Sword in the Storm

  'Man is never far from the sea,' said the Thagda. 'Where is your lady love?'

  The question surprised him. 'I have no lady love.'

  'Look into your heart. Love is one of the rare virtues of your bloodthirsty race, Connavar. It does not come and go in a few heartbeats. Love endures. So I ask again, where is your lady love?'

  'Back in Seven Willows,' admitted Conn. 'She did not even say goodbye.'

  'How strange that a man willing to fight a bear, and face an army, does not dare ask his love to walk around the tree.'

  'I would have asked - had I been given a sign by her that she wished me to do so.'

  The Thagda gave a rumbling laugh. 'How many signs did you need?'

  Conn felt a flicker of anger. 'Are you here to torment me?'

  'Not at all,' answered the Thagda. 'My days are busy enough without giving way to small pursuits. It is merely that I have observed you ever since you came to the woods as a child, calling my name. You wanted, I recall, a spell cast on your parents.'

  'Aye, but you did not cast it,' Conn pointed out.

  'Who is to say I did not? Are they not together? And more in love than before? You humans are so impatient. This is, perhaps, natural for a race living lives that are measured in a few heartbeats.' The wind whispered against his ivy cloak, rustling through the leaves.

  'Why have you come to me?' asked Conn.

  'As I recall, you have come to me. You left your lady love back in Seven Willows and rode to this quiet place, and disturbed my fellowship with the oak. You chose this spot with your heart, Connavar. For your heart knew I was here. We have been linked in Spirit ever since you rescued the fawn. The question is, why did your heart bring you here? What is it that you seek?'

  'I am not aware that I seek anything.'

  'That is, perhaps, because you are still angry with Tae for not speaking with you. Anger can be useful, but, more often than not, it forms a mist that blinds us to truth. What is the question you have been struggling to answer these last few days?'

  'I have been wondering why a longship was beached in the bay, and who went to meet it. And why?'

  'And what answers did you find?'

  'None. Sea Wolves raid for plunder, that which they can carry away. Gold and silver. Sometimes women. There is little gold in Seven Willows.'

  'But there is great wealth - at least as you humans see it,' said the Thagda.

  'I don't understand.'

  'Who is the richest laird among the Rigante?'

  'My own lord. He owns three mines, two of silver, one of gold.'

  'And what do you think he prizes above all?'

  'How would I know?'

  'Think on it.'

  'Can you not just tell me?'

  'The oak is calling me,' said the Thagda. Ponderously he turned and walked back to the tree, where his form once more merged into the bark. As he disappeared his voice floated back: 'Come to the Wishing Tree woods on the night of Samain. We will talk more.'

  Conn sat before the fire, trying to make sense of the meeting. The Sea Raiders. Gold. Prizes. The remembered conversation floated like wood smoke around his mind, tantalizing yet insubstantial. Then he heard a rider galloping along the trail. Rising from the fire he called out to Parax. The old man came into the camp and slid from his pony.

  'What kept you?' asked Conn.

  The horse with the chipped hoof. I found it.'

  Tell me.'

  'It is being ridden by the merchant, Phaeton.'

  'Phaeton met with the raiders?'

  'Aye, and here's the thing. Raids on Seven Willows ceased in the year he came to live among the villagers. Once I found the horse I went back to the house and questioned Dara. Phaeton had strong links with the mining settlement at Broken Mountain, and several other centres to the south. Every one of those centres has been raided, more than once.'

  'He was supplying information to the raiders,' said Conn.

  'Aye, that is how it looks. He would have known the movements of silver shipments, in which villages the wagoners would rest. And so on. With the mines giving out, there was no reason for him to stay.'

  'I can see that, but why the last secret meeting? What were they planning, I wonder?'

  'No tracker can answer that,' said Parax. 'But there is no gold in Seven Willows.'

  Conn felt a cold breeze whisper against his skin, as he remembered his conversation with the merchant. 'Then there is the question of ransom . . .'

  Phaeton had left the sentence unfinished, and Conn had not followed it through. 'Yes, there are riches,' he whispered. The Long Laird's wife and daughter. They would fetch ten times their weight in gold if held for ransom. How many raiders are there to each ship?'

  'Forty, fifty. I've never been close to one,' said Parax, 'but judging by the impression made by the keel I'd say closer to fifty.'

  The ship did not return to the sea,' said Conn. The raiders were waiting for Phaeton to leave.'

  'How can you be sure?'

  Conn ran to his pony and saddled it.

  'We're going back,' he said, vaulting into the saddle.

  The two men rode swiftly back along the high trail, but both their ponies were tired from the climb and when they reached the last crest it was already dusk. A towering plume of smoke was rising from Seven Willows, and Conn could see fleeing villagers running for the northern hills. To the south he could just make out heavily laden raiders moving slowly towards the woods Conn reined in his lathered pony. 'What now?' asked Parax.

  'I'm going to the bay where you found the keel mark. You get down to the settlement. If Fiallach still lives, tell him where I am.'

  'And he'll come running to rescue you?' spat Parax. 'I think not.'

  'He'll come if they have Tae.' 'Yes, but what if they don't? What if she escaped?' 'She didn't. If they had not found her the raiders would still be in Seven Willows, searching. Now go!'

  As he spoke Conn urged his weary mount towards the south.

  The giant Vars raider, Shard, stood in the gateway of the settlement, enjoying one last look at the blazing buildings. At first the raid had gone well. He had beached his ship, Blood Flower, at noon, and ordered his warriors to move to the high woods overlooking the settlement. The storm had been a blessing from Wotan. Not one sentry was on the stockade wall as the fifty raiders emerged from the tree line and loped down towards the open gates.

  Shard had memorized the charcoal-sketched map Phaeton had supplied. Sending thirty men into the settlement to kill, burn and create panic, he had led his twenty warriors straight to the Long Hall. That move had proved the only boil on the body of his plan. Stupid Kidrik had tried to grab the older woman, but she pulled a dagger from her belt and stabbed out at him. Kidrik, in pain and rage, had lashed at her with his sword, slashing open her throat. Well, he'd get nothing from this raid. Not even a half-copper coin. Idiot! The younger woman had run back through the hall and out into the open. Straight into the arms of Shard's brother, Jarik. One blow had rendered her insensible, and Jarik re-entered the hall with the girl over his shoulder.

  Even so, the profit from the venture had been halved, which left Shard irritated, and probably short of the capital he would need for a second ship. Raids would always be piecemeal with only one craft and fifty men. But with two, either the larger settlements would become accessible or, by carrying greater supplies, his men could raid deeper into Keltoi lands.

  The flames from burning wooden buildings roared higher into the darkening sky. Close by a house collapsed. Shard drank in the sight then turned towards the gate. A young Keltoi warrior ran at him with a spear. Shard casually parried it with his longsword, then sent a flashing reverse cut that slashed through the man's collarbone and down into his chest. He gave a great scream of pain and fell. Shard put his boot on the man's chest, dragging his blade clear. Then he ran smoothly back to the open gates and out into the countryside. Despite his awesome size Shard ran well, though not fast, covering the ground in a rhythmic, even lope.

&
nbsp; Movement to the right caught his eye, and he saw two riders, one heading for the settlement, the other towards the south. Ignoring them he ran on across the thick grass.

  This was good land, he thought, not for the first time. Good farming land. Not like the barren, stony soil of his homeland in the fjord country, where the cattle were bony and lean, the crops thin and stunted. Twice in the last year he had tried to convince his father, the king, to mount an extensive campaign to win these lands. Arald would not be swayed. 'Raids are good, and profitable,' he said. 'But I was part of the last invasion, which was led by your grandfather eighteen years ago. Not only did the Keltoi outnumber the Vars three to one, but they fought like lions. Three thousand of our men were slain that day, your grandfather among them. Few of us managed to fight our way back to the sea. There were not enough men to man all the ships and we burned twenty-seven. Burned them! Can you imagine how that felt, Shard? You have been dreaming of a second ship for three years now. And we burned twenty-seven.'

  'Times are different now, Father. If we landed with ten thousand men we could win and hold a large area of land. Then we could ship in more supplies and men, take over the Keltoi farms and buildings. We could make a strong settlement, and from there sweep out and gradually win the land - just like the Stone men are doing in the south.'

  Arald smiled. 'It is always good to have large dreams, my son.' And he spoke of it no more.

  It might have been different had his brother Jarik added his weight to the argument. Jarik was the favourite son, but he, like Father, was not interested in conquest. Only easy wealth.

  Shard ran on. Despite his irritation at the death of Llysona the raid could still be considered a success. Not one of his men had died, though some had suffered cuts. The merchant had done his job well. The warrior Fiallach had not been present, nor his thirty men. They had been drawn away after Phaeton reported a huge lion in the mountains to the north-west. Fiallach loved to hunt, and the lure of such a beast proved impossible to resist.

  Shard reached the trees. The merchant had told him the Long Laird would pay at least six hundred in gold for his wife and daughter. A hundred would secretly be paid to Phaeton for his part. That amount was now halved, less fifty for the merchant. Half again would be split among his men. That left one hundred and twenty-five. Half of that was promised to Jarik. Shard continued his calculations. He would still be fifty short of his second ship. He toyed with the idea of holding back the payment to the merchant, but dismissed it. The man was too valuable, and perhaps his next information would recover the lost profit. That left Jarik. If he could persuade him to relinquish his share . . .

  No. Jarik would demand joint ownership of the ship, and that Shard would not agree to.

  He glanced back. The settlement was burning ever more brightly as the wind whipped the flames towards the north.

  Then he entered the darkness of the woods.

  Three quarters of a mile ahead Jarik finally threw the struggling Tae to the ground. As she tried to rise he slapped her face, a hard stinging blow that swept her from her feet. 'Behave yourself, Rigante bitch,' he told her, 'and no harm will befall you. You are being held for ransom. Not for sport.'

  The girl said nothing. Jarik crouched beside her, looking into her eyes. He saw no fear there, only hate and anger. He grinned at her. 'But you make one stupid move and I will use you for sport. You understand that?' She nodded. Hauling her to her feet Jarik and his three men moved on towards the shoreline. The girl seemed to stumble. Jarik reached out to support her. Suddenly she swung, head-butted him in the face, and ran into the woods. Jarik swore and raced after her, his men following.

  She was fast, but Jarik was faster and stronger. She leapt a fallen tree and cut to the right. Jarik was closing now, only a few feet behind. She swerved again just as he was about to grab her. Now, although she did not realize it, she was running straight for the beached ship. A screen of bushes lay ahead, and then a moonlit clearing. The girl hurdled the bushes. Jarik, close behind, threw himself forward. She almost got away from him, but his hand closed on her ankle, and she hit the ground heavily.

  'Remember what I told you, bitch?' snarled Jarik. She came up fast as he grabbed her from behind. Her elbow lashed back towards his face, catching his ear. Anger roared through him. Spinning her, he punched her full in the face. The girl, half stunned, fell to her knees. Jarik's three men came running into the clearing. Jarik began untying the rope belt of his trews.

  'Not to touch her,' said the first. 'Those are the orders.'

  'You are a fine one to talk about orders, Kidrik. The orders were to take both women alive. Anyway, this bitch needs to know discipline,' said Jarik.

  'And you need to know death,' came a voice.

  Jarik stepped back and spun. Standing at the edge of the clearing was a lone Rigante warrior, a gleaming sword in one hand, a knife in the other. It made no sense for him to be here. They were in shouting distance of the ship, and not far behind fifty warriors were making their way to this spot. Jarik hurriedly tied his belt, then glanced towards his men. 'What are you standing there for? Kill the bastard.'

  The three men drew their swords and charged. The Rigante leapt to meet them. His blades glittered like silver in the moonlight. One man went down, then a second. The third fell back, his throat open, blood bubbling over his chainmail shirt.

  Jarik drew his own sword and ran in, aiming a two-handed sweep at the Rigante's head. At the last moment the Rigante ducked down below the blade. Off balance, Jarik stumbled. A searing, terrible heat swept up through his chest. He glanced down to see the hilt of a knife jutting from his ribs. It was a beautiful hilt.

  His face hit the grass. It was cool and very pleasant. His gaze was drawn to a nearby bush. He saw a fox crouched there, watching, waiting. Fresh pain seared through him as the Rigante dragged his knife clear. Jarik groaned and tried to rise. But there was no strength in his arms. He managed to roll onto his back. His head lolled. The Rigante was helping the girl to her feet. Then a cloud covered the moon.

  And all was darkness.

  Tae was still groggy from the blows she had received, but she stumbled after Connavar as he led her deeper into the woods. In the distance she could hear other raiders. Some of them were laughing. The sound cut through her dizziness, filling her with fear. Strange, she thought, I was not as frightened while they held me captive as I am now that I am free. That is something to think about at a later date, she told herself. Ahead Connavar had stopped behind a thick oak. She moved in close to him.

  'What now?' she whispered.

  'We must thread our way through them. They do not yet know you have escaped. They will not be spread out. But I cannot get back to my pony. We will have to escape on foot.' Sheathing his blades, Connavar led her to the left. The clouds were clearing above them and the moon appeared, shining brightly. Connavar cursed softly and dropped to his knees, pulling Tae down with him.

  'I see why they call you Demonblade,' she whispered, recalling the speed with which he had despatched her captors.

  'No time for talking. Follow me.' Dropping to his belly Connavar crawled into the nearby undergrowth. Tae slithered alongside him. 'We'll wait until they pass,' he said.

  A horn blared out behind them. Angry shouts followed. Tae did not need to be told they had found the bodies. She glanced at Connavar. He was tense, his face angry. She heard the sound of running feet, and was about to rise and flee when Connavar grabbed her. 'Stay low,' he whispered in her ear. 'They will be looking for movement.' He put his hand over her shoulder, drawing her in close. The bushes here were thin and small. Anyone gazing down must see them.

  Several men ran by. One paused, almost above them.

  'What can you see?' yelled a guttural voice.

  'Nothing.'

  'They can't have got far. There's been no sound of horses. Fan out and search the woods.'

  The man close by ran off. Tae was still resisting the urge to run. Connavar spoke again, in a low whisper, his mouth
close to her ear. 'They are expecting us to flee, so their gazes will be high, looking for running figures. Best we stay low for a little while. Once the clouds return we'll risk moving. Relax and rest.'

  Relax? How could anyone relax with killers scouring the area? But Tae said nothing. The breeze picked up and she felt herself begin to tremble. Whether it was from the cold or the aftershock of the day's events she did not know. Connavar moved in close, spreading his cloak over her and sharing his body heat. Tae closed her eyes, seeing again the savage blow that tore the life from her mother. Tears welled, but she fought them back. There would be a time for mourning. That time was not now.

  The sounds made by the raiders were dwindling now and Tae felt Connavar stir beside her. He rose to his knees and gazed around the moonlit woods. Then he climbed to his feet, pulling Tae up with him. 'We need to head west,' he said. 'They will expect us to make for the north and Seven Willows.' She nodded and followed him. He moved swiftly ahead for a while, then took refuge behind another oak. As Tae came alongside he drew his dagger and handed it to her, hilt first. She took the weapon, and was amazed to find it fitted her hand perfectly. At first glance Connavar's hands seemed so much larger than hers. She wondered how he could use such a small-hiked weapon.

  Again he moved forward, dodging from tree to tree, scanning the woods as he ran.

  Two raiders suddenly emerged in front of him. Both stood for a moment, in shock. Then one of them shouted. They're here!' Connavar sprang forward, his sword plunging into the belly of the first man. The second, carrying a hand axe, leapt at Connavar, who side-stepped and hammered his left fist into the man's chin. The raider fell to his knees. Connavar killed him with a downward sweep to the neck.

  Unknown to Tae a third raider had emerged from the bushes behind her. 'Look out!' shouted Connavar. Tae swivelled and struck out just as the man loomed over her. The dagger blade slid through his mailshirt as if it was made of wool, plunging all the way to the hilt. The raider died instantly. Tae pulled the blade clear and ran to join Connavar. There were sounds now from all around them.