Blackest Knights

by Phipps, C. T.

  “Here is your enemy. Bring back my girleen and then I can rest with my man.”

  Anya’s eyes opened at the sound of Mairead’s voice, and she looked up at us in surprise.

  “I can see them.” Niall’s voice jerked me abruptly out of the raiders’ camp, back to the cottage fireside.

  “Where are they?” Aron’s voice.

  “Under the trees,” answered Niall in a breathless whisper.

  “Who’s there?” Aron again.

  “All of them,” said Niall.

  “Look outwards, what can you see?” asked Aron.

  “Water”

  “Still or running?” said Aron

  “Running.”

  “How many guard them?” asked Aron, an edge of urgency breaking into his voice.

  “Ten, one of them is wounded,” replied Niall.

  “Follow the water. Where does it flow?”

  “It flows towards the setting sun,” Niall called out triumphantly. “It is the Greyswan’s stream, where it meets the North River.”

  “Just below the ford. They’re at the edge of Peadar’s Wood camped in the big bend.” I spoke, and my voice seemed to echo in my ears.

  “Then we have them,” said Aron quietly

  I tried to find Mairead; to return to the camp, but the contact was severed.

  “Come back away from them Niall, follow the stream back through the woods,” said Aron. “Does anyone watch the path?”

  “I’m coming back through the woods. It’s getting dark. I can’t see.”

  “Where are you now?” asked Aron.

  “There’s a clearing. I’m beside the burial mounds. I’m cold.” A shrill note entered Niall’s voice. “Why’s it cold? Aron? There’s something else here.”

  Aron knelt beside Niall and caught his hands. “Niall, come back to us,” he called. “Wake up now.”

  “It’s all around me. So cold.” Niall cried out, fear filling his voice. “I can’t breathe. Aaaah!”

  His scream was cut off by the jugful of cold water that Aron sluiced over him, but the fear still shone in his eyes. He shivered in his chair as Aron awoke the others by the same method. I had no idea how long I had wandered in the mists, but the fire had burned down to a few embers.

  “I reckon we have five hours of darkness left to us. That should be time enough to get us to them at dawn if we take the footpath over the hills and follow the Greyswan’s stream through the woods,” said Aron.

  “Get us where?” asked Owain.

  “Where the Greyswan’s meets the North river. In the elbow of the bend in the river.”

  “How do you know that?” said Tomas.

  “Niall and Padraig saw them in the mists,” said Aron.

  “And you believe that?” said Tomas

  “I have to. If I don’t believe it, then I have no hope left.”

  Tomas looked around at the rest of us, for support in his argument.

  “Shut up Tomas,” said Nieve. “Shut up and clean your sword.”

  There was silence for a moment as Aron waited to see if the argument was over. “Now we eat,” he said, “and then we run.”

  “I don’t like the notion of going near the barrows. I felt something there, and there’s stories about them too, ’tis a bad place to be after dark,” muttered Niall.

  “We’ve no choice. We must go that way if we’re to be there by dawn. Do you like the notion of our folk in the slavers’ hands? If you’re afeared stay here,” said Aron.

  There was no dispute after that. Nieve brought bowls of stew and we ate. The room was quiet. I guessed that everyone was thinking of what we had to do when we reached the raiders’ camp. I was. I had never been in a real man’s fight, let alone killing, but when I thought of Anya, the fears left me to be replaced by a cold determination.

  “What did you see?” I heard Tomas whisper to Nieve.

  “Nothing. Just shapes in the fire now shut up and eat your stew,” replied Nieve. I wanted then to tell them what I’d seen, to tell them it was real; but it didn’t make enough sense to me, so I kept silent.

  So we ran, clutching our swords, following Aron in single file; across our own fields at first then out into the untamed ground beyond. Fortune favoured us for there was a late risen moon to light our way between ragged wind-driven clouds. I would say the same journey would have been impossible without the moon, but Aron would have still made us go. He led us at a gentle trot that ate up the miles without burning the lungs, occasionally the mists threatened to return, but the exertion of the run kept them at bay. Despite the cold of the night, sweat ran down my face, and my nose began to run. Mopping at my face broke my rhythm, but to not do so caused me much irritation. It was a trivial dilemma I could not resolve much to my annoyance. Even though I knew the country well, everything looked different under moonlight, and it was difficult to keep track of where we were in the darkness. Most of the time I watched Tomas’s back in front of me and tried not to trip over some snag. It would have been so easy for one of us to turn an ankle and the rest to tumble over them in the gloom.

  After a long time, we came to trees. The path was more difficult here with less light, and Aron slowed us to a walk. Still in single file, we pushed deeper into Peadar’s Wood until we crested a ridge and descended into the steep-sided valley of the Greyswan’s stream. The path ran beside the stream, and we were able to run again until we reached a point where the valley opened out into a shallow bowl. Here the trees gave way to a grassy clearing where the ancients had raised their burial mounds. Aron halted and drew us into a close huddle.

  “They are within two hundred paces if I have it right. Wait here, I’ll go on to spy out their camp.”

  We sank gratefully into the soft turf as Aron moved off into the night, momentarily skylined as he climbed out of the bowl. I was soaked with sweat from the run, I lay back against a tree and tried to concentrate on getting air into my lungs. No-one else was moving around. Somewhere across the bowl, I could hear someone retching, but I did not have the energy to investigate just at that moment. The air in the bowl was very still and, even though I was hot from the run, it seemed icy on my skin.

  I closed my eyes for what seemed a moment, then the silence was torn by a scream. I recognised Niall’s voice in the cry, but in the darkness, I struggled to see where he was. A vast shadow filled the bowl, blotting out the meagre moonlight, and Niall’s cries came from the centre of it. I drew my blade and ran across the bowl towards the sound of Niall’s voice and was stopped dead. It was as if I had collided with a wall of ice which then threw me backwards to land winded on the turf. An angry throbbing filled my ears, paralysing me with fear. I felt held in the power of some huge savage beast. Niall cried out in pain and terror up ahead of me, and I was helpless to respond. Then Aron was there, and the hold was broken. With his sword in his right hand and a blazing pine branch in his left, he ran towards the shadow that squatted over the barrows.

  “Fire, bring fire you fools! Drive it away from the barrows,” cried Aron as he threw a small pouch towards the others. The shadow drew away from Aron. He continued to advance, circling, trying to drive the shadow as a dog drives sheep. Niall’s cries, weaker now, still came from the centre of the darkness which responded to Aron’s advance and a more solid shape became discernable against the skyline. Another figure with sword and fire appeared away to my left. The shadow was now a solid vast figure which retreated towards the trees. A third flame appeared next to the second then a fourth. Figures ran to kindle brands and then spread to follow the shadow and cut it off from the wood.

  I stood up and joined the attack, though without a flame it seemed the shadow ignored me. Niall was whimpering like a sick puppy now, somewhere ahead of me. The ring of flames advanced and the shadow retreated away from the barrows up the path we had come down. We continued to press it back up the hill, and more flames joined the hunt. As I lost sight of the barrows, I heard something heavy fall among the dry branches farther up the slope. The black fi
gure howled like some lost soul in pain and dissolved before the torchlight. We ran forward to where Niall had landed.

  “Are you hurt?” asked Aron softly, kneeling beside him.

  “No. Just give me a minute. Is it gone?” Niall replied, his voice quavering. “That’s what I saw in my vision. What in the name of God was it?”

  “Some kind of elemental I would guess, enslaved to guard the burials. It draws its strength from the site. That’s why we had to get it away from the barrows before it would release you,” replied Aron. He produced a flask from a pouch and handed it to Niall.

  Niall took a mouthful and gulped it down. “I thought I was a dead man,” he said, his breathing quick and shallow. “And being carried off to hell.”

  “Not yet,” said Aron putting his oil bottle and flint back into his belt pouch. “Something must have woken it though. These burials are old. It would take more than a few travellers passing among the mounds to rouse it. Otherwise, the whole world would know of this place.”

  Niall took another mouthful from the flask and then passed it on. Aron was the only one who refused a drink.

  “I think we should leave now,” Aron said. “I have found the raiders. They are three hundred paces from here, and I pray we didn’t rouse them with what passed here. We’ll find out soon enough if they’re awake. They have the livestock penned against a bend in the river, and their camp is between the wood and the pen. There are ten. One only stands guard, and he is watching the animals. The other nine sleep. Our people are roped to trees in pairs. The sentinel is mine, the others are for you, one each. We will get to just below the crest above us, and then we crawl. Rub your faces and hands with earth. There is plenty of cover, and we have some time yet till dawn. Each one of you must get to within a few paces and take them as soon as there is enough light to be certain of your blow. Take them all at once, we cannot allow the camp to be roused. If you see or hear someone strike, then strike yourself. Think of nothing but the quarry in front of you. Remember what they have done and strike firmly.”

  “And kill a sleeping man.” The thought intruded unbidden; the voice was of the preacher I remembered from my childhood. Anger pulsed through my mind. These men had killed Mairead, burned my home and carried off Anya; certainly, I would kill a sleeping man.

  Aron then drew close to each of us in turn, whispering directions to take us to our individual enemies. He took the longest time with Niall, one arm around his shoulders, his other hand over Niall’s gripping his sword hilt. He then spoke a few words in a tongue I did not recognize. A warrior’s blessing, possibly.

  We climbed the short rise to the crest and then, on Aron’s direction, dropped onto our bellies to crawl over the crest. There was not much to see. The trees thinned downhill, and between them, I caught the gleam of water in the moonlight. I could not see the camp of the raiders, but then I decided it was unlikely that they would be able to see me. In the sky a thick bank of cloud was advancing from the east to swallow the moon, soon it would be darker than at any time during our run. We started cautiously down the slope, feeling our way down, pushing twigs and other potential noise sources out of our paths. The night grew very dark until I could not see a tree farther than three paces distant. The others, I knew, were all around me, but I could hear nothing that marked their passage. A dread grew in my heart as I inched down the slope. I felt myself to be a tiny lone insect crawling towards certain destruction at the hands of a vastly stronger enemy

  The gaps between the trees became greater, and clumps of brambles began to impede my way. A night breeze brought me a hint of woodsmoke, and the faint chuckle of the stream became audible. I was taking more care now with each forward movement. My cold hands slipping through wet grass, the front of my clothes soaked through with dew. Surely I was getting close. It was hard to shake the feeling that something huge and malevolent was following my every move. Crawling round another clump of brambles, tearing my fingers on the trailing dragon’s tails, another smell caught my nose. A smell of stale cider and unwashed man. Gods! I was nearly on top of them, but still I could see nothing. If they had been on our cider, then they would be sleeping soundly! Courage, another few yards. Surely beyond the next clump. A snake would have made more sound as I inched there and then a little farther, far enough to peer my dirt-streaked face around the clump. A mound slightly smaller than a bush lay four paces away. The mound grunted, and I thought my intake of breath must have been heard across the river. The mound shifted and grunted again, then settled to its cider-sodden dreams. I edged back into the shadow of the clump to wait for the dawn.

  In the dark, the ears become the major sense, and I listened for the others creeping into the raiders’ camp. Someone sneezed away in the dark. I held my breath and buried my face in the grass waiting for a reaction from the sleepers. Our cattle moved restlessly somewhere beyond the camp, but the raiders slumbered on and the moment of terror passed leaving my hands chilled with icy sweat.

  I grew cold waiting for the slow lightening of the sky and cramp gnawed at my legs. I thought about the man just beyond the clump. I had no curiosity about what had brought his life to this place, I just wanted him to stay asleep. I wondered, too, about what Niall had seen at the end of his vision; had he wakened the guardian of the barrows when he spirit-walked? Mostly though I thought of Anya.

  Clouds covered the horizon eastward, so the light came suddenly with a rift in the shroud. Looking about I could see other mounds, bodies rolled in blankets and no sign of the sentinel. A soft mist was rising from the river. I was reaching over my shoulder to draw my blade when I heard someone moving through the long grass. I shrank back into the deep shadow as I spotted a darker shape moving against the dark background of the trees; moving towards me. I drew my blade and held my breath as he approached. He was coming directly for me. If I didn’t move, he wouldn’t see me. His pace didn’t vary, and as he stalked closer, I could see he was a big man, tall and broad with shaggy hair and beard. He carried a drawn sword held out before him, and he probed into the bushes with it. I tightened my grip on my sword and gathered myself to attack as he came closer, wondering where best to strike him. The raider was within two paces of me when there was a rustle from the grass away to my left behind him. He turned around instantly and strode away from me towards the sound. I saw a dark figure rise up behind him from the far side of the clump. One hand seized the raider’s chin forcing his head back as the other drove a knife deep into his throat below the larynx. Blood fountained from the wound, the raider struggled briefly and then slumped, a dead weight in his assailant’s arms. Aron looked over at me and nodded towards the other raiders who slept on unsuspecting as he let the dead sentinel slide silently to the ground.

  I gathered my legs beneath me and then pushed myself out of the shelter of the brambles towards the nearest blanket-wrapped mound. Using my whole body’s momentum, I ran the blade into the mound with much less resistance than I had expected. It all happened in silent slow motion. The raider let out a deep bubbling sigh that set the cattle lowing. His body jerked violently, pulling me off balance as I struggled to keep hold of the hilt. Then the rift in the clouds closed and I was in darkness again. I tried to stand, but my limbs were shaking so much that I stayed where I was, kneeling beside the body of the dead marauder.

  Away to my left metal clashed and voices cried out in alarm. Something heavy smashed through the bushes, snapping branches, setting off a commotion amongst the penned livestock. I grasped my sword hilt and pulled it free of the man I’d slain. I turned towards the sound, crouching down beside the corpse, trying to make myself look as small as possible. A figure ran from the dark of the trees, too bulky to be one of us. It was too dark to tell if he was armed. A smaller figure, Owain perhaps, appeared to block his path but was knocked aside with a squeal of pain. I raised my sword and waited, the breath frozen in my throat, as he ran straight towards me. From my crouch, I thrust at him as he passed me. The blade struck metal and skidded off. A foot caught me o
n the hip, momentarily paralyzing my leg. I yelled out in pain as I collapsed. Something heavy struck my head. I’ve failed you Anya, I thought as bright lights whirled in my head.

  Running feet crashed through the undergrowth nearby.

  “Stop Tomas! Leave him!” Aron’s voice. “Let him go. See to the women and children. We’ve got what we came for.”

  More feet around me.

  “Padraig. Padraig.”

  Warm hands stroked my cheek. I opened my eyes; Anya was leaning over me framed against the eastlight.

  I tried to move, but the lights flashed again inside my head. I groaned at the stab of pain.

  “Thank the Gods. I thought I’d lost you.”

  “I’ll live,” I gasped.

  She laid her head next to mine. “I knew you’d come,” she whispered. “I dreamed about you. You were with mother searching for me in the mist. I saw you, and I knew you’d come.”

  Away in the dark, there was a flare of flame as someone put more wood onto the embers of the campfire and kicked it into life.

  “It was Aron. It was all his doing. We didn’t know what to do and he did.”

  Anya looked to the fire where the others were silhouetted against the flames and just burst into a flood of tears. I reached my arms around her and held her for a long time until I had the strength to sit up.

  “Come to the fire and get warm,” Anya said.

  Sitting beside the fire as the light grew around us, I thought back over the whole mad story. Less than a day had passed since I had left Anya in our cottage to go and get in the turf. I looked at Aron with new eyes; he seemed taller, older and infinitely more mysterious than the man I had loaned a turfing spade to yesterday. I looked around to see where he was, momentarily surprised that he wasn’t with us beside the fire. He reappeared a moment later, a pair of boots in one hand and a bundle of clothes in the other.