by JW Webb
Close by, the brothers Tolemon and Danail clashed swords with Leethmen whilst Cogga kept an eye on Corin’s back as the Longswordsman scooped up his lover and fled the hall.
Bleyne’s arrows fell on the cluster of spearmen surrounding The Horned Man, and with alien strength, Cornelius staggered to his feet and made for the hall’s exit. Men sought to stop him but Bleyne’s shafts found them too.
Tolemon and Danail fought side-by-side and retreated to the doors, whilst Cogga yelled Zukei and Bleyne quit scrapping and vacate the hall. King Daan, blocked by his own sweaty warriors, kicked and swore until he got a glimpse of the fleeing raiders.
Tolemon’s sword cut the arm from a spearman whilst Danail stepped beside him and opened the gut of another. But a third warrior dived low and caught the younger brother with a vicious slice under his right arm. Danail toppled, and Tolemon, yelling, gripped his brother and dragged him outside.
Bleyne filled the gate guards with arrows and then threw his weight against the doors. Cogga helped as did Zukei, and then The Horned Man strode forward, towering above them, and a kick from his hoof reduced the doors to splinters. The assault team did their best to flee into the night. They were aided inadvertently by King Daan, who currently had a full berserker on him, and had murdered three of his own warriors before calming down enough to realise that the enemy were getting away.
Rael chose that moment to roll free of the table and grin at the dribbling king.
“Would you care for some help? I’m currently available.” Behind him Hagan found his feet and gazed about at the carnage in the hall with questioning eyes.
“Me too,” the Morwellan growled after a moment’s reflection. It took Redhand almost half an hour to cool down enough to have the wits to send a squad of riders out from the stables armed with crossbow and spear. By that time, the fleeing party had re-joined Fassof and were galloping like mad things back down the road, dawn’s grey light following behind.
All galloped save The Horned Man, who crept off into the woods and disappeared. “I will stall them,” Shallan heard Cornelius calling from the darkness behind. “Go daughter, and know that I love you!”
“Father, no!” Shallan called out from behind Corin, as their horse’s hooves drummed the dusty road beneath them.
It is my time beloved…
Cornelius’s last words hovered inside Shallan’s head, and she wept and nestled her head against her lover’s back as they left her father behind. And so they left Grimhold Castle.
Daan’s first hunting party came unstuck outside the castle walls. Cornelius tore upon them again, killing a score before reinforcements filled him with crossbow bolts, and again he sank to his knees.
Redhand joined his men, and taking a long knife, slid it across The Horned Man’s throat. And at last Cornelius, one of the oldest and noblest of the Faen, departed this realm and was again free to seek the soul of the mortal woman whose restless shade awaited him in the quiet groves outside Vangaris.
Nothing is ever forgotten.
***
An orange glow at their backs announced the sun’s warming presence as they neared the place where woods and track led down to the Westfjord and Barin’s ship. Fassof led the way as they guided their beasts down through wood and vale to the silver glint of water below.
Fassof yelled Barin who stood like a grizzly bear just woken in springtime, his hair shaggier than normal and his beard caught in knots.
“Did you have a rough night?” Cogga grinned at his captain as he vaulted on board, but Barin had only eyes for Shallan.
“One wounded, aside that we’re in good shape,” Fassof announced and then immediately after commenced hollering at the crew to get ready for departure. Corin and Shallan had hardly spoken during their flight. He turned to her as they found their feet safe within the creaking strakes of The Starlight Wanderer.
“You need sleep,” Corin kissed her on the lips and held her to him. “I love you, Shallan. I was lost without you.”
It was like she hadn’t heard him. “He gave his life for me, the ultimate sacrifice from one who has lived since the dawn of time. My father, Corin. I never knew him!” The tears fell free on her cheeks again.
“Get some sleep, my love.” Corin kissed her again and led her to the cabin Barin had reserved for them. “You must rest. Once you have regained your strength we can talk of all these things.” Corin stroked her hair and flicked a stray lock free from her left eye. “And we have time.” He left her resting on the bunk and ventured outside to see what occurred.
“How is she?” Barin glared darkly at him as Corin approached the wheel. Standing with him were Olen and Arami; both looked uneasy and ready to be off this ship, their Rorshai sea legs not being established.
The Starlight Wanderer was cutting a clean path through the blue of Westfjord as the sun rose like fire behind them. It was a beautiful northern morning, but Barin’s face was strangely grim.
“She’ll be all right, but her mind’s wandering a bit. We had help in Grimhold, a strange creature. Shallan called him ‘Father.’ I don’t know why.”
“What became of him?”
“I fear he died enabling our escape. A noble being, I would have liked to have thanked him.”
Barin nodded but said nothing on the matter, but Olen, behind him, fixed Corin a quizzical stare.
“What is it?” Corin asked the Rorshai.
“Nothing,” Olen shrugged, but both he and Arami looked as tense as Barin looked miserable.
“Fine,” Corin said. “Glad that’s sorted out, enjoy the sunshine you pair.” Olen and Arami didn’t respond so Corin turned to Barin instead. “And how fare you, Northman?” Corin’s hard blue-grey gaze studied his friend. “You appear uneasy as these Rorshai.” Barin’s expression reminded Corin of his friend Roman before they reached Crenna harbour. A kind of sorrow laced with self-doubt—it didn’t suit him.
“I had bad dreams last night,” Barin said.
“I never have good ones,” Corin answered but Barin’s face remained grim, and the Rorshai were no help, so he left them all to their morbid thoughts. Instead Corin found Taic, who was dependably cheerful as ever.
“Your uncle seems in glum spirits. Said he had bad dreams while we were away.”
Taic grinned. “Surprised he remembered; he drained a half barrel with King Ulani. Impressive even for him.” Corin smiled and nodded that he understood. “Uncle misses Marigold and the girls,” Taic added. “Seeing them and then leaving again was hard on him. He often gets mopey after calling in at home. He’s a big softy at heart, you know.”
“I know.”
“A propos, King Ulani is voiding his bowels if you need him. He’s been down there a while.”
“I’m good for the moment, thanks.”
Taic nodded and sighed as he looked at the swelling morning. “I like Ulani,” he said after a moment’s thought on the matter. “He’s like Uncle’s long-lost twin.”
“The resemblance is astounding,” Corin agreed.
“Still no sign of pursuit?” Prince Tarin appeared, his change of topic turning their gaze to stern, where only clear water and sunlight showed between the green slopes of Westfjord.
“Give ’em time,” Taic said. “Redhand keeps his vessels near to Grimhold at the far end of Westfjord. I suspect he’s manning them already with a plan to reduce our island to ashes.”
“His ships are slow tubs that take in water.” Cogga joined them whilst rubbing salve on a shallow wound he’d received on his forearm. “We have time to prepare.”
“How fares the wounded one?” Tarin asked and Corin felt sudden shame. He had forgotten all about Danail, currently pale and resting below, whilst being attended to by Ruagon, the ship’s chef, who doubled as a surgeon when needed.
“Not good.” Bleyne was counting his arrows close by; he was down to a dozen but seemed unconcerned. “I think Shallan is with him now.”
“Best I go down then.” Corin made to leave.
&nbs
p; “Leave it, Zukei’s there too.” Bleyne’s gaze held Corin who shrugged. “Ruagon says there’s tension between the older brother and Shallan. Seems like an on-going thing. And Tolemon blames her for Danail’s current state.”
“That’s total bollocks.” Sveyn had overheard and got his opinion on the matter in before anyone else could speak.
“Tolemon is hard work,” Corin agreed, but concurred to leave matters be until he got Shallan away from her brothers and could speak to her alone.
Below in Barin’s cabin, Danail was stretched out on the table, his chest heaving and his breathing shallow. His pale skin glistened with an unhealthy sheen. The wound in his side was deep, and Danail’s mind was wandering.
Shallan knelt beside her wounded brother as Tolemon loomed behind. Close by, Zukei watched on as she sharpened her throwing hatchet with a whetstone.
“Why don’t you put that away?” Tolemon glanced irritated in Zukei’s direction. “That bloody scraping’s getting on my nerves.” She ignored him. “That girl doesn’t need to be here,” Tolemon told Shallan, whilst glaring at Zukei, who met his eye with an indifferent shrug.
“She is my friend and therefore welcome with me anytime.”
“You have strange friends, Sister,” Tolemon said. He was about to add more, but Danail opened his pale eyes, and seeing Shallan leaning over him smiled up at her. “Debt repaid, Sissie,” Danail flashed her a wink and then winced as the pain lanced into him again. Shallan glanced at Ruagon, who shook his head.
“It doesn’t look good,” Ruagon muttered to Zukei behind him.
“Shit happens.” Danail, overhearing them, smiled despite his pain. He coughed blood and his next words were choked out in slow chunks. “It’s better…this…way. I feel…noble…a hero. Father would be proud.” Danail’s body shuddered and his eyes glazed blank.
“Not you too!” Shallan’s tears spilled free as she crumpled over her brother. “First father then Vorreti. And now darling brave Danail. That just leaves…”
“You and me.” Tolemon stiffened and after awarding Zukei a bleak stare departed the cabin.
“He’s a cold bastard,” Ruagon whispered in Zukei’s ear.
“Aye, that he is,” the woman nodded and followed Tolemon out onto he deck.
“He’s dead.” Zukei joined the gathering at the stern where Bleyne was still remaking his arrows, and Corin stood by Olen and Arami gazing out to sea. Taic was scratching his ear and Sveyn just looked morose.
Prince Tarin’s eyes were on Zukei, whom he held in fascinated awe. Zukei ignored the prince and grabbed Corin’s arm, catching his attention.
“You need to watch that Tolemon bastard,” the woman warned him and then left without further word.
Corin sighed, deeming it time he ventured below. He found Shallan still weeping over her brother’s corpse.
Corin stooped low beside her. “I’m sorry love, I truly am.” When Shallan didn’t respond, Corin left her to her grief and went to join Barin again.
“Is it too early for ale?” he said, his face now as grim as Barin’s.
“It’s never too early for ale.”
Ulani appeared just then. “Have I missed something?” The king looked a bit rough this morning.
“We have a valiant warrior’s life to celebrate,” Fassof answered, as he swung close.
“That we do,” Barin nodded, and then explained to Ulani how Danail had died. “Hey Taic, you tosspot, crack that last barrel and make sure everyone gets a bellyful. We’ve a tense sail ahead, and then defence preparations to make at Valkador. I want to give Redhand the welcome he deserves!”
They drank to Danail as they cast his body into the Westfjord’s flat blue expanse. Shallan’s wet eyes watched her brother sinking slowly down into the dark fathomless depths. It seemed to her that he waved back at her but it must have been the water wagging his arm.
An hour later, they funnelled into the twenty-mile narrows that led out to the open ocean beyond. It was during that voyage they encountered the giant on the rock and their course was changed without their control.
***
Rael rolled his eyes at the clumsiness and disorder surrounding him and Hagan. Added to the chaos surrounding quay and strand, Redhand’s vessels were worse than tubs. If only he had his sharks then he would catch up with that Barin and his crew and finish some long overdue work.
But Rael summoned patience. This was proving a diverting trip even though it hadn’t paid yet. It looked like they would be calling in on Valkador, doing a spot of murdering, raiding, and maybe some buggering about, before parting company— and not before he got recompense for delivery of the lady. Wasn’t Rael’s fault the twits had let her get away. But a chase would add nicely to the drama of things, in Rael’s opinion.
He had missed out on killing the horned creature. Shame, he could have had some fun with that brute. But there was still Barin and the others, and most importantly longshanks, whom he and Hagan could share over a hot fire. That thought cheered the Assassin as Redhand’s three bulky ships finally departed the quay and drifted out across the Westfjord.
That’s if we ever get to Valkador…
Rael rubbed his mittens to dispel the cold and summoned what little patience he could muster. Beside him Hagan’s face was set in stone. One again the Morwellan felt cheated and once again he blamed Corin.
Soon Longswordsman, soon!
***
Five lean vessels threaded north from the coast of Morwella where they had been wintering after fleeing the carnage west of Kelwyn. Cruel Cavan, having survived the slaughter at Ulan Valek, had found the crew of The Black Serpent in a deserted village near Vangaris, where they were eagerly draining the barrels of a recently abandoned tavern.
“We are needed in the north,” Cavan said, as he kicked a tankard from the nearest pirate’s hand, spilling beer all over his companions. No one complained. They all feared Cruel Cavan, and for good reason. Next to Rael Hakkenon, Cavan was the most dangerous man in Crenna, and the name “Cruel” had been given to him by Rael as a compliment on his knife work on captives. Cruel Cavan was a cunning, clever pirate and a demon with both sword and axe. Not a man to be gainsaid.
“Why north?” One of the stouter hearts present dared question him.
“Because our leader is up there and has need of us.” Cavan said no more and none questioned him further. Besides, they wouldn’t have grasped the truth even if he told them. He’d hardly believed it himself when he’d heard.
A winged goblin had visited him on The Wild Way, informing him that Rael Hakkenon (or “Mr Assassin” to use its words) was bound for Grimhold Castle with a female captive in tow. Suffice to say, Cavan had made for the coast pronto that next morning.
Chapter 36
The Ice Realm
Cliffs fell away on either side, and open sea filled the horizon, with one interruption: a black, weed-greasy island rising sheer and sharp from the churning waters surrounding it.
“That should not be there.” Barin stared at the island as though it would pounce on him at any moment.
“Where did it come from?” Taic asked. “I mean, did it just pop up out of the water?”
“It’s an island, not a fucking rabbit,” Barin growled. “This smacks of sorcery.” All eyes watched from prow and rails as the island rose fast and sleek ahead of them.
“Hadn’t you better change course?” Corin grunted in Barin’s ear.
“It shouldn’t be there,” Barin repeated, not listening.
“Well it bloody well is there! Hence, shouldn’t we avert from our current course? That’s just a suggestion, so don’t get the hump.”
Barin chewed his beard. “Fassof, out oars. Lads, get some muscles going!” Barin swung the wheel hard bringing the ship round to face south. That wasn’t much help: a line of cliff blocked the southern route, and Barin swore enthusiastically.
“I think someone is determining our direction for us,” observed Bleyne wryly, safe in the knowledge the Goddes
s would see them through any witchy stuff.
“And I think I know who,” Corin added darkly, pointing up to the western end of the nearest cliff. A tiny figure stood there, cloaked and sporting a wide brimmed hat. Sunlight glinted of the tip of his spear. Corin cursed. “This is my fault, I pissed him off and now he’s going to shaft us.”
To his right King Ulani growled deep in his throat, “The ferryman?”
“He has several guises,” Corin said.
“What now?” Fassof yelled, “Those cliffs are getting close.”
“North!” yelled Barin. Not that there was much choice, that being the only direction showing a clear passage. Groaning, Barin worked the wheel again, his huge arms straining, whilst Fassof hollered the crew get aloft and get cracking. The Starlight Wanderer listed sharp to starboard as she barely cleared the rock-strewn base of the nearest cliff.
“It’s going to be tight,” Bleyne shouted in Corin’s ear.
“I hadn’t noticed,” he replied.
Now the island loomed ahead again, bigger and blacker than before.
“This is getting monotonous,” Corin said. “I mean why can’t these divinities find other amusements that don’t involve buggering us about?” No one was listening.
“What’s that?” Sharp-eyed Bleyne had spotted a strange shape resembling a triangular boulder topping the sharp point of the island’s crown.
“Don’t know, don’t care, really,” Corin muttered.
“It’s moving,” Zukei observed with a snarl. “Look!”
“Fuck, but that’s not good,” added Taic. His jaw dropped in surprise along with everyone else’s. The weird shape grew taller until they realized it was a being of sorts, standing precariously on two spindly legs and glaring down on them. A giant he was, huge and hideous, thin as a leek. Corin could see that the wretch’s filthy hands were constrained by iron manacles, and vast chains attached these to the rock below.
Corin thought of Croagon down in Permio. But this giant wasn’t blind. Nor was he muscular but skinny, gaunt, and shabby. But he was huge as a house and staring hostile straight at them.