The Long War 03 - The Red Prince (39 page)

‘It’s funny watching you try to understand him,’ said Fynius Black Claw, emerging from the tree house. ‘Not everything can use words and meanings in the way you expect. Conversations are a decidedly human occupation.’

The captain of Twilight Company swung himself on to the ladder and slid to the ground. Hasim and Micah stopped chatting and both stood up.

‘Are you seeing my thoughts?’ asked Bronwyn. The possibility bothered her less than she might have expected.

‘Only when Brytag tries to speak to you,’ he replied, his sinister smile returning. ‘Things are stranger than either of us realized, Lady Bronwyn of Canarn.’

‘I don’t understand him.’

‘I know. So does he,’ replied Fynius. ‘Don’t worry, he’ll keep trying.’

‘Please stop smiling, it’s quite unnerving,’ she said, looking away.

‘Do I bother you?’

‘Yes, you do.’

Hasim raised his hand. ‘You bother me, too. If you care,’ he said.

‘I don’t.’ He turned his thin face towards the Karesian. ‘What are you doing here, man of the sun? You’re a long way from the lands of Jaa.’

‘Circumstances have conspired against me,’ replied Hasim.

Fynius looked at each of them in turn. He frowned at the unconscious body of Two Hearts, but smiled at the others. His manner was twitchy and she could see a barely contained mania in his eyes.

‘How many Ro are on the Plains of Scarlet?’ he asked.

‘Friends or foes?’ said Hasim.

‘They are Ro, there is no difference,’ replied the Ranen.

Hasim chuckled and drank some more mead. ‘Well, there are five thousand knights that want to subjugate your land, and there are six thousand yeomanry that don’t want to subjugate your land. So, I suppose there are eleven thousand Ro on the Plains of Scarlet.’

Fynius stopped smiling. His face assumed a grimace and he narrowed his eyes at Hasim. ‘That’s a lot of men.’

‘Fallon of Leith commands the yeomanry and he is not your enemy,’ said the Karesian.

‘Who the fuck is Fally of Leith?’ asked Fynius.

‘Fallon. He’s a knight of Ro,’ answered Bronwyn. ‘Apparently he is an enemy of the king.’

‘Trust me, he’s an enemy of the king,’ offered Hasim. ‘The bad news, if eleven thousand isn’t bad enough, is that the Red general is on his way. That’s another ten thousand knights at least.’

Fynius began to pace in front of them. His eyes darted from side to side and his arms wove strange patterns in the freezing air. His blue-stained leather coat dragged on the snowy ground and his broadsword swung as he walked.

‘Eleven thousand, ten thousand,’ he muttered. ‘Five thousand, six thousand, the king, the knight, the general.’

He twitched, kicking his feet through the snow. He mumbled about Ro, Ranen, Twilight Company, Red knights. He acted as if he were speaking to someone, or something, throwing incomprehensible questions into the air.

They all looked at him. Superimposed across his back, she thought she saw black wings. For an instant they flared and disappeared.

‘I think I will go to South Warden,’ he said. ‘Yes, that is my road.’

The others exchanged looks. Micah frowned, Hasim raised his eyebrows, only Bronwyn spoke. ‘That is good to hear,’ she said, ‘but you are outnumbered.’

‘So?’ he replied, screwing his face up. ‘I have the men I have.’

She smiled. The man from Ranen Gar was unstable but he was an ally. He was a Ranen and he was a follower of Brytag. Perhaps he was just what was needed.

‘Could you get your brother to bring Greywood Company?’ asked Micah. ‘Just in case they’re needed.’

Fynius smiled again. The expression covered half his face. ‘Nah,’ he said after a moment. ‘I’ll tell him what happened after it happens.’

‘So, your plan?’ she asked, hoping for a semblance of wisdom.

‘Well, South Warden makes nice cheese, doesn’t it?’ he replied.

Hasim shrugged, shaking his head at Bronwyn.

‘Yes, I believe it does,’ offered Micah. ‘Well, it used to. Hungry, are we?’

‘Nope,’ replied Fynius. ‘Just thinking about things that the Red men wouldn’t know. If they don’t know about the cheese, it’s unlikely they’d know about the massive tunnels used to mature the cheese.’

He’s clever, she thought. Mad, but clever.

He ignored them and carried on talking to the air. Occasionally he’d laugh, chuckling at a joke only he could hear. He didn’t leave them, or show any awareness that they were listening.

‘Right!’ he said suddenly. ‘We have lots to do. You most of all, Lady Bronwyn of Canarn. Come with me.’ He left, heading back to the ladder and Dragneel’s deathbed.

CHAPTER 3

HALLA SUMMER WOLF AT THE BEAR’S MOUTH

F
JORLAN WAS A
realm at war. The Freelands of Ranen were being torn apart by foreign invaders and an alien god. Halla was a warrior, a follower of Rowanoco, and she was becoming a fine leader, but she could not predict what would happen to her homeland.

More than anything, she wanted to tell her men that they would win – that Alahan Teardrop would be a triumphant high thain, that Rulag Ursa would be killed, and that Fjorlan would remain free. In her quieter moments, with no one for company and the freezing air turning her thoughts dark, she wondered whether there was any point in fighting. Halla would never admit it, but she was afraid for Fjorlan. She was worried that spirit and honour were not sufficient and that Rulag Ursa’s forces were too strong.

Even if they did win and all their hopes of freedom were achieved, she would still be faced with a young thain whose father had killed her father. The family of Teardrop had done little to secure the loyalty of Summer Wolf, but they were the best option available to a warrior with blood on her hands and with no end to the slaughter in sight. That her battle-brothers obeyed her without question almost made the situation worse. Only Rorg the Defiler questioned her and even he did so politely.

The Low Kast berserkers and their family of trolls had made no effort to integrate. They kept to themselves at the front of the company. When the day ended and they had found rocky ledges on which to sleep, Rorg kept his men active, sleeping only for an hour or two and scouting ahead. The troll’s constant keening had not bothered Halla. Once she had grown used to it, the sound was almost calming. Only Lullaby spent time with the Ice Men and the strange old woman deflected a hundred questions from Wulfrick about the beasts. Falling Cloud and Oleff had taken to teasing the huge axe-master about his fear of trolls and it was only Halla’s interference that had stopped her lieutenants coming to blows.

‘It’s not natural,’ said Wulfrick.

They were nestled in a ravine less than a day’s march from the Bear’s Mouth. They had lit no fires and pitched no tents, hoping not to give away their position to the forces of Grammah Black Eyes.

‘What’s not natural?’ asked Halla.

‘Trolls eat men and men hunt trolls. They keep to the ice and we keep to the towns. It’s just the way it is.’

Her company were picketed close together, with the men and beasts of the Low Kast a short distance away. The sun had disappeared and only stars illuminated the plateaus of Ursa. Anya Lullaby and Falling Cloud joined them, while Oleff and Heinrich saw to the nightly guard duty.

‘Things are not always so absolute, young man,’ offered Lullaby. ‘The Ice Men have ways of talking to Rowanoco that we could never understand.’

‘If they fight for Fjorlan, they stay,’ said Halla, growing tired of Wulfrick’s whingeing.

‘For a big man, you’re a proper little girl,’ said Oleff, grinning like a fool.

‘I don’t see you making friends with them,’ replied Wulfrick.

‘Just shut up!’ said Halla. ‘I’m trying to think.’

‘What have you got to think about?’ asked Wulfrick. ‘We kill any men of Ursa that don’t get out of the way.’

‘And we clear the Bear’s Mouth... simple,’ offered Falling Cloud.

‘You worry too much, Halla,’ said Wulfrick.

‘And you two are dim-witted axe-hurlers who should leave the thinking to me,’ she replied, smiling at them.

The two men looked at each other.

‘It’s a fair point,’ said Falling Cloud. ‘Okay, my lady, what are you thinking about?’

‘The Bear’s Mouth, the Wolf Wood, trolls, axes, Tiergarten – everything.’

‘Why don’t you turn your tactical genius to the subject of sleep,’ said Wulfrick. ‘We’ll need it tomorrow, it should be well rested.’

* * *

The Bear’s Mouth was an old fortress of rock and ice. In ancient tales, the Ice Giants carved it out of the bedrock of Fjorlan. The lords of Hammerfall looked to it as their deepest connection to Rowanoco, and no oppressor had ever used it before.

The deep fissure that ran from Hammerfall to Jarvik was a natural highway, largely free of trolls and bandits. This made the Bear’s Mouth an ideal place for Grammah Black Eyes to base his brutal rule over the region. It was impassable, unless you wanted to traverse the spider tunnels beneath.

‘I wish we had some more cloud-men,’ murmured Falling Cloud, crouched next to Halla within sight of the fortress. ‘Your lot don’t know this ground.’

‘You do,’ replied Halla. ‘You’re my adviser, remember.’

He looked unimpressed.

‘Tell me what I’m looking at, Rexel.’

He poked his head over a rock and surveyed the snowy ground ahead of them. The Mouth was arrayed on five levels, forming natural galleries in the rocky fissure. They were narrow and treacherous at the top, but wide and easily defensible at the base. The frozen river at the bottom was narrow and free-flowing only for a couple of months of the year, making travel by boat a risky endeavour.

‘He’s got a lot of men,’ said Rexel, ducking back behind the rock. ‘Wooden palisades, axe-hurlers.’

‘Is there good news?’ she asked.

‘Of course.’

He craned his neck up again and peered further down the fissure.

‘They’re all looking in the other direction.’ He smiled wickedly. ‘They’re expecting trouble from Hammerfall, not Jarvik.’

Halla joined him. She had to shield her eye from the glare, but she could see dark shapes moving across the stark white ground. The bottom level was a wooden fort of sorts, comprising a stockade and gate. Further up the fissure, axe-hurlers patrolled smaller wooden walls. Ladders and walkways, with a few solid structures, linked the levels. All of the fortifications pointed westwards, towards the Wolf Wood.

‘That’s a lot of men,’ she said, losing count of the warriors below.

‘We need to take the top levels,’ he replied.

‘Maybe a landslide,’ mused Halla. ‘They won’t see us coming, so confusion could be an ally.’

‘The Low Kasters and their pets could make an awful mess down there. So, send them in first?’

Halla considered it. ‘Get Wulfrick up here,’ she ordered.

Rexel nodded and skulked backwards. Behind them, waiting on the low ground, were five hundred battle-brothers. Lean and ready, they sat poised, weapons in hand, waiting for the word to attack. Hulking off to the side were the Low Kasters and the family of trolls. Even now they stayed away from the bulk of the forces, grunting to each other in their strange language.

‘How’s it looking?’ asked Wulfrick, coming to join them.

The axe-master had to crawl to stay behind the rocks. He was not built for stealth, as he frequently told her.

‘Have a look,’ replied Halla. ‘How outnumbered are we?’

He hefted his huge body along the ground until his head was poking up above the rocks. His bearded face contorted with surprise as he looked at the fortress in their way.

‘Hard to tell how many are on the lowest level,’ said Wulfrick. ‘I think we can take them.’

Falling Cloud chuckled. ‘If we’re quiet, we can get men down to the top few levels. The fort at the bottom is the problem. Anyone approaching will be seen along the eastern gully.’

Halla thought for a moment. Wulfrick and Rexel continued talking, musing on the battle to come, and she tuned out their voices. Below, scurrying across her field of vision, was a huge force of Ursa’s men. At least double her numbers, spread out across the Bear’s Mouth.

‘This is what we’re going to do,’ she said quietly.

Both men looked at her.

‘Wulfrick, you and I will take a hundred men each and attack at the highest levels.’ She pointed to the narrow platforms at the top of the fissure. ‘You take the north, I’ll take the south. Then we fight our way down.’

He grinned, nodding his head.

‘Rexel, you and Oleff take another hundred each and attack three levels down.’

‘That will surprise the shit out of them,’ replied Falling Cloud. ‘You two fight your way to us and we’ll all go for the fort.’

‘No, that’s not the plan,’ she said. ‘Rorg and Unrahgahr can have the fort. Tell them to charge the eastern gully when we give the signal.’

Wulfrick snorted in surprise, coughing a gobbet of phlegm on to the snow.

‘Perhaps we could do it without them, Halla,’ he said.

‘No. Whether you like it or not, they’re part of the company,’ she replied.

Slow nods from both men. Falling Cloud clenched his fists and Wulfrick gritted his teeth.

‘Grammah Black Eyes will be in the fort. What do we know about him?’ asked Wulfrick.