The Long War 03 - The Red Prince (55 page)

She scuttled away, pulling herself up into the drainage tunnel that led from the city. Her nihilism was generally refreshing, but when applied to the Dokkalfar of the Fell the comment hurt.

What was Vithar Loth up to? Had he managed to coax life into the Shadow Flame?

‘We need to hurry.’

‘Where are we going?’

He followed her into the tunnel and crawled away from the abandoned warehouse.

‘Your life is about to become very interesting, Kirin girl. We are bound for the Fell.’

‘What’s the Fell?’

He looked at her. ‘It’s a forest. A big one. Where the Dokkalfar live.’

CHAPTER 9

BRONWYN OF CANARN IN THE REALM OF SCARLET

T
HE COLD MORNING
brought a film of snow, framing the ranks of Red knights assembled before the city. Malaki Frith had cleared his camp and mustered ten thousand armed men. They had formed up slowly, allowing the occupiers of South Warden to see them. They didn’t know it, but they were also allowing the Moon clans and Twilight Company to assess their strength.

Gleaming armour and high pennants, snapping in the snowy breeze. Red knights, White clerics, nobleman of Tor Funweir. Bound men, squires, blacksmiths and auxiliaries. There were a lot of men on the Plains of Scarlet. In comparison, the few thousand Ranen huddled at the tree line were no more than an armed mob.

Fynius Black Claw was somewhere in South Warden, watching the drama play out. So far, he had been maddeningly right about everything. The king was dead, the new army had sided with the yeomanry and not with the clerics. If he were right about what would happen next, Bronwyn would need to be ready.

He had been right about so much. Perhaps she was the only person capable of diplomacy in this situation. Certainly Federick Two Hearts and Theen Burnt Face were not suitable for the role. One was permanently insensible, the other made a snowflake seem intelligent.

At least they had a good vantage point, on rising ground beyond the tree line, well hidden from the soldiers of Ro. No one was looking north, the Red knights being far too arrogant to consider the Ranen a danger. Even the soldiers from Darkwald, assembled in front of their stockade and under the cover of trebuchets, were looking only to the east.

‘Ten thousand men all told,’ said Micah, finally able to walk unaided. ‘Who’s that at the front of the knights?’

‘The tall one is Fallon of Leith,’ she replied. ‘I assume the Red cardinal is up there too.’

‘Bloody bird man was right, this has not played out like I thought,’ he said with a smile. ‘There’re still a shit-load of clerics and knights in South Warden, though.’

‘It’s not over yet. And you don’t have any diplomatic duties.’

‘I assumed I was coming with you,’ replied Micah. ‘I’ll no doubt have to weather insults about my parentage or some such.’

‘Is the Stone Dog family not well regarded?’

‘Piss off... my lady,’ he replied with a chuckle.

It was simple humour, but it was good to share a laugh.

‘What are they waiting for?’ asked Micah. ‘They outnumber them by two to one, at least.’

‘Red knights don’t kill other Red knights,’ she replied.

‘And Purple clerics?’

She shrugged. ‘Not sure. The relationship has always been a little... foggy.’

Shouts rose from the front rank of knights, ordering those behind to stand to attention. Their banners were held high and their shields locked in place. At the front, closest to the gates of South Warden, two riders broke away from the massed army. One wore a high-plumed helmet, glinting white in the snowy morning. The other, tall and black-haired, held himself ramrod straight.

‘I saw him at Ro Hail,’ said Micah. ‘The tall one. That’s Fallon, right?’

She nodded. ‘Our ally, according to Hasim. I’ve not met the other one. The Red cardinal, I’d assume.’

She was amazed at how quiet ten thousand men could be. The army was motionless, stern-faced and looking to the front. Their armour rustled in the breeze and their horses whinnied, but the men were silent. From South Warden, keeping tight formation on the forward battlements, Purple clerics surveyed the knights before them.

‘Brothers!’ shouted the knight general towards the city. ‘I do not address the nobles of the One. I do not address the Purple cardinal. I address the knights of the Red. I address my brothers.’

She couldn’t see any knights in South Warden. There were five thousand of them, kept out of the way by Cardinal Mobius, prevented from seeing the massed army at their gate. How long they would remain loyal to the Purple once their general started to speak was open to debate.

‘Brother knights, I am Knight General Malaki Frith. I come from Ro Arnon, answering the king’s summons. The king who was murdered by Cardinal Mobius. I name him regicide and traitor to Tor Funweir.’

His voice was now a bellow, hoarse and emotional in the cold air of Scarlet.

‘You must follow orders from the senior churchman. That churchman is now me. I will not order you to kill the clerics, I merely order you to stand down. Leave South Warden and muster on the fields of Scarlet. Enough men have died here.’

She frowned. Fynius was right again.

‘Far be it from me to be optimistic,’ said Micah, ‘but this is looking good... well, for now.’ He appeared embarrassed about his own assessment.

‘Relax. I’m sure there is still plenty of time for things to go horribly wrong.’

She enjoyed the look on his face, but not as much as she enjoyed the stark fear she saw among the Purple clerics. They stood behind the wooden battlements, trying to keep their heads back and their chins forward. Some stepped back, fighting their fear and only kept at their posts by angry glares.

‘No man will be held responsible for his actions here,’ shouted Frith. ‘If he stands down.’

A moment of silence. Sir Fallon of Leith rode forward. He exchanged words with the general and then his voice was directed at the city.

‘Brothers! It’s time to go home. Mobius can rant and rave, but let him do it alone.’

These men had been in the Freelands of Ranen for a long time. Bronwyn had seen the army move from Canarn, across the Grass Sea to Hail, and then over the Plains of Scarlet to South Warden. She wanted to hate them for all the deaths they had caused, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Were they really to blame? Following orders to a fault made them servile, but it didn’t make them evil.

‘Perhaps the death ends here,’ she muttered.

‘Or perhaps the bird man will get something wrong,’ replied Micah.

She raised her eyebrow at him.

‘Okay,’ he conceded, ‘it’s unlikely.’

Shouting from the city. Clerics turned from the battlements and waved their hands at those within. The clank of metal echoed through the snowy fields as Red knights made their way through the narrow streets of South Warden.

Frith’s army was still silent, allowing their brothers in the city to act as they saw fit. They didn’t gossip or whisper, nor did they smile or show agreement with their commander’s words.

‘Are you ready?’ asked Micah. ‘It’s almost time.’

A sudden wave of fear hit her. ‘What if they just attack us?’

He smirked. ‘Well, I suppose in that case, we’ll probably die.’

She puffed out her cheeks. ‘Thank you, Micah, helpful as always.’

‘What, you think we should fight them? Two against ten thousand? Yeah, I’ll give that a go.’

‘Shut up!’ she snapped. ‘Go and make sure Federick has the white flag ready.’

He backed away from the tree line and made his way towards the men of the crescent skulking nearby. Two Hearts and Theen Burnt Face were just sufficiently afraid of the Red army to keep their boisterous arguing in check. Their warriors still drank their liquor and smoked their drugs, waiting for Fynius Black Claw’s plan to advance. They were more trusting of the man of Gar than Bronwyn or Micah, but they were still afraid.

Fynius had suggested to her – well, demanded of her – that she not listen to the Moon clans and that she approach the Red knights of Ro on her own. Stone Dog would not be told what to do and would accompany her. His presence would prove scant comfort when ten thousand warriors turned to look at her, and his sardonic comments might hinder rather than help the negotiations. Somewhere in the trees behind her, Warm Heart also waited. She could hear the growls of the hound’s breathing.

The gates of South Warden opened and she experienced another wave of apprehension. The entranceway was obscured but she could hear the shouts of Purple clerics and the clank of Red knights. After a moment a column of men marched forth through the crisp snow. The green Plains of Scarlet were steadily turning white and the veil of snow was heavier as the Red army left South Warden.

A single voice rose above the others. The screech of Cardinal Mobius, echoing around the wooden city, chasing the Red knights out of the gate, was pitiable. She could not see him, but he sounded desperate, on the edge of mania. He was ignored.

Frith didn’t laugh or crow. Even from a distance, Bronwyn saw only an impassive face taking no pleasure in his victory. The tall swordsman next to him appeared less stoical, and Fallon of Leith greeted his brother knights as they filed out of South Warden. The column was narrow and it took time for them to squeeze through the gates, walking slowly of necessity, as the Purple cardinal’s voice cracked and trailed away.

The knights were dirty, bearded and battle-worn. Their armour was dented and tarnished, in sharp contrast to the shiny mass of General Frith’s army. They snaked through the waiting ranks of warriors, their backs bent and their eyes down, until the last dribble of men, most of them wounded, were helped from the city.

‘How long have they been away from home?’ asked Micah, reappearing silently and making her jump. ‘They’re a mess.’

She shoved him, grunting in her surprise.

‘Almost a year... and don’t sneak up on me, I’m twitchy enough.’

‘What, you didn’t smell me? I must stink to your noble nostrils.’

She ignored him. Looking back at the city, the gates were now being closed and the huge southern camp was receiving the Red knights who had withdrawn.

‘Bronwyn, it’s time.’

Overhead, a large raven flew from the trees. It glided from a high branch and soared over the army, cawing loudly. Over her shoulder, Warm Heart appeared, nuzzling her forwards.

She looked along the tree line. Federick Two Hearts and his night-raiders were camouflaged in a bramble thicket, nervously quaffing ale and gesturing at the fields of Scarlet. They had fashioned a large white square from an awning and attached it to a long branch.

With the deep note of a horn, the flag was extended and waved from side to side, catching the snow as it moved.

Tension grew to anguish as thousands of armoured men drew their swords and turned towards the Moon Woods. She nearly fell over under the weight of their hard stares. Even Micah gulped with fear as Malaki Frith’s army spied the Ranen warriors. Their movements were quick and controlled, acting as a single unit to defend themselves against an unseen foe.

‘Fuck me!’ exclaimed Stone Dog. ‘For the first time I actually understand how the Ro managed to conquer half the world.’

She composed herself and stood up. With small steps, she walked forward from the obscuring tree line. Micah and Warm Heart followed her and, further along, at the edge of the Moon Woods, Federick and his night-raiders emerged with Theen’s warriors close behind.

Dawn Sun Runner held the white flag high. Even under the influence of their drugs, the warriors of the Crescent were hesitant.

‘Identify yourself!’ bellowed a knight of Ro.

The Ranen all turned to Bronwyn.

She breathed in deeply and a shiver lanced down her spine. The cold air made her throat dry. ‘I am Lady Bronwyn of Canarn. We seek parlay.’ She tried to shout but her voice came out as a cracked wheeze.

Ranks of crossbowmen moved skilfully through the Red army, taking up position. Hundreds of bolts pointed at the tree line.

‘Bronwyn,’ muttered Micah, ‘they’re pointing crossbows at us... shout louder!’

‘I am Lady Bronwyn of Canarn,’ she shouted, finding her voice. ‘We seek parlay.’ Warm Heart barked, drawing the aim of a hundred crossbowmen.

Men on horseback approached, churning up the snow in a steady canter. Officers by the look of them, they wore mottled red tabards over breastplates and flowing cloaks of the same blood-red.

‘Step forward,’ commanded the lead rider.

She gulped again. Making sure Micah and Warm Heart were with her, she did as she was told. ‘I wish to speak to the knight general,’ she said. ‘I represent the Moon clans of Ranen.’

‘Who the fuck are the Moon clans of Ranen?’ responded the rider, wheeling his horse behind the crossbowmen.

Federick Two Hearts looked hurt. The large, drug-addled chieftain held his arms wide and gestured to the men and women skulking behind him. ‘What do we look like? Fucking sheep-herders?’ spat Federick. ‘You cheeky Ro bastard.’

The Red knights looked at each other, their professionalism cracking ever so slightly. They remained silent, directing their attention from Bronwyn to Federick, then to the huge Volk hound.