Konall indicated his agreement, and Brann started to lead the horse forwards. As they passed him, Konall pulled a long cavalry spear – almost a lance, as Brann would recognise one, but not as long as those few he had seen in his homeland – from the fastenings on the saddle.
‘We need something to dislodge the rocks,’ he said quietly. ‘Assuming, that is, you do not do it for me.’
‘Thank you for your reassuring words,’ Brann grunted, then moved on. He felt sweat coat his brow, then run down his temple, as he carefully and painstakingly placed each foot in turn. He found he was more tense even than he had been when creeping through the village of sleeping savages or edging onto the pier: in those cases, the consequences would not have been instantaneously lethal. And, in those cases, he had not been leading a laden horse.
To his relief, the horse seemed to notice his careful movements and moved calmly and with a sureness that, Brann felt, was even more quiet than his passage. He wiped his sleeve across eyes that were beginning to sting with seeping sweat. He could feel the rocks waiting on the steep slope above his left shoulder, and he was constantly ready to explode into a lunging sprint at an instant’s notice. His breathing became ragged and heavy, leaving him light-headed, and his concentration was such that he almost did not hear Gerens’ voice. ‘All right, all right, you can stop now,’ he was calling. Brann looked up in surprise to find that he had passed the danger area by several yards. Blowing out a huge sigh, he turned to watch the others, patting the horse’s neck in gratitude for its compliance – and in relief that the beast had, like him, come to no harm.
Ironically, after so much whispering – there was, of course, no further need for such quiet – Gerens’s shout had failed to encourage any movement from a single stone. Even more strangely, Konall, after scrambling along a slope until he was level with the lowermost of the waiting rocks, was similarly unable to dislodge any more than a few fist-sized stones that skittered mockingly down onto the path. Cursing, he prodded the point of the spear, several times, hard against a rock the size of his head that had several smaller stones backed up against it. The rock slid, then rolled amid the other stones and much dust, onto the middle of the path. Emboldened, Konall crept forward for an assault on another rock but, as he did so, the entire collection of waiting rocks and boulders crashed abruptly onto the trail.
Konall launched himself backwards in reaction, landing on his back and rolling down the slope in a few bounces. His life had been saved, however, not by his reflexes – such was the speed of the rockfall that it had been completed by the time he had started to jump – but by the precise manner that the rocks had fallen straight down the slope. Had they spread as they dropped, he would have been taken with them, and buried beneath them, before he even knew it was happening. As if to emphasise his luck, or to mock him, depending on the watcher’s perspective, a pebble careened across the slope and, as he sat up, precisely and comically bounced off his head.
Gerens and Hakon, their nerves enhanced by relief at his safety, laughed unfettered, while Grakk smiled. Konall, relieved even more than they, fell back theatrically with his arms outstretched as if knocked unconscious by the small stone.
Brann, his view obliterated by the thick cloud of dust that was obscuring even the rocks, and calling to the horse that had become skittish at the sudden landslide – although not as alarmed as he would have expected, giving another indication that it had been trained to battle-readiness – heard the hilarity and guessed that all was well on the far side of the obstruction. As the dust started to clear, he saw that they had met with even more success that he expected: the rocks had formed a barricade slightly greater than the height of a man, and composed of sufficiently large boulders to make it impassable to a horse – had it been mainly scree, it would have been effectively a mound that a horse could simply have walked over, but here the boulders were large enough to offer gaps that would be lethal to any horse that attempted to negotiate them, but not large enough to offer safe footing for the beasts.
Four heads popped up at the top of the barricade, and Brann was soon joined by his companions.
‘Easy, really,’ said Konall casually.
Gerens snorted. ‘I do believe that the young lord is developing a sense of humour.’
‘Oh, he has one, all right,’ Brann said. ‘It is just different from everyone else’s.’
‘You are just jealous of my barricade-building skills,’ Konall said haughtily.
‘Well, give me your barricade-building tool,’ Brann said, grabbing the spear. He lifted a helmet that was hanging by its chinstrap from the pommel of the saddle, and started up the slope.
‘What are you doing?’ Konall called, serious again. ‘We need to press on, and that spear would be handy if the riders catch us.’
Brann reached the top. ‘It seems to me that anything that could buy us more time before they catch us would be more valuable than one extra spear.’ He positioned the helmet so that the top of it could just be seen from the other side of the rocks, and placed the spear upright beside it so that it was protruding a third of its length above the rocks.
‘There,’ he said, scrambling back down. ‘Now there is an ambush to slow them down even further.’
Konall snorted, holding the reins out to him. ‘They will not fall for that. That is the oldest trick there is.’
‘We know that, and they know that,’ Brann said. ‘But they do not have the same disregard to their own lives as the savages we have come across – these are mercenaries who will fight, but would not really want to die if they don’t have to. So they cannot afford to take a chance, in case it really is an ambush. Which will give us more time.’
‘Which we are now wasting, talking about it,’ Grakk pointed out.
‘True,’ Brann said. ‘So give me my horse and let us go.’
Konall’s eyebrows raised. ‘My horse?’
Brann set off at a run. ‘After leading him under those rocks, I would say he is most definitely mine.’
Jogging past him, Grakk grinned mischievously. ‘You went under the rocks together, yes. But who led who, might be a question.’
‘I think this conversation has gone on long enough,’ Brann complained, sparking laughter before the effort of picking up the pace once more ended the conversation in any case.
They emerged from the pass with no further incident, much to Brann’s surprise. He had been consumed with watching Gerens’s condition – which, he was relieved to see, was still causing him to be unsteady but no more so than before – and had not realised how far they had come when Konall called a halt.
‘Recognise this place?’ he asked Brann.
The smaller boy stared for a moment before comprehension struck. ‘Of course. The sentry post.’ He turned to the other three. ‘We passed two sentries in a rocky perch above the path just ahead when we were coming this way before. We left them alive so we would not alert anyone to our presence. It was not too hard to sneak past them last time as they were not too alert, but I do not think we have time for too much sneaking now, and, anyway, we cannot assume it is the same two. They may been relieved by more alert bandits, if such exist, or there may be even more of them up there.’ He glanced at Konall. ‘So I think we need to work this one out.’
Hakon spoke up, and several of them jumped in surprise at the unfamiliar sound. ‘We seem to spend a great deal of time talking about things when we have horsemen chasing us. Why do we not just go ahead and deal with it? They are only ill-equipped, deranged savages.’
‘Ill-equipped, deranged savages that destroyed our hunting party, butchered four fine warriors and captured you three,’ Konall pointed out.
Hakon blushed. ‘My lord, I apologise,’ he stammered. ‘I spoke out of turn.’
Konall’s tone softened. ‘Calm down, Hakon,’ he said, reassuringly. ‘I understand – until a few days ago, I thought the same. But it appears that sometimes we can profit more by considering alternatives. As a leader, I will be honoured
to have men who would be prepared to die for me. But I would prefer to have them alive to serve me longer, if I can find another way to achieve what must be done. Much as it pains me to say it, therefore, it is of value occasionally to at least listen to the diminutive mill boy.’
Hakon smiled, and Konall nodded at Brann to continue. ‘Right,’ he started. ‘I am still getting used to trying to work these things out, but this is what seems sensible to me. First of all, we do not have too much time to waste – we do not know how long it will have taken the riders to realise that there was no ambush and that they would have to double back if they want to keep their horses with them. As the horses are their biggest advantage in trying to catch us, they will certainly have retraced their steps. But we do not know how long it will take them to find a new route. I also think that they will have started cautiously in the first place on the trail along the gorge, wary of an ambush at every corner but, as they encountered no danger each time, they will have become more confident and impatient and will have started to force a faster pace. As we do not know how much, or how little, time we have, I do not think that we can count on adopting too stealthy an approach.’
‘Agreed,’ said Konall and Hakon simultaneously.
‘But,’ said Brann, looking pointedly at the pair, ‘neither can we charge straight at them – they are too well placed for us to reach them without having whatever they have available to them thrown or launched at us, and we will need to be right upon them to do them any damage, so there would be too much risk of injury to us in that approach. For the same reason, we cannot run past them and trust to catching them by surprise: the lookout spot is well chosen and there is too much open ground for us to cover without being spotted and attacked. As this is the only trail that we know of that goes in our direction, and the undergrowth is too thick to go any other way, we can really only go in front of them or behind them, creeping as we did on the way here.’
Gerens shook his head. ‘But you have already said that one of those involves us in getting attacked and the other is too slow. So we have no option open to us.’
‘We do, if we take both approaches at the same time.’ Brann looked around at the quizzical faces. As before, he was finding that he was warming to his subject. ‘We need to get quickly up behind them without alerting them, so we need a distraction in front of them.’
Gerens did not like the sound of this. ‘So some of us get shot at as a diversion? That does not sound much better.’
‘Quiet,’ Konall snapped. ‘Listen to him.’
‘Of course that is not the idea,’ Brann continued. ‘But they certainly will attack you if you merely appear in front of them. We need to confuse them. If they see people who are apparently quite happy to be seen by them, they will wonder why this is so long enough for others of us to get behind them. So we need the dirtiest, smelliest ones among us to pose as bandits.’
Gerens grunted. ‘That narrows it down to three people.’
‘Two, actually. They will be distracted just as easily by two as by three, so it makes sense to have as many bowmen behind them as we can.’
Gerens looked at Grakk and nodded, accepting his fate. The tattooed tribesman turned to Brann. ‘What should we do?’
Brann smiled his thanks at their simple acceptance. ‘Start up the path, as noisily as you can. Remember, you do not need to be perfect, just carefree enough to make them wonder.’
‘We do not speak their language,’ Gerens pointed out, looking nervous. ‘So what do we say to each other?’
‘That is true,’ Brann admitted. He glanced around at the group. ‘Any ideas?’
Konall shrugged. ‘The bandits do not seem to do much talking, anyway. Not anything you would class as a conversation. As long as the tone of the noises you make is right, it probably doesn’t even need to be real words considering the distance you will be away from them.’
Gerens sighed. ‘It is not the best plan I have ever heard, but I do not see any alternative.’
Brann turned to Grakk. ‘Are you happy with it too? Is there anything you would like to add?’
Grakk had been squatting, head bowed, as he listened intently. He looked up. ‘Just make sure you kill them quickly, if you don’t mind.’
Brann smiled. ‘I do not think you have to worry about there being a lack of eagerness to slaughter bandits where these two are concerned,’ he said, gesturing to Konall and Hakon. The pair nodded confirmation, clearly quite contented with their role.
‘If there is nothing else, I think we should start immediately,’ Brann said. Grakk and Gerens were already making themselves suitably dishevelled.
‘You head off,’ Gerens said. ‘We will check each other’s appearance, and then start up the path.’
Brann gripped his arm. ‘Take care. You too, Grakk. And remember, make as much noise as you can – it will make them think you are happy to be seen, even wave at them to let them know you are aware of them. When we hear your noise, we will know that we can move faster.’
Konall pulled at Brann’s tunic with urgency, and they left the pair to their last few preparations. They had reached a point just off the trail, climbing to higher ground, when they heard the raucous bellowing begin.
Brann said quietly, ‘That would be our cue,’ and they picked up the pace. They still moved cautiously, swords drawn in case of coming face-to-face with a bandit, but now they scuttled from the cover of one rock to another rather than keeping their movements painstakingly slow. They were soon on the ridge along the top of the rocky outcrop, and their progress became more urgent as the noise from the two pseudo-bandits grew closer. They sounded impressively authentic, ostensibly arguing in a series of unintelligible shouts and roars. Brann was impressed – until Gerens could be heard breaking into a wild, wordless song.
‘Oh, gods,’ Brann muttered. ‘He is overdoing it.’
Konall turned. ‘I think it would be wise to hurry,’ he said dryly.
‘I do not know,’ Hakon observed. ‘If that is how he sings, perhaps it would be a kindness to let him be shot.’
He stopped speaking abruptly as Konall halted and gestured the other two alongside him. As they moved forward, Brann found himself in the same spot from which he had observed the lookout post previously. The scene was so similar – the bandits appeared to be the same two that they had seen the previous time – that he felt that he had left his vantage point only moments before. The only difference now was that, where the sentries had previously been engrossed in their game, now they were on their feet, leaning forward against the rocks at the front of their eyrie and watching Gerens and Grakk approach below. They seemed excited, perhaps believing that their relief had arrived early, and the three behind them used the chance to quietly sheath their swords and swing their bows into position. They drew their arrows back and sighted down the shafts at the centre of the rag-covered backs before them.
Konall breathed, ‘Wait for my word. I will take the left, Hakon take the right. If Brann hits either, it will be a bonus.’
‘Cheeky pig,’ Brann said under his breath, although he knew that it was true.
One of the bandits exclaimed suddenly, and whacked his companion’s arm to emphasise his point. Whether he had seen through the ruse or not, they would never know. Konall hissed, ‘Now!’ and they loosed simultaneously.
Konall’s arrow thumped into the centre of his target’s back, passing straight through him with the force of such a powerful bow at such close range and striking the rock he had been leaning on. A blink of an eye later, Hakon’s arrow, shot from the less powerful short bow, struck the other bandit identically, hammering him forward against the rock. Brann’s arrow – much to his disappointment as he had been sure he was aiming at exactly the same spot as Hakon – smashed against the angled face of the rock, a full arm’s length to the right of the bandit, and shot towards the sky.
The two bandits slid to the ground, and Konall was already on his way, long knife in hand to ensure that they would not get up, a
lthough they already looked lifeless to Brann. Without waiting for Konall’s confirmation, he shouted to the pair below, who were still blissfully roaring and singing, unaware that the danger was past.
Gerens yelled, ‘Thank you’, and waved up cheerfully. Brann waved back, just as, with a whirr, and a thud, Brann’s errant arrow landed point-first in the hard earth between the two decoys.
Even at that distance, Brann could see the colour drain from Gerens’s face. Without a blink, Grakk stepped forward and pulled the arrow from the ground. He held it up, displaying it to Brann.
‘Is this yours?’ he asked helpfully. ‘Would you like it back?’
Konall appeared at Brann’s shoulder and peered down. ‘As I said, it would have been a bonus…’ he observed.
‘Not everyone is as accurate as you. It was only a little off-target,’ Brann objected ruefully.
Gerens had heard his comment, and Brann thought it prudent to move away before he could bear the full force of the string of expletives that formed the boy’s reply from below.
Konall, however, was impressed. ‘He would fit in well at our barracks,’ he observed. ‘I wonder if he can fight.’
‘You may find out if you let him reach me in the next few moments,’ Brann said. ‘I think I will go and collect the horse.’
By the time he had returned, Gerens had calmed down. Slightly. Brann thought it wise to keep the horse between them.
With thoughts of the possibility of pursuing horsemen large in their minds, the party moved off quickly, conscious that any advantage they may have gained with the landslide on the gorge trail may have been negated by their own negotiation of the landslide and this latest incident. After only a few hundred yards, movement on the other side of the horse caught Brann’s eye. Still tense after the stalking of the bandit sentries, he jumped and reached for his sword.
‘Relax,’ said Gerens, his face appearing behind the arrow that he had waved to catch Brann’s attention. ‘If you feel nervous, think how I feel after a close brush with this thing.’
Hero Born Page 31