John Gwynne - Malice

The mist was evaporating now, the bodies of horses and men scattered about the wains in bloody ruin, the stream flowing a sickly pink. Giants were clustered about a wain, hacking at the crates piled upon it. Suddenly a great cry rose up from them, one reaching into the crate, pulling something out and brandishing it in the air. It glinted in the sunlight.

Maquin hissed. ‘The starstone axe.’

‘What? How?’ Kastell gasped.

‘Damned if I know,’ Maquin said.

A strange-sounding horn blast rose from the dell, and a cold shaft of fear spiked into Kastell’s gut. They had been seen: at least a score of the Hunen breaking into a loping run up the mountain track after them.

Kastell exchanged a glance with Maquin and they wheeled their horses and spurred them up the path.

‘Careful!’ Maquin shouted over the drum of their horses’ hooves. ‘If we press for the gallop our mounts will be blowing before highsun. This pace is faster than the Hunen can manage, so stick to it, put some distance between us and them, hope they give up the chase.’

‘But, you said. .’

‘I know what I said, boy,’ Maquin growled back.

Kastell breathed deep, holding the panic at bay and focused on the track in front of him.

They rode in silence, the only sound the drumming of hooves and the blasts of air blowing from the horses’ nostrils. As the sun passed its highest point they splashed into a stream that ran across their path. They reined in their horses and climbed out of their saddles, filling their water skins, giving the horses a chance to drink and rest.

Maquin drank deeply. He stood staring at the road behind them, then suddenly sprang towards his horse.

‘On your feet, the Hunen are coming.’

The old warrior was not someone to be argued with, particularly as he appeared now, with giant’s blood drying black on his hair and face. Kastell looked towards the horizon and saw a mass of lumbering shapes come into view. Quickly he mounted up, sweat drying salt-white in his horse’s coat and set off again.

Their horses settled into a steady canter on the wide track. Occasionally Kastell glanced over his shoulder, sometimes catching a flicker of movement at the edge of his vision. As the sun sank into the horizon before them, their shadows stretching far behind, Maquin called another halt.

‘How was the axe on that wain?’ Kastell said.

‘Stolen by Aguila’s employer, is my guess,’ Maquin shrugged.

‘But the Hunen — how did they know it was there?’

‘I don’t know, lad. Foul magic?’ He shrugged.

‘How did we ever beat them?’ Kastell asked.

‘We?’

‘Mankind. How did we ever beat the giants?’ The black-haired giant that had almost killed Maquin stood clear in his mind’s eye.

‘Hard to believe, eh,’ Maquin said. ‘Truth be told, although the old tales tell of great deeds of valour, I suspect it came down to numbers. There were more of us than them. That and the pride of the giants. They looked down on us, never considering us a real danger. There’s a lesson there. Even if you’re as strong and fierce as a giant, never underestimate a foe.’ He hawked and spat. ‘So, lad, you going to join the Gadrai now?’

Kastell looked at him, confused.

‘You killed a giant. I’ll speak as witness. I saw you do it with my own eyes.’

Kastell snorted. ‘Giantess,’ he corrected. ‘And if they give a place to anyone in the Gadrai, it should probably go to my horse.’ He patted its trembling flank. ‘It was him that killed the giant, though you made sure of it.’

‘Just didn’t want her getting back up,’ Maquin said with a quick smile. ‘Took grit, what you did, lad. And you saved my life. I won’t be forgetting that.’

Kastell looked away, embarrassed. ‘What do you think our chances are?’

Maquin was silent a long while. ‘I do not think they’ll follow us much past the Rhenus. If we can cross the river into Isiltir, they will likely give up the chase. As they have followed us this far I doubt they will stop before then.’

‘But we have travelled five days since the Rhenus,’ Kastell said, trying to keep the fear from his voice.

‘Aye, true enough; but that was at a different speed, with wains setting the pace. Already we have crossed ground that it took almost two days to cover with the wains.’ He pulled a face. ‘But the horses are tiring; we have ridden them too hard. We must travel through the night if there is to be a chance of living till the morrow, but it will be slower going. My guess is that, if the Hunen have not caught us by highsun tomorrow, we will be in sight of the river. If we travel through the night and if the horses have not died beneath us.’

‘What good is sleep if it means a spear up your arse?’ said Kastell. Maquin nodded grimly.

They ate some salted meat, washing it down with water.

‘Mount up. Let’s see if we can live to see the sun rise.’

The night passed in a daze for Kastell, the horses slowing to an exhausted walk for most of it. He dozed fitfully many times, only to jerk awake as he started to slip from the saddle, and more than once he put out a hand to stop the same happening to Maquin. He thanked Elyon in mumbled prayers through the night for keeping the sky clear, so that the moon and stars shone bright, giving light enough to see the mountain track. Dawn came unnoticed, the sky greying, turning a deep blue before they realized the night was over. Maquin would not let them stop yet, though. A thick mist covered the meadows below, forming a grey mantle up to the feet of the forest. Maquin eyed it suspiciously and kept his mount moving doggedly forward.

The sun was hot on their backs, the mist below burned away when they eventually did stop, almost falling from their saddles. Kastell tried to check for followers, but the sun was low in the sky, and blinded him as he squinted back along the mountain path.

‘Drink,’ Maquin muttered, pouring some water into a cupped hand and giving it to his horse.

Kastell checked behind him again. Black forms materialized out of the bright sun, closer, much closer than he had thought possible. He grabbed Maquin’s arm, squawking a warning.

‘Ride!’ Maquin yelled and shoved Kastell towards his horse.

They kicked their mounts mercilessly, urging them into full gallop, all thoughts of pacing lost as death closed in behind them. Panic rose bubbling in Kastell and he shouted at his mount, urging it on. They crested a ridge and he saw a flash in the distance, the Rhenus curling away from the mountains, then the track fell into a shallow dip before another ridge and the river disappeared. Something screamed behind him, followed by a crash. He twisted in his saddle, saw Maquin lying on the ground, his horse behind him, its foreleg twisted impossibly beneath it. He turned his mount, rode back to Maquin, who was scrambling to his feet, dirt and blood caking one side of his face. One look at his mount showed it would not be getting up.

‘His leg’s broken,’ said Maquin. Kastell offered his hand and Maquin grabbed it, swinging into the saddle behind Kastell. His horse danced on the spot, its legs trembling. Kastell cursed and kicked and the horse began to move, but not much faster than a walk. They travelled only a few paces, then Maquin swore and slipped to the ground.

‘Ride, boy,’ he said to Kastell. ‘If one of us makes it, it will be something.’ Kastell stared silently back at him. ‘Ride on, lad,’ Maquin grunted as he calmly strapped his helmet on. ‘Go now ,’ Maquin urged, ‘’fore it’s too late for you as well. Did you see the river?’ Kastell nodded. ‘With the time I buy you here, there is still hope. There is no shame in this, lad. Live .’