Valour

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

LYKOS

‘Prepare to land!’ Lykos yelled. In response, the drummer beating time increased his rhythm, the rowers put a last spurt of fire in their limbs and men clashed weapons on shields. Lykos felt his spirits soar. He was looking forward to this. No more ferrying other men to battle, watching them disembark for greater deeds. Time to do something that would be remembered in this era when the world was changed. In a hundred years songs would be sung about these days, about this battle. If there is anyone left to sing them.

Time to win a nation for Nathair. He gave the runner beside him fresh orders, a young lad, not more than twelve summers, but quick and wiry, who climbed like a monkey. He scurried away and soon Lykos heard the horn blasts, felt his ship steer for the north bank. He looked back and saw the thirty sleek-bottomed war-galleys he had brought with him from Dun Carreg do the same, deadly as hunting wolves. It had been a back-breaking trip, most of it up the river Afren, through the Darkwood that split Ardan and Narvon, through the stinking marshes beyond and then into Isiltir. There had come a point where the river Afren shrank to little more than a stream in the marshlands as it neared its source. There was a wide stretch across the marshland to the banks of the river Rhenus in Isiltir where there had been no choice but to travel by portage, taking the masts down, dragging the ships onto land and rolling them over the masts for a league or more. Then it had been back to the rowing. His back still ached. He might be lord of his cut-throat nation of pirates, but he would not sit back and grow soft, let some other man hungry for power take what he had spent years in the making.

He looked along the riverbank. There were scores of quays and jetties lined along it. Most helpful, Lykos thought, pushing his way to the front ranks gathered on the ship’s deck. Further ahead was a wide stone bridge, looking to be the focal point of the battle, and there he could see the banner that had been described to him raised at the southern end, a lightning bolt with a white wyrm coiled about it. My allies. They didn’t look to be doing so well. Looks as if we’ve arrived just in time. Perhaps we’ve had divine help. He snorted at that, liking his own joke. If divine meant nightmares, sleepless nights and yellow eyes boring into you every time you closed your own eyes, then he was blessed beyond all men. Nothing is ever as you imagine it; even consorting with a god.

Oars were drawn in as the boats drew alongside a quay, timbers scraping. Ropes were cast, secured tight, and then he was leaping the rail, boots thudding on the boards of the quay. His shieldmen Deinon and Thaan were close behind, scores of others behind them, roaring as they charged, over a thousand warriors along the riverbank doing the same.

The men on the bridge had finally realized what they were seeing and were trying to turn and face this new enemy screaming towards them. But they had no time to form any kind of cohesive line before Lykos and his Vin Thalun corsairs hit them. Instantly all became a churning chaos as the Vin Thalun carved their way onto the road, only a few hundred paces from the bridge. At the same time Jael and his men at the far end renewed their attack. Lykos could feel the panic spreading, see it in the eyes of the men he faced. Fifteen hundred warriors screaming blood and murder could unman even the most experienced veterans, given the right circumstances. Lykos grinned, ducked a half-hearted sword blow and gutted the man as he surged by.

On the road he stopped and blinked. He saw a fat woman brandishing a sword and hacking one of his warriors into the dirt. She was flanked by a handful of hard-looking men who were stopping his charging men in their tracks.

That won’t do. He snarled and ran at them, seeing Deinon and Thaan fall in on either side of him. They hit the warriors like a hammer, cutting men down and forging close to the fat woman. Then he felt the ground trembling, heard hooves and turned in time to see three mounted warriors bearing down on him, one looking more like a giant than a man, swinging a great two-bladed axe over his head. He had just enough time to duck, yell a half-formed warning, then the axe was whistling through air where his head had been, the blade carrying on, burying itself into Thaan’s shoulder and back. Deinon gave a bellow as he saw his brother slump to the ground. Lykos snarled and darted towards the big man on the horse, only to be smashed from his feet by another horse’s chest and shoulder as it surged forwards. The collision sent him flying through the air. He hit the ground hard, then was rolling and tumbling down the riverbank, coming to a stop in tall reeds and mud.

He climbed to his feet, head ringing, and scaled the bank again. When he reached the top the scene had changed. The giant on the horse and his two companions were disappearing amongst the barns and smokehouses that rose up before the town and the fat woman was nowhere to be seen. Someone with some sense was clearly commanding the enemy, as a rearguard had been formed and was holding back the tide of Vin Thalun and Jael’s warriors, allowing others to fall back to the town and fortress.

I don’t want a long siege, Lykos thought, scowling. He saw his shieldman Deinon kneeling beside Thaan and strode over. He took one look at his fallen shieldman. He’s not going to be getting back up.

‘Come, Deinon, he’s dead. Avenge Thaan now, mourn him later.’

Deinon looked up at him, eyes red, tears washing gullies through the blood and grime on his face. Slowly he stood. ‘Don’t kill the bald one; he’s mine. I want to take my time on him.’

A hand gripped Lykos’ shoulder and he spun around, sword readied for attack. It was Jael, grinning as if it was his nameday, his shieldmen about him. ‘I must say, I am impressed with your timing,’ he said.

Lykos lowered his sword. ‘Nathair sends his greetings,’ he said, gripping Jael’s arm. What kind of king will you make, who needs the help of corsairs to win your first victory? He looked up at the town and fortress. ‘Getting here in time was only half the job. Best we finish this lot before they dig themselves in too deep.’

‘Their walls and gates are thick,’ Jael said. ‘We may have to starve them out.’

‘There are other ways to scale a wall,’ Lykos said, signalling to Deinon. ‘We Vin Thalun are not cut out for siege making. I hate waiting.’

One of Dun Kellen’s warriors was kneeling on the ground, begging for mercy. The warrior standing above him looked to Jael, who shook his head.

‘I need prisoners,’ Lykos said. ‘The more the better to row me back to Tenebral when we are done here.’ And they’ll make good sport in the pits when we’re back there.

Jael was silent, then he nodded. ‘You can have all those who surrender, but you look after them. I don’t have the men, or the inclination to care for them.’

‘Good enough,’ Lykos said. He looked to Deinon. ‘Let’s teach these landwalkers how to scale a wall.’