The Long War 02 - The Dark Blood

by A. J. Smith

  * * *

  The Ranen had laughed off the counsel of the axe-master of Brytag’s Roost, but several hours later it was still playing on Bronwyn’s mind. She was not a coward; nor was she indifferent to the indignation of the citizens of South Warden, but something about the way Dragneel had spoken had made her think that he knew something he wasn’t prepared to say in front of the assembly.

  She waited until the midday sun had begun to disappear and Long Shadow had started ordering his company to prepare the city’s defences. Once the men of Scarlet were busy making sure that South Warden’s many gates and palisades were reinforced, Bronwyn sneaked away from Lanry and Al-Hasim and found her way back to the Ranen assembly. She was fairly sure that Micah Stone Dog was following her, but the young man of Wraith had not tried to stop her, so she let him creep along behind.

  She had been told that Dragneel had a habit of sitting by a small bust of Brytag the World Raven that lay beyond the central fortifications. Most Ranen cities had one, but Rowanoco’s raven was only ever of secondary importance to the faithful of the Ice Giant. She could well believe that the axe-master from Brytag’s Roost was used to being derided, but his demeanour in the assembly showed that he had intelligence as well as honour.

  ‘Took you long enough,’ said Dragneel, as Bronwyn turned a corner and saw the one-legged man lying on his back on the windswept grass.

  ‘You were expecting me?’ she asked, making sure to keep her tone formal and commanding.

  ‘I was expecting someone... it makes sense that it’s you.’ The man of Brytag’s Roost was smiling and Bronwyn was struck with his youthful appearance. He wore no beard and his blonde hair was braided in a topknot that fell halfway down his back. The hand-axes that adorned his piecemeal leather armour were too small to be used in melee combat and she guessed that Dragneel preferred fighting at a distance. That was probably another reason that he was teased by the axe-men of Ranen.

  ‘You made a certain degree of sense in the assembly,’ she said, ‘and sense seems to be in short supply around here.’

  ‘They’re all going to die,’ replied the man of Brytag, letting his smile become a frown and picking absently at the grass. ‘But I’m not sure about you... the signs aren’t clear.’

  She sniggered at the axe-master’s words. She was not naive and found the prophetic nature of what she was hearing a little trite. ‘I’m sure you have access to all sorts of profound omens, Master Dragneel,’ she said with a patronizing smile.

  ‘Omens?’ was the confused response from the axe-master. ‘I’m not a wise woman. I’m using something else; it’s called logic.’

  Bronwyn was startled by this reply and found herself having to adjust her thinking. She was not used to men using reason to decide things, especially not the passionate and impulsive Ranen.

  ‘You’ve not met a follower of Brytag before, have you?’ he asked with a childlike smile.

  ‘No, I don’t believe I have, but I am from Ro Canarn,’ replied the confused noblewoman. ‘I know of the World Raven.’

  Dragneel screwed up his face. ‘You don’t really... but you think you do, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.’

  She was not used to being spoken to in this manner, and spluttered as she tried to respond. The axe-master grinned and patted the grass next to him.

  ‘Have a seat, my lady. We’ll be going on a little journey together soon, so we should probably get to know each other.’

  Hesitantly, she lowered herself to the grass of South Warden and regarded Dragneel with suspicious eyes. ‘And where will we be going?’ she asked.

  ‘The Moon Wood. It will be a long and painful journey.’ He grinned. ‘Should be fun, yes?’

  ‘And this journey is to be undertaken... why?’ she asked, hoping to exert at least a modicum of authority over the strange man from Brytag’s Roost.

  ‘Perhaps you should ask your friend with the big axe to come and join us, rather than hiding behind that tree.’ Dragneel smiled and motioned to where Micah Stone Dog was skulking in a half-hearted attempt to remain out of sight. His curved locaber axe was poking out rather comically from his place of concealment.

  ‘Micah,’ said Bronwyn with a wave of her hand, ‘we both know you’re there. Please come out.’

  The young man of Wraith poked his head out from behind the tree and regarded the axe-master with narrow-eyed suspicion. He sauntered over to where they sat.

  ‘Just so you know, axe-master,’ said Stone Dog, ‘I’m not leaving this woman’s side. Horrock asked me to watch out for her and that’s what I’m doing.’

  ‘Then you’ll be coming with us,’ responded Dragneel, with another boyish grin.

  ‘No,’ replied Micah with his customary straight face. ‘You’ll be coming with us.’

  Dragneel absently tapped at his wooden crutch and looked the young warrior up and down. ‘Do you know how to use that axe, lad?’

  Stone Dog didn’t show even the slightest expression as he plonked himself down on the grass. ‘I chopped down a tree once... that good enough?’

  ‘Was it an aggressive tree?’ Dragneel didn’t move his eyes from Micah. It seemed to Bronwyn that there was no love lost between the two men.

  ‘No,’ said Stone Dog, with a shake of his head, ‘it was just a tree. Now stop asking stupid questions and answer a few.’ He unslung his axe and rested it across his lap. ‘Is it true that you’re Dominic Black Claw’s cousin?’

  Bronwyn had heard of Black Claw. He was the captain of Greywood Company and master of Ranen Gar, the great stronghold of the Free Companies. He was the closest thing the south men of Ranen had to a king and was second only to the high thain of Fjorlan in the respect he commanded.

  ‘No, it’s not true,’ answered Dragneel. ‘I was adopted into his family when I was very young. I’m his brother, sort of, though I haven’t seen him since I heard the voice of Brytag.’

  Micah turned to Bronwyn. ‘Horrock needs us to go north. He can’t spare any axe-men to make a decent-sized force, so it’s just you, me and this idiot.’

  ‘What about Hasim?’ asked the lady of Canarn, suddenly uncomfortable at the prospect of being parted from the roguish Karesian.

  ‘They need him here. He’s a tough bastard and tough bastards will be needed when the knights arrive.’ Micah was obviously annoyed that he would not be joining the defenders of South Warden, but he was nothing if not dutiful and his loyalty and commitment to his captain were without question.

  ‘The clans of the Moon Wood are our first port of call. The men and women of the crescent are fearsome when angered and we’ll need them to hold the knights,’ said Dragneel, with a theatrical flourish of his arms.

  ‘I don’t like you,’ responded Micah with a straight face. ‘You’re irritating.’

  The axe-master of Brytag’s Roost pouted, adopting a hurt expression, though Bronwyn couldn’t be sure whether it was genuine or not.

  ‘That’s why we need you along, young Stone Dog,’ said Dragneel with an ever so slightly smug grin. ‘I can’t irritate our enemies to death.’

  ‘Have you tried?’ was the dry response from Micah. ‘I think you’d be surprised at just how irritating you are.’

  ‘Please, gentlemen,’ interjected Bronwyn. ‘This is not a helpful way to begin.’ She puffed out her cheeks and addressed Micah. ‘So I won’t be going back to Canarn any time soon?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, I’m afraid not. You’re a noble, remember. Your word carries weight, and your brother is supposedly our friend.’

  Dragneel clapped his hands together excitedly. ‘I’m really looking forward to this. It’s like a grand adventure into the wilds of Ranen.’

  ‘If you don’t shut up, you won’t make it out of South Warden,’ said Micah stoically. ‘This eccentric follower of Brytag act is making me weary.’

  ‘You’d do well to treat the World Raven with more respect, young man,’ replied the axe-master. ‘He can take away just as easily as he can give.’

/>   Bronwyn frowned in confusion. ‘And what does Brytag give, Master Dragneel?’

  ‘Luck, my dear lady. He gives luck,’ was the cheeky response.

  ‘A man makes his own luck,’ interjected Micah, ‘and I don’t need a bird to direct my axe.’

  ‘But you need the Moon Clans and Greywood Company to ride south, yes?’ The reply from the one-legged man was delivered sharply and Bronwyn detected a serious note in his voice, as if he was trying to exert some kind of authority over Stone Dog.

  ‘Is your bird going to fly us north?’ replied Micah. ‘If not, shut up.’

  Dragneel smiled, recovering his light-hearted demeanour, and turned back to Bronwyn. ‘Am I supposed to weather insults all the way to Ranen Gar?’

  ‘Don’t get the impression he’ll do what I say. He’s a man of Wraith. In my experience, they tend to be quite obstinate.’ She smiled at Stone Dog, finding herself siding with the young axe-man.

  ‘Very well, as long as I know where I stand,’ was the jovial retort from the man of Brytag’s Roost.

  ‘So, two horses and a wheelbarrow?’ asked Micah with a completely straight face.

  CHAPTER 2

  HALLA SUMMER WOLF IN THE REALM OF URSA

  The axe-maiden of Tiergarten was in fair spirits as they trudged past the last inlet of Hammerfall and entered the long, rocky gully that led to the Bear’s Mouth. The terrain had become more rugged and uneven over the last week and Falling Cloud had begun to provide a more accurate direction of travel towards Jarvik. They would sight the river fork that marked the southern border of the city within a few days, and all of Halla’s company were beginning to prepare themselves for a fight.

  The Bear’s Mouth was held by Grammah Black Eyes, and he would have a massive advantage over any force attempting to assault it. The mouth was the narrowest point of the gully, with natural shelves snaking their way up the icy walls from the frozen river to the barren plateaus above. There was no reliable way round and Grammah would need only a fraction of a company to hold the gully, where he would be able to hurl axes and roll boulders from positions of cover on to any attackers.

  Her company had grown in the last few weeks as more and more common folk of Hammerfall had joined her banner, and a few scattered parties of battle-brothers from the dragon fleet had also found their way inland. Rexel and Oleff had become even more valuable to her as men and women, many of whose homes and villages had been burned, asked what they were going to do and what hope they had left. It was a question she preferred not to answer as they marched slowly but inevitably towards a battle that would see many of them dead.

  The force now numbered close to five hundred, though many were too old, too young, or too inexperienced to make useful battle-brothers. The few women were mostly commoners, as confused at the sight of an axe-maiden as were their men folk. She remained the only woman with an axe and she tried to leave her captains to deal with anyone who questioned her leadership.

  ‘Halla,’ shouted Oleff from the front of their moving column, ‘you need to come and see this.’

  ‘What’s the hold-up?’ she shouted as Oleff came into view along the narrow pass.

  ‘There’s... an obstacle in the way,’ he said, with a strange uncertainty in his voice.

  Wulfrick appeared over Halla’s shoulder. ‘Well, move it out of the way... it’s getting cold and we can’t camp in this gully.’

  Halla had sent Falling Cloud and a few other men ahead to find an area of flat ground, away from the wind, on which to make camp for the night. They were currently spread out in a long line, hugging the icy walls of the gully and doing their best to stay away from the sheer drop to the frozen river below.

  ‘I’ve tried to get it to move,’ replied Oleff, his tone still strange, ‘but it doesn’t want to.’

  Halla shook her head and began to move quickly along the line of men and women towards the front. Every third set of eyes belonged to one of her original company and she received boisterous salutes from many of them. The newcomers had begun to realize that, whatever problem they might have with a woman in command, the more seasoned battle-brothers accepted her word without question.

  Wulfrick followed her, adding significantly to Halla’s presence as they strode past the company to where Oleff stood. The chain-master stood with several other men, looking towards a turn in the gully. The column had stopped moving and, as far as Halla could see, the obstacle they were looking at was a person, sitting cross-legged and hunched in the middle of the trail.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

  Oleff had narrow eyes and his face was screwed up in an expression of confusion and annoyance. ‘She was just sitting in the middle of the trail,’ he said, ‘and she won’t move.’

  ‘She?’ queried Wulfrick, moving forward to look at the seated figure, whose back was facing them.

  Halla joined him and they edged round until they could see an old woman huddled in the snow. She was not in any distress and she wore several layers of thick furs and heavy leather boots. Her hands were clenched tightly shut and appeared to be clutching something. As Halla craned forward to see her better, the woman lifted her head up rapidly and directed her strangely penetrating dark eyes at the axe-maiden.

  ‘They always say the same,’ muttered the old woman, in a raspy voice.

  Oleff grunted. ‘That’s all she’s said. Woman’s lost her mind to be just sitting in the snow like that.’

  The old woman unclenched her fist and revealed a palm full of small bones. They were dusty brown and had small stones tied to them, making a dull rattling sound as she shook her palm from side to side. Halla had met wise women who claimed to be able to see the will of Rowanoco in the bones.

  ‘Woman, listen to me,’ demanded Halla, kneeling down in front of her. ‘If you have wisdom, we would hear you... if not, please get out of our road.’

  The woman shook the bones and threw them into the snow. She looked at them. ‘They always say the same,’ she repeated.

  Oleff snorted with amusement. ‘I’ve never seen the Order of the Hammer use bones to tell the future. She’s mad, kick her out of the way.’

  The axe-maiden waved him away and turned back to the old woman. ‘What do they say?’ she asked.

  The response was mumbled. Wulfrick, Oleff and Halla had to lean in to hear her. ‘The Ice Giant can’t talk to us any more... the blood is almost spent... the blood is almost spent... but the shades come.’

  She babbled the same few sentences over and over until Halla stood up and faced Wulfrick. ‘What’s she talking about?’

  The axe-master shook his head. ‘No idea. It sounds doom-laden, though.’

  ‘Hey, woman...’ snapped Oleff, ‘get out of the road.’

  ‘Enough!’ said Halla. ‘It’s as much her road as ours.’ She knelt back down in front of the old woman. ‘Throw them again,’ she said.

  The woman gave her another strangely intense stare and nodded. She picked up the ceremonial bones, shook them, and threw them to the ground again. ‘They always say the same,’ she repeated in a shrill voice.

  Halla raised her eyebrows at the bones. They had indeed fallen in precisely the same position as before.

  ‘Now, that’s a little eerie,’ said Wulfrick to Oleff. ‘Algenon used to say that some women could read the future in fish entrails or the pattern of a bird’s flight... I don’t think he ever put much faith in bones, though.’

  ‘Depends who’s reading them,’ said a loud voice from above.

  Halla and her two captains looked up and saw the distinctive features of Rexel Falling Cloud. The axe-master of Hammerfall was standing on the plateau, ten feet above the narrow, icy trail.

  ‘Shouldn’t sneak up on a man,’ said Oleff. ‘Wulfrick could have shit himself.’

  ‘Don’t make me push you into the river, piss-stain,’ replied Wulfrick, with a boisterous laugh.

  Halla shielded her eyes from the glare of the snow. ‘What does the ground look like up there?’

&
nbsp; Falling Cloud scanned around from his elevated position and puffed out his cheeks. ‘Well, there’s enough cover up here, but it’ll be cramped for five hundred. We’d better start moving everyone up out of the gully.’

  ‘Right,’ agreed the axe-maiden. ‘And, Rexel...’

  ‘My lady?’ he responded.

  ‘Do you know this woman?’

  He nodded. ‘Her name’s Anya Coldbane. We used to call her Lullaby... something to do with a brew she used to make that sent you to sleep.’ He paused and smiled down at the woman. Hearing her name, she looked up and squinted into the light to see who had spoken. ‘She was old when my father was a boy,’ said Rexel. ‘I wouldn’t offer any guarantees about her sanity, though.’

  Anya frowned and made a series of crotchety, mumbled sounds. ‘That’s enough cheek from you, Mr Falling Cloud.’

  It was the first sign that the woman was even vaguely aware of herself and her surroundings. She retrieved the bones and stood up. Her back made a creaking sound, and at her full height she barely reached Halla’s shoulders.

  ‘You know Rexel?’

  ‘Of course,’ she barked. ‘Silly girl.’

  Oleff and Wulfrick stifled a laugh.

  Halla crossed her arms. ‘What brings you out here... old woman?’ she asked, angry at being called a girl, silly or otherwise.

  Anya stared at her, apparently oblivious to the five hundred Fjorlanders waiting impatiently behind her. ‘Where’s your father, young lady? I’d like a serious word with him about how you were raised.’

  Wulfrick and Oleff stopped laughing. For a moment they looked worried that Halla would take offence at the reference to Aleph Summer Wolf.

  ‘My father is dead... as is my mother,’ replied Halla. ‘If you wish to chide someone, chide me.’

  ‘I knew young Falling Cloud when he was a crying, pink bundle in his mother’s arms,’ Anya snapped, peering at Halla through beady eyes.