The Eaorl (The Casere Book 2) (17 page)

With time being of the essence, they departed the next morning for Sedina. As they left west, Fiona departed south for the demesne of Gambi, just across from Hybla in the Gatinan Bay. She would wait there. As they were about to leave, Conn presented Devnet with a black stallion to ride; one of his Lykian stock. Conn himself was now on a second generation horse; his old Andalusian was now on permanent stallion duty in Trokia – the hills of Kuita were excellent for horse breeding. While the horses that Conn rode was superior, the horse he gave Devnet was a prize animal in any demesne.

‘I don’t understand why you would give me such an animal, Eaorl,’ Devnet said as he surveyed the horse, ‘you have no cause or need. Nonetheless, I am grateful, it is a beautiful beast.’

‘Your horses are too short, Aebeling, we didn’t want to look down on you the whole time.’

Devnet laughed. ‘I am grateful for that as well. It is not good to be looked down upon’.

The journey east was slow as it most mostly uphill. Unlike Lykia, Gatina sloped down from Halani; gradual in some places, less gradual in others. It took a week to Sedina, staying in the Inns in the Village along the way. Travelling with Devnet, saved Conn the need to explain himself to every Thane along the way – or have to kill any. It was much easier this way. Six days after Sedina they arrived in Nakos where the young Eaorl Theored welcomed them. From Nakos they travelled north through Kale so that they didn’t go into Eriak – Conn wanted to avoid having the Eaorl of Eriak know about his presence. Crossing the range into northern Eriak, nine days after leaving Nakos, Derryth started looking for signs of his war party. They were close to the border of Syra before he was sure.

‘They are nearby,’ he reported to Conn.

‘Who are?’ Devnet queried

‘The squad of wiga that have been waiting for us. They have been following us since the morning.’

‘I haven’t seen anyone – my men haven’t seen anyone – there is no one out there…’ Devnet was confident.

‘Really?’ In a smooth action Conn reached for his bow, fitted an arrow, and fired into a cluster of trees not a hundred yards away.

Immediately there was a response. A voice called out.

‘Ahh, dammit, Feorhhyrde, you ruin all the fun.’ Twenty Twacuman wiga melted out of the trees. They were surrounded.

‘Well, I’ll be damned.’ Was all Devnet could say.

Joined by the extra wiga, they set up camp for the night. This was as far as Devnet was going; he was now going to return home. Conn had asked another favour of him.

‘So you want me to go to Eriak and just burden the Eaorl with my presence? Why, may I ask?’

‘We were spotted two days ago by a small squad of wiga – they would have ridden to the Eaorl and he will be riding this way soon. When he sees you, you need to give him a reason not to send off a message to the Aebeling…’

Devnet was confused ‘I am the Aebeling…’

‘The other Aebeling… isn’t the Eaorl of Eriak’s mother from Rakia? I’m sure she is not there for her health.’

Devnet contemplated the inference. ‘My father opposed the match but he was talked around.’ He pondered further. ‘Very well, I’ll go and burden myself, as you so eloquently put it, on his hospitality. I don’t suppose he has any curry…’

‘Oh, drop in on all the nearest villages – I hear that one of them around here is famous for having particularly attractive daughters. It might be time to get a new bedda.’

Devnet waved it off. ‘I’m getting a bit old for that sort of thing…’

‘Trust me – once the Cirice is restored, you are going to need a distraction from the Folgere or you will be dead within a year from exhaustion.’

‘Very well, I’ll drop in and see what is on offer. How do you know these things?’

‘You never know what you need to know Aebeling.’ Conn only knew because of his trip in Gera a few years previous. Daray told him that the young bedda who had interrupted his sleep was particularly attractive and told him that her family was well known in Eriak for their beauty. Seemed trivial at the time.

They watched Devnet ride away the next morning, with his troop of wiga, before Conn and Derryth crossed the border into Rakia, joined the Twacuman who had scouted ahead.

Elva was curious. ‘Do you think they know we’re coming?’

‘They could – I suspect the Gyden whose stone I smashed may have got some information from me. It was hard to know. I passed out.’

Derryth laughed. ‘I’m surprised that you are still alive. It is not every day that anyone survives an encounter with a Gyden that is trying to kill you.’

Without surety, they travelled very carefully, following the mountain side for seven days until they passed over the range into northern Mylae. It wasn’t long before they found themselves amidst the remains of an ancient settlement, with the remnants of a long stone wall around them. It was also apparent that it had found a violent end; huge timber beams still lay partly charred on the ground. Conn dismounted and went to one of the beams, and using his dagger, he prised an arrow head from the beam and took it to Derryth.

‘Not Meshechian.’ he suggested.

‘No, but then we always knew that the Ancuman were involved in the destruction of the stone donjon at Mylae.’

Elva returned from scouting. ‘There is no sign of a donjon… do you think this is the place?’

Conn shook his head. ‘I have no sense of a guard stone but then I’m not opening my mind to it…but it still doesn’t feel right. I’m going to have a look from that mound there – I’ll walk up.’

Conn left his horse and Torunn walked with him up the rocky outcrop; trying to make as little noise as possible. As he got closer to the top, Conn studied the horizon in all direction. The location made sense as a military post; high, with good views over the land all the way to the coast. Today there was little sign of agriculture or settlements, and the only sign of use he saw was goat shit.

As he topped the mound; he heard the bleedings of goats, and then surprisingly the sound of a flute. It came from behind a large rock that sat perched like a marble on top of the mound; Torunn armed herself with a bow and Conn drew his katana. As they edged themselves around the outcrop Conn could see an old man; wizarded with age, sitting by a small fire. Below him, munching on what little green grass that remained were a dozen or so goats. There was no one else to be seen. Conn sheathed his sword and stepped out into sight. The old man looked up; not near as surprised as he should have been.

‘You didn’t think you could creep up on me, did you? You can tell your companion to come out as well. She made even more noise than you.’

When ‘she’ came out, she was not impressed. ‘I did not – he was like the herd of cows in a field of wheat.’

Conn was more interested in why he knew she was a she; but he didn’t ask. He was becoming very suspicious of old people. They kept making him look foolish.

‘So what brings a feorrancund into Mylae with a Valkeri? You are both a long way from home. Do you want to steal my goats?’

Again Conn was surprised. He didn’t much look like a feorrancund in his armour and head gear; there was no blonde to be seen. He looked at the goats; they looked old. Just like the shepherd. ‘No, not the goats. They look a little tough. I’m trying to find the place that the Casere Goibniu held the last council of Aebelings.’

‘Beogar’s Castle? Very unusual – but why do you want to find that? No one has been there for three hundred years.’

‘Beogar built the castle?’ Conn asked. He hadn’t read that anywhere.

The shepherd nodded. ‘So it is told – Beogar was the first Casere’s son – and he built a large castle to protect his people. Some twenty years later Beogar died near his castle – he and the thousands that defended it against the Ancuman. At the end there were but several hundred defenders left – the enemy were defeated with every Ancuman wiga dead – but the castle was destroyed. It was never rebuilt – there was nothing but a single tower and the walls remaining. There were many battles on the way to that final battle – one such battle took place here.’

‘You seem very knowledgeable….’

He shrugged. ‘There cis little to do in these mountains but to repeat the stories that we were told by our ancestors. Perhaps one day we will tell the story of your visit – if you tell me why you want to find Beogar’s Castle?’

‘I’m looking for something...’

The old man nodded reluctantly. ‘In Beogar’s Castle? I suspect you have come a long way to find nothing. The last person to visit it was Goibniu and nothing good came from that. But if you must, if you go a day’s ride north-west you will find a grove of trees, taller than any around it. You will find the tower inside that. Good luck.’ The old shepherd looked at the sky and commented, ‘It is going to rain soon, so I suggest you find shelter. I will head home myself.’ He picked up the flute and started a tune, to which the goats responded by heading towards him. He stopped suddenly and looked at Conn. ‘There is danger in the air, so perhaps you should be careful. Oh, and say hello to the Twacuman. They have been waiting patiently.’

With that the shepherd started to head down the hill and the goats dutifully followed. Torunn looked to the sky; it was clear and sunny. ‘Why would he say it is going to rain? There is not a cloud in the sky.’

Conn also looked. ‘That may be so but somehow I think we should believe him.’ Conn joined the others and they headed north-west, in haste. There was only a half day of light left and as foretold the weather changed rapidly and they were soon riding in rain. Derryth scouted shelter, a small cave in the side of a hill that allowed them to get the horses and themselves out of the rain. The cave was also deep enough for them to build a fire, and they took turns drying out.

The rain continued until the midday next, but they rode out at early light, using the rain to cover their tracks. At midday, the rain stopped and the weather was back to blue skies. With the warning at the back of their minds, they picked up the pace; wanted as much time to prepare for their visitors as possible. They noticed the grove of trees easily; it was distinct if you were looking for it; otherwise it was just an anomaly in the landscape.

It wasn’t long before everyone’s horses stopped except Conn’s, and snickered. Conn looked at the Twacuman inquiringly. ‘Another guard stone?’

Derryth nodded. ‘Yes – and it does not want us anywhere near that grove. Do you not feel it?’

Conn opened up his mind and winced. ‘I do – even more powerful than the last. Perhaps she is able to focus more. But what doesn’t kill, makes you stronger.’

‘Except for bedda... I suspect that just make you weaker… anyway, you go and attack the Gyden – can’t believe I’m saying that – and we’ll keep you safe. How much time do we have?’

‘Minutes I’d suggest.’

Derryth turned and spread his troops out while Conn rode closer until his horse refused to go further, dismounted and he set off on foot. This time he took his bow as well. The Gyden definitely was more powerful – she recognized him before he even got to the trees.

‘You again! You live – I thought I’d killed you last time. Strange that I could not. Very strange. Very, very, strange. I do not understand. So you think you are going to do it again do you. It is not going to be so easy this time; I have help arriving. Soon, very soon. And you should leave, I nearly killed you last time – you are weaker – you know that too – and this time I will succeed! You should leave. I know your weakness now.’

Weaknesses? Other than wine, women and song – and particularly tall women with large breasts – he wasn’t sure he had any others – or if these were even weaknesses.

Through the ramblings Conn could feel the Gyden exploring the shield that protected his mind – it poked and prodded; but the shield held. Strangely he was now unable to stop her communicating with him – which was very annoying because she continued to berate and harangue him as she tried to attack him. In Gatinak, both had learnt something from the experience. As Conn got to the edge of the grove the voice was getting more despairing – and then the tone changed. The Ancuman must have arrived.

Conn dropped to his knee as an arrow whistled over his left shoulder. It was from a distance and his armour would have held but it would have been a shock. With flawless precision Conn drew the bow and let fly a dozen arrows in a matter of moments. From left and right arrows flew from the Twacuman. But there must have been thirty Ancuman wiga charging up the slope, and they were armoured and their horses were bigger than typical of the Rakians – more buckskins.

Conn’s last arrow killed their bowman so Conn was left with two Ancuman with swords as they dismounted and circled him. He had no arrows so he dropped his bow and drew the katana and wakizashi. One was a woman; tall and strong – and large breasted, the other a young man. It was another fighting pair. This will be tricky.

The woman spoke. ‘So you are the one who destroyed the stone in Gatina. Our Gyden was most upset.’

Conn shrugged. ‘You just can’t please everyone – the Healdend was most impressed.’ Flattery always worked so he thought he would try some. ‘I’m very impressed so far; I’m finding you most attractive. It is a shame that we couldn’t have met in a Tavern somewhere. We could have had some fun together.’

After this exchange Conn noticed two tings – the voice was getting impatient and the young man annoyed – he must be the older woman’s lover. Everyone has a weakness. ‘So’, he continued ‘before I die...’ and in a flurry of strokes, counter strokes and thrusts he narrowly escaped beheading and rolled out of danger, ‘can you tell me how much longer the rest of Meshech have before they too are put to the sword. I can’t imagine that you will leave any of the Priecuman alive. I mean, why would you? Other than the pretty women as Theow, what good are they?’