
“Calprissa is my city, Barin,” she said, placing a gloved hand on his arm. “And therefore my responsibility. I shall not let it fall. Not while I have men like Captain Tarello of Wynais and Captain Jaan of Atarios, and ‘Squire’ Galed by my side. Not to mention that valiant little shithead over there.”
Cale, who had been skulking in the hall, perked up hearing her words.
“In here, Cale. Now!”
Sheepishly Cale approached with eyes welded to the floor.
“Whatever am I to do with you?” Ariane asked the boy. She placed a hand under his chin and made him looked up into her dark eyes. “Tell me, boy, how might I serve thee? A good whipping?” Cale blushed crimson, and then mumbled something inaudible.
“You blatantly disobeyed, not only my orders, but those of our high priest and your long suffering mentor, Galed. Such culpability could be punishable by death.” Cale assumed she was teasing him, but you never really knew, and she had drunk an entire bottle of wine rather quickly. He pouted his lips and squinted back at her like a cornered ferret.
“I just wanted to be at your side,” he muttered eventually. “I love you, I always have.”
“Cheeky little turd,” Barin was chuckling. Even Galed’s concerned face softened with pride. The girl Zukei frowned at Cale. He caught her eye and gulped.
Ariane glared at him a moment longer, but unable to keep up her charade broke into a wicked chuckle. “
“You’re a charmer, Cale,” the queen said. “When you are fully grown you’ll be big trouble. Elanion help the ladies at Wynais court.” She leaned forward and kissed the scarlet-faced boy on his right cheek. Cale gulped back tears.
“You saved my life at the gates and thus have more than redeemed yourself. From this day on you will be known as ‘Squire’ Cale. You will study lore with your senior, Galed, and will also learn the skills of a fighting man under the strict guidance of my Captain of Guard in Wynais, Yail Tolranna. Don’t think you’ll have an easy time. You won’t. Tolranna’s a bastard. Your train
ing starts at once—report to Captain Tarello on the east wall for watch duties. You are dismissed.” The queen waved him away.
Cale beamed and departed from the balcony. Galed accompanied him and was already imparting his wisdom but Cale wasn’t listening.
He was Squire Cale now. Cale had no idea what a squire was but certainly it was another rung on the ladder. Once back in Wynais he’d work his way up the ranks. It didn’t matter that they were still surrounded by enemies, or that a nasty sorcerer and his winged imp plotted their ruin. The only thing that concerned Cale was that finally he really was going places. As he trotted through the streets, Cale reached for a beer tankard left half full on a nearby table. Galed caught his arm. “There’ll be none of that,” said the elder squire.
Cale just grinned and gulped and walked on past.
“I will look after Shallan and see her safe to Car Carranis,” Barin was explaining to Ariane. “Once she’s safe inside that fortress I’ll go home.”
Ariane hugged him. “You are the best of men, Barin. Thank you for saving my city and my cousin.” Barin had told the queen of his earlier decision to accompany Shallan to Car Carranis. She had been relieved and was deeply grateful to her friend.
Barin rubbed his beard and farted. He felt rather sad. His eyes were misting over. His thoughts filled with the snowy mountains of home.
Bloody red wine again—what I need is good northern ale.
“I shall be glad to see my home, queenie. It’s been a busy time. I’m no longer young, and all this hair pulling and cavorting about is wearing my bones thin.”
She laughed at that and Barin looked wan. He sighed theatrically, straightened his back with a creak and ran a battered hand through his tangled blood-crusted mane.
“Look at the state of me, I need a hot bath and proper ale. This southern wine does peculiar things to my head. Besides, we should celebrate.”
“Celebrate?” Ariane’s eyes widened at that.
“Aye, celebrate the honourable passing of two noble dukes,” responded Barin. “And commend ourselves on our victory—however shortlived. But most of all take joy in the knowledge that we old friends are still alive.”