Divided We Fall

by Gareth Mottram

  ‘Of course, I wouldn’t want it to be too easy,’ she whispered and then was gone.

  Will sank to his knees and peered around the corner again, his heart still racing. He silently sheathed his sword while staring at the smoke. To him, it didn’t seem the same as the black mist that had damaged Wade and stopped the arrows.

  Gods, what do I know? If that smoke is some sort of a shield or those creatures can carry on moving when she dies…

  He waited, the seconds stretching out. Then something silver flashed through the moonlight and sank into the woman’s thigh.

  The woman cried out and stumbled backwards, dropping her hands. All the smoke threads instantly dissipated and the corpse guard dropped to the floor.

  Yes!

  Bridget darted from cover and sprinted towards the fire just as a cheer rang out from the centre of the camp.

  Will rushed into the alleyway, his eyes fixed on the bow.

  At the sound of his footsteps, the woman twisted around. Recognition widened black eyes in a bone-white face. Smoke streamed from one hand and the guard corpse jerked to his feet.

  Will skidded to a stop on his knees and snatched up the bow and an arrow from the quiver. The corpse burst into a sprint towards him down the narrow alley, its seax held high. Will notched the arrow and loosed it.

  It missed the corpse by an inch. The risen was a step away from Will as the arrow sank deep into the woman’s unarmoured shoulder and sent her spinning out of the alleyway into the firelight.

  Will grabbed another arrow and ran towards the alley end, leaping over the risen as it fell lifeless once more.

  He notched and drew the arrow as he ran and shot it at the reaper’s back as she crawled into the shadows, smoke again forming around her.

  Too shaken to look back to see if the woman was alive or dead, Will raced for the fire.

  He saw the others running for the boats. Only Osbert, Bragg, Brant, Puck and Gwen were left to form a ring around Rowenna and Wyatt. Eric hobbled along, trying to keep up but falling yards behind them.

  In their wake, the living corpses lay flat and unmoving.

  Will turned towards the river at full speed. Bridget darted out of the shadows, faster than him as always. ‘Quick, they’ll leave without us.’

  ‘Help me!’

  Will skidded to a halt.

  Bridget swore and stopped a few paces further on. ‘We’ve got to go--’

  ‘Here – rope tied.’

  Donal. How could he have forgotten about Donal?

  Will took a step back and the Pict boy rolled out of the longhouse, his feet and arms still bound.

  ‘Will!’ Bridget hissed but Will ignored her.

  He dashed over to Donal, pulling out his seax and slit the boy’s bonds.

  ‘Oh no,’ the boy said, looking past Will’s shoulder.

  Will twisted around to see half a dozen of the corpses jerk back into life.

  He yanked Donal to his feet, and they sped after Bridget, heading for the jetties.

  ‘Behind,’ Donal yelled.

  A dark mist streamed towards them, faster than a horse.

  Will looked desperately ahead. They were just yards from the water. One boat, steered by Rowenna, was already pulling into the centre of the river but Brant waited on the other one with a foot planted on the jetty, ready to kick off.

  Will dropped behind Donal and Bridget to shield their backs just as the mist caught up to them.

  A wave of cold burst over him. It felt as if his energy, his life was being sucked out into the smoke as it enveloped his back and legs and started to swirl over his shoulders. Instinctively, he pulled back hard, and a kick of hot energy snapped into him.

  The smoke recoiled from his body, swirling back and up like a rising wave. The next moment, Bridget grabbed a hand and yanked him away.

  ‘Gods, it touched you,’ she panted, ‘are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Will said, running easily now. He felt as if he had just stretched awake from a good night’s sleep.

  ‘Quickly, Will,’ Brant’s voice rang out. His master still waited for him. The injured Eric sat at an oar, working it hard to try to pull away and yelling at Brant to kick off. The big Scandian’s leg muscles bulged as he strained to keep them anchored.

  ‘The dead come,’ Donal shouted, dodging to the side as the mist streamed past them and onto the jetty.

  Brant took a despairing look at Will and kicked the boat into the river’s flow before the mist could reach him. He dove onto the nearest bench and pulled hard at an oar. The mist swirled around where Brant’s foot had been moments earlier but dissipated as soon as it touched the water.

  Will’s eyes flicked back and forth. Six of the risen sprinted towards them from behind and the mist began to sweep back at them from the jetty in front.

  ‘Ideas?’ Will shouted.

  Chapter 18

  The End of the Road

  Bridget tugged Will to the right and the three of them sprinted along the bank downriver.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Ask her,’ Bridget said and nodded to the water.

  Rowenna was edging her boat closer, pointing to a small peninsula a few hundred yards away. Brant and Eric were rowing hard to catch up.

  Will glanced back, desperately trying not to trip. The six risen were angling towards them, two limping but four of them were pulling ahead and getting faster. Even at a distance, Will could see their smoke-lines getting thicker as more of the reaper’s power pumped into them. The mist chased them too. It swirled along the riverbank, keeping away from the water but tracking their footsteps.

  A dark shape rode slowly after them from the village. The reaper.

  If she can’t send the mist into the water, maybe the corpses can’t touch it either.

  ‘We’ll never make it to the point,’ Will shouted. ‘We’ll have to swim for it. At least the mist can’t follow us.’

  Donal and Bridget both looked back and then nodded.

  The three of them swerved into the shallows then dived into the freezing water.

  Seconds later, the fastest of the risen reached the riverbank.

  And waded in after them.

  ‘They’re coming in,’ Will yelled, ‘go deeper.’

  They swam for their lives.

  Twenty yards away, Brant was yelling at Eric to help steer their boat towards Will, but the Shield was refusing, counteracting Brant’s oar strokes so they stayed in the centre as the current washed them downstream.

  Will dared to look back.

  The risen weren’t swimming but they waded quickly after them into the deeper water. One was just a yard away from Donal’s frantically kicking legs, reaching for his ankle.

  Will turned and began to swim back to the Pict boy. He could see the risen’s smoky control lines rising high above the water, arching to connect with each corpse on the very top of its head.

  ‘Keep coming, Donal,’ Will yelled between strokes, ‘I don’t think they can swim.’

  Gods, I hope I’m right.

  As Donal frantically splashed towards him, his eyes wide with panic, Will stopped and trod water. The three corpses fixed their white eyes on him. Their shoulders were almost in the water now and they had to fight being buffeted downstream by the slow current.

  Will slapped one hand forward.

  Water sloshed over the nearest corpse’s head, breaking through the smoke line for a moment.

  The risen faltered, started to sink, then the smoke line reconnected and it straightened up.

  As Donal swam past him, Will brought both hands forward again and again, sending wave after wave over the creature’s head and driving himself into deeper water.

  The smoke-line finally dissipated, and the corpse sank under the choppy waters.

  The other two corpses stopped just behind it. They were chin-deep now, with river splashes disrupting each of their smoke-lines.

  Emotionless, they began to back away.

  *** ***


  ‘We should have left you cowards to die,’ Bragg growled and spat over the side of the barge.

  Will had given up responding.

  ‘You’ll pay for this when we’re back at Yeavering – the courts know how to deal with cravens who run from battle.’ Bragg had been digging at Will for the whole half hour since they had escaped from the Foresters’ settlement. ‘D’you hear me, nithing?’

  Will ignored him and concentrated on each oar-stroke. Once the corpses and mist had been left behind, Eric had finally worked with Brant to pick up the swimmers. Rowenna had quickly ordered them all to be in one boat to give more oar-power but they still towed the second one in case of leaks.

  ‘Answer him, coward,’ Osbert shouted, twisting around from two benches closer to the stern than him. ‘Do you know the punishment for running away – for leaving your princess to die, for letting the filthy undead kill good Angalsax warriors?’

  Will glanced at Rowenna then quickly turned away. She hadn’t spoken to him since the attack, hadn’t even looked at him.

  ‘By Tiw, I’ll…’ Osbert roared.

  ‘I told you,’ Will shouted back, ‘I didn’t run away – I saw who was controlling the undead and went to kill her. Why do you think they all suddenly drop--”

  Osbert’s hand reached for his sword. ‘Don’t you shout at me, you lying nithing.’ He rose from his seat, sweeping his sword from its scabbard and rocking the boat. ‘I’ll save the courts the time and kill you myself…’

  ‘Enough, Osbert,’ Rowenna’s voice cut through the night air, ‘we’ve lost enough of our people. The boy will have his chance to explain later. Our only focus now is to warn Yeavering what is coming before it gets there.’

  Osbert hesitated, glaring at Will.

  Will stared back. He wouldn’t show any fear but at Osbert’s first step forward he would leap over the side. He knew his limits.

  ‘So, sit down and row,’ Rowenna snapped and pushed the tiller hard right. The boat veered sharp left and Osbert stumbled to one knee and had to catch hold of a gunwale to stop himself from falling into the river.

  ‘What are you doing, woman?’ He shouted and turned back around to face Rowenna.

  Will shifted position, feeling for his seax. He couldn’t jump in the river if Osbert attacked Rowenna – he’d have to play the hero… probably only for a very short time before Osbert cut him in half.

  On the bench between Rowenna and Osbert, he saw Puck’s hand drift to his staff. Brant, sitting next to him, still held his oar. If he tried using his axe here, he’d take Rowenna’s head off as well as Osbert’s.

  Everyone had stopped rowing and the barge ran silently with the river current.

  Rowenna calmly straightened the barge and looked down at Osbert from the steering platform. ‘Remember your place, First Shield. Remember to whom you are speaking.’

  Osbert slowly stood up, his sword still in hand.

  Will swallowed. Silently, he stood up, hand on his seax hilt.

  At least it’ll slow him down if I’m stuck on the end of his blade.

  Bragg, sitting between him and Osbert with his back to him, somehow noticed and twisted around. A wicked smile drew his lips back across his big teeth and he tapped his sword.

  Seconds passed, the river lapped at the boat sides and they drifted closer to the shore.

  Finally, Osbert made a short bow. ‘My apologies… Princess. I have lost many good men today.’

  Rowenna held his stare for a moment longer then answered. ‘Accepted, Osbert but remember that it is not just you who has lost loyal warriors. Now get back to rowing so we can fight the real enemy.’

  Osbert grunted and sat back down.

  ‘My sword’s too much of a warrior’s death for you anyway,’ Bragg hissed, ‘I’d rather watch you burn as a coward and a traitor.’

  Traitor? How has traitor suddenly come into this?

  Will realised everyone was staring at him standing up, hand on his seax. He ignored Bragg and quickly sat down to grab his oar again.

  The only thing that raised his spirits was the tiniest of nods from Rowenna as she noted him sitting down.

  Three strokes later, they were back in the middle of the river, and working the current as fast as they could towards Yeavering.

  *** ***

  Will shivered as his feet landed on the riverbank. It was three or so hours before dawn and nothing moved apart from an owl, gliding silently over the shore and alighting on a high branch with hardly a rustle.

  Hunting for prey.

  Somewhere in the forest, the reaper and her corpse warriors were hunting them. They could be closing in on them even now. Empowered by dark magic, did they even need to rest?

  He didn’t know. The word “reaper” was scarcely even spoken nowadays apart from to fighten children into being good. Rowenna had asked everyone in the boat to share what they knew about necromancy. It wasn’t much. Reapers feasted on the body and soul of dying humans with no god-mark branded over their heart; they used the energy to raise the dead and conjure dark magics. There hadn’t even been a rumour of one actually existing in decades, not in the Angalsax kingdoms anyway.

  Until now.

  Will had glimpsed the reaper again as they had rowed away. She had been mounted on a dark-as-night horse, deep beyond the treeline, silently watching them flee for their lives. Dark mists had swirled about her, most thickly around the shoulder where Will’s first arrow had hit. He wondered if his second, shot from just a couple of feet away, had even scratched her torso through the protective smoke.

  The reaper had pointed directly at him and he had pulled on his oar with all his might. He thought no one else had seen the figure until he noticed Wyatt staring at the same area of forest. The acolyte had seen him looking and pretended to be scanning the entire bank.

  No one wants to admit they can even see a reaper but I can their control lines. I get strong from their mist that kills normal people.

  What’s wrong with me?

  A push with the force of a goat-butt sent Will stumbling further on shore.

  ‘Move it, nithing,’ Osbert hissed. ‘If you or the dirty kitchen thrall try to run I’ll skewer you both on the same spear and don’t think Rowenna will stop me.’

  Will climbed to his feet, leaning heavily on a spare spear Gwen had snatched up as she fled through the foresters’ camp. For a moment, he considered flicking it forward into Osbert’s throat. His chances of a quick kill weren’t great but maybe it was worth a go and he could say he slipped. The man would try to force a trial the moment they reached Yeavering despite an army of Picts trailed by soul-hungry reapers descending on the kingdom.

  Bridget appeared silently at his side and grabbed his arm to ease him away from Osbert. She glanced at his back, then she strode ahead without looking back.

  He let her go. She knew that he’d seen the smoke-lines controlling the undead and that the mist had been all over his back without hurting him.

  Maybe all that meant he had some sort of link with necromancy or maybe he was protected somehow. Either way, if Bridget told anyone what she knew, they would burn Wotan’s god-mark from his chest, cut off his head and burn the rest of him.

  What is she thinking right now? Does she think I’m some sort of monster?

  Maybe it was better they thought he was a coward. If he was lucky, they might just brand and banish him from the kingdom and he could start a new life without anyone suspecting him of anything.

  If the Picts and reapers didn’t destroy everywhere first.

  He heard Osbert’s heavy tread crunching up behind him again and hurried forward into the forest.

  The others were waiting a few yards into the trees – so few of them were left. Eighteen had left The Anvil and they had lost six in little more than a day. Under cover of the heavy branches, Osbert organised them into a marching order: Himself and Bragg leading, Rowenna, Wyatt and Brant next with the two remaining Shields – Sigbert and the injured Eric behind them. Bridget, Donal
and Will, who he no doubt considered expendible, brought up the rear to be killed off first.

  ‘Let’s go’ Osbert rumbled without a glance at Rowenna and started off, sword and shield held ready. Gwen and Puck ran off to scout ahead.

  They had pulled onto the shore two miles before Yeavering’s docks as they had no idea where the two hundred or so Picts had pulled in with their stolen boats. They had to be waiting for the rest of their clans to arrive somewhere. The Picts who had stolen horses might have also made it here by now - another hundred and fifty to worry about.

  Oh, and the vargs. They might have a few druids and vargs trotting along with them.

  And reapers. How many more of them were skulking through the forest with an army of corpses at their heels.

  They needed to warn the capital, rally all the Angalsax kingdoms and maybe even the Celts.

  And they needed to do it fast.

  Rowenna led them on, picking up the face to a jog and relying on Puck and Gwen to warn them of any Pict scouts.

  The patter of drizzle began; cold tiny drops hitting the leaves then misting down around them. It was less than three hours before dawn now. Whilst still dark under the canopy, it would soon be getting lighter on the open ground surrounding Yeavering. If the Picts were watching from around the treeline…

  Will forced the thought from his mind and focussed on his footsteps, keeping them soft and silent on the loam.

  Something glided through the tree tops to Will’s right then disappeared.

  ‘There it is again,’ he panted, trying to keep his voice low. He twisted his head around as he jogged but Bridget was gone.

  A low twig whipped across his face and he concentrated on running. This was the second time Bridget had disappeared from their run but as they were at the rear, no one else seemed to have noticed.

  Then she was back, slipping silently from the trees and falling in beside him.

  ‘What are you playing at?’ Will whispered. ‘You heard what Osbert said – if he sees you running off he’ll lob a spear at you.’