The Faithful and the Fallen: Ruin Part 63

Briefly they paused on the riverbank, waiting for numbers to gather, and then they were off, Meical leading the way, Corban following close behind.

He heard the thumping rhythm of Storm running at his side, behind that Balur One-Eye's thunderous gait and the sound of other ships grounding, his warriors pouring from their decks. The plan was simple: to gather on the riverbank and follow Meical to the top of the hill where Gramm's feast-hall stood, where the fighting had seemed fiercest. He'd ordered Cywen to stay on the ship with Brina, Buddai and a handful of others, though that hadn't gone down too well. Giving Cywen orders never went well.

Meical slowed before him and they spilt out of the lanes between buildings into an open s.p.a.ce, a high wall looming above them. A bonfire crackled close by, red-cloaked warriors with black cuira.s.ses, a white lightning bolt and coiled serpent upon their leather breast-plates were gathered around it Jael's men. Open gates stood to the left, bodies strewn about. Gramm's folk. Meical saw them and charged for the gate, seemingly in a berserker rage.

Corban followed without thinking, blocked a hurried blow from a rider, Storm leaping and tearing the attacker from his saddle, ripping his throat out before they'd hit the ground.

Balur roared a battle-cry, a handful of his Benothi kin surging forwards swinging their black axes, and suddenly blood was fountaining. In heartbeats the enemy before the wall were dead or fleeing and Corban was following Meical through the open gates.

Ahead of them towered the rear of a long timber feast-hall, an open s.p.a.ce before it of hard-packed earth. To either side of the hall were wide lanes, edged with long stable-blocks and all manner of outbuildings, and amongst them battle raged. Here and there cl.u.s.ters of what must have been Gramm's warriors were holding against overwhelming odds. At the slope's crest, before the feasthall, Corban caught a glimpse of riders in black mail with curved swords.

Jehar.

'Tukul is here,' Corban cried, turning to Gar, then he was raising his sword and charging into the fray, the thought of his comrades on the far side of this feast-hall fighting alone filling him with a cold fear.

Where is Coralen?

He chopped into the leg of a rider, dragged him from his saddle and let Storm finish him, ran on, slammed into a knot of warriors that had more of Gramm's men backed into the gates of a stable-block. He didn't stop moving sword and wolven claws raking, stabbing, chopping. The battle mind, as Gar often referred to it, settled upon him, when everything about him seemed slow, as if his foes were moving through water and he could see every blow before it began. A man on foot with sword and shield came at him cautiously and Corban stepped in close, swept a stabbing sword aside and punched his wolven claws over the shield's rim. They came back b.l.o.o.d.y, the warrior collapsing. He moved on, deflected a spear lunge, stabbed his sword up into an armpit, pivoted away from another horseman who had moved in to attack, Storm leaping at the horse, making it rear and throw its rider to the ground. Corban stabbed him through the throat before he could rise. To his right Corban glimpsed Farrell crush a skull with his war-hammer, to his left Gar took someone's head off. In front of him a rider toppled from his saddle, an arrow through his throat.

Dath. A quick glance showed Kulla with him, the young Jehar protecting Dath's flank.

A deafening roar reverberated around the hold. From the corner of his eye he saw something disappear around the far side of the feast-hall, something huge. He glanced at Gar, but he was concentrating on pulling his sword from someone's chest. Corban continued forwards.

He'd moved closer to the feast-hall, the slope levelling, but still the way was blocked by a heaving ma.s.s of combat. He snarled in frustration, desperate to reach Tukul, Coralen and the others. Glancing about, he saw stairs running up the hold's wall and without thinking ran towards them, bounding up two at a time, footsteps following him Storm and Gar, Farrell, Dath and Kulla.

The walkway was empty of the living. He paused at the top a moment to look about.

The hold was full with seething battle, horses rising and plunging, men screaming. There were more of his warriors pouring through the open gates, numerous Benothi giants amongst them. Further back, he saw Javed leading scores of oarsmen many of them veterans from the Vin Thalun fighting-pits. Down below him Meical was carving his way through the enemy, behind him Balur and a handful of Benothi moving forwards like a floating island.

A faint sound caught his ear, drifting from the far side of the feast-hall. A battle-cry. Words he'd first heard from his da's lips. He whispered it now.

'Truth and courage.' Tukul. It is Tukul.

He ran on, leaping over dead men, the timber planks of the walkway drumming. As he drew closer to the front the gate tower came into view. It was burning, waves of heat and smoke rippling outwards, beyond the wall corpses littering the meadow and entrance.

Then he was above the courtyard before the feast-hall's entrance.

Combat still raged here just as fierce, but not as dense and close-packed as elsewhere. Corban caught a flash of red hair and felt a rush of relief, but before he could shout or even think, his eyes were drawn to the feast-hall steps.

Tukul stood upon them, his sword drawn and held high. Before him a blond-haired giant was sitting astride a monstrously huge bear. Other bears with giants upon their backs roamed the far side of the courtyard three more of them killing anything that stood in their way.

Even as Corban and the others stared, frozen for a few moments in shock and disbelief, the bear rumbled forwards, jaws snapping at Tukul, the giant leaning in his saddle to swing a war-hammer. Tukul slipped to the far side, the giant's left, hindering his reach, at the same time slicing at the bear, leaving a red line across the beast's snout. It roared in pain and rage, half-reared and leaped forwards, catching Tukul with a paw, sending him flying up the stairs.

Then Dath was nocking an arrow and drawing, sending it thumping into the great bear's flank. The arrow sank deep but the bear only gave a twitch, as if shrugging off a mosquito. Dath drew and released, and then again, each arrow finding its mark. The fourth one he aimed at the giant, but it skittered off of leather armour as the giant swung his hammer again at Tukul.

'Truth and courage,' Gar bellowed as he leaped from the walkway, landing with a thud on the stable-roof below, then rolling and jumping into the courtyard. Corban echoed the war cry and followed him, Storm leaping after him gracefully. Warriors in the courtyard turned at the sound of their voices, and distantly Corban heard a wild neighing.

Shield?

An arrow hissed over Corban's head, thumping into the bear's belly. This time the bear paused and looked at the feathered shaft protruding from its side.

Tukul took advantage of the lull and darted in, chopping into the creature's shoulder, darting out again, backing up the stairs.

Corban sprinted across the courtyard, swerving amongst mounted Jehar locked in combat with red-cloaked warriors, then he glimpsed Coralen's red hair, fighting back to back with Enkara, four or five enemy closing on them. Corban changed direction, barking a command at Storm. She sprang forwards, smashing one of the red-cloaks to the ground, a scream cut short, and then Corban was there, chopping into a neck, yanking his blade free as that man collapsed, gurgling, Corban spinning and punching his claws into another's thigh. The warrior stumbled back and toppled, his leg giving way, Coralen finishing him. There was no time for words. Corban's eyes met Coralen's for a heartbeat, and then he was running again, towards Tukul. Tukul was at the top of the steps now, standing before two injured men. The bear was wounded, favouring one leg, blood dripping from sword cuts and arrow wounds. The giant upon it was yelling guttural commands. Behind them the other bear riders had formed a half-circle, protecting the blond giant, who was clearly their lord, while he made his kill.

Corban increased his pace as he saw Gar and Farrell ahead of him, a blur of wolven pelt and dark mail. Gar ran straight for the feast-hall steps, a giant seeing him and shouting warning. The giant threw a spear, Gar swerving, the spear-blade slamming quivering into the hard-packed dirt, then Gar was between two of the bears, rolling beneath a paw, leaping onto the steps, trying to reach his da.

At the same time Corban saw the bear on the steps lumber closer to Tukul, who it was clear would retreat no more, standing guard before the injured men. The bear swung a huge paw, Tukul ducking underneath, then standing, fluid as silk, sword rising and falling in a mighty blow, severing the bear's paw.

The bear's roar of pain was deafening, staggering Tukul, and the blond giant took advantage, hurling his war-hammer into Tukul's chest, knocking him backwards, slamming him into the feast-hall doors. He slid to the floor.

Gar screamed, reached the top of the stairs, hurdled the injured men and ran to his da.

Storm was next to reach the steps, leaping onto the bear's neck, sinking her fangs deep into its flesh. The bear reared, throwing the giant on its back from his saddle to crash down the steps into the courtyard. The bear swiped its maimed leg at Storm; with a ripping sound the wolven was torn free, sent flying into one of the pillars with a crack.

Corban and the others reached the steps, swerving around the maimed bear's thrashing limbs. It swiped at Coralen but she ducked and Corban leaped in and buried his wolven claws in the bear's soft belly, raking them and ripping them free, blood gouting from the wound. Then the others were there: Coralen, Enkara and Kulla stabbing and chopping, Farrell swinging his hammer. It crunched into the bear's skull and it spasmed, went rigid, reared up and toppled back down the stairs.

The other giant bears lumbered into motion, closing on the stairs, the fallen giant rising and glowering up at them, reaching for his war-hammer.

Corban ran to Storm.

She rose groggily, whined when he touched her ribs, then growled at the approaching bears.

The others had formed a half-circle about him, bristling with iron. The blond giant knelt down beside his bear, now a b.l.o.o.d.y ruin of fur.

'I nursed her from a cub,' he said, his voice harsh, grating. He gripped his war-hammer, with a roll of his shoulder twirled it in his hand like Cywen could twirl a knife. Two of the giant bears closed in behind him, the other one clashing with Jehar in the courtyard, holding them back.

Corban braced himself. Never fought a giant before. Can't be as bad as the Kadoshim. He gritted his teeth.

'I am Ildaer, warlord of the Jotun,' the giant said. 'You should know the name of your killer.'

'You're welcome to come and try,' Coralen snarled.

An arrow hissed and punched into the giant's shoulder, staggering him.

A strangled cry rang out behind them and Gar pushed past Corban, leaping down the stairs, sword raised, Ildaer raising his war-hammer and catching Gar's blow on the iron-banded hammer-shaft. Gar crashed into him and they tumbled back down the stairs, fell apart, Gar rolling to his feet, surging forwards, the giant rising almost as quickly. Gar's blade sang as it flashed through the air, the giant gripping his war-hammer two-handed, iron sparking and screeching as he blocked a barrage of blows, retreating step by step.

The giant towered over Gar, but he pressed on, unrelenting, striking too fast for Corban to follow, high and low, loops and straight lunges, feints and combinations, a savagery and power in Gar's blows that Corban had never seen before.

The giant was fast, faster than something of that size had the right to be, blocking each sword strike, jabbing with the hammer-shaft, a step back, another jab, but as fast as he was, he could not contain the storm that Gar had become. As Corban watched, a red line opened up on the giant's thigh, another across his forearm, a razor cut across his cheek.

The giant took another step back, Gar pressing on, and Corban frowned. Something was wrong, a repeat in the pattern of blows, something Gar had always told him never to do.

He remembered Gar's advice to him, so long ago, it seemed.

Anger is the enemy.

Abruptly Ildaer stopped retreating, blocked Gar's next blow, sweeping his blade wide, and kicked Gar in the chest. Corban heard bones crack and Gar tumbled head over heels backwards. The giant strode after him.

Corban ran down the stairs, leaped and stood over Gar.

'Where is your honour?' Ildaer sneered. Blood sheeted the giant's cheek, ran down one arm, slicking the spiralling tattoos, soaked the wool of his breeches.

'Honour be d.a.m.ned, he is my friend,' Corban snarled, 'and you'll have to kill me before you touch him again.' He heard Storm growl behind him.

Ildaer looked at him, at his friends on the steps behind him. The giants and their bears stood like stone, tension thick as storm clouds.

A voice rang out from the left and Corban looked to see Balur standing with Meical at the far end of the courtyard, scores of the Benothi and Jehar at their back.

'Ildaer, you whelp,' Balur growled, raising his black axe.

'Balur One-Eye it cannot be,' Corban heard Ildaer whisper, suddenly going as pale as alabaster.

Then Ildaer was turning and running to the closest bear-rider behind him, swinging up onto the bear's back and fleeing through the gates. Balur charged after them, the Benothi following and screaming insults. Corban knelt beside Gar. He was conscious, breathing in short, controlled breaths.

'Help me, to my father,' he whispered.

Farrell was beside him and between them they carried Gar up the steps, past the two injured men that Tukul had been protecting one alive but unconscious, one very obviously dead and then they were beside Tukul, his body twisted where he'd fallen.

Tukul was still alive, his breaths coming in ragged wheezes.

Gar grimaced in pain, took his father's hand.

Tukul opened his eyes, for a moment unfocused. Then he saw his son.

'My Gar,' Tukul wheezed. Blood speckled his lips.

'Corban, where is Brina?' Gar said, voice cracking. 'Get Brina.'

'Peace, Gar, it is . . . too late for that,' Tukul said. He looked past Gar and saw Corban, other faces pressing in.

'I told you . . . I would be here . . . first,' he said to Corban.

'Aye, you did,' Corban said with a lump in his throat.

'And we made a fair song of it, eh, Cora?'

'We did,' Coralen said, a tremor in her voice. 'You did. You weren't content with one bear. You had to kill two.'

A smile fluttered at the edges of Tukul's mouth. 'Remember what I said to you.'

She smiled softly at him.

Tukul coughed, went rigid with pain, blood dribbling down his chin.

'My sword,' he whispered, voice faint and thin.

Corban put the hilt in Tukul's hand, closed his fingers around it he looked away to hide his sorrow. He was Tukul's Bright Star and he would stay strong for him in his last moments. No matter what it cost him.

Footsteps sounded on the steps behind. Meical was standing silent, looking down upon them.

'Gar, my beloved son,' Tukul whispered, 'you are my joy.' Tears dripped from Gar's nose. 'Never forget that. I'll see you again, on the other side,' Tukul breathed, then with a sigh he was gone.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE.

VERADIS.

Veradis stood at the prow of the ship and watched the coast of Tenebral pa.s.s him by.

I grew up on this coastline. He closed his eyes and thought of sailing with Krelis, dolphins chasing their ship as it cut through the water. Krelis laughing. Krelis is always laughing when I remember him. Of swimming in the bay of Ripa, sunning on rocks, drinking wine, sparring on the beaches that ringed the bay. Krelis always laughed at that, too. How I'd not give up until I was on my back, him a giant and me little more than a bairn.

He opened his eyes as the ship shifted beneath him. Alazon was yelling commands; ropes on the sail tightened and loosened, and then the dip and bite of oars. Before them a bay opened up in the coastline, deep and wide, high cliffs dipping towards sandy beaches.

The Bay of Ripa.

Home.

They pa.s.sed from the open sea into the bay's sheltered embrace, behind them fourteen black sails following their course.

There was already a host of black ships in the bay, cl.u.s.tered about the port of Ripa, more spread throughout its waters. Veradis spied other ships amongst them. More like the corpses of ships. They were ruined and fire-blackened, hulls upturned and wallowing. Ripa's ships. He frowned at that. Beyond them, rising high upon gleaming limestone cliffs Veradis saw the tower of Ripa, built by giants, conquered and claimed by men, now the home and symbol of the Lord of the Bay.

My father.

What am I doing here? The weight of his task came crushing down upon him, the sun-tinged, halcyon glow that had filled him turning to iron-grey clouds, heavy with impending doom. His mind returned to Calidus pulling him to one side on the banks of the Afren in Narvon, just before he had set sail.

Bring me Fidele, in chains if needs be.

Veradis had not believed it, or that she had wed Lykos, and he had said as much, had questioned Calidus' information, but the silver-haired counsellor and Ben-Elim had been adamant.

I was as shocked as you,' Calidus had said. 'But it is true. By all accounts Lykos is infatuated with her. But that is not the end of it. She arrested Peritus and Armatus, sentenced them both to death. That seems to have been the touchstone of this rebellion. There was rioting, Lykos and the Vin Thalun attacked by an angry mob. And now, moons later, Fidele has reappeared, in Ripa where the rebellion is centred. Now she is denouncing Lykos and the Vin Thalun, and inciting the whole of Tenebral to rise up against them.'

Veradis shook his head, eyes fixed on the tower. Fidele, my father and brothers. How can I fix this? I am a warrior, not a diplomat.

'What do you want me to do?' he had asked Calidus.