David Gemmel - The Hawk Eternal

Holding her hair, he led her past the bodies and out to the plain.

Sigarni was seated on a high-backed saddle placed before a small fire. She was drinking wine from a copper goblet and chatting to three of her lancers. She glanced up as Obrin hurled the woman to the ground at her feet.

“A surprise, my lady,” said Obrin. “She was with the Aenir, I’m told.”

Sigarni stood and pulled her gently to her feet. “How are you, Morgase?” she asked.

The raven-haired woman shrugged. “As you see me. Alone.”

“I know how that feels,” said Sigarni. “Accept that the war is over, and you may return with us. I shall restore you to your father’s lands.”

“In return for what? My promise of allegiance? My mother’s soul would scream out against it. You saw my father slain, my mother raped. Kill me, Sigarni-or I will haunt you to your grave!”

Obrin’s sword hissed from its scabbard. “This once I’ll agree with the bitch!” he said. “Give the word, my lady.”

Sigarni shook her head. “Fetch her a horse. Let her ride where she will.”

Two soldiers took hold of Morgase and led her away. Twisting in their grip, she shouted out, “I will find a way back, Sigarni. And then you will pay!”

“Your decision burdens my spirit,” said Obrin. “She is evil, Sigarni. There is no good in her.”

“There is little good in any of us. We live and we die by the grace of God. A great wrong was done to her. It twisted her mind-as once such a deed twisted mine.”

By dusk the druids had come out from hiding in the woods around the Folly and had begun to administer to the wounded clansmen. Maggrig, ten stitches in his side and twelve more in his thigh, sat on a boulder staring at the fluttering crows who were leaping and squawking over the stripped bodies of the slain.

The clan dead had been carried out of the Folly and laid together on the plain. A cairn would be built tomorrow. So many dead. Of the eight hundred Pallides only two hundred survived, many of these with grievous wounds. More than a thousand Farlain warriors had died, and another four hundred from the Loda and Dunilds. By a twist of fate both leaders had survived, fighting at the last back-to-back.

Maggrig sighed. The place looked like a charnel house.

Leofas, his wounds stitched and bandaged, joined him at the boulder. “Well, we won,” he said.

“Yes. And we old ones survive. So many young men gone to dust, and we old bulls sit here and breathe free air.”

Leofas shrugged. “Aye, but we are a canny pair.”

Maggrig grinned. “Have you seen Caswallon?”

“No. Come on, let’s seek out the Queen. The least we can do is thank her.”

Leofas helped Maggrig to his feet and the two made their way through the bodies. The crows, bellies full and heavy with meat, hopped out of their way, too laden to fly.

At the mouth of the pass, beyond the tethered mounts, were the campfires of Sigarni’s lancers, set in a circle at the center of which sat the Queen and her captains.

Sigarni rose as the clansmen approached. “Pour wine for them, Obrin,” she told her captain.

Maggrig thrust out his hand. “Thank you, my lady. You have saved my people.”

“I am glad we were here in time. I owe much to Redhawk, and it was a relief to part-settle the score.”

“Where is Caswallon?” asked Maggrig.

“I know not,” said the Queen. “He asked us to meet him at the island of Vallon.”

Two riders brought high-backed saddles that they placed on the ground for the clansmen. “Be seated,” said Sigarni. I wish to meet one of your clansmen; he saved my life today.”

“I think it will be hard to find one clansman,” said Leofas.

“Not this one. He has a blaze of white hair above his left eye and the eye itself is full of blood.”

“I know him,” said Leofas. “If he lives I will send him to you.”

Obrin brought mulled wine and they drank in silence for a while.

The following morning, as work began on the cairn, most of the lancers had returned home through the Gate that had appeared in a blaze of light on the plain the night before. Sigarni remained behind with twenty men, including Obrin.

Leofas had found Gaelen sitting hand in hand with the Haesten girl in the woods skirting the mountains. “Well met, young Gaelen,” he said.

Gaelen rose, introducing Lara to the older man.

Leofas bowed. “I have seen you before, girl, but never prettier than now.”

“Thank you. I am glad you survived,” said Lara.

“We might not have done, had you not appeared with your archers.”

“A freak of chance,” Lara told him. “We struck north to avoid the Aenir, and that meant we had to pass the Folly. How is it that the Queen arrived? Gaelen told me she was due at Axta Glen, and that’s a day’s ride from here.”

Leofas shrugged. “I don’t know, neither does the Queen. Caswallon’s the man to answer the riddle. Now get a move on, boy, the Queen wishes to see you. But tell me, where is Layne?”

Gaelen looked into the old man’s eyes, but could find no words. The smile faded from Leofas’s face, and he looked suddenly so very old.

The white-bearded warrior sighed. “So many dead,” he whispered. “Tell me how it happened.” Gaelen did so, and could find no way to disguise the horror of Layne’s passing. Leofas listened in silence, then turned away and walked off alone toward the trees.

Gaelen watched him, and felt the comforting touch of Lara’s hand. “Come,” she said, “the Queen wishes to see you.”

He nodded and together they approached the Queen’s camp. Sigarni strode out to meet him, hand outstretched. “Good to see you alive, my lad! There are a few questions I have for you.”

Gaelen bowed, introducing Lara. The Queen smiled warmly at the clanswoman. “Now, what were you doing risking yourself to save me?” she asked, turning on Gaelen, her grey eyes glinting with humor. “I expect that from my lancers, but not from strangers.”

“I owe you my life,” said Gaelen simply.

“For coming here with my lancers, you mean?”

“No, lady. But I cannot speak of it. Forgive me.”

“More secrets of the enchanted realm? You sound like Redhawk. All right, Gaelen, I shall not press you. How can I reward you for your action?”

Gaelen stared at her, remembering the day she had saved them from the beast. In that instant he knew where his road must lead. Dropping to one knee before the warrior Queen, he said, “Let me serve you, my lady. Now and forever.”

If Sigarni was surprised she did not show it. “You will have to leave this realm,” said the Queen, “and fight beside me in a war that is not of your making. Do you desire this?”

“I do, my Queen. More than anything. I love this land, but I have seen my friends slaughtered, their homes burnt, and their children massacred.”

“Then rise, for my friends do not kneel before me; they walk beside me. Will your lady come too?” she asked, turning to Lara.

Gaelen rose and took her hand. “Will you?”

“Where else would I go?” she answered.

“I love you,” he whispered, pulling her to him.

The Queen moved away from them then, joining Obrin at the fire.

With a high cairn now covering the clan dead, Leofas led the survivors back to Attafoss. Despite the victory the men were heavy of heart. Their loved ones were lost in the past, their friends dead in the present. Maggrig rode beside Sigarni, while Gaelen and Lara joined Lennox, Onic, Agwaine, and Gwalchmai at the head of the column.

Gaelen was the only one of the surviving Beast Slayers to have emerged unscathed from the battle. Lennox carried a score of stitches, while Gwalchmai had taken a spear in the shoulder. Agwaine had been stabbed in the leg and he walked with a painful limp.