Gavin Smith - The Age of Scorpio

Teardrop came crawling along the ditch. Britha risked a peep over the top. The line of hills seemed closer now. Three of the hills were topped with wood-walled forts surrounded by defensive ditches: the Crown of Andraste. Two were besieged; the third had fallen last night. The gentle breeze brought the screams of the defenders of the fallen hill fort, their torturous executions a portent for the other two garrisons.

Teardrop sat down next to her, keeping his head well below the lip of the ditch.

‘What are we doing here?’ Britha asked

‘If we are to fight Bress, we will need help.’

‘Those forts are about to fall; these people cannot help us.’

‘They were strong enough to last this long.’ But Teardrop didn’t sound like he believed it himself. ‘We will see if we can make it to the forts during the night.’

‘And then we will be trapped in there like the defenders until these people break the gates or come over the wall and kill us all.’

‘Do you have a better idea?’ Suddenly an angry Fachtna was right next to her. ‘Can you summon an army of dead heroes to fight with us?’ He was right: she had nothing. ‘It’s very easy to come up with reasons not to act.’

It had started to rain heavily, making the dark night darker and colder. The torches and the campfires were dimmed but did not go out. Fire arrows still left arcs of light in the night sky as they flew into the hill forts. The thatched roof of more than one roundhouse was ablaze behind the forts’ walls. They could hear the cries of the defenders, screams of anger or pain. The attacking Corpse People were strangely quiet, however.

They kept their heads down and approached where they saw the fewest attackers. They were the least of the Corpse People’s problems. After all, who would be stupid enough to join the besieged during a siege? The problem was that the Atrebates inside the walls had no reason to trust them and every reason to think that anyone wanting to gain entrance was part of a ruse.

This was how they found themselves running along the second-innermost defensive ditch. Those Corpse People they had encountered had ignored them, though more than one had glanced in their direction, wondering who the warriors and the dryw not covered in lime were, but then they knew that Crom Dhubh had other allies in the south.

Teardrop skidded to a halt and sank into a crouch. Fachtna stopped and backed towards him, keeping an eye out all around. Tangwen did likewise, an arrow nocked, though she did not like using her bow in the rain.

‘This is pointless,’ Teardrop said. ‘They will not let us in during this.’ Fachtna said nothing. Despite what he had said earlier, he had to agree with Teardrop. Had he been a defender he would not have let them in. ‘We have to retreat, hide and then come back when there is a lull and treat with those inside.’

‘Ware!’ was all Tangwen had time to say. The Corpse warrior did not even cry out as Tangwen’s arrow took him in the chest, the arrowhead easily penetrating his boiled leather breastplate and silencing his heart. The enemy warrior slumped to the ground and slid to the bottom of the ditch in the mud.

Realising that Britha and her companions were not allies, more warriors were running down the muddy slope towards them. Tangwen was nocking, drawing and loosing arrows as quickly as she could. Fachtna raised his shield high and swung his sword low. He took a blow on the shield but the shimmering sword blade sliced through the skin, flesh, muscle and bone of his attackers’ legs. More of the Corpse People charged him. Almost every blow of his sword killed or incapacitated one of them.

Orange flame blossomed to the east where they knew the main gate was. There were shouts of victory and cries from the wounded. The air was rent with the sound of bellowing. Britha recognised the sound. It was the roaring of an angry and pained bear, a large one by the sound of it.

‘The Crown falls!’ Teardrop cried.

Britha grabbed him. ‘Come on!’ Pulling him with her, she started running towards the gate.

They killed any who got too close as they ran, but now all the Corpse People knew they were not friends. Britha had taken an arrow in her arm, but after snapping off the haft she found she was able to ignore the pain. Fachtna was running and killing with a spearhead in his leg and an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. More and more Corpse People, eerily quiet, were turning to attack them, charging down into the ditch. As they ran around a bend they could see the flames from the burning gate. It seemed the fort was about to fall. The defenders and attackers were frenetic violent shadows against the orange glow.

The four skidded to a halt as one of the largest shadows rose up onto its hind legs and roared in pain and fury. Fachtna spat and made the sign against evil. The others just stood and stared. It was the largest bear that Britha had ever seen, fully twenty-five feet tall. Its Otherworldly heritage was obvious in the white of its fur and the red of its eyes, which seemed to glow in the firelight. The red on its paws and maw were more likely from the blood of its victims than signs of Otherworld origins. Parts of its flesh were covered in a crusty, almost spiked, stone-like material, but the most terrifying thing about it were the six animated tendrils that grew out of its back. As they watched, the tendrils dragged screaming defenders from the wall and crushed them, or brought them to the bear’s paws for the creature to tear apart, or offered them to the bear’s maw for its huge teeth to shred. Britha was both frightened and offended by this violation of nature.

Arrows, sling stones and casting spears filled the air, studding the creature’s white fur, but it ignored them as it lumbered on its rear legs towards the gate. Britha was running, a cold anger controlling her movements. She sprinted up to the top of the bank closest to the wooden wall. The track that led to the gate zigzagged between the defensive banks along the ditches that divided them to make it more difficult for attacking forces. The bear was on that track. But on its hind legs it towered about ten feet above the bank that Britha was sprinting along. She was oblivious to the arrows and casting spears from both defenders and attackers flying past her. She was unaware of Fachtna running after her, killing anyone who got close. She was unaware of Tangwen putting arrows into those that Fachtna could not deal with. She was focused on running and whispering to the demon that lived in her spear, feeling its heat through the haft.

Britha leaped with a power she had never known she had. She curled her legs up underneath her as she sailed though the night air and the pouring rain, almost untouched by the hail of spears and arrows. She didn’t even feel the defender’s arrow as it pierced her leg. The bear turned ponderously, some instinct warning it. She screamed as she stabbed the spear two-handed through the creature’s skull. The weapon bit, cracked armoured skull and was forced by nearly inhuman strength into the creature’s brain, where unseen branches of metal shot out from the spearhead. Britha stood for a moment on the creature’s shoulder, then twisted the spear and tore it out in an explosion of gore that spattered her frenzied features. The head of the spear was still waving tendrils of metal, the spearhead slowly reforming to a point. Britha turned and leaped off the bear as it started to topple.

The Corpse People ran as the massive malformed creature toppled to the ground with a resounding thud in an explosion of mud. Britha landed easily on the soft ground, knees bent to take the impact. Teardrop stalked to the top of the second ridge in the knowledge that he had a role to play now. He sent the magic of fear ahead of him through the air despite the cost. The Corpse People recoiled, though he felt the protection that had been given to them by Crom Dhubh.