by C.S. Fanning
that Aeden could see but not identify. He could see unwelcome tears welling in her eyes, and was struck dumb. Fianna had never shown such emotion in his presence and he knew something terrible must be behind this display.
Aeden’s father spoke up to answer what Fianna could not. “When the dark ones came, Fianna’s father rallied a few men to chase them from the village. We hadn’t understood what they were capable of, though I expect Fergus had some notion. I don’t think he expected to survive, only to give you kids more time. After they burned them with their magic, they made us leave their bodies in the street as a reminder.”
Fianna’s tears were flowing freely now, though her rigid posture broached no hint of weakness; she would not dishonor her father’s memory so.
“I am so sorry Fianna” Aeden said, grasping her hand where it still lay idle upon his chest.
“Do not offer me your condolences” she snapped, drawing her hand away. “I will mourn my father when every last one of these savages is sent into the afterlife, and not before.”
Aeden knew Fianna well after all of their adventures together, and he almost pitied those responsible for her ire. She was right about one thing, they didn’t need to waste time with what was done, and instead needed to focus on the living; they owed the people of Bretharc that much at least. “Do we know how many of these dark sorcerers we will face in Longford; how many soldiers?” Aeden asked.
Fianna visibly collected herself before answering. “The bulk of the sorcerers were at Bretharc, and I don’t think any of those survived. The man I talked to had only seen their leader and a couple of his lieutenants around Longford in the week before he left. If he is to be believed the garrison is down to just over fifty men guarding the prisoners and town, and their number keeps diminishing every time they send out a patrol. It seems they have been suffering a number of defections, and their patrols have been suffering heavy casualties at the hands of some vigilante that is never seen. According to the defector I talked to, this vigilante can pierce a man’s eye at a hundred yards with an arrow” Fianna said, chuckling at this last.
“I think I should find this vigilante, and persuade her to join our cause” Aeden said laughing.
A part of him was concerned that she had gone alone to scout the town’s defenses and engage the patrols in this way, but he knew her too well to expect her to act in any other way. Gareth was clearly of another mind, shaking his head disapprovingly, but no doubt he still saw Fianna as the young girl that grown up in Bretharc village. He couldn’t yet know that the quiet young lady he remembered, if she ever existed at all, was now gone; replaced by a warrior woman, seasoned in blood.
“Any word on how long before Lord Donegal attacks?” Aeden asked, knowing before she answered that they had very little time.
“Nothing certain, but the king’s army is in camp just across the river. He has over fifteen thousand men and it appears that he holding them until the exact location of Donegal’s force can be determined. So far, no one seems to know where he has gone. A courier that I shot yesterday carried a message that the northern army had marched south almost a week hence, but if so they should have been here by now” Fianna told him.
“That is troubling, but it does nothing to change our course. We need to go now and free our people. We can take them north and attempt to find Lord Donegal’s army” Aeden said, rising despite the looks of protest.
“Aeden, you just awoke after sustaining injuries that should have killed you!” his father complained, clearly unwilling that his son risk himself further.
Aeden didn’t respond; he didn’t need to. They all knew that to delay almost certainly meant the death of almost everyone they knew. Fianna could see that he intended to go and ignoring the voices in her that would have them ignore this crisis she extended her hand taking his. He moved around a bit, taking it slowly at first. His strength seemed to flow back into him from the sword in his hand, and despite his reservations, he silently thanked the Morrighan for her gift.
Fianna went about gathering their gear while Aeden worked loose muscles made sore and weak by his prolonged convalescence. His father went outside, presumably to prepare their horses, but when he came back inside he was wearing a chain corselet and carrying a spear. Aeden’s first instinct was to tell his father that he couldn’t come, but then he realized that it would be safer for all to bring him and find the best use for him than to have him follow and inadvertently foul whatever plan they devised.
“Can you use that?” he asked curious as to how and where his father had acquired such arms. Almost faster than he could follow his father switched grips, reversing his spear and struck Aeden lightly in the chest before turning, reversing his grip once again and hurling the spear out the door to stick deeply in a stump nearly twenty feet beyond the cabin.
“First spear in the Longford regiment, but I’m a bit rusty” he father said smiling.
Aeden stunned, allowed a wicked grin to spread over his face; it seemed his father might be an asset after all. Three against fifty were horrible odds, especially with at least three of these sorcerers among them. Two hours later they were creeping through the underbrush on the edge of the forest that butted up against Longford, opposite the river. The garrison was clearly visible from here and Aeden didn’t like what he saw.
The garrison had never been fortified in the past, large swaths of forest had been cut back, the logs used to construct barricades which surrounded the entire garrison in a large semicircle from the river bank to river bank. Men were stationed on guard every few feet. A tower was erected over a large wooden enclosure just beyond the barricades, where presumably the captives were being held.
Fianna had obviously been here already and he smiled to consider that many of these defensive measures were a reaction to her uncanny accuracy with her bow. Still it made the assault on even less promising. Perhaps they could burn the new barricades from afar, but there was some risk that the fire would spread, harming the innocent.
“Anyone have any good ideas?” Aeden asked, concerned that the suicidal charge that he’d first imagined was their only option.
“Well, I’ve been here in the spring, and if that sword of yours will do what you claim, I have an idea” his father replied.
Aeden and Fianna both looked at him in confusion, neither having expected him to have input. “What do you have in mind Gareth?” Fianna asked.
“Can your sword truly cut through anything?” His father asked, looking searchingly at Aeden.
Aeden was no more enlightened than he had been, but as soon as he nodded his father began working his way back to where the horses were tied mumbling something about giving the enemy the high ground. Aeden and Fianna followed him, wanting to get out of sight before pressing for an explanation. He was already mounted on his horse and was beckoning them to hurry when they caught up to him.
“What are you talking about?” they both demanded.
“Not here, come on this way I will show you. It is better that way” he replied turning his horse and riding away from the garrison.
It was almost nightfall before they could get him to talk. He had led them in almost a complete circle around Longford. They were all a bit surprised that they had not encountered any patrols. Evidently, Fianna’s sneaky assaults had made the garrison commander hesitant to sacrifice more men. They had crossed the river, downstream from the two low hills that bordered the pastures east of Longford. Circling around to the top of one of the hills they could just make out the town and garrison in the distance when Gareth began explaining his plan.
“You see how the river winds around the town in a big horseshoe?” Gareth asked them,
“Yes” both replied, hoping that they hadn’t wasted most of the day.
“When I was about your age, we had a sudden thaw one spring that was accompanied by torrential rains that lasted for days. The town flooded, the river rose until it flowed al
l across the plains. The streets flooded, but the townsfolk knew enough to have their homes and shops on the higher ground there and there” he said pointing out features in the distant town. “Only a few of the newer buildings were damaged. The old garrison stood on the rise where they now have the stockade. The new garrison there is far too close to the river, and if the water rose even to the height of a man, they will find it difficult to mount an effective defense.”
“I see that” Fianna said, “but how do we get the water to raise enough to do this? It doesn’t look like rain to me.”
Aeden’s father had them dismount. He led them across the top of the hill to where the ground suddenly gave way in a sheer cliff that hung out over the river. “This is where I first met your mother Aeden” he said.
“That is interesting father but how does this help us?” Aeden wanted to know.
“Look around us” Gareth said a faint smirk on his face.
It took a while for Aeden to see it, but Fianna began to laugh right away. The huge stone face of the cliff for hundreds of yards in either direction was cracked and straining under its own weight to fall into the river below. The narrow bit of land that they had walked across when they came to the ledge was all that held back the enormous slab of stone.
“If you