The Long War 03 - The Red Prince (38 page)

‘What the fuck are we doin’ ’ere?’ shouted Theen Burnt Face. ‘I don’t wanna look at Two Hearts’ ugly fucking face any longer than I have to.’

‘Watch your tongue, maggot cock,’ replied Dawn Sun Runner.

The insults flew like poorly aimed arrows. Bronwyn listened, weathering sardonic quips from Stone Dog and Hasim, as the men and women of the Crescent shouted until they started to repeat themselves.

‘They’re stupid. This does not bode well,’ said Stone Dog.

‘They’re stupid and they’ve got axes. Just point them in the right direction,’ replied Hasim.

‘Hmm, tricky,’ said Micah. ‘I’m not good with stupid people.’

‘You could fight them.’

‘I might.’

The exchange was dry and delivered with little humour. Bronwyn barely registered their words, trying to focus on the chieftains. She was growing tired of listening to their tedious threats. They jumped around on the spot, waving their axes in impotent rage. Their complaints were petty and mostly generations old, being pulled out like an ailing relative to challenge their enemies. Even Barron rolled his eyes. He shrugged at Federick, as if to say
I’m trying
.

‘Where’s the hound?’ asked Hasim.

She looked around the clearing. ‘I haven’t seen him since he led us here.’

‘How can such a big dog be so stealthy?’

A fresh round of threats from the Ranen muffled his words. They’d moved on to accusations of treachery, flinging half-remembered tales at each other as if they were absolute truth.

Two Hearts was now engaged in a small party off to the side. He and his followers were ignoring the other clans and throwing mushroom smoke and alcohol down their necks. Whatever seniority he had, he was choosing not to use it. His deep voice was easy to identify, but it emerged as laughter, rippling across the clearing. It was a bizarre accompaniment to the arguing. It would have been funny, were Bronwyn not so tightly wound up.

A sound of horses suddenly rang around the clearing. From the north, shaking snow from the high branches, multiple riders approached. Warning arrows, buzzing loudly through the air, were fired by men of the Crescent. The chieftains were startled out of threatening one another and turned to face the oncoming horses.

She was amazed that riders could get so close to the rowan oak without being attacked by men of the Crescent. The sound of hooves had appeared out of nowhere, rising suddenly in volume from a murmur to a roar.

Hasim drew his scimitar smoothly. ‘Wrong direction for the knights.’

Micah tried to heft his axe, but his strength would not allow him to hold the weapon above his waist. Bronwyn looked around, unsure how to react. The warriors guarding the clearing had fired the warning arrows and they now flooded in to protect their leaders.

Men on horseback appeared. They pulled up on the edge of the clearing and fanned out. They were men of Ranen, dressed in chain mail with dark blue leather coats. They each had thick-bladed swords and steel helmets. Their standard was carried by the leader and bore the insignia of a raven, flying over a half-moon.

‘I’ve never seen Ranen dressed like that,’ said Hasim. ‘They’ve actually got uniforms.’

‘That’s a Free Company from the north. Don’t know which one,’ offered Micah, discarding his walking stick.

‘Explain yourselves!’ bellowed Theen Burnt Face.

The standard-bearer trotted forward from his men. He held up a hand and more riders appeared through the trees. Fifty men or more, arrayed in an orderly line, formed a semicircle at the edge of the clearing.

Theen shook his axe angrily. ‘Answer me, shit-head!’

The leader passed the banner to another man and removed his helmet. He was young, with a thin face and closely cut black hair. Bronwyn looked again and thought that he might be older after all. He had a wildness in his eyes and his glare was not that of a young man. He smiled at Theen, a broad, toothy expression that split his face.

‘We are Twilight Company. Tell me where Dragneel Dark Crest is or I’ll tear out your liver.’

Angry shouts came from the men of the Crescent. They swung their axes menacingly, throwing out guttural insults at the Free Company.

‘Get off your fucking horse and say that again, boy,’ snarled Theen.

The riders didn’t react. Neither the leader nor his men responded to the threats. They sat, impassively scanning the clearing.

‘Are things about to get nasty?’ Hasim asked Micah.

‘Only if the men of the Crescent are even more stupid than we thought,’ replied the young axe-man. ‘This lot are from Ranen Gar, they don’t fuck around.’

The lead rider nudged his horse forward and slowly dismounted. He ignored Theen and flexed his back, groaning contentedly. He was tall and lean, with boyish looks but dark, penetrating eyes. He discarded his helmet and strolled towards Theen, stopping barely a foot from the chieftain.

‘Do you know what the last thing I killed was?’ asked the Free Company man in a precise and clear voice.

The men of the Crescent were silent now, waiting to see how Theen would react.

‘It was a troll,’ continued the leader. ‘I lured it into a cave and burned it alive. Have you ever heard a burning troll keen? It’s beautiful.’

The silence was total. Theen tried to stare the man down but his eyes flickered nervously until he turned away.

‘Where is Dragneel Dark Crest?’ repeated the strange man.

‘You want something here, you talk to me,’ bellowed Federick Two Hearts from across the clearing. ‘The piss-stain you’re staring at is an idiot.’

Tattooed night-raiders had silently appeared behind Two Hearts. They nocked arrows and stood ready. Their chieftain pulled himself upright, rolling on to his feet and coughing.

‘You’ll have to excuse me, Free Company man, I’m utterly fucked.’ He grinned manically. ‘I didn’t expect anyone important actually to turn up.’

‘You!’ he shouted at Bronwyn, taking her completely by surprise. ‘You’re with me.’

She looked around. First at Hasim, then at Micah. Neither offered any reassurance. In fact, they looked as surprised as she was. After a few moments, stuttering and wishing the earth would envelop her whole, she followed the Ranen chieftain.

It was strange that she was more concerned about losing her footing on the snowy ground and falling over in front of a hundred men than about meeting the strange visitor.

Federick slowed and slung a muscular arm round her shoulder. He was bare-chested and emitted a fearful stench of drugs, alcohol and sweat.

‘Don’t worry, love, I can barely stand up. If it becomes a fight, it’ll be over pretty quick.’ He guffawed at his own comment, spluttering and pinching her cheek.

She slapped his arm away and shot a helpless look over her shoulder at Hasim. The Karesian spread his arms wide and frowned.

The two of the them crossed the clearing. They circled round the huge tree trunk, receiving a light shower of fine snowflakes. The night-raiders followed and a hundred warriors watched.

‘Right, you,’ he said cheerfully to the stranger, ‘what d’you want with the bird man?’

Twilight Company had barely shifted position since they had arrived in the clearing. Only their leader had spoken.

‘Introductions,’ stated the stranger, his face contorting into a wild grin.

‘What did he say?’ Federick muttered to Bronwyn in a deep whisper.

‘He wants to know who you are.’ She turned to the smiling man. ‘Sorry, my lord Ranen, this man is overly fond of narcotics. May I introduce myself?’

He looked her up and down, but didn’t stop grinning. ‘You may.’

‘I am Lady Bronwyn of Canarn,’ she said, bowing her head. ‘I travelled from South Warden with Dragneel. He is wounded.’

There was no response. The man just looked at her and his smile turned sinister.

‘And you are?’ she prompted.

‘Fynius Black Claw,’ he said after a further moment of silence. ‘Captain Fynius Black Claw. I come from Old Gar following a raven, seeking a priest of Brytag. What are you looking for, Lady Bronwyn?’

In the deep recesses of her mind, she heard cawing.

‘You’re Dominic Black Claw’s brother?’ asked Two Hearts, taking a step backwards.

Other men reacted to the name. Some lowered their weapons in fear, others snarled angrily. Theen was wild-eyed, ignorant of whom he had been insulting.

Bronwyn had heard of Dominic Black Claw. He was the master of Ranen Gar and the captain of Greywood Company. She knew nothing of his brother.

‘I’m here seeking allies,’ she said. ‘Originally for South Warden, now for all of Ranen. The king of Tor Funweir is camped on the Plains of Scarlet.’

‘What of the men of Wraith and Scarlet?’ asked Fynius, ceasing to smile.

She shook her head, looking across the clearing at Micah Stone Dog. ‘The young axe-man over there may be the last member of Wraith Company.’

Fynius paced back and forth in front of them. He was agitated, muttering to himself. He argued into the air, gesticulating wildly.

‘Right!’ he exclaimed after a moment. ‘You, fat man.’ He pointed to Two Hearts. ‘See to my men. I have five hundred. They need food and the horses need water. You.’ He point to Bronwyn. ‘Take me to Dragneel.’

* * *

Twilight Company were as stealthy as they were numerous. Hundreds of riders, clad in dark blue, appeared from nowhere and took up residence in Federick’s camp. They responded to aggression with indifference, refusing to answer challenges. Once their numbers were apparent, the other Moon clans kept their distance, whispering about Fynius.

Rumours of Dominic Black Claw’s brother were numerous. Most told of his madness. Bronwyn heard variously that he was touched with visions by Brytag, that he had been struck on the head by his brother, that he had spent ten years living with berserkers in the Low Kast. She asked him, but he just ignored her. Even Two Hearts, striding through his drugged oblivion, was wary of Fynius and his men.

Bronwyn didn’t understand. The Ranen were a strange bunch at the best of times – violent, stubborn, short-sighted – but with the appearance of the men from Ranen Gar they were reduced to fearful barbarians. Their axes, their rage, their allegiance – all were dissipated when faced with a company of true fighting men.

‘He’s fucking mental, y’know?’ said Two Hearts, slumped on a cushion below the tree house.

‘He’s an ally,’ replied Bronwyn.

Fynius had been with Dragneel for nearly an hour. They had talked quietly but had not conveyed anything to those who waited below.

‘They follow Brytag,’ offered Micah, resting his wounded leg on a tree stump. ‘That makes them unpredictable.’

‘He’s got a lot of men,’ said Hasim, swigging from a bottle of Ranen mead.

The four of them sat near a fire. The sun had disappeared and the cold whipped through the forest and made everyone sluggish.

‘Five hundred won’t scratch the surface, I’m afraid,’ said Bronwyn, remembering the swarm of Red knights that had attacked Ro Hail.

‘Things changed after you left,’ said Hasim. ‘But, you’re right, five hundred is a lot for the Ranen... it’s barely an army for the Ro. If you want to stop the king marching north, you’ll need to equal his numbers, at the very least.’

Two Hearts laughed. A deep rumble that was barely recognizable as humour. His drug and alcohol intake had not slowed since Twilight Company had arrived.

‘You’ve never met anyone from Old Gar, have you?’ asked the chieftain.

‘If you’d like to patronize the foreigners, be my guest,’ said Micah, leaning forward. ‘But I’m a man of Wraith.’ He glared at Two Hearts.

The chieftain maintained eye contact for a second, assessing the young man.

‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you educate these foreigners about Old Gar.’

‘Why don’t you shut up,’ replied Micah, ‘your voice grates.’

Two Hearts flopped forward on his cushion, blinking in order to focus clearly on Stone Dog.

‘Do you want a slap, son?’

‘From you? You can barely stand up,’ replied Micah, showing no fear of the chieftain. ‘Go and get half a dozen of your tattooed bastards, make it a fair fight.’

Bronwyn chuckled and they both looked at her.

‘Micah, you’re full of arrows. Federick, you’re in another world. I could probably best either of you.’

Both the Ranen warriors looked wounded at the comment. Two Hearts pouted like a scolded child and Stone Dog sat open-mouthed.

‘She’s right,’ offered Hasim, stamping his feet and rubbing his hands together. ‘About more than you two.’

‘When did I stop getting respect from visitors in my own woods?’ asked Two Hearts. ‘First, this madman from Gar, now a Ro bitch and her pet Karesian.’

Hasim, the only one of them standing up, casually strolled towards Two Hearts. ‘You don’t know me,’ he said quietly. ‘And you don’t know Bronwyn. We are trying to help you, but you’ve got to earn respect.’ He smiled. ‘Call her a bitch or me a pet again, and we’ll have a falling-out.’

It wasn’t clear whether the Ranen chieftain heard the words. His eyes glazed over and with a vacuous smile he fell unconscious.

‘Shame,’ said Micah. ‘I’d have liked to see his reaction to that. He might have cut your balls off.’

‘He’s an idiot,’ replied Hasim.

‘An idiot with a clan of nutcases fully prepared to cut your balls off,’ said Stone Dog.

Without Two Hearts, their conversation became more friendly. Micah and Hasim bonded over a mutual dislike of the Moon clans. They told stories of what had happened since they were last together. Hasim had been wounded at the breach of South Warden, and Micah had been wounded fighting the people of the Crescent. They shared scars, told of individual opponents and no doubt made up all sorts of finer details. She had been with Micah during his fight and she didn’t remember him besting ten men while defending Bronwyn and Dragneel. But she let it pass.

The three of them had travelled far together. From Canarn and Ro Hail. They’d fought in battles and they were still alive. She took a moment to appreciate that, listening to them chat and laugh, as if imagining a more peaceful time.

But still the raven cawed in the depths of her mind. It still wanted her to know something, to direct her in some way, but she couldn’t understand it.