“My sister, protect her!”
"I will!" Luan grabbed Cail's hand.
"Swear it!"
"I swear!" Luan promised. Cail let out a long breath and sank back down.
"That's it then." Cail spoke very quietly now. "Take her my sword. Tell her...." His voice tailed off as his eyes closed.
"I'll tell her you were a hero!" Luan promised, as tears ran down his cheeks. "I'll tell her you fought one man against seven and won. I'll tell her you saved my life!" But Cail couldn't hear him. Luan placed the lifeless hand on the warrior’s chest and covered it with the other. Then he took Cail's sword, wiping it clean on a tribesman's cloak, and headed down the path, suddenly scared of what he might find.
"Luan!" He had barely made it round the corner before a small form buried herself in his chest and threw her arms around him.
"Bridie." The shock of relief surprised him. Then he looked over her shoulder to where several bodies lay on the ground, covered with cloaks, and felt like he'd been punched in the stomach.
"...so worried about you, and then..." He realised Bridie was talking, but he'd missed most of her words.
"Where's Fin?" he interrupted.
"Down there." She pulled away slightly and looked up. "I need to get back to the wounded." she gave him another quick squeeze and dashed off down the hill. Luan knelt by the first shrouded figure. After a second he lifted the cloak. Accio's youthful face looked back at him.
"He was wounded in the first attack." Fin spoke quietly. "He didn't stand much of a chance when the wall broke."
Luan stood and looked at his friend. Dust and blood were spattered across his face and clothes. Fin's right arm was soaked red to elbow, his eyes were wild.
"Tell me," Luan said.
"We fought off the first attack alright," Fin began. "We had shields, they didn't, and the wall held. Like I said Accio got one in the leg, but apart from that we had no injuries. Then for a while nothing happened." Fin paused and then slumped against the rocks.
"Sorry," he said.
"It's ok." Luan eased him down into a sitting position and then joined him on the ground.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, Fin shook his head.
"When they came back," he continued, "this big sod with an axe led the way. Cut straight through the Weasel's shield, took his hand straight off. Easoch went down, Tavdi tried to save him and took the next axe blow in the neck. He's there next to Accio" Fin nodded at the line of bodies. Luan stared at him in horror. Fin swallowed and went on.
"Drustan killed the man, but the wall was broken and after that it was chaos. I didn't see what happened next, I was fighting this savage with pointed teeth, tried to rip my face off with them." Fin shuddered at the memory. "Next thing I know Drustan is down and they're dragging him down the path and he's screaming, and I can't get to him. Then Brenn goes past me."
"Brenn?"
"You wouldn't believe it. He was so fast, killed two of them before they knew he was there. Then Drustan is up and he's bellowing like a troll, fighting like one too." Fin stopped. Luan waited a moment.
"What happened to Brenn?" He asked finally. Fin looked down, unable to meet his friend’s eyes.
"We don't know," he replied quietly.
"What do you mean?" Luan almost shouted the words.
"We can't find him!" Fin's voice rose in pitch, "You don't know what it was like! It was just noise and blood and fear. Then there was this weird moment, like a cloud passed in front of the sun, and they just broke and ran."
"When I killed the Selgir Orduin," Luan said quietly.
"And then we were trying to help people. Callum was dead, Brico was dying, Easoch badly hurt, and then we realised we couldn't find Brenn. Drustan searched for him, went right down to the road, nothing. Then Mack and Bridie turned up and Mack's gone to see if he can track the tribesmen."
"They've taken him?"
"That's what we think."
Luan stood up.
"But why?" he demanded, but Fin just shrugged.
LUAN WALKED BACK UP the path, to the point where he could see over all the lands to the south. To his left the sun was sinking behind the great fortress of Cy Malg. There in the Arena of Lost Souls he had defeated the Selgir Orduin. He had never expected to win, never thought about afterwards, but if he had? What would he have imagined?"
"Something better than this!" he said out loud.
"Luan?" Bridie's voice. He felt her small hand slip into his.
"Just asking myself if it was worth it," he explained.
"That's the wrong question," she replied. "What choice did you have?"
"Still," he said. "What about those that died? Tavdi, and the others, Cail, Stav..." His voice trailed off.
"What about those of us still alive?" She countered. "Me, Fin, Mack, Brenn."
"Brenn? You think he's still alive."
"I know it," she declared confidently. Luan thought for a moment.
"Well we'd better get him back then," he said.
I hope you liked The Arena of Lost Souls, the third episode in Luan’s adventure. Luan has defeated the Selgir Orduin, and he knows that it was Cail behind the plot to murder the prince, but Brenn is missing and Luan is not one to leave a friend in danger. So, while this part of the adventure is concluded, Luan will ride again. Book four is well on its way and, although I haven’t got a title for it yet, I can give you a sneak preview of the start.
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Now keep reading for Book Four Chapter One.
The Farm
In the gloom of the gathering dusk the window was a glittering eye. The light hinted at warmth and comfort, a place of safety, a home. But the darkness was coming and safety an illusion.
In the wood above the farm the men watched. They had watched all day, watched as the workers arrived, watched as they were fed at noon by the girl, and watched still as the workers put away their tools and left. Still they watched. It was nearly time.
The leader reached for the dagger at his belt, sliding it noiselessly from the scabbard. He tested the edge with his thumb, nodded to himself, and then cut a slice from the hunk of cured meat he carried in his pouch. He was always hungry, especially when he was working. He chewed the meat slowly, savouring the smoky flavour, prolonging the enjoyment until he finally swallowed. He looked down at the farm now barely visible in the darkness. Now it was time.
His instructions had been simple. Kill them all and do it slowly, make an example of them. He smiled. Always nice to get some fun now and then, and this job was an easy one at that. Just a girl and an old man, and him half crippled at that. He signalled to the two men lying in the grass behind him and set off down the hill.
He moved quietly for a big man, slipping between the pools of deepest shadow, watching the building for any signs of life. Despite himself, his pulse quickened over the last few paces. It was always the same, no matter that he’d done it many times before, he always felt like someone was watching him. He told himself it was a good thing, that it made him careful, kept him alive, but he still didn’t enjoy the feeling. It was with relief that he reached the side of the house and pressed himself against the rough wood. Moments later the others joined him.
He had picked his spot well, just back from the corner of the house and close to the window. He took a careful step and peered through a chink in the badly made shutter. From this vantage point he had a perfect view of the room that t
ook up this end of the house. The room contained a hearth, table, a couple of chairs and, against the far wall, a large bed. He nodded to himself, like most of the larger farms it was split in two with one end for the folk who lived there and the other for the animals. He thought of the homestead where he lived as a child, where the cows and sheep came in with the family. Even now it came back to him, the soft noises of the animals and the sweet smell of warm dung.
The girl was chopping some vegetables at the table and as he watched she gathered them in her apron and carried them to the cauldron that hung over the fire. He could see no one else which meant the cripple must be with the animals. He signalled to his comrades who slipped away around the back of the house. They could have the old man and leave the girl to him. He licked his lips at the thought.
It was only a few paces to the door. He paused, listened for a moment and then took a step back. His kick sent the door flying to slam back against the wall. The girl screamed, a scream that sent a wave of pleasure coursing through him. He grinned then, and stepped into the room, dagger in hand. A shout and a cry came from the back of the house, telling him that his men were at work. They could have their fun, just as he would have his.
“Don’t scream sweetheart,” he said as he sidled towards her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Her eyes showed disbelief, but she stopped screaming nonetheless.
“At least,” he added, “I won’t hurt you if you’re nice to me!” He grinned again. The girl backed away, almost as if she were trying to hide.
“You won’t find anywhere, sweetheart,” he purred, “And there’s no one to come to your rescue.”
“Don’t be so sure!”
He turned, startled by the gruff voice behind him. The barrel-chested man stood in the doorway, hefting a solid stave of wood in his one hand.
“What do you think you’re going to do, old cripple?” he said, drawing his sword.
“Well,” the one-armed man replied, “I’ve stomped your men into the ground, and I was going to stomp on you as well, but I think the girl’s got other plans!”
“What?”
He whirled round, and had just enough time to see the girl’s ferocious grin before the cooking pot connected with his head.
Chapter One
"Look where yer goin' yer great oaf!"
Luan pulled desperately at his horse's reins causing the beast to skitter sideways, narrowly avoiding the man who stood, hands on hips, in the middle of the path.
"Sorry" Luan called out as he struggled to get his horse under control. It was a cantankerous beast at the best of times, and now it stamped and shook its head as it tried to get away. Luan walked it around in a circle before bringing it back to face the stranger.
"Sorry" he said again, "I didn't see you there."
"So yer sayin' that I'm small now is it?"
"No! Not at all!"
"Hmmph" The man glared up at Luan, his eyes bright beneath bushy eyebrows. Luan looked back, unsure of what to say and realised that this was quite the strangest looking man he had ever met. For a start he was actually very small, much shorter than Luan himself. He was wearing blue breeches tucked into polished black boots and a quartered red and yellow shirt over which spilled his voluminous beard. His skin was the colour of polished oak and his hair was a deep russet, curling out from under a maroon cap.
"What's the matter?" the little man asked gruffly "You never seen one of the Fiabaigin before? An you a traveller in our world by all accounts!"
"I don't think I have." The man's words confirmed Luan's suspicions. "What do you mean your world?"
"What do I mean?" The man barked. "I mean Fardach Sionna of course"
"Fardach Sionna?"
"Aye, my world, the home of wisdom."
"You mean the spirit world?"
"Aye, I do! An I'm startin' to think I got the wrong man! Are you the Leantor-Cosan or what?"
Luan straightened in his saddle. "Before I answer," he said warily, "maybe you should tell me who you are and why you're here."
"Oho!" The little man suddenly grinned. "Don't get touchy! I'll tell yer alright." He swept his hat from his head and gave a deep bow. "Banoghand at your service! Now to whom to I have the pleasure of speaking>" He pulled himself up to his fullest height, jammed the hat back on his head and stared intently at Luan.
"Luan ap Garioch, of the house of Artran," the boy replied formally.
"The Leantor-cosan?" Banoghand enquired eagerly.
"I have been called that," admitted Luan.
"Then I have a message for you." Banoghand paused and his smile slid away. "War is coming!"
"War?"
"Dark and bloody war! War in your world and in mine! Fardach Sionna is in peril, the darkness threatens to overcome us. This is the message that you just take!"
"Take it to where?
"You are the Leantor-Cosan, the sword-path follower, you will find the way"
Luan stared at his strange companion, a confused jumble of thoughts stopping his tongue.
"What's that?" Banoghand pointed over Luan's shoulder. For a moment Luan's attention was distracted. When he looked back, Banoghand was gone.
About the Author
Martin Swinford writes, paints, reads, and walks the dog, but not necessarily all at once. He lives in Lincolnshire, England with his family who work tirelessly to keep him from getting too weird. In the time that’s left he teaches Psychology and Mathematics. His biggest fear is getting bored. Martin is the author of The Song Of Amhar Series, consisting of The Path of Swords, The Guild Of Warriors and The Arena of Lost Souls and is currently working on an untitled fourth book. He has also completed a Science Fiction novel, Thus Falls the Shadow, released in December 2018.
The Arena of Lost Souls Page 8