by Stuart Daly
Morgan’s eyes softened. He hooked his thumbs under his belt and sighed wearily. ‘You really want to do this, don’t you?’
Caspan and Lachlan looked at one another, then glanced back at the Master and nodded. Morgan turned and stared at the Roon commander. Rubbing his chin in thought, he shifted his gaze to the south and then east, studying the hills they would use as cover, weighing the merits of Lachlan’s plan. Some time passed before he regarded the boys, his eyes flashing with purpose. ‘I can’t believe I’m going to agree to this. I think the knock I received to the head at the monastery has made me lose my common sense.’ He raised a finger in warning. ‘But we do this my way. Am I clear on that?’
Lachlan hooted and punched a fist triumphantly in the air. Caspan gritted his teeth determinedly and nodded.
‘Now, I have some things to organise. Equip yourselves with any weapons and armour that you need, then wait for me there.’ Morgan pointed towards the entrance of the third concentric wall before moving off.
Lachlan clasped Caspan on the shoulder. ‘For a while there, I didn’t think we stood a chance of convincing him.’
Caspan watched the Master disappear amongst a group of soldiers further along the parapet, wondering what he was up to. He gave Lachlan an encouraging smile. ‘Let’s go to the armoury. I need more arrows. And a helmet.’ He untied the bandanna from around his head and held it in his palm. ‘I used to wear this all the time when I was in the Black Hand. I think I wore it today by force of habit.’
‘I doubt it’d help much against a Roon axe.’ Lachlan grinned and tapped his friend on the side of the head. ‘The last thing we want is that pretty face of yours getting damaged.’
‘Who do you think I am – Roland?’ Caspan gave Lachlan a playful punch and indicated for him to follow him. ‘Come on.’
Half an hour later Morgan met with them in the designated area. People were allowed to move freely between the second and third walls, but already soldiers were taking the precaution of constructing a barricade behind the raised portcullis. Caspan and Lachlan were assisting a group of people to push a wagon on its side, when the Master joined them.
‘That should do the job,’ Morgan said, testing his shoulder against the wagon. Satisfied, he led the boys over to a quieter section of the yard.
Lachlan looked back at the barricade. ‘It’s hardly worth the effort, given how easily the Roon smashed through the first gate.’
‘It’s better to be prepared.’ Caspan brushed the dirt from his hands. ‘We saw how quickly the outer wall fell. And this time we don’t have the advantage of weakening their ranks with archers. The Roon will use the houses as cover to make their way straight up to the second wall.’ He glanced expectantly at Morgan. ‘Are we ready?’
The Master nodded. ‘I’ve organised a diversion to ensure that the Roon aren’t looking back towards their commander, which will hopefully buy us enough time. A squadron of soldiers are going to attempt another sortie from the second gate a few minutes after we fly off.’
Lachlan murmured in agreement. ‘That’s good. The last thing we want is to have several hundred giants come running over in attack. It will also stall the Roon’s assault on the second wall.’
‘The giants have brought up their reserve troops to occupy the outer wall, too,’ Caspan commented.
‘I saw that,’ Morgan remarked.
Lachlan nodded grimly. ‘Leaving their commander and his six guards isolated and vulnerable.’
‘I’m not too sure about vulnerable, but yes, they’ll be isolated, making our task easier.’ Morgan quickly inspected the boys, checking that they were equipped for the ensuing fight. His gaze lingered on Caspan’s helmet. ‘I was wondering when you were going to get rid of the bandanna. As stylish as it looked, it wouldn’t offer much protection.’
Caspan adjusted the helmet’s strap. ‘Helm or not, I don’t plan on getting hit.’
‘Well said.’ Morgan’s expression became sombre. ‘I’ve made a few changes to your plan. We’ll head off to the south, then use the hills to the east to cover our flight north. That will also hide our passage from any other rocs that might be waiting in the Roon lines. We’ll land in the copse of trees just behind the hill, where the Roon commander is positioned. Lachlan and I will summon our Wardens, and we’ll make our way through to the forest edge. While Fang and Talon fight the guards, we’ll take care of the Roon leader. I want you to hold back, though, and only come forward if I need help.’ The boys drew breath to protest, but Morgan stopped them with a raised hand. ‘Remember, I said that we have to do this my way. Also, we’re not going to kill the Roon leader.’
Caspan frowned. ‘What?’
Morgan beckoned for the boys to come closer. ‘We’re going to capture him. Killing him would deliver a blow to the giants’ morale, but there’s no guarantee it will raise the siege. It could send them into a rage and make them enact dreadful vengeance on the people of Darrowmere. Rather than save the city, we would be the instigators of its destruction. The Roon regard members of the ruling royal bloodline as gods. If we were to capture him, they wouldn’t dare come near us for fear of us hurting him. We could use him as a bargaining tool to end the siege. We could even force the Roon to return to their ships and make them leave these lands.’
Lachlan nodded enthusiastically. ‘It sounds like a great plan. But I don’t think he’s going to surrender without a fight. We’ll need a very large net.’
Morgan produced a blow-pipe from inside his cloak. ‘That’s why I brought this along.’ He patted a small leather pouch tied to his belt. ‘I paid a visit to an apothecary and got some darts. Their tips have been dipped in the poison of red swamp frogs. Hunters and trackers use them to bring down elk and bears. A mere scratch from these darts will be enough to paralyse a horse for several hours. I just need to get close enough for a clear shot.’ He returned the weapon into the folds of his cloak and handed Caspan the map from his belt. ‘Best if you keep this safe for now.’
Caspan regarded the map for a moment before reluctantly accepting it and placing it inside his boot. An officer who had been waiting off to the side stepped forward to discuss matters with the Master. Caspan overheard the officer say that he would give Morgan fifteen minutes before leading the sortie from the second gate. While Lachlan paced restlessly by his side, Caspan waited patiently, filled with nervous energy and consumed by one thought alone – how would they fare against the powerful leader of the Roon army?
In lieu of a saddle, Lachlan had fitted his Warden with a makeshift harness. He sat at the front, with Morgan in the middle and Caspan at the rear. Recalling how fast Talon had flown during the encounter with the roc, Caspan hooked his feet through one of the ropes tied around the griffin’s waist and clung tightly. Lachlan glanced over his shoulder to check that everybody was ready, then flicked the reins to direct Talon into a steep climb. He brought them high above The Hold, well out of bow-range, and headed south.
As the trio flew over the outer wall, many giants ran for cover fearing more ignited bladders of oil would be dropped on them. When none were, and the griffin continued flying rapidly, the castle soldiers hurled abuse at the recruits and their Master, accusing them of abandoning the city. Soon the curses fell behind, drowned by the wind whistling in their ears.
The group eventually passed the hills, and Lachlan commanded Talon to descend until they could no longer be seen from the battlements. They headed east, following the forested ridge that formed a crescent around the fields outside the city, flying only a few yards above the treetops. Concealed by the wall of trees to their left, they soon turned northward. Lachlan dug his heels into Talon’s flanks and whipped the reins, spurring the griffin onwards at an even faster speed, knowing that the sortie would begin very soon, and that every second counted. They passed a particularly tall group of trees, and Lachlan turned Talon sharply to the right, avoiding a branch that seemed to appear out of nowhere.
The sudden movement dislodged the bow slung across C
aspan’s shoulder. He tried desperately to catch his favoured weapon, but it was too late, and he watched helplessly as it disappeared into the foliage below. Cursing, he ensured his sword-belt was securely fastened, then held tightly to the rope.
Caspan’s heart raced with a mixture of fear and excitement. He knew that what they were attempting was incredibly dangerous, but it was the only way he could think of defeating the Roon army. He tried to mentally gird himself for the fight with the Roon commander, focusing on the manoeuvres he had learnt during the sword-training sessions back at the House of Whispers. In spite of Morgan’s insistence that he face the giant alone, an ominous sixth sense warned Caspan that things might not go as planned. If the Master missed with his poison dart, they had no other option but to force the Roon leader to surrender. And that was not going to be easy. Morgan was a veteran fighter, and Lachlan, although quite young, was very strong and skilled with a sword. But a nervousness welled deep in Caspan’s stomach, eating away at his resolve and making him doubt they would survive this fight. He’d feel a lot safer with Frostbite by his side, but he wasn’t prepared to risk summoning the drake prematurely and causing him greater injury.
He was drawn from his thoughts when Lachlan steered Talon to the left, completing their route around Darrowmere. Morgan pointed to a copse of trees that crested the final hill, and Lachlan pulled back gently on the reins, bringing his griffin into a slow descent. Caspan dismounted and assembled with his friends in the trees. There was a slow hiss of steel as they drew their swords. Morgan summoned Fang and led the group to the edge of the copse. Caspan braced his back against the trunk of a towering oak and spied at the Roon.
He shuddered. Only from this close did he realise how enormous the guards were. They stood a good foot taller than the other giants he had confronted, and he was reminded of Morgan’s comment that they would be exceptional fighters. He also recognised one of them as the tattooed captain he had seen talking to the cloaked man at the helm of the war galley. Caspan swallowed when he observed the great, double-headed battleaxe strapped across the the giant’s broad back.
Sounds of combat drew Caspan’s focus to Darrowmere. The sortie was well under way. He was relieved to see that it had been successful in attracting the Roon to the second gate. Giants hurried across the outer battlements, where fighting ensued, like flies to carrion.
He glanced at Morgan, who was flexing the fingers of his sword-hand, and whispered, ‘Your ruse worked.’
The Master nodded, but he didn’t avert his gaze from the Roon commander. He tested the weight of the sword gripped in his hand. ‘Are you ready?’
His throat too constricted with fear to talk, Caspan nodded. Morgan gave the boys a grim, encouraging smile. He and Lachlan whispered commands in their Warden’s ears and pointed at the guards, indicating which ones they were to attack. Both creatures crouched low and tensed, the muscles of their rear legs bunched in preparation to tear from the trees.
Morgan peered at the giants one more time, slowly raised his sword, then thrust his blade forward, giving the command to attack. The Wardens burst from the trees and sped across the thirty yards separating them from the Roon. They had covered half of the distance before they were spotted by one of the giants, who gave a hoarse cry of alarm. The Roon commander sprang to his feet and ordered his guards after them. Such was the speed with which the Wardens were moving that the Roon barely had time to ready their weapons before Fang and Talon were upon them.
Fang reached the giants first and launched himself at the neck of a Roon warrior who had a swirl tattoo on the left side of his face. As they fell to the ground in a snarling, writhing mess, another guard heaved his axe high above his head and, with a tremendous roar, raced towards the combatants. His focus on the magical wolf, the Roon didn’t see Talon slam into him from the side with the force of a battering ram, sending him sailing through the air and tumbling across the ground. Caspan couldn’t believe it when the giant rose groggily to his feet, collected his discarded axe and lumbered back towards the Warden.
The giant who was fighting Fang somehow managed to push the wolf away and regain his feet. One hand clutching his wounded neck, the Roon spun his axe around his head in a circle, forcing the Warden to retreat. By now three more guards had raced forward to join the fight, and the wolf and griffin drew the giants away from their commander. The two Wardens lured the Roon towards the city, forcing them to turn their backs to their leader and the remaining guard. Fortunately, this also attracted the commander’s attention away from the copse of trees where the Master and recruits waited anxiously.
Seizing the opportunity, the trio sprang from their concealment and raced towards the Roon. Morgan had readied his blow-pipe, coming to an abrupt halt and raising it to his lips when they were ten yards away from the giants, who still had their backs turned towards them. The Master took a deep breath, aimed and shot, sending a dart thudding into the commander’s back.
The Roon leader spun around to face them. His face contorted into a mask of pure hatred. He reached for the great blade sheathed by his side and drew it with a hiss of death. The remaining guard readied his axe in a two-handed grip and moved protectively to the front of his lord. Only now did Caspan realise it was the same Roon from the galley. But the leader pushed him aside and grunted an order at the giant, who nodded reverently, took several steps back and lowered his axe. The leader rolled his shoulders and practised a few strokes in the air, then advanced towards the trio.
Caspan backed up quickly. ‘That dart better hurry up and work!’ He was thankful that the Wardens had distracted the other guards at the opposite side of the hill, where they could no longer see what was happening to their commander.
Morgan tucked the blow-pipe into his belt, retreated and held his weapon to the side, keeping the boys behind him. ‘Give it a few more seconds.’
The Master readied his sword in a defensive position and stepped forward to meet the giant. The Roon’s sword came with the speed of a lightning bolt. Caspan cringed. Never before had he seen a blow delivered with such force, and he marvelled at how the Master’s blade, which rose to block the attack, didn’t shatter upon impact. Almost knocked from his feet, Morgan switched Claw to his left hand and shook the numbness from his right.
Capitalising on the momentum of his attack, the giant swung his sword around his head in a great, humming arc and slashed downwards. Morgan only just managed to sidestep the black blade, which cleaved through the air and embedded itself deep in the earth with a loud thud.
Lachlan started beside Caspan, hoisting back his sword to charge into the fight, but Caspan placed a restraining hand on his shoulder and pointed with the end of his blade at the guard. So far, the giant had obeyed his master’s command, standing back and watching. That might change the instant the recruits entered the fight. All they could do was be patient and wait for the drugged dart to take effect. Lachlan nodded reluctantly and lowered his sword.
Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait long. Heaving his sword from the ground, the giant commander teetered backwards. He held out a hand to the side to steady himself and stared at the Master, a confused expression on his face. Alarm flashed in the giant’s eyes as he felt behind his back and extracted the dart. He tossed it away, snarled savagely and staggered towards Morgan. He tried to ready his sword for another swing, but swayed to his left, eventually stumbling to his knees. Blinking in an attempt to bring clarity to his swimming vision, he dropped his weapon and leaned forward to support himself with his hands. He grunted like a wounded beast and his nostrils flared as he sucked in air, but he managed to remain conscious and hold himself off the ground.
Lachlan thrust his sword triumphantly in the air. ‘We did it! Here’s to little red frogs.’
But Caspan’s focus was on the remaining guard, who raced over to his lord’s side. Noticing the dart on the ground, he stared at Morgan and the boys with rage blazing in his eyes.
Caspan swallowed. ‘I wouldn’t start celebrating jus
t yet.’
Morgan stuck Claw point-first in the ground and drew his blow-pipe again. ‘Let’s hope I don’t miss,’ he muttered, fitting a dart from the pouch tied around his belt. ‘This is my last shot.’
The instant the Master drew the weapon, the guard rushed over to arm himself with a nearby shield discarded on the ground. He hurried back to stand in front of his lord, raised the shield towards Morgan and hunkered down behind it, protecting him from the poisonous dart.
‘Go around and distract him,’ Morgan ordered, then raised the blow-pipe to his lips as he manoeuvred himself into position to shoot.
Caspan and Lachlan did as instructed and skirted around the Roon. They made several feints to draw the giant towards them, but the guard remained fixed behind his shield, his gaze locked on Morgan. Caspan pressed closer, determined to distract the giant long enough for Morgan to get a clear shot. He feared that some of the other guards may break away from the Wardens to check on their lord. Holding his sword in front of him, Caspan moved around the giant until he was facing his exposed back. He took several wary steps forward, inching closer to the guard, who stood as still as a statue.
Caspan wiped his sleeve across his forehead and licked his dry lips. His heart racing, he glanced at Lachlan out of the corner of his eye, gaining strength from the fact that his friend was only a few yards off to his side, his sword held in a two-handed grip high above his head. Slowly, Caspan drew back his weapon.
The Roon spun around. With blinding speed, he slashed his axe at the boys, forcing them to jump back. In the same fluid movement, the guard whirled around to face Morgan and hurled his axe at him. The Master flung himself to the side, the axe cleaving through the air only an inch away from his head. Before Morgan could ready his blow-pipe again, the giant rushed towards him and sent the weapon flying from the Master’s hand with a swipe of his shield. Morgan tried to run over to his sword, but the giant knocked him out cold with a savage punch to the jaw.