Rebellion

CHAPTER 74

“Swire,” said Grandys, reining in at the top of the hill and looking down at the town nestled in a loop of the river. Swire was small, two thousand inhabitants at the most, though it looked prosperous. The castle, on a flat hill beside it, guarded the way in by both road and river. “In two hours both the town and the castle will be ours.”

“How, when you only have one soldier?” said Rix.

Lirriam gave a throaty laugh. “Shall I show the boy how we take what we want?”

Grandys scowled, then said, “The ride of glory. Go ahead and announce us, Ricinus. Make them sit up and take notice.”

Rix nodded stiffly. He had no idea how to announce the return of the Five Heroes, but one did not say no to Grandys. To him, all things were possible and he did not tolerate failure.

As Rix rode down the winding track, Lirriam’s laughter followed him.

“The boy,” he fumed. “After all I’ve done, she calls me the boy.”

But then, since he was obeying their every command, perhaps to them he was a child.

He reached the town. The gates stood open, it being daytime and the truce still in force. Rix rode in. It must have been market day for the streets were crowded. He looked back and saw a dust cloud a mile up the road — the Heroes coming at full gallop. He had only two minutes.

How was he to announce the ride of glory? Well, he made an imposing figure on the great horse, and Swire was a simple country town, so perhaps the simplest way was best. He clamped onto his shield with his dead hand, raised it above his head and struck it hard with his sword, again and again, until every eye in the square was on him. A hushed silence fell.

“Axil Grandys has been reborn!” said Rix. “The Five Heroes return. Hightspall is saved.”

Everyone stared at him as though he was mad. No one spoke for a few seconds, then everyone at once.

Rix stood up in his stirrups, pointed towards the racing dust cloud and said, “They come.”

And come they did, pounding towards the gate, their swords held high.

“Make way!” Rix shouted, afraid that they would ride down anyone in their way. “Make way for Axil Grandys. Make way for the Five Heroes.”

The crowd parted, barely in time. Grandys flashed through the gate, a majestic sight with his great sword and opal-armoured skin glistening, and then the others. No one could have doubted what they were seeing: the Five Heroes had truly returned. They skidded to a stop, their horses’ shoes striking sparks from the cobbles, then walked with majestic slowness to the centre of the square. What was Grandys going to do? What would he say?

The Five Heroes formed their horses into a circle, facing out. Grandys flicked his fingers at Rix, as if to say, Get out of our way, boy. Rix moved into the background, awed by the display, yet fuming at their contemptuous treatment.

Grandys stared down everyone who met his eyes, but did not speak.

“Hightspall is saved,” cried a brown-haired, pigtailed girl at the front of the crowd. She was no older than ten. “Hail Axil Grandys.”

“Hail Axil Grandys,” the crowd echoed. “Hail the Five Heroes, hail, hail!”

The Heroes formed a procession, Grandys leading. They rode slowly down the main street to the far gate, turned and rode back, still silent.

I’ll say one thing for the swine, Rix thought. He knows how to make an entrance.

At the square again, Grandys rose in his stirrups and searched the crowd, looking for one particular face.

“You, girl,” he said. “You who first hailed me. Come forward.”

The little girl did so, stumbling on the rough stones. She made him a rude curtsy. “Y-yes, Lord Grandys?”

“Who’s the lord of yonder Castle Swire?”

“It’s Lord Bondy, Lord Grandys.”

“Is Bondy a good man, child? Does he treat his people well?”

The girl gulped, looked around her, then said, “Not very well.”

“Is that so,” said Grandys. “Then I’ll have to chastise him, won’t I?”

“Yes, you will, Lord Grandys.”

“Come up here, child. Show me the way.”

Someone cried out, her mother perhaps, then fell silent. The girl walked slowly towards the enormous horse and its imperious rider.

“Don’t be afraid,” said Grandys. “I would never hurt a child.”

He heaved her up and seated her in front of him. “Hold on to the saddle horn.”

She did so, biting her lip.

“You are my first, my chosen people,” he said to the assembled townsfolk of Swire. “Follow me to the castle.”

He turned to the town gates, never doubting that they would follow, walking his horse so the people could keep up with him. The other Heroes fell in beside him, buxom Lirriam and golem-like Syrten on the left, cadaverous Rufuss and slender, grave Yulia to the right.

Rix’s heart was pounding and a sick dread washed back and forth through his belly. One part of him could admire Grandys, his confidence and his swagger. Another part knew him for an arrogant brute who served no one’s purposes but his own.

More worryingly, Rix saw echoes of Grandys’ character in his own mother, and even himself. Was this his true inheritance? No, he thought, he’s not my ancestor. I won’t have it.

The Five Heroes rode through the gates of Castle Swire, followed by Rix and the entire population of Swire. All were agog to see how Grandys planned to chastise their lord. Rix was not. Sickness was churning in his gut.

Grandys dismounted, leaving the girl on the horse. He strode up the steps of the castle, pounded on the great iron-reinforced door with the butt of his sword and took several steps to the left.

“Lord Bondy, come forth.”

Shortly the door opened and a short, plump man came out onto the terrace.

“What the devil do you mean, hammering on my door like that?” he said furiously. He turned and saw the enormous figure standing there, armoured in black opal. Then the other four Heroes, and the townsfolk still flooding through the gates. Bondy blanched and made a dart for the door. Grandys blocked his path.

“Are you Bondy?”

“Yes,” whispered the plump man.

“The child on my horse said you don’t treat your people well.”

Bondy looked from Grandys to the girl in the saddle, and back again. He frowned. “I’m a good overlord. Are you playing some kind of joke, sir?”

“I never joke, Bondy. I could have your head for that.”

Bondy relaxed.

Grandys added, “In fact, I will.”

“Lord?” said Bondy.

Maloch flashed out, faster than Rix’s eye could follow, then returned to its sheath. Rix blinked. What had just happened?

Bondy’s eyes rolled up, then Grandys reached out and lifted the man’s neatly severed head from his neck. He strode down the steps and handed the dripping extremity to the girl.

“You won’t have any more trouble with him, child.”

Grandys raised his voice. “Castle Swire is mine. Turn its inhabitants into the street. Bid the servants here, either to swear to me — or die like their master.”

The girl dropped Bondy’s gory head and screamed.

Irritably, Grandys gestured to her mother to take her away, then reached out to the townsfolk.

“I am raising an army, and I’m going to take back our land. Who will join me?”

He said it with such self-confidence that no one could doubt him. Rix felt it too, despite himself: the pride that he had played a small part in an event of momentous importance, and the feeling — no, the unshakeable belief — that if he followed Grandys, together they would cast out the enemy and take Hightspall back.

It was clear that everyone else felt the same. Within an hour Grandys had signed up six hundred men. Messengers were sent to all the surrounding towns, villages and manors, bidding their youths to hasten to Swire, to Axil Grandys’ service.

In four days, he was training an army of thousands and planning his first attack, a demonstration of his power that no one could deny.

“Get your troops ready, Captain Rixium,” he said to Rix that morning. “Tonight we march on Castle Rebroff.”

“But… that’s the enemy’s most powerful fortress outside Caulderon,” said Rix.

“And led by Lyf’s greatest and most experienced general, Rochlis. That’s why I’ve chosen it.”

“How are you going to attack it with a few thousand untrained troops?” said Rix.

“I’m not merely going to attack Rebroff. I’m going to take it. We’ll feast like carrion crows in Castle Rebroff’s Great Hall, this time tomorrow night.”

It was impossible to doubt him. Was Grandys the leader Hightspall needed to hold back the Cythonian hordes, even defeat them? Despite his hatred of the man, Rix was beginning to think so.

He was also thinking that he could learn much about the art of leadership from Grandys — assuming he survived long enough.