by A. J. Smith
Moody was happier now that he was out of the rain and was keeping quiet as Bronwyn watched the confrontation unfold.
Verellian was stony-faced as he surveyed the men of Wraith Company. ‘I’ve been ordered to apprehend a fugitive from Ro Canarn and I plan to carry out my orders.’ He shot a glance at Fallon – as if they had received other orders they were more reluctant to follow. ‘I do not wish to fight you, but this is not your concern.’
Horrock laughed at this and hefted his axe threateningly. ‘I don’t give a troll’s cock for your orders, Ro. This is the realm of Wraith Company and you will either turn round or die. It’s simple, really.’
At Horrock’s words, the other men of Wraith closed in round the knights. Fifty or more bearded men, clad in chain mail and fur cloaks and bearing well-used weapons, surrounded twenty knights of the Red. A further thirty Ranen stood on the battlements and on top of piles of rubble, ready to throw their hand-axes when the order was given.
The rain continued to beat down on the stone courtyard of Ro Hail. The Ranen displayed an array of vicious smiles, but the Ro looked grim.
Hasim was casting glances around the ruins, beyond the men of Wraith, and Bronwyn thought he was looking for her. There was no way she could signal to him without giving away her hiding place, but she hoped that, when swords were drawn, he’d be able to find cover. The steel manacles that bound his hands were linked to a chain held like a dog’s lead in the hand of one of Verellian’s sergeants.
Horrock relaxed his grip on his axe and walked closer to Verellian. He was now within striking distance, but he did not look concerned as he locked eyes with the mounted knight.
‘Tell me something, knight. What happened to the men of Ranen who stayed in Canarn with Father Magnus?’ He spoke in a quiet and ominous voice. ‘I think fifteen of them stayed, maybe thinking you Red bastards would put up a good fight. If they died in battle, I may let you live. If not…’ He left the sentence unfinished.
Bronwyn knew that the Ranen who had not died in battle had been tortured and executed by Pevain’s mercenaries and bound Red knights. She’d seen some of them mutilated as a lesson to the people of Canarn that resistance would be unwise. Verellian knew this as well, and he paused and looked solemnly at the ground as he considered his reply.
The knight captain was about to speak, but something seemed to displease him and instead he turned to Lieutenant Fallon and directed a thin smile at him.
‘Fallon, are these men worthy…’ he began.
‘… of my steel?’ Fallon finished the question. ‘We die where we’re told to, Captain. That doesn’t mean we have to die easy.’
A blur of motion followed as Knight Lieutenant Fallon drew his sword, wheeled his horse round, and struck downwards at the old, white-eyed Ranen. The sword connected with the top of the man’s skull, making a sickening noise, and killing the man instantly.
‘Knights, we fight,’ shouted Verellian, drawing his sword and roaring a challenge at Horrock, who was backing away from the mounted knight.
The scene became chaotic as the Ranen threw their axes, clearly surprised by the knights’ sudden ferocity. Two knights fell quickly as axes hit their exposed heads, but most of those that were thrown bounced harmlessly off raised shields and plate armour.
Two axes, thrown by the Ranen behind Horrock, caught Verellian’s horse on the flanks and caused the animal to snort loudly and buckle to the ground, throwing its rider forward. Verellian fell clumsily on to the rain-soaked cobbles and was immediately attacked by two hammer-wielding Ranen.
The knight roared again, this time in frustration, narrowly avoiding the first hammer blow. The second strike caught him in the shoulder and sent him backwards into his dying horse.
Bronwyn saw Hasim deliberately roll from his saddle and pull the man holding his chain to the ground. The Karesian then kicked the knight squarely in the face and ran for cover, diving over a mound of rubble.
Fallon had advanced into the gatehouse and had already killed two of the Ranen behind him. Another was trying to pull him from his horse, but received a fatal cut to the back for his trouble.
The main body of knights were still in a rough circle, holding off the men of Wraith with desperate parrying and sword thrusts. They were severely outnumbered and, though Bronwyn thought them the more skilled fighters, it looked as if they’d be overwhelmed.
It appeared that Verellian knew this as well, and Bronwyn saw concern on his face as he got to his feet and saw his knights pulled from their saddles and killed by the men of Wraith. His expression turned to one of grim determination as he pointed his sword at Horrock.
‘We are knights of the Red and we will make you pay for each of our deaths,’ he cried.
Horrock hefted his axe and ran at the knight. Verellian parried the first blow and answered with a quick riposte to Horrock’s side. The Ranen spun with the stroke and minimized its effect, slashing his axe at Verellian’s legs. The knight jumped over the attack and kicked out, sending Horrock back a little. Verellian then launched a series of high attacks on the Ranen, who barely managed to resist the weight of the persistent blows. Verellian was a skilled swordsman and Horrock quickly realized he was outmatched.
As Fallon continued to clear the path behind them, and other knights began to gain the upper hand, a further volley of throwing-axes, better aimed than the first, was directed at the knights. Three fell quickly, their blood spraying across the ground and mingling with the rain. Another two were thrown when their horses received wounds, and Verellian was caught in the back by a glancing blow.
Bronwyn had seen combat before, but this was brutal and somehow dirtier and less noble. Men hacked at each other with axes and swords; blood flowed into the gaps between the flagstones. She saw the remaining knights fighting desperately and the bodies of dead men, both Ro and Ranen, littering the courtyard.
Verellian was hurt but didn’t stop attacking Horrock, the dent in his armour depriving his thrusts of some of their power. Horrock now parried his blows more easily and his own ripostes drove the knight backwards.
Another throwing-axe hit Verellian, catching his hand and causing him to drop his sword and cry out in pain as two of his fingers were severed. Horrock responded quickly and his axe hit the knight’s chest, buckling his breastplate and sending him to the ground.
Bronwyn watched, wide-eyed, as Verellian looked up. His face was wet with the rain and his expression was one of pain and resignation as he looked across the courtyard towards Fallon. His knights were nearly all dead and the Ranen were closing in on his adjutant. Fallon met his captain’s look and paused for a moment, realizing they had lost. The way behind him was clear of Ranen and Verellian nodded across the battleground, signalling that he should ride to safety.
The few remaining knights of the Red were surrounded and pulled from their horses to meet a violent death on the cobbles; only Fallon remained, astride his horse in the gatehouse of Ro Hail.
‘Ride, you pig-fucker,’ Verellian shouted across the courtyard.
Fallon took one last look at the dying knights and at the remaining men of Wraith before he wheeled his horse and rode under the gate, his longsword still in his hand as he retreated from the ruined city.
Men of Wraith began to pursue him, but on foot, and he quickly left them behind. Only Knight Captain Verellian remained alive in the soaking-wet courtyard. The knight of the Red was badly hurt, but Horrock’s axe blow had not penetrated his breastplate more than a few inches and, although blood was visible, the wound was not fatal. Of more concern to the man of Ro was the wound to his hand, and he looked at the bloodied stumps where two of his fingers had been. Then he rolled on to his back and began to laugh loudly, the rain falling heavily on his face.
Al-Hasim was still crouched behind the mound of rubble in front and to the left of where Bronwyn and Moody were concealed. He peeked out to where the men of Wraith were delivering death blows to anyone who had not yet fully expired. Bronwyn thought he was talking to
himself, maybe trying to think of the best approach to the Free Company men. After a minute of contemplation, the Karesian stepped out.
‘Captain Horrock Green Blade,’ he said loudly across the courtyard.
Several dozen blood-soaked Ranen turned towards him, brandishing axes and growling challenges. Horrock waved a silencing hand at his men and stepped over the still-laughing form of Verellian.
‘Identify yourself, man of Jaa,’ Horrock commanded suspiciously.
Hasim raised his eyebrows and pointed to William of Verellian. ‘Don’t you want to deal with him first? Kill him or make him shut up? He’s not a bad man for a knight… honourable, clever… still a knight of the Red, though.’
Horrock pulled a small hand-axe from his belt and threw it with tremendous strength towards Hasim. The axe hit the ground between his feet with a resounding thump.
‘I said, Identify yourself. Don’t make me say it again,’ he said in a manner that did not encourage dissent.
Hasim raised his hands and smiled nervously. ‘I’m Al-Hasim, called the Prince of the Wastes. I am friend to Magnus Forkbeard and Lord Algenon Teardrop.’
The names were clearly known to the men of Wraith and all turned and looked through narrow eyes at Hasim.
‘Those are strong names to be throwing around, Karesian,’ said Horrock. ‘Why are you riding with these men?’
‘I helped Duke Hector’s daughter escape. The knights in Canarn wanted her back, so they brought me with them to find her.’ Hasim was talking quickly, as if he thought these men would kill him if they didn’t like what he said.
Horrock nodded. ‘Well, let’s get out of the rain and discuss it, shall we?’ He glanced up at the black sky. ‘Stone Dog,’ he called to one of the Ranen behind him, ‘go fetch the girl and that stupid big horse from the old bakery.’
The Ranen he’d spoken to was young and lithe, in stark contrast to the burly men around him. He had two throwing-axes in his belt, neither of which he’d thrown, and a vicious-looking, hook-pointed Lochaber axe in his hands. Bronwyn didn’t move as he walked towards her place of concealment.
Stone Dog approached the hole through which Bronwyn had observed the fight and leant forwards to peer into the darkness. ‘Hello, sweetness,’ he said with a grin. ‘Are you going to come out like a good little girl or am I going to have to come in after you?’
Moody made an unimpressed sound and Bronwyn glared at him. ‘You come in after me, little boy, and I’ll make you bleed,’ she shot back.
Several of the nearby Ranen burst out laughing. Al-Hasim looked across at Horrock and chuckled.
‘She’s not too ladylike, I’m afraid,’ he said to the man of Wraith.
‘Evidently,’ replied Horrock. ‘Stone Dog, stop flirting with the young noblewoman and get her out here.’
Hasim smiled and walked over to the young Ranen. ‘Allow me,’ he said to Stone Dog.
‘Be my guest.’ The young man of Wraith didn’t appear offended by Bronwyn’s words.
Hasim leant casually against the wall next to the broken section. ‘Bronwyn, my dear, would you mind coming out, so I can get my sensitive arse out of this fucking rain?’
Bronwyn suddenly felt rather foolish, as a kick to Verellian’s head rendered the knight unconscious and his laughter stopped.
* * *
It took over an hour for the courtyard to be cleared of bodies, and the rain didn’t stop. Twenty knights of the Red and half as many again of the Ranen had been killed, and several more had received near-fatal or crippling injuries. The injured Ro were despatched quickly and the injured Ranen taken indoors, down a steep set of stairs that led to intact basements where Wraith Company had made their home.
The only surviving knight was William of Verellian, and Horrock agonized about what to do with him. In the end, his unconscious body was taken with the injured Ranen. The knight looked less like a bird of prey when he wasn’t standing upright, glaring at people, and his shaven head was covered in blood.
Bronwyn had stood off to the side with Hasim and the man called Stone Dog. Moody was not allowed into the Ranen headquarters and the large horse had been tied to a wooden post, under a partial stone roof, near the staircase.
Bronwyn and Hasim sheltered near the gatehouse as the men of Wraith said prayers to Rowanoco over the fallen. Bronwyn was impressed that they showed equal respect for the dead Ro, and she heard several words suggesting they thought these particular knights were fearsome opponents and men of honour.
‘See the man with one white eye,’ Stone Dog said to Hasim as they quickly crossed the courtyard to follow Horrock and his men into shelter.
‘What, the man Fallon split down the middle?’ asked Hasim, with a gesture towards the old man who was being carried reverently under cover.
Stone Dog was annoyed at the Karesian’s flippancy, but he smiled after a moment. The men of Ranen were famous for finding humour in death and Bronwyn was pleased that they were less pious than the men she was used to.
‘His name was Dorron Moon Eye and he was our priest. Your man Fallon killed a man of the Hammer.’
Hasim frowned, clearly aware of the significance of such a death.
Bronwyn interjected as they reached the top of the staircase leading down. ‘He was of the same order as Magnus?’
Stone Dog ushered the two of them down the stairs and glanced around the courtyard to make sure they were the last.
‘Dorron wouldn’t come with us when we went to Canarn. He said it was foolish to accept the hand of a duke of Tor Funweir.’ He faced Bronwyn. ‘And Magnus told him he was an old fool who should stop living in the past.’ He smiled.
The stairs dived steeply into an old stone basement underneath the courtyard and opened up into a series of low rooms and passageways. The area looked extensive and Bronwyn saw more homely comforts than she might have expected. Rooms with solidly built doors and cosy sitting rooms made the basement appear like a well-maintained tavern or even a small settlement.
She also saw numerous people who had not been in the courtyard during the fight. Women and children, most wearing the blue cloaks of Wraith Company, rushed to the returning warriors and tears flowed from the wives, sons and daughters of fallen men. The injured were taken quickly to places of healing. Mugs of strong beer were passed round and most of the warriors drank deeply while their chain mail was removed and their wounds tended.
Only Stone Dog paid Bronwyn and Hasim any attention amidst the commotion, and this took the form of keeping them out of the way. No woman or child came to greet the young Ranen, and Bronwyn detected a hint of emotion in his eye, as if once he’d had someone to rush up to him when he returned from battle. He did acknowledge an older Ranen woman, who shot him a quick glance and received in return a nod to signal that he was uninjured.
William of Verellian was still alive but Bronwyn could see large amounts of blood seeping through the axe wound in his armour.
‘Stone Dog, is someone going to see to him?’ she asked, gesturing towards the knight, who’d been placed on the floor at the foot of the stairs.
The young Ranen looked across at the other injured men. ‘They’ll get to him. He’s not a priority,’ he said, showing little regard for the life of a man of Ro. ‘Dorron’s dead, which means healing these men is going to take time, rest, recuperation. All that stuff we don’t often need to bother with.’
Bronwyn turned to Hasim and wordlessly conveyed her concern that the knight would die before he’d been tended. The Karesian frowned and shook his head, as if he were wrestling with something.
‘He’s a knight of the Red, Bronwyn, keeping him alive might be a mistake.’ He paused, breathing in sharply. ‘But…’
Hasim crossed from where they stood, negotiating the people of Wraith struggling out of their armour. A few glanced up at him, registering surprise that a Karesian should be in their midst, but most were lost in post-battle weariness and simply ignored him. Bronwyn followed, trying to stay behind him.
Th
ey reached Verellian and Hasim crouched down next to the broken knight before speaking quietly. ‘You probably saved my life in Canarn,’ he said to the unconscious man, ‘so, as a man of at least some honour, I should now save yours.’ He inspected the knight and turned to Bronwyn. ‘Help me get his armour off. I need to see how bad that axe wound is.’
Together they wrested the battered armour from Verellian. It was badly dented and two cuts appeared, one in the chest where Horrock had struck him and one in the back from a thrown axe.
Bronwyn knew a little of armour and thought it likely that the breastplate was now useless. The knight was still unconscious and it was a struggle to remove the steel from the large man. Hasim held both his arms out and Bronwyn unfastened the shoulder straps, letting the front plate detach, and allowing Hasim to pull off the segmented arm guards. Then they laid the knight down on his back and inspected his chest wound. It was an ugly, jagged line across his chest and stomach – not deep, but it bled profusely and Bronwyn thought he would die from loss of blood if it were not treated properly.
‘Looks like you’ll be alive a while yet, Ro horse-fucker,’ murmured Hasim, mostly to himself, as he inspected the wound.
Turning back to Bronwyn he said, ‘Water and dressings. They must have something around here.’
Bronwyn stood up and, moving quickly, returned to Stone Dog, who was still by the stairs.
‘I need something to treat the knight’s wounds,’ she said quickly. ‘He’ll die if we don’t stop the bleeding.’
‘And we should use our meagre supplies to save a knight of Red?’ Stone Dog replied angrily. ‘I don’t think so. We need everything we’ve got for our own men.’
‘Keep the knight alive.’ The words came from Horrock who was standing nearby with a woman massaging his shoulders.
Stone Dog paused a moment, clearly not happy about having to use their supplies on a man of Ro, but he didn’t argue with his captain. He snapped his fingers at a young lad who was running around the room with bandages and buckets of water.