CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

VERADIS

Veradis sat beside the fire-pit, methodically tending to his war gear with whetstone, oil and cloth.

Nathair, two thousand eagle-guard, Lothar, his road from Helveth to Drassil, a warband thousands strong. Maquin was right to suggest we attack Gundul before he reached Drassil, and we should do the same with Lothar. But how? We need more swords. The prisoners in Drassil, how can we get them out?

It was late, the flicker of firelight amongst the trees drawing moths and other things that lurked or hovered just beyond the touch of illumination in the forest. Alcyon and Tain were sitting with a handful of the Benothi, Balur and Brina amongst them. Abruptly, Veradis jumped up and marched over to them, calling to a dozen of his own men as he went.

“I’ve an idea,” he said to Alcyon, looking around, grabbing branches and shaking them. “Here, Alcyon, cut this branch down for me,” he asked, holding a branch about as thick as his wrist.

Alcyon raised a questioning eyebrow but stood to do it, swinging his axe and shearing the branch with one blow. Veradis drew a knife, stripped the off-shoots and trimmed it.

“Can I borrow one of your axes, please?” he asked Alcyon, at the same time cutting a strip from his cloak then binding the axe-haft to the sapling branch, making something that looked like an axe on a spear shaft.

“Shield wall,” he said, without looking at his own men gathered behind him, and was excessively pleased when he heard the thud of linden; just by the sound of it he knew that the shields had come together well and in fluid time.

“You,” Veradis said, pointing to a seated giant. “What is your name?”

“Fachen,” the giant said.

“Well, Fachen, I have an idea, but to test it I need a demonstration. Would you do me the honour of helping me?”

The giant’s brows knitted. “All right.” He stood, as Veradis stepped behind the shield wall and took up a shield and a practice sword. He looked over the rim, saw that the giant Fachen had a war-hammer slung across his back.

“Attack me,” Veradis said to him. “Break this shield wall apart, if you can.”

Fachen looked at the others, eyes gravitating to Balur, who was looking on with interest, leaning with his back to a tree, arms folded.

Fachen swung his war-hammer two-handed, stepping in and using his weight to add power to his blow, slamming the weapon into Veradis’ shield. It was a mighty strike, rocking Veradis back a step, the shock of it shuddering up his arm, numbing it, but most of the force was dispersed through the interlocked shields.

Fachen’s momentum pushed him on and his body crashed into the shields, rocking them again, but still the line held. Veradis’ harmless practice sword darted out, punching into Fachen’s waist, the giant grunting in pain.

“You’re dead, or dying,” Veradis said, lowering his shield.

“Are you mocking me?” Fachen asked, taking a step back and hefting his hammer.

“No,” Veradis replied. “I’m demonstrating how dangerous the shield wall is, even to giants.”

“I was not taking it seriously,” Fachen shrugged.

Brina snorted and Alcyon smiled.

Veradis looked at his shield, saw the wood dented and grooved.

“Looks serious enough,” he said. He noticed others gathering around now, Wulf and Tahir, Krelis and Alben, Maquin, Fidele, a few of her shieldmen. “We must treat the shield wall with respect,” he continued. “It is a widow-maker, a death-dealer, no one is safe before it—man or woman, the skill of the Jehar will not save them, nor the strength of a giant. Nathair marched out with two thousand men, many of them veterans of the shield wall. They have fought many battles, and never lost.”

“They have not fought against the Benothi,” Fachen said.

“True enough,” Veradis replied, “though I think some of your kin clashed with them during the battle of Drassil. But Nathair’s men did stand against the Shekam and their draigs in Tarbesh, and they stood against the Hunen at Haldis. Both clans were broken on the wall of shields.”

“You lie,” Fachen said.

“He does not lie,” Alcyon said.

“How do you know this?” Balur One-Eye rumbled.

“I know, because I was there,” Veradis said. “I led the shield wall, stood in the front row, weathered the storm of iron, bore the brunt of their hammers and axes.”

“The Hunen?” Balur asked.

“Aye. Calidus pulled those strings. He was after the starstone axe.”

“And the Shekam?” Ethlinn said, standing and walking over to look at the damage done to Veradis’ shield.

“Calidus, again,” Alcyon said. “He had his reasons for wanting the Shekam gone.”

“But they are the draig-riders,” Balur said, as if that made them invincible.

“Admittedly, the draigs were a bit of a problem,” Veradis conceded. “But the Shekam were still destroyed, only a handful escaping the battlefield. Nathair is a strategist, an excellent general with an eye for the straight path to victory. The shield wall is his creation.”

“It was the shield wall that felled Balur in the battle at Drassil,” Ethlinn mused.

“Aye, that’s so,” Balur said. “I smashed a dozen men down, but more kept filling the hole I hacked.” He put a hand to his side, up to his shoulder. “They gave me many wounds.”

“How do we beat that?” asked Tahir. “I led men against it in the great hall of Drassil.” He shook his head. “Many fell.”

“It is not invincible,” Maquin said.

“No, it is like any weapon, any tool,” Veradis said. “It has strengths and weaknesses.”

“The Kadoshim did a good job of ripping it open,” Maquin said.

“They did,” Veradis agreed. “Because they are happy to take a sword-wound in the belly, or anywhere else for that matter, and fight on regardless. Most of us would not. The Kadoshim’s strengths are not our strengths. That is not how we will crack the shield wall open.”

“How, then?” Maquin asked.

“If we fought them on a hill and we were at the top we could roll wains or trees down at them,” Tahir said. He looked around. “Not so many hills in Forn, though.”

“Terrain is correct,” Veradis said. “The shield wall works best on open spaces, flat ground. So if we could choose our battlefield, that would help.”

“And what if we cannot?” Maquin asked.

“There may be other ways,” Veradis said. “But we would need a forge, and blacksmiths skilled at weapon-making.”

“We could dig a forge,” Balur said. “I have seen it done. And Fachen is a weapons-smith.”

“I can work a bellows and shape some iron,” Wulf grunted, “but what of tools and materials?”

“We have a good supply of iron,” Alben said. “There were wains full of charcoal, iron rods and tools that we found amongst Gundul’s supplies.”

“And what would you do with this forge?” Brina asked Veradis. “What would you make?”

Veradis lifted the axe and branch that he had bound together.

“I’ll show you. Wall,” he commanded. His men gathered tight and brought their shields up. Veradis advanced on them.