Hawkmoon (The Hawkmoon Chronicles)

by Unknown

  It gazed at Hawkmoon. “You fight well, man of two worlds.”Leaving the axe aside he took a crystal and placed it against the wound. The bleeding ceased but started again. “Your magic has no benefit for our kind. “ Hawkmoon stood guard , keeping the fiends at bay as the creature decomposed. Bekter came up with Soulbiter. He shook his head.

  “I don’t understand how you won. He could read your mind”

  “I didn’t think.”

  “It said to tell you that if you won you would have free passage of the Underworld.”

  “You understand his language?”

  Bekter shrugged. “It’s a long story….Shall we get on? This place is beginning to wear on me”

  They crossed the bridge in single file. Another Guardian stood at the other side. As they approached it stood aside, bowing to Hawkmoon.

  The Hanging Tree

  “Death is the only god who loves not gifts.” Aeschylus.

  Their way led upwards but not to the light. After a measureless time they emerged on a plain of jagged rock lit by a strange phosphorescence Passing through a wood of broken trees.. one stood apart, decorated with corpses, hanging by ropes. Hawkmoon felt his friends’ terror. “Don’t look “

  But he did look and one of them looked at him. It was Shula . Her skin was grey. A torn shift covered her to the waist. Blood ran in in gobs between her legs. Straightening her broken neck she looked at him through blackened eyes.

  “Do you see what you have done? Are you happy now…?

  Bekter shouted a strangled cry and reached to her...Hawkmoon dragged him away and propped him against a stone. It watched as he approached.

  “Hawkmoon, how the girls love Hawkmoon”

  “What is your name?”

  It giggled. “You want to know our name? Come closer, we’ll whisper.”

  Unwrapping the leather on the axe head he held it out. ”You know this?” The tree swayed as the creatures hanging there became agitated. “Take it away…”

  “What would happen if I laid the blades to the trunk? You would fall below where the Hiders wait… They are always hungry.” He put a finger to his lips” Be silent. Do not speak again” He returned to Bekter who was nursing a bruise at the back of his head.

  “You hit me”

  “I will do it again if you don’t behave...”

  “It was Shula”

  Hawkmoon crouched, taking hold of Bekter by the shoulders.”. Listen to me… Everything you see here is a lie meant to lead you to despair. You know your wife. Is this how she will meet her fate? If the Dark One came to her she would spit in his eye… I should never have asked you to go on this quest. When we get out you are going back to your family. One of us will live through this…”

  They took turns to stand guard while the other slept. Bekter asked Hawkmoon to call the Soulbiter but he refused. The less he saw of it the better. For all the trouble that came to them in the long watches of that endless night they slept like innocent children.

  The food ran low. They cut it to handfuls, eaten on the move…. Water ran at every side, taunting them. It trickled from the rocks within arm’s reach. It only needed to stretch out a hand... Bekter tripped on a root. He gotback to his feet wondering at the size of tree that could send its roots so deep... They stood at the lip of a long stairs cut from rock. It swept down into a wide hall, the floor strewn with broken furniture. To the left a dais topped by a vacant throne. Their hope had been that the long journey in the dark was taking them up to the world of light. Rather they contemplated a long descent to a ruined and sterile place. Gold and gems sparked on the floor They crossed without a glance to either side... They hurried to where shadows waited. Bekter caught sight of stairs. . Racing up the steps, his legs trembled with the effort. He leaned, one hand on the wall. Perspiration ran in his eyes. Water ran over his hand Just a sip, no harm in that… surely?

  A shaft of light came from above. Hawkmoon shouted. “We’re getting close..”Bekter wiped his hand on his tunic and steeled himself. His legs buckled threatening to pitch him sideways where the abyss waited…Cold air brushed at them sweet with the tang of water. Stars loomed in a patch of lesser dark

  Bekter stood to the edge of a long drop Sucking freezing air into his lungs, he started to cough. It felt good... Snow clad peaks glowered at them from their ice locked fastness. They gazes over a moraine of ice banded with lines of rubble. On the heights mountain sheep gazed at the intruders..

  They climbed to the summit. Daybreak was showing before they topped a rise to catch glimpses of the Challon to the northwest.. They waited as cloud drifted to reveal the Shanan where it made its junction with the main river. On Tarsis he told the Undine to come north of the small river. But crossing the Void had saved over a month. The Elves might not have left the river valley yet... It would be too dangerous waiting in open country with Reivers hunting. They would make for Elfhome.

  Clouds were massing as they came to the treeline. They clambered through knee high drifts, Bekter swearing, happy to be out of that terrible place. Light snow thickened to a blizzard. Resting behind a deadfall that gave them a measure of protection they tried and failed to start a fire... Hawkmoon had lost two coats; one at the Gorge the other stolen in the Void. Bekter’s was made from the hide of a Bison with strips of leather to draw the hood over the face. He wrapped it around them. The coat was large but not enough for two big men. “Now we can both freeze.”

  The previous day they had seen a line of cliffs. Cliffs meant caves; cave that stored the heat of summer. They would be cool but not freezing. Rudimentary snowshoes were made of rawhide strips and pine branches It took most of the morning to pass the woods. The question of whether the cliffs had caves was never decided. In the afternoon they came upon a cabin half buried in the drifts With skies looming, they cleared enough to get inside.

  Heaped snow insulated the house, muffling the wind. In the way of the wild a fire had been laid. A stack of timber stood by the hearth. The cabin showed the handiwork of a craftsman; walls sealed with mortar, windows double shuttered with seasoned timber. A single bed spoke of a man alone.

  Bekter exclaimed when he found the larder packed with dry goods. Underneath was a chestful of potatoes. Some had rotted but most were edible. Hanging from a nail in the back room Bekter found a side of cured venison. Hawkmoon built the fire while Bekter prepared the food. He roasted slices of meat and boiled potatoes... Bekter called down blessings on the owner when he found sealed pitchers of ale. “When will we meet the Elves?”

  “The time I gave the Undine is wrong by a month. Nothing is moving in this weather”

  “Except madmen like us”

  Bekter found a pouch of tobacco. A full stomach, log fire and a pipe meant only one thing. Bekter was about to start talking. Knowing the signs Hawkmoon pulled the cot in front of the fire and bid him good night.

  The storm lasted a week .Their gratitude to the previous occupant knew no bounds on discovering a sled and the materials needed to make snowshoes. On the sixth morning they forced the door to find snow at the lintel. When they dug their way out the world was blanketed in drifts. The Shanan would freeze if it had not done so already. The Challon would freeze if it stayed like this for long enough. If that happened wolves would come on the Plains.

  “Do you get the feeling that someone wants to keep us here?”

  “I have never seen a year like it. Still the harder the Winter the longer it will be before they start the invasion” Hawkmoon looked back to the mountains.” If it stays clear for another day we will move. We have snowshoes and a sled. It will be hard but as we get near Elfhome it should get easier.”

  They let a day pass as they prepared. Most of the venison was eaten. What remained was in their packs along with oats and dried apples. They left the cabin in the woods after cleaning the fire and preparing it for the next traveller. Hawkmoon left a gold Ducat, Bekter ten silvers.

  They were at the Shanan in three days. As expected the river was frozen. Mournful cal
ls heralded the arrival of a pack of white wolves crossing from the other side. They gathered around Hawkmoon, who knelt in the snow as the leader came to him...The pack stood, gazing at Bekter with eyes of amber. After a long pause, while wind whipped the branches the pack leader climbed the bank. They faded into the trees. Bekter let his breath out.

  “There are Reivers in front of us. They destroyed a troop of Elves, probably the scouts sent to meet us “

  Bekter had fought Reivers. It came as no surprise that they would hunt Elves “Did your friend happen to mention where we might expect to meet them?”

  ” They are between us and Elfhome. The screen gets thinner the further out we go. If we move to the Challon we can get round.”

  They stopped at noon. Water dripped from trees and ran in gullies beneath the snow. Bekter looked at the tracks left by the sled “If they cut our trail they will have no difficulty in running us down”Hawkmoon was about to answer when two figures emerged from the woods, dressed in buckskins, armed with longbows. Bekter marvelled at the sight of feet leaving the barest mark in the snow. One was older, nut brown from years in the wild. He carried a wicked looking knife in a sheath at his belt. The other was young, barely out of his teenage years. “Well met Hawkmoon, we have been waiting for you”

  “Not so well met as in former days. I have brought trouble to your lands and now I hear that you have lost kin”

  “War is gathering. It cannot be avoided...”

  “This is Bekter, He is….”

  “We know Bekter. He is valiant. You are both welcome. This is Logan, I am Shadrach. We will take you to the King.

  “It was our plan to wait until dark and switch our path back to Elfhome. They cannot track us in darkness”

  “There are hunters behind and more to the front. Others are closing in. It is their dearest wish to see your head mounted on the throne of the First Marshal. We heard of the destruction of the crossing. Those who lost the bridge have nothing to look forward to but lingering death unless they bring back the culprit.”Bekter looked at the Elf .”With enemies closing in from all sides I trust you know of a means of escape” Logan shook his head. “Alas no, my friend, we will have to fight and I will not leave this forest until I have taken revenge for what they did this day”

  “We were told that they had wiped out a troop of Elves”

  “Seven were killed and one escaped. We found their remains.”

  Hawkmoon took his pack and weapons. “We have to move. The place to make a stand cannot be in the open. I assume you know of such a place.”

  Logan smiled. “Indeed I do, my friend. It will be an honour to fight with you”

  The Battle of Logan’s Cut.

  The place was a defile feeding a stream to the Shanan, closed at one end where it disappeared beneath slabs of rock. At its narrowest a single man could touch either wall with a longsword. The stream had frozen making it difficult to stand. They started chipping at the ice underfoot. A hollow under a rock outcrop gave them cover and a place to eat. The Reivers came at daybreak.

  Calls and whistles came from outside. Two hundred Reivers gathered at the mouth roaring at the sight of their finest enemy. Around campfires they told stories of the Deathwalker. Those who had fallen against him were remembered with honour. Those who had marked him stood high in their counsels. Catching sight of the axeman one of the younger raised a crossbow. A veteran swept the weapon aside. Bunching together a group started beating on their shields. They charged.

  Hawkmoon slipped the covers from the axe. Swinging he let the tip of one blade strike the rock showering a burst of blue flame. The charge slowed as the walls of the defile started to close.. Cries of anger rose as warriors struggled to make room to fight. Those behind were pressing in compacting the charge into an immobile bloc. Hawkmoon swept the axe down. Armour splintered as it passed through emerging with enough power to break the ribs of the one at the side.

  Their chief had sent the least experienced. Their business was to die and dying to take part of Deathwalker’s strength. Then he would send the stronger... Only when he was sure would he send his best. He himself would deliver the final blow. Sagas would be written of this day…

  Bekter signalled to the elves, shouting over the noise.” If they can’t stand they can’t fight” Shadrach nodded, waiting as Hawkmoon danced a deadly ballet... It was perfect economy of motion The elf was about to release when Hawkmoon stepped back into his line of fire.. Armour splintered but caught the axe, slowing the recovery. A warrior charged roaring a battle cry. Shadrach fired catching the Reiver in the space where greaves met armoured shoe. He stumbled. The axe fell. Hawkmoon winked at Shadrach…

  Sound faded, time slowed, senses becoming acute. The stench of the Reivers, the scent of blood… A Reiver jumped on the back of a warrior to cut at Hawkmoon. An arrow pierced his eye. Between the butterfly blades of the axe was a javelin point. Hawkmoon drove it into the throat of a heavyset warrior and twisted it from the bone.. Bekter stood behind waiting. As Hawkmoon swept the left he watched the right.

  . Slowly the Reivers began to gain the advantage. He had to yield ground. There was no space to stand. They were standing on the corpses of those he had already killed Close to eighty Reivers lay dead or dying. But Hawkmoon’s strength was fading.

  Bekter stood beside him, roaring defiance, daring them to do their worst. The Reivers laughed, lost in the joy of battle. To die in combat with the Deathwalker. Their sons would know and be proud. A pike darted at Bekter. He roared and charged. Hawkmoon opened his mouth to shout a warning but he was too tired to bring the words. Bekter was driven back, wounded at the side and knee. . Logan and Shadrach killed the Reivers trying to climb the walls, but still they came

  A voice spoke. “Hawkmoon let me fight. Your strength is all but gone”

  “No Demon”

  “The fate of worlds rests with you. If you perish everything will be lost.”

  A blade darted low, near the groin. Bekter shouted in dismay and took the head of the attacker. Hawkmoon felt himself falling .

  “Very well demon. Do what must be done”

  Soulbiter roared, the sound reverberating in the defile, echoing to the hills and forests beyond. Bekter stood, open mouthed. One lifted a mace and charged. Batting it aside it took the Reiver’s head. Advancing to where the streambed widened it stood, waiting. The Reivers shouted a roar of triumph.... The axe lost form, blurring as it scythed through their ranks. Their leader sent his best. Crossbows launched bolts. Those that found their mark gashed deadly wounds that went unnoticed. In minutes the streambed was a mass of broken bodies. Except for the few that the chief had recalled the others were dead.

  Bekter crossed to where Hawkmoon stood and touched him on the shoulder. “Hawkmoon?”Hawkmoon was gone. Whoever looked from his eyes, it was not his friend. He was covered in blood. Then he fell, Bekter catching him before his head struck.. They gazed as Hawkmoon lay stretched on the ice, insensible. From the depths of the forest a horn called.

  In the Halls of the Elven King.

  He fell out of the world. From there to others; some with life, others desolate. Alien minds flew with him. They pleaded with him, implored him. A ruler of an empire offered him power and wealth if he would fight for him. A woman of great beauty brought him to a world where a disease had killed the seed of men. He would be king and they would serve him. All they asked was a drop of his blood. Star winds rose and blew him further.

  He sat on the side of a mountain as the sun rose looking down on a great city. The moons were low on the horizon He walked its streets, listening to the talk of its people. They spoke of worlds beyond, to be conquered when the machines were ready. A storm rose battering houses and monuments ... Some hid in the cellars. The rich fled to the harbour to find the sea had fled, their ships in wreckage on the floor of the harbour amid banks of mud and stranded fish.. Looking to the ocean, a young girl screamed. The sea was returning, mountain high. Men ran shouting. Others stayed waiting for what could
not be hidden from. A man held his wife and kissed her. It smashed the city and the cities on every coast roaring inland to cover the mountains… The visions continued.

  The night air was warm, scented with hibiscum. Small clouds drifted before the face of the second moon throwing dappled shadows on the countryside Light flickered on high ground. Soldiers came to attention He stopped to ask a senior sergeant, about his family. They stood for a moment talking about wives and children. Hard times right enough but their families were safe and that was all that mattered...

  Bidding the sergeant good fortune he made his way up the hill. A figure sat at a fire, his back turned. Some of the officers wanted to enforce discipline; no fires, no lights and no talking. Lashes for anyone that broke the rules. But the enemy knew where they were. They could find them in the deepest dark. Their smell alone would bring them. The man at the fire looked up. He was eating a plate of fish.” It is good to see you again although we could have met in better circumstances”

  “Your preparations are in hand?”

  The officer nodded. “As well as we could in the time we had. Come, I will show you”

  A small track took them to the top of the hill. Lights blazed below and all around.

  The officer pointed. “We have repaired the breach as best we could. There are palisades in front, four companies behind the walls. If we can hold them for three days the Legion might reach us. Ancona will send them straight into battle and they will do it for him. If the Legion reaches us the Gate might stand and the army can get into position. If the army has time to prepare we can turn back the invasion. If, if, If my aunt had testicles she’d be my uncle”

  “You’re right about Ancona. He will march their feet off. . They know what it means if they break through and spread out on the Plain. He pointed skywards.