Hawkmoon (The Hawkmoon Chronicles) (22 page)

                                          The Battle of Logan’s Cut.

The place was a defile feeding a stream to the Shanan, closed at one end where it disappeared beneath slabs of rock. At its narrowest a  single man could touch either wall with a longsword. The stream had frozen making it difficult to stand. They started chipping at the ice underfoot.  A hollow under a rock outcrop gave them cover and a place to eat. The Reivers came at daybreak.

Calls and whistles came from outside.   Two hundred Reivers gathered at the mouth roaring at the sight of their finest enemy. Around campfires they told stories of the Deathwalker. Those who had fallen against him were remembered with honour. Those who had marked him stood high in their counsels.  Catching sight of the axeman one of the younger raised a crossbow.  A veteran swept the weapon aside. Bunching together  a group  started beating on their shields. They charged.

  Hawkmoon slipped the covers from the axe.  Swinging he let the tip of one blade strike the rock showering a burst of blue flame. The charge slowed as the  walls of the defile started to close.. Cries of anger rose as warriors struggled to make room to fight. Those behind  were pressing in compacting the charge into an immobile bloc. Hawkmoon swept the axe down. Armour splintered as it passed through emerging  with enough power to break the ribs of the one  at the side.

Their  chief had sent  the least experienced. Their business was to die and dying to take part of Deathwalker’s strength. Then he would send the stronger... Only when he was sure would he send his best. He himself would deliver the final blow. Sagas would be written of this day…

Bekter signalled to the elves, shouting over the noise.” If they can’t stand they can’t fight” Shadrach nodded, waiting as  Hawkmoon danced a deadly ballet... It was perfect economy of motion The elf  was about to release when Hawkmoon stepped  back into his line of fire..  Armour splintered but caught  the  axe, slowing the recovery. A warrior charged roaring a battle cry. Shadrach fired catching the Reiver in the space where greaves   met armoured shoe. He stumbled. The axe fell. Hawkmoon winked  at  Shadrach…

Sound faded, time slowed, senses becoming acute.  The stench of the Reivers, the scent of blood… A Reiver  jumped on the back of a warrior to cut at Hawkmoon. An arrow pierced his eye. Between the butterfly blades of the axe was a javelin point. Hawkmoon  drove it into the throat  of a heavyset warrior and twisted it from the bone.. Bekter stood behind waiting.  As Hawkmoon swept the left he watched the right.

. Slowly the Reivers began to gain the advantage. He had to yield ground. There was no space to stand. They were standing on the corpses of those he had already killed Close to eighty   Reivers lay dead or dying. But Hawkmoon’s  strength was fading.

Bekter stood beside him, roaring defiance, daring them to do their worst. The  Reivers laughed, lost in the joy of battle. To die  in  combat with the  Deathwalker. Their sons would know and be proud.  A pike darted at Bekter. He roared and charged. Hawkmoon opened his mouth to shout a warning but he was too tired to bring the words. Bekter was driven back, wounded at the side and knee. . Logan  and Shadrach killed the Reivers trying to climb the walls,  but still they came

A voice spoke. “
Hawkmoon let me  fight. Your strength is all but gone”

“No Demon”

“The fate of worlds rests with you. If you perish everything will be lost.”

A blade darted low, near the groin. Bekter shouted in dismay and took the head of the attacker.  Hawkmoon felt himself falling . 

“Very well demon. Do what must be done”

Soulbiter roared, the sound reverberating in the defile, echoing to the hills and forests beyond. Bekter stood, open mouthed.  One lifted a mace and charged. Batting it aside it  took the Reiver’s head. Advancing  to where the streambed widened  it  stood, waiting. The Reivers shouted a roar of triumph.... The axe lost form, blurring as it scythed through their ranks. Their leader sent his best. Crossbows launched bolts.  Those that found their mark gashed deadly wounds that went unnoticed.  In minutes the streambed was a mass of broken bodies.  Except for the few that the chief had recalled the others were dead.

Bekter crossed to where Hawkmoon stood and touched him on the shoulder. “Hawkmoon?”Hawkmoon was gone. Whoever looked from his eyes, it was not his friend. He was covered in blood. Then he fell, Bekter catching him before his head struck.. They gazed as  Hawkmoon lay stretched on the ice, insensible. From the depths of the forest a horn called.

                                                  In the Halls of the Elven King.

He fell out of the world. From there to others; some with life, others desolate. Alien minds flew with him. They pleaded with him, implored him. A ruler of an empire offered him power and wealth if he would fight for him. A woman of great beauty brought him to  a world where a disease had killed the seed of men. He would be king and they would serve him. All they asked was a drop of his blood. Star winds rose and blew him further.

He sat on the side of a mountain as the sun rose looking down on a great city. The moons  were low on the horizon He walked its streets, listening  to the talk of its people. They spoke of worlds beyond, to be conquered when the machines were ready. A storm rose battering houses and monuments ... Some hid in the cellars. The rich fled to the harbour to find  the sea had fled, their ships in wreckage on the floor of the harbour  amid banks of mud and stranded fish.. Looking to the ocean, a young girl screamed. The sea was returning, mountain high. Men ran shouting. Others stayed waiting for what could not be hidden from.  A man held his wife and kissed her. It smashed the city and the cities on every coast roaring inland to cover the mountains…  The visions continued.

The night air was warm, scented with  hibiscum. Small clouds  drifted before the face of the second moon  throwing dappled shadows on the countryside Light flickered on high ground. Soldiers came to attention He stopped to ask a senior sergeant, about his family. They stood for a moment talking about wives and children. Hard  times right enough but their families  were safe and that was all that mattered...

Bidding the sergeant good fortune he made his way up the hill. A figure sat  at a fire, his back turned. Some of the officers wanted to enforce discipline; no fires, no lights and no talking. Lashes for anyone that broke the rules. But the enemy knew where they were. They could find them in the deepest dark.  Their smell alone would bring them. The man at the fire looked up. He was eating a plate of fish.” It is good to see you again although we could have met in better circumstances”

“Your preparations are in hand?”

The officer nodded. “As well as we could   in the time we had. Come, I will show you”

A small track took  them to the top of the hill. Lights blazed below and all around.

The officer pointed. “We have repaired the breach as best we could. There are palisades    in front, four companies behind the walls. If we can hold them for three days the Legion might reach us. Ancona will send them straight into battle and they will do it for him. If the Legion reaches us the Gate might stand and the army can get into position. If the army has time to prepare we can turn back the invasion. If, if, If my aunt had testicles she’d be my uncle”

“You’re right about Ancona. He will march their feet off. . They know what it means if they break through  and spread out on the Plain. He pointed skywards.

Heavy winged shapes glided across the sky, out of bowshot, taunting the troops below with eerie screeches.” They know everything about us, our numbers, reserves which we don’t have; where the supplies are located.  I expect them to land  fighters . I have  moved the bulk of the supplies and hidden them in the trees. I want every fifth man  out of the line. They are to be held as a mobile force to be sent wherever there is trouble. Put extra guards on the command tent. I won’t…” A shout came from the left. One of the sentries was pointing .He fell as an arrow  went through his breastplate.

Something heavy struck him on the armour . He landed with the breath driven out of him. He made to sit up; a stab of agony went through his side. The ground  shook as  a creature out of nightmare  landed close, winding its long neck. Vestigial fingers at the tips of both wings. A figure on its back, secured to a heavy saddle, face covered by a long cowl. Saroon  stepped close at the other side. The creature opened its jaws  to lunge at him when Saroon brought  his sword down with all his strength. The blade was heavy and sharp as a razor . It  passed through  the monsters  neck. The rider toppled from the back of his mount and lay sprawled. Saroon lifted the Tulwar to run at the rider but a piece of gristle had trapped the blade. He pulled at it as the rider surged to his feet and pointed. Lightning burst from his fingertips striking the officer who fell,   a hole in his breastplate.  The rider turned and pointed at him.. The world disappeared in a blaze of light.

Gentle fingers touching.  Eyes watering as they adjusted to the light. A tall, long haired woman with a serious expression. Bekter, grinning from ear ro ear. A thin man with mournful eyes. The fourth went to the door and left.  The old man looked at him.

“When they brought you in you were lost to all our measures. Still you lived.  Some of your wounds proved beyond all our skills. Yet you healed. There is Demon Magic in you. Some said that you should not come among us but they were overruled”

“Nice of them” Bekter muttered sourly.

His clothes were gone; and the battleaxe.“We could not permit that abomination here.  It is corruption”

“It saved our lives and those of your kinsmen” Bekter replied.

“You may have it when you leave .Sara is your doctor .I am Balthasar.“The old man bowed and left. Hawkmoon  pulled himself up in the bed, gasping. The doctor moved  to his side. “It will be spring before you are well enough to travel….”

Bekter lounged by a roaring fire, satisfied with the prospect of a winter in Elfhome .In a week Hawkmoon would be in a lather of impatience. The doctor fussed about Hawkmoon, mopping his brow and straightening his covers. Her hair fell loose at her waist.  She reached across him to straighten his pillow and their eyes met. She hurried to the door, colour rising in her face. As she closed the door she glared at Bekter’s pipe who affected not to notice. A young elf came with a tray. Hawkmoon waved it away. Bekter  took it. Shame to waste food.

Elfhome is divided by a river that flows through a high valley. Bekter was crossing the   bridge  when a  group of warriors approached. Shadrach, Logan  and three scouts; the last was Chatto who saluted him. “Well met young man, I am pleased to see you but Hawkmoon will want to know why you are here. He gave you a task”

Chatto took him by the arm and nodding to his companions led Bekter to the riverbank. Floes of ice were rushing by on the current. They sat on a  stone wall. “She is my sovereign., I cannot choose which orders to obey and which to ignore. The Queen  sent me to the Parish. When I finished there I had  dispatches  for Elfhome I thought I could make the return journey but the weather closed in.” Bekter  stood brushing  ash from his troos. “I am going to the Refectory. Will you join me?

They waited while young elves brought heaped platters of food. Chatto was curious about the balloon . “I thought it was madness  but Hawkmoon has always been lucky.” Chatto told him of the new weapons. Bekter made rings with the smoke of his pipe“If they can fly without Magic they can make hundreds.”

“Word has started to go round. In spite of all the precautions there is talk of the new weapons. People think  that the war is already won”

Bekter  tapped the bowl of his pipe.” They have  an army of half a million. We could kill ten for every one of ours and still lose… They will send forces at Silverlode but  the main attack will come  against the Dasatii.”Chatto reached  for Bekter’stobacco.” …. We have to get the Elves into this fight”

“Don’t expect too much from them.  Their numbers are declining The King does his best but interest in the affairs of men is waning. Many are going to Seareach. They are buying ships and sailing away. No one knows if they reach their destination because no one ever returns.”

Bekter sat out the next day.  Around  mid morning the Sara closed the door from Hawkmoon’s cottage. Fixing her hair, she made her way across the bridge. Smiling, she  waved to Bekter A woman who spent  an entire night with Hawkmoon; a  rarity indeed. They would come to him in the morning, faces white with dread.  They said  Hawkmoon  talked in his sleep. Nothing  unusual about that but sometimes he was answered…

They were tall the Elven women, prone to be thin.  Sara was lush with  heavy breasts, a narrow waist and flaring hips. What was it about women? The finer they were the stronger the attraction to the darkness in men?

Beyond Elfhome the world huddled under the lash of winter. Snow blocked the passes. Ice choked the rivers. Birds had flown to the Warm South. Woodland  creatures had  retreated to cave and burrow. In Elfhome birdsong rang from the trees, rabbits gambolled on the lawns, deer grazed by the river. It rained politely at night to irrigate their gardens. No record told of when the folk had  settled in the land . The river that ran through it was mild, warmed by water from hot springs . It was thought that the Elves protected the valley. In fact the opposite was true. The valley gave them life and lent them their magic. Hawkmoon was sitting up as a young elf tended to the fire. No trees were cut in  Elfhome . Enough died in the forests beyond to serve their needs.

When his pipe was glowing to his satisfaction Bekter sat in the big armchair. Hawkmoon sat opposite wrapped in a fleece. “You are  looking well. It is true what they say about the healing powers of the Elves. Sara seems particularly attentive.” Hawkmoon ignored him.  “You have visitors in the afternoon. … “ Bekter waited until the young fellow  finished with  the  fire. “What happened back there?” Bekter asked.

“We fought. We won.”

Bekter stood and pulled the chair closer to the fire. ““Hawkmoon…You might as well tell me. Don’t bother lying. You were never much good at it.” Hawkmoon stared into the flames.  How much of him did it know? What parts of him were private? When he lay with Sara was the demon with them? When he woke she was there, wrapped in his arms.  Were the lesser demons quiet because a greater had come? … Hawkmoon stared at Bekter. “Do you know where they have taken it? Can you bring it to me? “Bekter ignored the question. “You called a demon; a powerful one. The question is can you send it back?”

“I don’t know” Hawkmoon stared at his friend.” I don’t know if I want to”

“What does it want?”

Hawkmoon was silent, looking through a bay window up to  houses built high on the side of  the valley.. “ It wants what they all want, the chance to walk in the sun, feel the wind, eat , lie with a woman, to  feel an enemy  die by its hand”.

“Chatto is here.” “Bekter told Hawkmoon of his meeting with the Dhampir.

“I gave him orders to stay at her side.”

“Hawkmoon, she is the Queen.  .”

“What is he doing here?”

“Good question”

A page knocked on the door to announce the Elven Lord. Hawkmoon rose to meet  them.  So marked were the traditions of courtesy among Elvenkind  that the Lord and Lady would not enter any house unbidden. Aladan was  past the prime of an Elf’s life. Ashling was younger, the mother of grown warriors. She was tall and comely with lustrous hair that fell below her waist.  Her eyes were sea green; the heritage of the Pearl  Fishers, the women who married the crew of the Swallow and  returned with the Navigator . Last year had seen the birth of triplets; an event unprecedented among the Elves. Ashling had his bed moved to the parlour and Hawkmoon was ordered to get back into it. Servants fussed with chairs until everyone was comfortable. “It is good to see you again Hawkmoon. You have been a friend and valued counsellor these many years”

“Your majesty, I am embarrassed to lie in your presence.”

“Doctors’ orders are to be heeded, my friend. We welcome you to Elfhome and congratulate you and your companion on your work in the North” It took an hour to relate the tale. The Lady asked him about the ruins in the desert. Hawkmoon  said he planned to go in search of them.

The wind buffeted him as he passed under the trees that marked the borders of Elfhome. He shivered his body trembling and weak.  It was here somewhere; he could feel it calling … As he clambered through snowbanks his eyesight blurred and doubled. Beneath the snow, locked in ice ....a shape on the bottom. Reaching in his pack he took a long handled blade with a heavy point. The wind got up and snow flew around him. Darkness  was near when   the sound of steel striking steel rang over  the storm. Removing a glove he reached in the hole. His fingers touch an edge. Blood flowed. Heat  bloomed and he sat as the ice split, venting steam. In minutes the ice was gone, replaced  by flowing water, The axe  lay at the bottom. Wrapping it in oilcloth he carried it to the trees.

He sat on a stump while the wind howled outside. The blades were bright, unmarked, and perfect. He remembered the feel of splintering  shields, broken armour, the intoxication of battle..

“Soulbiter”
Hardly were the words spoken but the presence was there.

“You are weak. I can heal that if you wish”

“I will mend by my own strength.”

“How do you know where your strength lies? You seem to believe we are separate . “

“You came when I found the axe”

“Was I part of you all this time and waiting for the axe so that I might  speak?”

“What are you?”

“I am  your darkness..... The moment  the seed joined  the egg,  I was with you.. Deny this and you deny your life.. You will fly from yourself and never escape. Accept the truth and you will know peace.”

Time passed in the forest while blizzards raged in the world beyond. Day passed into night and came again. Days  passed without the need for neither food nor comfort. Were it not for the protection of the axe he would have died. Tentatively at first, he let his awareness move into his body, passing from the chest to the stomach. Long accustomed feelings of tension  and pain had eased