Hallow wood, p.8
Hallow Wood, page 8
part #4 of The Furyck Saga Series
‘Of course,’ Rexon nodded, turning to his men. ‘Torman! Go and find Alvida and Pria. Send them to the hall. Wake my wife too. We’ll need to find beds for the queen and her family.’ He bowed to Bayla, who nodded back stiffly.
‘And some wine, I think,’ Karsten added. ‘I think we’re all going to need some wine.’
Eadmund kissed his sleeping son’s tiny head. He smelled good in a way that he couldn’t explain. Like a puppy. Like a field of flowers after the rain. A smell that was so innocent. So new.
Smiling sadly, he stepped away from Sigmund’s woven basket and walked back into his chamber, hoping he could keep him safe.
Knowing he had to.
‘You’re leaving already?’ Evaine panicked, watching from the bed as Eadmund tied his swordbelt around his waist and reached for his cloak, throwing it quickly over his shoulders, wishing he’d thought to dry it by the fire.
He nodded, bending towards her, taking her soft face in his rough, smoky hands. ‘Yes. Time to give Thorgils a break. I didn’t mean to take this long.’
‘Then maybe you can stay longer? At least until the sun comes up?’ Evaine pushed herself up, sneaking her arms around his waist. They reached so much further than they used to. Eadmund was half the size he had been a year ago. ‘Don’t go yet. Not yet. Come back to bed.’
Eadmund kissed Evaine slowly, feeling the intense pull of her chip away at his resolve. ‘I have to go. And you have to stay here. Keep Sigmund safe for me. I’ll be back soon, I promise.’ And easing her out of his arms, he turned towards the door.
Evaine watched him go, feeling her discomfort intensify. She didn’t want to leave Eadmund, but if she didn’t, she worried what would become of her if Jael Furyck ever returned.
Jael bent over, hands on her thighs, sucking in a long, cold breath.
It had been an arduous climb, but the path had been surprisingly solid underfoot, and they hadn’t encountered many problems, nor, thankfully, lost any men, which was surprising considering that it had been so dark.
Dawn was stirring, she could tell, watching as the sky lightened above the horizon, and they had to get moving. ‘Eat! Drink something quickly, then we walk!’ she called, standing up, rubbing her frozen hands together. She thought of Aleksander, hoping that the wind was with him. That he would arrive at the fort in time.
That they both would.
‘Do you smell that?’ Beorn wondered, peering around in the darkness.
Jael sniffed the air, shaking her head. ‘No.’
‘Sure I can smell smoke,’ Beorn mumbled, digging into his leather satchel for a wedge of cheese.
‘Smoke?’ Jael smiled, sniffing again. ‘That’s good.’
Boom!
The Alekkans swung their enormous wooden ram into the gates over and over again.
Boom!
The noise shook the fort, undoing the Osslander’s confidence with each loud, echoing sound. For every Alekkan that fell off the ladders, scalded, on fire, and screaming, two more were ready to take their place.
The day had begun, and it was grey and cold, full of wind and rain, and the men on the ramparts glared up at the sky, weary and irritable.
‘Find me more arrows,’ Eadmund grumbled to Bram, wanting to keep his voice low. ‘There must be more. Can you pull them out of the men who fell inside the fort?’
‘Already have, and there aren’t. Any more arrows, that is,’ Bram sighed. ‘We’re just going to have to keep trying to scald them to death.’
‘Or burn them?’ Thorgils suggested as the ram hit the gates again. He cringed, sick of the deafening sound. ‘We can tip the braziers onto them. We can bring torches. Anything with a flame.’
‘Do it,’ Eadmund urged. ‘Bram, you go too. Gather whatever you can find. Thorgils, you need to get the men together in front of the gates. Get them ready. Build up the barricades. Prepare for a breach.’
Thorgils nodded, working his jaw, and clapping Bram on the shoulder, he followed his uncle to the stairs.
Boom!
Their enemies were working under cover. Eadmund could see that in the flames that burned on the ground in front of the gates. A giant, hide-covered shield wall was in place, protecting the rammers from every side, from whatever they tried to throw on them.
‘Spears!’ Eadmund shouted at Torstan who was edging his way towards him. ‘Bring me some spears!’
7
As soon as a house had been found for the Dragos’, and Berard was tucked into a bed, fussed over by the two old healers, Karsten and Haegen took Hanna to the hall to speak to Rexon. They both insisted that she be the one to explain about the book and The Following, which had surprised her and she was nervous to begin with. The Lord of Saala had listened intently and patiently, though, and Hanna became more confident, strengthening her voice as she sat at the table, clasping her hands around a welcome cup of ale.
Saala’s hall was full of industrious noise and appetising smells, and Hanna’s stomach growled in anticipation of the hot breakfast that was on its way.
‘Do you think this Following will come here?’ Rexon wondered quietly.
‘They will, yes,’ Hanna said. ‘They want to control everyone. Every part of Osterland. Their goal is the total destruction of us all. Of everything that lives.’
Being a man with a newborn son, a wife he loved dearly, and a village of people he was tasked with protecting, that news chilled Rexon to the bone.
‘Perhaps your people will be safer in Andala?’ Hanna suggested, sensing his concern. ‘From memory, it has an enormous fort.’
‘And that’s where you’ll head next?’ Rexon asked, pushing a bowl of hazelnuts towards Hanna.
‘We have to,’ Karsten said, reaching over to grab a handful of nuts. ‘If we’re going to take back Hest, we’ll need an army behind us.’
Haegen blinked in surprise. ‘You think that Axl Furyck will make an alliance with us to take back our kingdom? After how we treated him? After everything that’s happened between Brekka and Hest?’
Karsten turned to glare at his brother. ‘You don’t think Axl Furyck wants to kill Jaeger? That he’s not dreaming about ripping out his throat?’ He shook his head, exhausted and impatient. ‘It’s probably all he’s thinking about. Night and day! Imagining what Jaeger did to his woman. Seeing her lying in his bed with his big hands all over her!’ Karsten ignored the surprised rise of Haegen’s eyebrows as he turned his head to the fire, staring at the flames. ‘I can promise you, Brother, Axl Furyck will stop at nothing to help us kill Jaeger.’
Boom!
Morac felt his skin crawl as he watched Thorgils bark at the men gathered behind the barricades. They had hammered stakes of every shape and size into the ground, pushing them against the shuddering, wooden gates. He thought of Eirik, remembering how hard they had worked to strengthen those old gates over the years. Eirik had always worried that they weren’t strong enough.
And now they would find out.
Morac shook his head and turned away, reminded of the secret door. They had worked hard on that too, keeping it hidden from everyone, lest its presence be revealed. Knowledge of that entrance would undermine their safety, Eirik had insisted. It was an option only to be used in the direst of situations.
He had not even trusted Eadmund with the secret.
Morac felt a flush of guilt. Eirik had made him promise that when it was time, and if he couldn’t, Morac would be the one to reveal it to Eadmund. He would help him escape.
Boom!
Clenching his hands, Morac hurried back to the hall. His things were packed, and now he just had to wake Evaine and prepare her to leave.
Toki shook Ivaar awake. ‘We need to move! It’s morning! We need to move. Now!’
He sounded worried, Ivaar thought, rubbing his eyes, surprised that he’d managed to sleep at all. Struggling to his feet, he shivered, his wet tunic clinging to him under a heavy mail shirt. ‘Alright, alright, we can leave. Calm down.’ He held up a hand, trying to placate Toki, who was a jerking, shaking mess before him.
Toki was not placated. ‘Now!’ he growled. ‘We need to leave now! My brothers will kill us if we’re not in the fort soon. We should have been at that door by now. We need to go!’
Ivaar turned to his rising men. ‘Get yourselves together! Gather your things! We march to the fort now!’ He took a deep breath, realising that as much as he had wanted to delay Toki’s attack on the fort, he had no choice but to lead him there now.
He had no choice but to help the Arnessons take his throne.
Jael’s feet were ready for a warm fire. They had left the boggy ground behind hours ago, and they’d been clambering up, down, and around increasingly rocky terrain as they headed for the rear of the fort.
No one had spoken in hours, and because of the silence, Jael felt as though she was completely alone. They were all too tired to talk, and their progress felt slow as their energy waned, but it was better to be well on their way to the fort, rather than only just waking up down in the cove.
Still, Jael knew where they were, and she knew that they still had a long way to go. ‘Keep going!’ she called hoarsely, turning around to bellow at her men, eager to make up time.
‘Again!’ Borg roared, a wide grin stretching his scarred face. ‘Listen to that cracking! Again!’
Rolan was next to him, exhausted but relieved. They had been hammering at the gates all night long, and he could hear the cracking too. It was the first sign that they were making progress. And he could tell that the Osslanders were getting nervous. The arrows had stopped, and it had been some time since any liquids had been poured from the ramparts. Rolan smiled, knowing that they were likely preparing to be breached. ‘Be ready to charge when the gates break!’ he cried. ‘They’ll be waiting for us! We’ll need a shield wall as soon as we’re in! Be ready, men!’
Eadmund could hear the cracking of the gates as he hurried to the stairs, sword drawn, his heart pounding against his old mail shirt.
Morning was here, and so was the enemy.
‘Do you have your things ready?’ Morac whispered urgently, gripping Evaine’s arm. ‘It’s time. We must go. Now!’
Evaine pulled away from him. He was hurting her.
Frustrated by her reluctance, Morac bent forward, trying to get her to see reason. ‘Morana has seen what will come if we do not leave, Evaine. We must trust her. You will see Eadmund again, but for now, neither one of us is safe here. We need to get away from Oss. Quickly!’
Evaine sighed reluctantly, trying to move away from him. ‘Alright! I’ll get Tanja to wake Sigmund.’
‘What? No!’ Morac hissed, shaking his head. ‘We cannot bring the baby. We must slip away. A crying baby and a whimpering girl will not help us do that!’
‘But,’ Evaine protested, frowning at her father, ‘I need to take him. Eadmund will come for us if I take him!’
‘Eadmund will come for you because you are soul bound,’ Morac reminded her, glancing up and down the corridor. They were hidden behind the green curtain. Everyone had left their beds early, congregating in the hall, and they were alone. ‘He will have no choice. Now, hurry!’ He could hear the booming of the battering ram. The urgent voices. The panic.
The shattering of wood.
Eadmund heard the roar of victory as one of the gates broke, the battering ram bursting in through a well-earned hole. The broken gate jerked forward, but the wooden beam securing both gates held it in place. ‘Archers!’ he cried, standing behind a row of shields. ‘Nock!’
The ram crashed into the gate again. They could hear the raised voices of the men on the other side who could sense that victory was near. They were not about to stop until they were standing inside the fort, and there was little any Osslander could do now but wait.
Eadmund glanced up at the ramparts, watching his archers positioned above the gates. ‘Draw!’
Boom!
Thorgils tightened his grip on his shield.
Waiting.
The battering ram smashed through the hole in the gate again.
‘Aim!’
Eadmund didn’t blink. The gates were about to cave in. He could feel it. But there was no way those Alekkans were getting past his men. No way he was letting them claim Oss.
The surging mass of bellowing warriors pushed and pushed on the broken gate, finally shunting it open, squeezing in through the narrowest of gaps, only to be met with rows of pointed stakes and blazing fires, and behind them, a densely-packed shield wall that extended across the muddy Main Square.
‘Ramparts! Fire at will!’ Eadmund roared, the men behind him lifting up shields to cover their heads. Eadmund had reserved some arrows to make a last stand at the gates. He had archers behind him, but he would let Arlo and his men on the ramparts pick off the invaders first.
The leading men went down in an explosion of arrows. Those still standing retreated quickly, flattening themselves back against the gates, trying to stay out of range. The archers above them hung out over the rampart walls, trying to find targets, but the angle made it hard.
‘Archers!’ Borg barked from a crouched position near the hanging gate, his shield over his head, watching as the men on the ramparts took aim again. ‘Archers!’ he yelled. ‘Bring those fuckers down!’
Borg’s archers quickly formed outside the gates and fired up at the ramparts. Arlo and his men heard the whip and whistle as the bows released, but some weren’t quick enough to get down. Two Osslanders were killed instantly, tipping over the rampart wall, straight down onto the blazing fires.
Eadmund felt his body jerk, wanting to rush forward and save them, but neither man was screaming. There was nothing he could do.
He didn’t move.
But Arlo did. ‘Turn!’ he cried to his men, realising that they had to defend themselves now, and try to stop any more men from getting into the fort. ‘Nock!’
Eadmund watched as Arlo’s men turned away from the square, and the tattooed men crouching by the gates suddenly rose; some bare-chested, most in mail, none wore helmets.
All of them were yelling.
But where was Ivaar?
‘My archers!’ Eadmund roared. ‘Nock!’ He peered between the shields, watching the Alekkans fight their way through the barricades, crying out when some of the archers on the ramparts briefly turned their attention back to them. But more and more were surging through the gap in the gates now. The sun was turning the sky a dull, yellowish grey and Eadmund could see his enemy clearly for the first time.
And his brother was not leading those men.
He hoped that Torstan was keeping a close eye on what was happening at the rear of the fort.
‘Push! Push through!’ Borg screamed from behind his shield, urging his hesitant men on through the barricades. ‘Get that other gate open! We need every man in here! Now! Shield wall!’ And he slapped his shield over Rolan’s, the men behind them covering their heads with another row of shields, waiting for the next wave of arrows. ‘Archers! Aim for their wall!’
‘Where’s Morac?’ Bram called out to Runa, scanning the hall. ‘He’s supposed to be organising you all in here! What’s happening?’
No one seemed to know what they were doing, except panicking. Runa, Ayla, and Isaura were tending to the wounded, trying to keep the children under control and out from under their feet.
‘They’ve breached the gates,’ Bram said, grabbing Runa’s arm. There was no time for Morac now. ‘We need to barricade the doors. Quickly! Leave those men. Isaura, come here! Help me move the tables. We have to barricade the doors!’
Isaura swallowed, glancing at Ayla, hoping to see some sign that she knew how things would go.
Ayla looked terrified. She couldn’t see a thing. Except Ivaar.
Ivaar was getting closer.
‘Hurry! Hurry!’ Toki implored. His legs were long and young, and he ran ahead of them all like a spring foal, but no one had the urgency he did.
Not even his own men.
But Toki could see the rise of the fort in the distance now, and he wasn’t going to be held back by Ivaar any longer.
Ivaar turned with a heavy sigh, ready to implore his men to pick up their feet.
He froze, coming to a halt.
‘No!’ Toki was furious as he spun around. ‘What are you doing? No!’ Then he followed Ivaar’s gaze towards a row of men in the distance.
Men, who were moving towards them with speed.
Both gates were twisted open now as the remaining Alekkans squeezed between them, flooding into the space behind Borg’s ever-growing shield wall.
There were too many of them. The barricades would not stop them now.
Eadmund swallowed, pushing his boots into the mud.
There were no Kalfans that he could see. No Kalfan colours, banners, or shields. They didn’t look like anything other than Alekkans. But it hardly mattered who they were. There were a lot of them, and, unlike his men, they appeared to have a never-ending supply of arrows.
‘What do you think?’ Thorgils wondered from beside Eadmund, sucking in a breath as an arrow whipped over the top of his shield. He ducked down further, glad that he was wearing his battered, old helmet.
‘I think they don’t get through us,’ Eadmund growled. ‘We hold here. We don’t let them anywhere near the hall. We don’t give them our fort!’
‘Hold the wall, men!’ Thorgils bellowed, spinning around to glare at his crouching warriors. ‘Let them come. If they want a glorious battle death, we’ll make their dreams come true! We’ll kill them all! For Oss! For Eirik! We’ll kill them all!’
And then another shower of arrows and Thorgils was bracing himself against his shield, dropping his head, hoping that none would find their way through.
