by Kris Kramer
“I’ll judge that. You and I will go up,” Cullach said to Arkael. “We’ll see how close we are to the fort, and then come back. The rest of you stay here."
Arkael climbed up and opened the hatch, revealing the tranquil blackness of the cave above. He climbed out, followed by Cullach, and I watched as the light from Cullach’s torch faded away.
Eight of us filled the room, myself, Malador, and six other men, all of us staring intently at the hole in the ceiling. I don’t know what the others were thinking, but I suspected their thoughts mirrored my own, that that hole represented freedom from this torturous, cramped trek through the earth. But while they might be eager to get back above ground, I wasn’t quite ready. Once out of the tunnel, there would be no delays. We would march to the fort and begin our battle against Ruark, Lorcan and the demon who’d terrorized me for weeks. As oppressive as these tunnels were, I wasn't yet prepared to face what could be the last moments of my life.
After a while, I sat down to rest my legs, and most of the others followed my lead. No one said a word, however, not until the light came back. Malador saw it first, and when he pointed and stood, the rest of us were on our feet instantly, watching the light grow stronger, until Cullach’s face appeared above us, his hair and beard drenched.
“Get up here,” was all he said. We climbed, Malador first, then me, followed by the rest of Cullach’s men. When I reached the cave, I could see Cullach and Arkael both standing near a bend just ahead, facing out, the wind whipping their wet cloaks about. I moved up next to them and saw why. The storm had come. It was night, and the sky was black as rain fell from the heavens in a torrential downpour.
Cullach looked at me. “Your God either wants us to stay in this cave, or he wants Ruark and Lorcan to drown in theirs. Which is it, Daniel?”
I glanced at him uneasily. “I’ve seen what’s under that fort, sire. I can promise you that God is on our side tonight.”
Cullach grinned. He turned to his men, who were slowly filling the cave behind us. “I’ve seen the fort,” he called out. “It’s not far. We make our preparations here, or in the tunnel. Be ready, for soon we go to war.”
His men nodded, and one of them clapped his hands together in anticipation. I looked at Arkael, who stood still at the cave entrance, staring out into the darkness.
“How do we approach the fort?” Malador asked. “We can’t sneak in, and we can’t scale the cliffs on the sea-side. It’s too dangerous in this weather.”
“We go in the front door,” Arkael said.
Malador squinted at him through the wind. “Are you mad?”
“I will open it. All you have to do is follow me.” Malador opened his mouth to protest, but Arkael cut him off. “You’ve made it here unharmed and unseen, just as I said you would. I’ve given you no reason not to trust me in this.”
Malador looked to Cullach, who frowned, but nodded his assent. Malador groaned, but made no other protest. Behind us, the Irishmen unbundled their packs, throwing on their chain shirts and dented iron helms, and strapping their trusted swords, axes and knives in their belts, boots and scabbards. It took only moments before they became an army again. Cullach walked through their ranks, meticulously checking their blades, their shields, even the straps of their armor. He didn’t say anything, but the attention he gave his men seemed to bolster their spirit. They stood straighter, their jaws clenched, and the lingering doubts in their eyes disappeared. I could see plainly why these men would follow him to their deaths.
Just as we had Towyn, we left the cave in a straight line, except tonight we carried only weapons of war and a relentless determination to see the next day as victors. We jogged across the countryside, moving as fast as the weather would let us, from one cluster of trees to the next. My clothes were soaked almost immediately, and the piercing rain and sleet stung my cheeks, forcing me to pull my hood low. Even though this part of the island was thick with forests, the wind still swooped in from the shore to our left, constantly threatening to knock me sideways. But I pushed on, as did the men around me.
It didn’t take long before we saw the fort sitting on top of the hill, off in the distance. Holyhead. I suppose the demon took pleasure in corrupting such a place. No torches were lit, but even from here I could see men moving about the ramparts. We made no attempt to hide, taking a direct path toward Caer Gybi, as if the walls would just give way when we arrived. If only it were that easy. Strangely enough, though, the winds and rain seemed to lessen the closer we came, but that was more likely the hill blocking the sea-borne weather, rather than any kind of good omen.
My stomach, already weak, twisted even more. The entire hill reeked of despair, roiling my insides and feeding the doubts that already undermined my spirit. I supposed that was its power, to take the darkest, worst parts of yourself and make them bigger than you could control. To overwhelm you with anger, greed and weakness. If so, was it somehow affecting the others like this, or was it only me? I looked around to see the same determined faces I’d seen in the cave, and I guessed it was only my misfortune to suffer from this terrible place. But I took solace in the fact that I wasn’t alone this time. I thought of the Irishmen who were sick before the attack on Towyn, or the scared Northumbrians defending the walls in Eoferwic, and I knew now how they felt. Some found their own courage, but others only made it to those front lines because everyone else around them did, too. It was a strange sense of fellowship, knowing you may see your deaths together, but it was enough for me. We may all have different reasons for our willingness to sacrifice our lives, but none of that changed the fact that a victory here would do more than just rid the world of an arrogant chieftain and a miserable little sorcerer.
Ruark’s scouts saw us as we approached, and they ran back and forth along the walls, preparing defenses, while we trudged forward, short on sleep and strength. I heard one man grumble about how Cullach was a fool for thinking we could drive Ruark out of these walls simply because Arkael said so. We’d have to siege the place, or dig under the walls. Had I been in a mood for it, I would have smiled in knowing reproach. They would soon see what Arkael could do.
Cullach led his men to the front of the fort, just out of arrow range from the walls, though Ruark had few archers among his army. His men taunted us as we formed into two lines, with Cullach, Malador, Arkael and myself at the head. Now that the rain had lessened, men with torches flooded the walls, watching us, pointing, some of them laughing uproariously. Ruark appeared then, flanked by two other men. Everyone made way until he reached the center of the wall, just above the thick oak door that kept us outside. He stared at us, at our ragged, wet, and exhausted army, and a look of bewilderment came to his face.
"Dependable as always, Cullach,” he said. “Have you brought me my treasure from Towyn?”
Cullach sneered and grabbed his crotch. "It's all here, you dog. Come and get it."
"I'd rather you just brought it to me," Ruark called back. "On your knees perhaps?"
Cullach pulled out his sword. "I'll die first."
"Be careful what you ask for. You've lost half your men, and the rest are weak. You could bow to me right now, spare their lives, and make this a true army. I would even let you live."
"No one here is foolish enough to submit to a man who so blatantly breaks his oath, Ruark." Cullach spoke those words loudly, his eyes watching the few men on the wall who had served him only a few days ago.
"What do your men say?” Ruark countered. “Are they as eager to die today as you are? You could attack, but you'd lose half your army just trying to get inside. And the rest would get slaughtered, like pigs, and that’s only if you even managed to breach the walls. Is that what you want for them?" Ruark looked out at the men lined up behind Cullach. "Is that what you want? To have your lives thrown away by a man who was so easily fooled? Who led you into a trap at Towyn? Is that the kind of man you've chosen to follow? You may have sworn an oath to him, but I tell you now, I will forgive that mistake if you join me
. Throw down your weapons and approach the walls, and I will accept you as my brothers. And I will share with you the treasure we make on our journeys."
Ruark stopped, but the power of his argument hung in the silence that followed. I looked up and down the lines of Cullach's men, and I could see eyes shifting back and forth. They watched each other, waiting for someone to break their ranks, so they could either cut that man down, or join him. This was about to become dangerous.
"You must go now," I said, and Arkael nodded. He stepped forward, pulling his sword from its scabbard.
"Ruark," he called out, and everyone in both armies turned their gaze to him. "I have come for the sorcerer, Lorcan. Open the doors and let me pass, so that I can cleanse the darkness in his soul, and I will spare you and your men."
Ruark smiled, like he'd just seen something funny. "Let you pass? Who the hell are you?"
"I am Arkael, and I am here to destroy the evil that has infected Lorcan's soul. Let me pass, and I will spare you. Attempt to stop me, and I will cut you down without mercy."
Ruark laughed now. "You speak boldly for a man about to die. Or maybe you just need an excuse to leave Cullach’s army? If so, don’t be shy. Tell everyone around you who the better man is.”
“No good man resides within the walls of this fort, Ruark. None who protect the sorcerer, that is. If you defend him, then you are weak, easily coerced, and not long for this world. Abandon him to his fate, and you may live long enough to make up for that mistake.”
“Who is this?” Ruark frowned and looked to Cullach. “You have others speaking for you now, Cullach? Can’t even insult me on your own?”
“This man doesn’t speak for me,” Cullach said. “He has his own vendetta. Fortunately, it coincides with mine.”
Ruark waved over one of his men, carrying a short bow. "Kill him. Make it slow." The bowman nodded, nocked an arrow and aimed at Arkael, who remained where he was, his expression unflinching.
The Irishman loosed his arrow, and I recoiled in fear as it landed on the ground behind Arkael, having missed his shoulder by a hand’s width. Arkael never moved though. He just stared back at Ruark. Some of the men on the wall laughed, and taunted the bowman as he pulled out another arrow. He fired again, only this one flew true… straight for Arkael's chest.
A blur of silver whirled through the air, and before anyone could even register what they'd seen, fragments of the arrow scattered across the ground around Arkael’s feet. He brought his sword back down to his side, and the laughter on the walls abruptly stopped.
“Christ!” one of them muttered. “Did he just do that?”
"Shut up!" Ruark growled. “Shoot him again!” The bowman, who seemed apprehensive now, readied another arrow. He fired, and again it ended up in pieces. "Again!" Ruark was red faced, and his men were visibly shocked, some making the sign of the cross over their chest, others backing up from the wall. The bowman fired once more, with the same result, and by now he watched Ruark more than Arkael, dreading the call to keep firing away.
Ruark visibly collected himself, then whispered to a man standing next to him, who ran down the wall and disappeared behind it.
“What do you call yourself?” Ruark asked.
“I am Arkael.”
"Well, Arkael, I am a reasonable man. You want us to open the gate and let you pass? Then I shall open the gate and let you pass."
"It might be a trap," I whispered.
"It is a trap," he said.
The heavy wooden gate opened slowly, and at least a dozen of Ruark's men waited just inside. One of them beckoned him in, and the men separated, creating a path for him to enter.
"Wait here," Arkael said without even looking at me. He strode forward, with no sign of concern, while Ruark smiled down on him from the wall. The air, which had pushed and pulled at us all night, became still, and I heard no sound from Cullach’s men behind me, or Ruark’s men in front. The world came to a stop, and we all watched in silent, uneasy anticipation, as Arkael walked down the beaten dirt path leading to the gate.
He moved through the doorway, and as he passed each man, their hands slid to the hilt of their swords. Arkael didn’t stop, though. He walked right into the middle of those dogs. And when the Irishman at the door began to close it again, he smiled at those of us still outside, thinking us to be the fools.
Before the door closed, I heard swords come free of their scabbards. Metal clanged on metal, followed by grunts, roars, and then screams of pain. One after another after another. Ruark and his men on the walls, who had been leaning over the back edge to watch, suddenly looked at each other in shock. Ruark leaned forward and shouted at his men on the ground. “Kill him!” he shouted. “Kill him now!”
That’s when I realized no one on the walls was watching us. I ran to the door, ignoring the screams from the other side, and grabbed the handle. The door was thick and incredibly heavy, but I dug my feet into the ground and it opened slowly, grudgingly, revealing a scene of breathtaking slaughter. Arkael stood before me, alone, the bodies of Ruark’s men lying on the ground all around him, while he stared up at those who still dared to watch him from the walls.
“Who among you claims to protect the sorcerer?” he asked. No one answered. Then Ruark’s voice boomed through the fort.
“Everyone to the ground! He can’t stop all of us at once! Everyone kill him!”
I turned around and waved to Cullach, signaling him to attack, but he was already running toward me. He’d seen his opening.
"Through the gate!" Cullach shouted, raising his sword and charging forward. His men cried out and followed suit and I stood there, frozen, as seventy hardened warriors swarmed past me and into the fort.
Ruark’s men, who’d wanted no part in attacking Arkael, now reacted once Cullach’s horde came charging in. Their lives were on the line, and they began to fight back, but it was obvious they were already beaten. I’d only seen men lose the will to fight once before, in Eoferwic, when the Vikings swarmed the city. Tonight, I could see the same disconcerted look in the eyes of Ruark’s army. It may be bloody, but Cullach would have his victory. Now I would have to find mine.
Arkael waited in the small courtyard, away from the fighting. His sword was out but he made no move to attack, and none of Ruark’s men came anywhere near him. I left my satchel on the ground by the door and approached Arkael carefully, making certain I wasn’t about to stumble into a blade myself, but none of Ruark’s men remained by the gate. “You,” he grunted once he saw me. “Stay close.” He made for the dungeon entrance, the battle raging all around him, and I followed.
Down into the demon’s lair.
Chapter 33
His words helped immeasurably.
As the darkness washed over me, I learned to turn myself in my mind, letting the wind flow around me instead of head on. I still felt it everywhere, in every little corner and crevice of this place, but it wasn’t able to latch onto me this time and burrow into my soul. It was like avoiding the lunge of a slow, clumsy swordsman, albeit a lunge that could pierce my heart if I wasn’t careful.
We moved down the stairwell until we reached the room with four exits. Two lit torches hung in sconces on either side, and I grabbed one, feeling a little better with something solid in my hand. I had no idea where the side exits led to, since I’d passed out in my last trip down here, but I had no desire to explore. I raced down the hall ahead, stopping only when I reached the thick cell door that I still saw in my nightmares.
“Wait,” I said, motioning Arkael to stop while I held the torch up and peered through the door’s grate. A large figure sat in the darkness, hunched over in the corner. At the sound of my voice, though, it lifted its head and looked at me. I could only make out the outline of his body and face, but I recognized Ewen right away. Half of a body lay in the other corner, the murderer, Oswald, and I shuddered to think about what Ewen had to do to survive down here. He stood up, facing the grate, his eyes hidden under the dirty, matted hair that hung down
to his mouth. I couldn’t see his expression, but I could feel the hate coming from this room. His muscles tensed, then he charged at us, and I leapt back, expecting him to break through the door. It held, but he pounded on it, roaring in anger at his inability to reach me.
I looked over at Arkael, who stood idly next to me. “This is Ewen,” I said. “My friend. I have to help him.”
“You will heal him?” Arkael looked back at me like a stern teacher, waiting for me to prove that I’d learned something.
“I have to. But I need your help. If we open the door he’ll try to kill us. Can you… stop him long enough for me to help him?”
“I can.”
“You won’t hurt him?” I asked, motioning to Arkael’s blade.
Arkael frowned and sheathed his sword. “Not unless I need to.”
“You won’t.” I put the torch in another nearby sconce and waited for Arkael to signal that he was ready. He nodded, and I took a deep breath, reached for the door, and yanked the latch up. The door flew open as Ewen pushed on it from the inside, and I fell backward with a yelp of surprise. Ewen bounded out into the hallway, searching for me with a rabid hunger, but before he could reach me, Arkael slipped behind, grabbed his arms, and kicked him in the back of the legs. Ewen tumbled to the ground, falling on his stomach, with Arkael holding his arms behind him, pinning him down.
“Now,” he said. I hesitated, afraid. “Do it now,” Arkael repeated harshly. I crouched down next to them and began chanting the words.
“Dominus noster Jesus Christus te absolvat, et ego-”
“Don’t pray,” Arkael said. “Just heal him.”
“I- I have to say them. They’re part of the-”
“No, they’re not. You are the healer. As long as you want to heal, you will heal. Now do it!”
I hesitated at first, trying to make sense of this information, but a frustrated grunt from Ewen reminded me of the urgency of our situation. I reached out and touched his forehead, and the darkness attacked.