David Gemmell - The Ironhand's Daughter

They broke and ran.

Asmidir leapt at the Baron, his two-handed sword slashing towards the Baron's neck. The Baron blocked it with his shield and gave a return blow that crashed against Asmidir's shoulder-plate, dislodging it. The black man dropped to one knee and sent a wild cut that thundered against the Baron's calf, smashing his greave to shards and knocking him to the ground. Rolling to his left, the Baron clambered to his feet and threw aside his shield. Holding his own blade two-handed, he rushed the black man. 'You treacherous bastard!' he screamed.

Their swords clashed again and again. A blow from Asmidir smashed the links on the Baron's neck protector and slashed up to open his cheek. Blood streamed from the cut.

Suddenly weary, Leofric sat down and watched the duel. All around him men were dying, but no one attacked the slightly-built spectator who sat quietly with his hands hugging his knees.

Both men were strong and the fight continued at a savage pace. Asmidir was bleeding from wounds in both arms and a cut on his temple. The Baron blocked an overhead cut and, as Asmidir pressed in close, head-butted the black man, sending him staggering back. Dropping his sword, the Baron hurled himself at his half-stunned opponent and both men fell to the ground. The Baron drew his dagger and raised it high.

An arrow punched through his leather eye-patch, slicing deep into his brain. Leofric glanced to his right and saw the warrior queen, Sigarni, in armour of bright silver, a winged helm upon her head, a short hunting bow in her hand. The Baron gave a choking cry, and toppled from Asmidir.

Leofric stood and walked over to the black man, kneeling beside him. 'Are you all right?' he enquired.

'How is it that you live?' asked Asmidir, surprised.

Leofric shrugged. 'Forgot to draw my sword.' He helped Asmidir to his feet and the two men approached Sigarni.

Handing the bow to a dark-haired woman on her right, she surveyed the battlefield. There were still isolated pockets of fighting, but the battle was over.

She swung to Leofric and Asmidir introduced them. 'You have a charmed life, Leofric,' she said.

'Thousands of men died today, and you have not even been scratched.'

'I'm not much of a soldier,' he said. 'I've been offered a teaching post at the capital's University. With your leave, I think I'll accept it.'

She nodded. 'There has been enough blood-letting today. Go from here, Leofric, ride south to your King. Tell him the truth about all that happened here. I fear it will make little difference.'

'It won't, lady. He'll come with an army ten times the size of the one you defeated here. It will never end.'

Stepping forward, she placed her hands upon his shoulders and brought her face close to his. 'Look into my eyes, Leofric, and hear me well. It will end, for I will end it. Tell him these words from Sigarni, the Queen of the North: Advance against me and I will destroy you. I will bring fire and death into your kingdom, and I will snatch you from your throne and throw your body to the dogs.'

Sigarni turned away from him and walked down the hillside. Asmidir took the young man's arm and led him down into the pass. They found a horse and Leofric climbed into the saddle. 'Your strategy was masterful,' he said. 'I congratulate you.'

Asmidir smiled. 'Not my strategy, boy. Hers. All war is based on deception and she learned that lesson well. Go in peace, Leofric, and be sure never to cross my path again.'

'I wish you well, Asmidir,' said the young man, 'but I fear there will be no happy ending here.'

'The man who ripped the heart from my country is dead. That is a good enough ending for today. Now ride!'

Leofric touched spurs to the stallion and cantered from the battlefield.

High in the skies above, the crows were already gathering for the feast.

Bakris was dragged before Sigarni. 'They captured me,' he said, 'but I told them nothing.'

Sigarni sighed. 'You told them everything that you were supposed to,' she said. 'Kollarin warned me that you were a treacherous cur, who would sell your people for a handful of gold. But know this, Bakris, your treachery helped us. Without it the Baron might have sent out more scouts, and found our hidden forces. As the rope settles around your neck, think on that. Now get him from my sight - and hang him from the nearest tree!'

Fell sat quietly with his back against the tree-trunk, Obrin and Torgan beside him. 'It was a good day,' he said. 'We broke them. By God, we broke them!'

'Aye,' said Obrin softly, his eyes drawn to the black-feathered arrow jutting from Fell's chest.

The clansman's face was pale, there were dark rings beneath his eyes, and his lips had a bluish tinge that Obrin had seen all too often before.

'Fetch Sigarni,' Obrin told Torgan. The Farlain leader nodded, and loped away. 'Maybe if I removed the arrow you would have a chance,' said Obrin, but Fell shook his head.

'I can feel the life draining from me. Nothing will stop it now. We won, though, didn't we?'

'Aye, we won."

Fell looked up at the sky and watched the crows swooping and diving. It was a beautiful day. High Druin wore a crown of clouds and the sun was bright behind them.

'It is a Highland custom,' said Fell, 'that a man's son sends him on the swans' path. I have no children of my blood, Obrin.' He smiled. 'But I used the Cormaach to save you, and that means you are my son. I want my best bow beside me, and two knives. Some bread and some wine should be wrapped in leaves. Lastly, two coins should be placed ... upon my eyes. The coins are for the gatekeeper, who will usher me through. Will you do this for me?'

'I will, man.'

'I want to be buried on the flanks of High Druin. Sigarni will know where. I want to sleep for ever beneath the spot where we became lovers. And if I must walk as a spirit, and be chained to any part of the land, it should be there.'

'God's eyes, Fell, I thought we had made it through together. One cursed archer hiding in the undergrowth.'

'It's done now. It cannot be undone. I have often said that a man should never dwell on regrets, but I find that hard to maintain now, Obrin. You will need a sword-bearer at my funeral. Choose a good one.'

'I shall.'

Fell closed his eyes. 'She's a wonder, isn't she? A hill-top defended by women. Who would have considered it?'

'Aye, she's a wonder, Fell. She'll be here soon. Hang on, man.'

'I don't think I can. I can hear the cry of gulls. Can you?'

'No, just the crows.'

Fell opened his eyes and looked past Obrin. He smiled, as if in greeting, but when Obrin glanced back there was no one there. 'Come to walk with me, you old drunkard?' said Fell. 'Ah, but it is good to see you, man. Give me your hand, for my strength is all but gone.'

Fell reached out, then his hand fell limply into his lap and his head sagged back against the tree. Obrin leaned in and closed Fell's eyes. 'You were a fine man,' he said, 'and a true friend.

I hope you find what you deserve.'

Obrin rose and turned towards the battlefield as Sigarni came running, with Torgan alongside her.

She sped past Obrin and knelt by Fell's body. Torgan paused beside Obrin and the two men moved away to a respectful distance.

Sigarni had knelt down at Fell's side. She was holding his hand, and speaking to him. Obrin saw the tears on her face and, taking Torgan's arm, drew the Farlain warrior away from the scene. 'You ought to get that wound stitched,' said Obrin, pointing to the congealed blood on Torgan's side.

'It'll mend,' said the Highlander. 'A shame he had no sons to speak his name on High Druin.'

I'll do that,' said Obrin.

'Ah yes, the Cormaach. I had forgotten. Do you know the ritual?'

'I can learn it.'

'I would be proud to teach you,' said Torgan. 'And, if you choose, I will stand beside you on High Druin as Fell's sword-bearer.'