The Hawk Eternal (42 page)

In the Folly, Asbidag's panicked flight had opened the way for Gaelen and his warriors to smash the shield-wall and engage the carles. Gaelen ducked under a two-handed cut and drove his sword home into the man's chest. Beside him Telor leaped and twisted, his sword flashing in the sunlight, cleaving and killing. Two men ran at Gaelen. He blocked a blow from the first, gutting the man with a reverse stroke; his sword stuck in his opponent's belly, he saw the second warrior's sword arcing towards his head. Telor parried the blow, chopping his blade through the man's neck.

The burly Pallides grinned. 'Be more careful, Farlain. I can't be watching out for both of us.'

In the valley all was chaos as Drada fought to hold the Aenir steady. Arrows rained upon them from both sides of the pass and the clans were fighting like men possessed. But it was a losing battle. Drada could feel that success was but a matter of moments ahead. Once they pushed the enemy back into the wider pass beyond, nothing could prevent an Aenir victory.

Glancing about him, the young Aenir warrior was horrified at the losses his force had suffered. Considerably more than half his warriors were down: twelve thousand men sacrificed to Asbidag's stupidity!

But against this Drada had seen his father's flight and it filled him with joy. No need to kill him now, and risk death from his caries. No Aenir would follow him ever again. He would be a wolfshead, disowned and disregarded.

Now Drada would have it all: the army, the land, and the magic Gates. He would build the greatest empire the world had ever seen.

'On! On!" he yelled. The last yard!'

And it was true. The Aenir pushed forward once more.

Maggrig fell, slashed across the thigh. From the ground he stabbed upward, gutting his attacker. A blow sliced towards his head but Intosh blocked it - and died, an axe cleaving his skull. Maggrig staggered to his feet, plunging his blade through the axeman's chest. A sword lanced his side and he stepped back, lashing out weakly. Lennox bludgeoned a path to stand alongside him, mace dripping blood.

Above the noise of battle came the sound of distant horns. Then they felt the ground beneath their feet tremble, and the rolling thunder of galloping hooves echoed in the mountains. For a moment all battle ceased as men craned to see the mouth of the pass. A huge dust cloud swirled there, and out of it rode four thousand fighting men with lances levelled.

At the centre was a warrior in silver armour. In her hand was a mighty sword of shimmering steel.

'The Queen comes!' yelled Leofas.

Maggrig could not believe his eyes. Blood streamed from the wound in his side and his injured leg, and he stepped back from the fray, allowing two Pallides warriors to join shields before him. Slowly he climbed to the top of a pitted boulder, narrowing his eyes to see the horsemen.

The Aenir moved back from the clan line, straining to identify the new foe. Drada was stunned. What he was seeing was an impossibility; there were no cavalry forces on this part of the continent. But it was no illusion. The thunder of hooves grew and the Aenir warriors facing the charge scrambled towards the rocky slopes on either side of the pass. Their comrades behind them threw aside their weapons and tried to run.

Other more stout-hearted fighters gripped their swords more tightly and raised their shields. It mattered not whether they ran or stood. The terrible lances bore down upon them, splintering shields and lifting men from their feet, dashing them bloody and broken to the dusty ground. Horses reared, iron-shod hooves thrashing down, crushing skulls and trampling the wounded.

The Aenir broke, streaming up on to the slopes into the flashing shafts of the Haesten women.

Leofas urged the Farlain forward, shearing his sword into the confused mass before him. The battle became a rout. Aenir warriors threw down their weapons, begging for mercy, but there was none. With swords in their hand or without, the Aenir were cut to pieces.

Dunild and Grigor fought side by side now - the remnants of their clans, blood-covered and battle-crazed, hacking and slashing their way forward.

The Aenir struggled to re-form. Drada sounded the war-horn and the shield-ring grew around him. An arrow punched through Tostig's helm to skewer his skull. With a bellow of rage and pain be slumped to the ground beside his brother. Drada raised his shield.

Sigarni, her silver-steel blade dripping crimson, wheeled her grey stallion and led her men back down the pass. The Aenir watched them go, sick with horror. At the mouth of the Folly the Queen turned again, and the thunder of charging hooves drowned the despairing cries of the enemy.

Thrice more she charged and the shield-ring shattered.

A lean Aenir warrior ran forward, ducking under Sigarni's plunging sword, stabbing his own blade into the horse's belly. It screamed and fell, rolling across the man who had ended its life, killing him as it died. Sigarni was thrown to the ground in the midst of the Aenir. She came up swinging the double-handed sword, beheading the first warrior to leap to the attack.

The Aenir closed around her. Gaelen and Telor, fighting side by side, saw the Queen go down.

'No!' screamed Gaelen. He cut his opponent from him and raced into the mass. Telor followed him, with Agwaine and Onic and a dozen Pallides.

'Hold on, my Lady!' yelled Gaelen. Sigarni flashed a glance towards him, momentarily puzzled, then blocked a slashing attack from a longsword. Twisting her wrists and returning the blow, she clove the man from collarbone to belly. But the Aenir were all around her now. She swung and twisted and, too late, saw a blade slashing towards her neck. Gaelen's sword flashed up, parrying the death blow. 'I am here, my Lady!' he shouted above the clash of iron on iron.

Sigarni grinned and returned to the business of death.

Drada, with all hope of victory gone, tried to forge a path to the mouth of the pass. Beside him his carle captain Briga fought on, though a score of minor cuts poured blood from his arms and thighs.

'I think we are done, Drada,' shouted Briga. 'But by Vatan there's been some blood spilled today.'

Drada did not answer. Ahead of them a woman had climbed to a tall boulder and drawn back her bow. The arrow hissed through the air, thudding into Drada's throat, and with a look of surprise the Aenir leader fell sideways. Briga tried to catch him, but a sword slid between his ribs and he jerked upright.

He did not know it, nor would he have cared, but he was one of the last Aenir still alive in the Folly. His breath rasped in his throat and he dropped his sword as a great rushing noise filled his ears. Around him the pass was choked with bodies of the fallen, and Briga thought he could see the Valkyrie descending from the sky - the winged horses and the chariots of black. What tales he would tell in the Hall of the Dead....

He toppled from his feet, eyes still fixed on the black mass of crows and buzzards circling in the sky overhead.

Far to the south Asbidag, unaware of the clan victory, entered a thickly-wooded section of hills. He was breathing heavily and tired to the bone. Stopping by a stream, he tore the arrow from his shoulder and stripped his mail-shirt from him. He leaned over the water to drink. Looking down, he saw his reflection and just above it a face out of a nightmare.

Asbidag rolled to his back, scrabbling for his knife, but the werehound's talons snaked down, ripping his throat to shreds. Blood bubbled from the ruined jugular and the creature's jaws opened. Asbidag's eyes widened as the fangs flashed down. The creature backed away from the body and squatted on its haunches, staring down at the ruined face. In its mind vague memories stirred, and a low whine came from its throat.

Pictures danced and flickered. Racing ahead of the pack and the horsemen, leaping at the stag as it turned to face them. Curling up in the day by the stables, warm and comfortable. But other, stranger, images confused it. A young woman with fair hair, smiling, her head resting on a cotton pillow. A child running, laughing, hands stretched towards... towards... it?

Lifting its head, the beast howled its despair at the night sky. Then moving back to the corpse the creature stretched out its taloned claw, pulling the dagger loose from the sheath. Turning the point to its breast, it plunged the blade home.

Pain, terrible pain.. .. Then peace.

Obrin found her hiding behind a boulder. He was tempted to slit her throat and be done with it... sorely tempted. He knew what she was, had always known.

The tall rider dragged her out by her hair. She was strangely quiescent, and her eyes were hooded and distant. 'I'd like to kill you,' he hissed.

Holding her hair, he led her past the bodies and out to the plain.

Sigarni was seated on a high-backed saddle placed before a small fire. She was drinking wine from a copper goblet and chatting to three of her lancers. She glanced up as Obrin hurled the woman to the ground at her feet.

'A surprise, my Lady,' said Obrin. 'She was with the Aenir, I'm told.'

Sigarni stood and pulled her gently to her feet. 'How are you, Morgase?' she asked.

The raven-haired woman shrugged. 'As you see me. Alone.'

'I know how that feels,' said Sigarni. 'Accept that the war is over, and you may return with us. I shall restore you to your father's lands.'

'In return for what? My promise of allegiance? My mother's soul would scream out against it. You saw my father slain, my mother raped. Kill me, Sigarni - or I will haunt you to your grave!"

Obrin's sword hissed from its scabbard. 'This once I'll agree with the bitch!' he said. 'Give the word, my Lady.'

Sigarni shook her head. 'Fetch her a horse. Let her ride where she will.'

Two soldiers took hold of Morgase and led her away. Twisting in their grip, she shouted out, 'I will find a way back, Sigarni. And then you will pay!"

'Your decision burdens my spirit,' said Obrin. 'She is evil, Sigarni. There is no good in her.'

'There is little good in any of us. We live and we die by the grace of God. A great wrong was done to her. It twisted her mind - as once such a deed twisted mine.'

By dusk the druids had come out from hiding in the woods around the Folly and had begun to administer to the wounded clansmen. Maggrig, ten stitches in his side and twelve more in his thigh, sat on a boulder staring at the fluttering crows who were leaping and squawking over the stripped bodies of the slain.

The clan dead had been carried out of the Folly and laid together on the plain. A cairn would be built tomorrow. So many dead. Of the eight hundred Pallides only two hundred survived, many of these with grievous wounds. More than a thousand Farlain warriors had died, and another four hundred from the Loda and Dunilds. By a twist of fate both leaders had survived, fighting at the last back to back.

Maggrig sighed. The place looked like a charnel-house.

Leofas, his wounds stitched and bandaged, joined him at the boulder. 'Well, we won,' he said.

'Yes. And we old ones survive. So many young men gone to dust, and we old bulls sit here and breathe free air.'

Leofas shrugged. 'Aye, but we are a canny pair.'

Maggrig grinned. 'Have you seen Caswallon?'

'No. Come on, let's seek out the Queen. The least we can do is thank her.'

Leofas helped Maggrig to his feet and the two made their way through the bodies. The crows, bellies full and heavy with meat, hopped out of their way, too laden to fly.

At the mouth of the pass, beyond the tethered mounts, were the camp-fires of Sigarni's lancers, set in a circle at the centre of which sat the Queen and her captains.

Sigarni rose as the clansmen approached. 'Pour wine for them, Obrin,' she told her captain.

Maggrig thrust out his hand. 'Thank you, my Lady. You have saved my people.'

'I am glad we were here in time. I owe much to Redhawk, and it was a relief to part-settle the score.'

'Where is Caswallon?' asked Maggrig.

'I know not,' said the Queen. 'He asked us to meet him at the island of Vallon.'

Two riders brought high-backed saddles which they placed on the ground for the clansmen. 'Be seated,' said Sigarni. 'I wish to meet one of your clansmen; he saved my life today.'

'I think it will be hard to find one clansman,' said Leofas.

'Not this one. He has a blaze of white hair above his left eye and the eye itself is full of blood.'

'I know him,' said Leofas. 'If he lives I will send him to you.'

Obrin brought mulled wine and they drank in silence for a while.

The following morning, as work began on the cairn, most of the lancers had returned home through the Gate which had appeared in a blaze of light on the plain the night before. Sigarni remained behind with twenty men, including Obrin.

Leofas had found Gaelen sitting hand in hand with the Haesten girl in the woods skirting the mountains. 'Well met, young Gaelen,' he said.

Gaelen rose, introducing Lara to the older man.

Leofas bowed. 'I have seen you before, girl, but never prettier than now.'

'Thank you. I am glad you survived,' said Lara.

'We might not have done, had you not appeared with your archers.'

'A freak of chance,' Lara told him. 'We struck north to avoid the Aenir, and that meant we had to pass the Folly. How is it that the Queen arrived? Gaelen told me she was due at Axta Glen, and that's a day's ride from here."