The Faithful and the Fallen: Ruin Part 15

VERADIS.

Veradis marched forwards, stepping in time with a dozen warriors spread either side of him, over two score more at his back. They were advancing upon a squat stone tower surrounded by a village of thatch and wood. The sun sat low in a blue sky, the air fresh and sharp as they continued their approach through green meadows carpeted with wildflowers.

A beautiful day.

To the west, behind a low hill, he saw a cloud of dust appear, marking Geraint's hors.e.m.e.n as they circled the village. Hidden from the rebels inside. The plan was that they would go round the village and wait for Veradis' s.h.i.+eld wall to flush the rebels out of the town into the open meadows beyond, a killing ground for Geraint's mounted warriors.

Veradis had spent over a moon hunting down the remnants of King Eremon's resistance. The realm was still not stable, and that would not change while its newly appointed va.s.sal king Conall was away chasing after Edana. Domhain had been conquered, the citizens of Dun Taras throwing open the gates in surrender, in acceptance of Conall, one of their own, with the blood of a Domhain king in his veins.

Even if he is a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. But Rhin sitting upon the throne in Conall's absence had not gone down well. Unrest had escalated into violence, and the streets of Dun Taras had run red. The rebels had notched up a string of minor victories, and even when Veradis and his s.h.i.+eld wall had entered the fray it had been hard, b.l.o.o.d.y work. The s.h.i.+eld wall had not been designed for enclosed s.p.a.ces and back-alley fighting. But eventually the rebels had been defeated and fled. Rhin had ordered her battlechief, Geraint, to give chase, and had asked Veradis to lend his support.

Better to crush them now, put an end to the leaders, than allow them to spread their poison. It will only fester and rear up again, she had said to him.

Veradis knew she was right. The stability of the realm meant peace and less bloodshed.

They reached a field of barley, trampling through the green unripened stalks. A wide street of hard-packed mud opened before them. Veradis heard the ba.s.s lowing of a herd of auroch in the distance. He gave his commands and the warriors' s.h.i.+elds snapped together, a concussive crack as they marched forwards, no one breaking stride. Veradis peered over the rim of his s.h.i.+eld. It was an improved design, oval instead of round, giving more protection to his head and ankles, while making it easier to stab his short sword around its edges. He'd spent much of the winter thinking on his s.h.i.+eld wall, considering strategies, strengths and weaknesses, seeing where injuries were most common, and the new s.h.i.+elds were one of a few innovations he had made.

They marched into the village, their iron-nailed boots thumping on the ground like a drum beating time. A narrow street angled away, and Veradis gave more orders. The back row of twelve men broke out of formation and establis.h.i.+ng a new compact wall, three men wide, four deep, who took this new street. This was how he'd learned to fight in the city streets smaller, more compact groups.

The tower reared over rooftops ahead of them, its unshuttered windows like dark eyes in its granite face. They are here somewhere, could not have slipped away in the night. He saw a flash of movement in one of the windows. Holed up in the tower, then.

A sound seeped into his awareness, more a vibration at first, travelling into his boots, up his legs. It grew louder by the heartbeat, and then a cloud of dust was roiling down the street towards them. He stood, gaped open mouthed for long moments before he realized what was happening.

'Auroch,' he bellowed, leaping to the side, pulling men with him.

The huge cattle stampeded down the street, swinging their long horns from huge, s.h.a.ggy-haired heads. Tall as giants, they were mountains of muscle and fur. The ground shook beneath their hooves.

Veradis slammed against a wall, other men with him, some cras.h.i.+ng through doors and shuttered windows. One of his warriors stumbled in the road. Veradis reached out a hand, but the auroch were already upon them. One moment the warrior was there, the next he was gone, blood splattering Veradis' face as a seething, stinking ma.s.s of cattle surged by, the thunder of it almost overwhelming.

And then they were past, stampeding down the street, out into the fields of barley. He called out to his men, his voice a croak choked by the dust, and he saw shapes scattered on the ground, knowing they were his sword-brothers and that many would never stand again.

For the first time in an age he felt a deep, mind-numbing fear fill him. The s.h.i.+eld wall had been dominant for so long in his memory, crus.h.i.+ng any opponent with overwhelming regularity, that to see it broken and scattered so easily was shocking. Not since the very first battle, when he had stood in the wall and faced a charge of draig-riding giants had the s.h.i.+eld wall been so easily destroyed.

Then he heard voices, battle-cries, saw shadowy figures emerging from the settling dust. The rebels, come to finish any survivors before we can regroup.

Somehow he was still holding his s.h.i.+eld. He drew his short sword. 'To me,' he managed, more a choking whisper than the battle-cry he was hoping for, then again, louder, the act dissolving the fear that had frozen him, transforming it into anger. His eagle-guard would not fall like this. He glimpsed a handful of his warriors moving towards him. Then the rebels were on them, screaming their defiance.

Veradis took a blow on his s.h.i.+eld that reverberated through his arm. He swept his s.h.i.+eld wide, opening his foe's defence, and plunged his sword into the man's belly, wrenching it free in a spray of blood. He snarled and kicked the collapsing man away, strode into the chaos, a hot rage filling his veins.

Bodies littered the ground, mounds of trampled meat. The rebels were all warriors, stalwarts of Eremon and Rath, not pitchfork-wielding farmers. They attacked with a controlled fury, knowing this was their last, and also their best, chance of defeating Rhin's notorious ally. Veradis looked around wildly, trying to find men to regroup the s.h.i.+eld wall, but they were fractured, embroiled in scores of solitary battles.

'So be it,' Veradis growled. They'll see there's more to us than just the s.h.i.+eld wall. He blocked an overhand swing that was about to take a stumbling comrade's head off, twisted and back-swung, opening his attacker's throat. He reached down, pulled his sword-brother to his feet and moved on. Smashed his s.h.i.+eld into an enemy's side, stabbed hard, his sword-tip breaking through a s.h.i.+rt of mail to slide across ribs. His opponent cried out, pulled away, was hacked down by another eagle-guard. A spear was thrust towards him; Veradis deflected it with his s.h.i.+eld, the spear-tip bursting through layers of ox-hide and beech, punching through a handspan above his wrist. He dropped his s.h.i.+eld, wrenching the spear from his opponent's hands, and hacked his blade down into the man's skull. Veradis switched his short sword to his left hand, drew his longsword and fought on.

A horn blew to his left, two short blasts, one long. He grinned fiercely. It was one of their signals: regroup. The eagle-guard that had left the s.h.i.+eld wall before the auroch stampede appeared from a side street nearby, a dozen men in formation, their s.h.i.+elds locked. He started cutting his way towards them.

Others did the same, merging into the wall, swelling it, and before Veradis reached them it had grown, six men wide, four rows deep. The resistance started to fall before it.

Other sounds emerged over the din of battle the thunder of hooves and the blowing of horns, growing rapidly louder.

Geraint and his warband. They must have heard us. Thank Elyon. He saw Geraint riding a black warhorse at the head of a host of mounted warriors. He skewered a rebel with his spear, let it go, drew his sword and started cutting down rebels as if they were stalks of wheat. It was a matter of heartbeats before the rebels were broken, fleeing in all directions. No one can stand with a s.h.i.+eld wall before them, cavalry behind. Veradis stood there, panting, both swords b.l.o.o.d.y.

'Well met,' he said to Geraint as Rhin's battlechief pulled his horse up beside him. The warrior leaned over and gripped Veradis' forearm.

'Think you might just have saved my life,' Veradis said to him.

'Good.' Geraint grinned. 'I've been meaning to return that favour.'

Dun Taras came into view as the road wound between two hills, the fortress' dark walls a brooding shadow against the countryside. Veradis rode beside Geraint, their warriors spread in a column behind them. A cl.u.s.ter of prisoners walked at the centre of the line, hands bound and heads bowed. Thirty men, survivors of the uprising, heading towards Rhin for her judgment.

Which is unlikely to be merciful, judging by her mood when I left Dun Taras.

Geraint, however, was in fine spirits, laughing and joking as they approached Dun Taras.

Veradis was in the grip of a dark mood, the deaths of his men weighing heavily upon him.

Thirty-eight men dead. And what honour in that death? Slain by overgrown cows. More men lost than in the battle of Domhain Pa.s.s, where we fought against a warband ten thousand strong.

He looked at the pouch hanging from his belt, filled with the draig teeth he had collected from a dozen of the fallen. Men who stood with me from the beginning, who stood against the draigs and giants of Tarbesh. Nathair's first battle, his first victory. Nathair's Fangs, we called ourselves. It was my fault. I should not have marched them into that village unprepared. I should have sent scouts first. I have become over-confident, arrogant, thinking my men and s.h.i.+eld wall are unbeatable. This proves we are not.

Rhin was waiting for them in Eremon's old chambers. Veradis remembered the room all too well; it had been where they had fought the old battlechief Rath and his s.h.i.+eldmen, where his friend Bos had died. He avoided looking at the flagstones where Bos had fallen, scrubbed of blood now, but there was still a faint outline, if you looked hard enough. Blood always leaves a stain.

'Well, Geraint, I can tell by your grin that my problems with rebels are ended,' Rhin said coolly. Her silver hair was braided with gold thread, spilling across one shoulder, the paleness of her skin enhanced by her sable gown.

'Yes, my Queen,' Geraint said. 'The rebellion is finished. None escaped a few hundred dead, and thirty prisoners await your justice.'

Rhin raised an eyebrow at that. 'Something to look forward to, then. Come, celebrate with me.' Veradis was handed a cup by a servant and was pleasantly surprised to see that it was a cup of wine, not the mead or ale that was so popular in this part of the world.

'To strong men that will always do my bidding,' Rhin said, lifting her cup, chuckling. Veradis wasn't sure he wanted to drink to that, but the wine smelt good and his throat was dry after their long ride.

Rhin enquired of the battle, shrewd as always, asking about tactics and the decisiveness of the conflict. How many dead on both sides, how many survivors? Were the leaders dead? Her eyes bored into him as Veradis told of the auroch stampede.

'Always adapt,' she said when he'd finished. 'War is wits, Veradis. Strength, courage, skill, these are all valuable a.s.sets in combat, but wits are what win a battle, and a war. Your s.h.i.+eld wall has served us well, but our enemy are not mindless animals. They will study, a.n.a.lyse, adapt. You must be one step ahead, always, or you will stagnate and be outwitted.'

'Aye, my lady,' Veradis said. This I have learned. 'And how go things here, my lady?'

She sighed wearily and rubbed at her temple. 'I am spending my life organizing, administrating and advocating between petty grievances, Veradis, and it is boring. I find myself in a position where I command four realms all of the west, in fact and it is tedious. There is a lot to do, and I am stuck here in Domhain, waiting for Conall to return to us.' She smiled ruefully. 'It would appear that I prefer to conquer than to rule!' She s.h.i.+fted in her seat, scowling. 'Not to mention that this chair is uncomfortable; no wonder Eremon killed himself.'

'I thought he was a.s.sa.s.sinated, my lady.'

'Yes, but we'll keep that between us. Took his own life is better, less likely to turn him into a martyr. A cowardly act, suicide. Couldn't face me.' She winked at him.

I would not like to face you as an enemy, either.

'And what would my orders be, my lady, now that the resistance against you is crushed?' I do not want to spend another moon here. The G.o.d-War is happening, out there, while I play at peace-keeping on the edge of the world.

'Getting a scratch in your boots?' Rhin asked.

Can she hear my thoughts?

'Aye,' he nodded.

'I feel the same,' Rhin said with a shrug. 'Once Conall returns I plan on leaving Domhain. Nathair is on my mind.'

'And mine too, my lady.'

'Of course he is. And there are other concerns I would attend. I sent a warband north, after this Corban and his companions the ones I had trouble with in Dun Vaner.' She pulled a sour face. 'I have not had any news from them, and I am impatient. So I will travel north. I would like you to accompany me, and we can see if I can reunite you with your King.'

'That would be good,' Veradis said. 'How do you know where the boy has gone?'

'He told me,' Rhin said. 'He came to Dun Vaner chasing after his sister. She was with Nathair, riding to Murias with him. I forget her name.'

'Cywen,' Veradis said, her face filling his mind as he spoke her name.

'That's the one. Her brother seemed to have a strong sense of family loyalty. Foolish child. It's an overrated quality in my opinion I've spent most of my life plotting how to kill off my kin, not rescue them.'

'So you've sent a warband after him?' Veradis asked. 'I'm surprised you have the men available, spread throughout four nations as you are.'

'I've spent many years raising my warbands in preparation for these days. Even so, you are right, things are a little stretched. I've had to send men who were stationed in Narvon. They should be at the border with Benoth soon.'

Booted feet echoed from the corridor; a guard entered.

'Lord Conall has returned, my lady.'

'Excellent,' Rhin said. 'Where is he?'

'His company approaches the gates as we speak, my lady.'

'Come, then,' Rhin said, rising. 'I could do with stretching these old legs.'

They found over three score warriors dismounting from horses in the courtyard beyond Dun Vaner's keep. Veradis knew in a heartbeat, from the averted faces and the stoop of shoulders, that Conall and his men had failed to capture Edana and Lorcan, Eremon's heir. Veradis saw Rafe dismount, the blond lad from Ardan, two hounds circling him. One jumped up at him, sniffing a pouch on his belt. He cuffed it good-naturedly and went to another horse and helped a grey-faced warrior dismount. The man looked close to collapse, a wide bandage strapped around his neck and shoulder. Spots of blood had leaked through.

'Braith?' Rhin cried out as she strode down the wide stone steps into the courtyard. She stroked the huntsman's face and for a moment it was as if the two of them were the only people in the courtyard.

'Get him to a healer,' Rhin snapped at Rafe. 'I'll be along as soon as I can,' she called over her shoulder.

Then Conall was there, his face set in proud lines.

'They got away,' he said.

'That much is obvious,' Rhin scowled. 'The how I will hear when we are somewhere more private. And I hope you can tell me something of the where.'

'I have a prisoner who may be able to help with that,' Conall said, stepping aside and pulling a man forward. He looked remarkably like Conall. Older, lacking the fire and mirth that seemed to war constantly for control of Conall's features, but definitely related. Serious grey eyes regarded Rhin.

'This is Halion. My brother, and Edana's first-sword.'

'Ahh,' Rhin smiled viciously. 'Your jaunt across half of Domhain may not have been entirely wasted, then.' She stood and stared at Halion a long moment, the warrior returning her gaze.

'Eremon's seed,' she laughed, 'all so proud.' Then she turned and marched back up the stairs towards the keep. 'Come on, then,' she snapped, 'bring him along and we'll see what we can salvage.'

Veradis leaned against a pillar of stone, watching as Rhin stirred a pot bubbling over a fire. Conall's brother Halion sat in a chair, his wrists tied to the arm-rests, a leather belt tightened about his chest, holding him secure.

'We could try the traditional method of questioning,' Rhin said as she unstrung a pouch from her belt, pulling some dried leaves from it and crumbling them into the pot. 'But I'm inclined to cut straight to the end of the hunt. With the traditional route you know, flaying, toe crus.h.i.+ng, hot irons, the removal of genitals, that kind of thing there is always so much blood. And screaming. It takes time.' She smiled grimly. 'I don't really have the time to waste. I don't like it here. I need to be elsewhere, so you need to tell me what you know, and you need to tell me now.'

Halion watched her, his face an unreadable mask.

I'm glad I'm not him.

Bitter fumes started to rise from the pot.

'I wouldn't stand too close,' Rhin warned Conall and Veradis, 'unless you wish to tell me your deepest secrets.'

Both men took a step back.

'Now then, take a deep breath,' Rhin said to Halion, taking the pot by its chain and holding it above Halion's lap. He held his breath before the fumes enshrouded him. He bucked in his chair, trying to break free. Two warriors stood behind, holding it in place. Halion shook his head from side to side, searching for an escape from the fumes, his arms rigid, his back arched. Eventually he had no choice; he took a shuddering breath, then another. Moments pa.s.sed and he slumped into the chair, tension seeping from his muscles.

'Good,' Rhin muttered. 'Now. Tell me your name.'

'Halion ben Eremon.' He looked surprised, then too relaxed to care. Rhin smiled.

'And whom do you love, above all others in these Banished Lands?'

'Conall ben Eremon, my brother.'

Conall took a step back, as if from a blow.

'And who is your lord?'

'I have no lord,' Halion corrected. 'I serve a lady; Edana ap Brenin. Queen of Ardan.'

Rhin scowled at that.

'Why are you asking him these questions?' Conall growled. 'How are they relevant?'

'I am establis.h.i.+ng that he is telling the truth that the drug has him fully.' She looked back to Halion. 'And where is Edana now?'

'At sea, I would imagine.'

'What are her plans?'