Drem’s hand moved absently to the pulse at his throat.
He had never seen such a scene before. The battles in the Desolation and at Dun Seren were as nothing compared to this. To the north there was a mass of acolyte warriors marching at speed towards the battle. In front of him giants upon draigs were thundering across the plain, Drem glimpsing Bleda’s Sirak and warriors of Ardain flitting amongst them, behind them a shield wall made of White-Wings and warriors of the Order. In the skies Kadoshim and their offspring flew, swooping and shrieking. The noise was deafening—shouting, screaming, roaring, the clash of steel—all of it blending into a colossal, vocal pandemonium. He resisted the urge to put his hands over his ears.
Beyond the draigs and riders something was happening to the shield wall. It was rippling and swaying, warriors falling. A figure in dark mail and black wings was wielding a long axe in great, looping circles.
“Asroth,” Ethlinn growled.
He was taller than all those around him. White-Wings ran at him and were hacked down with his axe. He seemed unstoppable.
And then Drem saw something in the sky, low, hurtling towards the shield wall.
A draig with wings. And Fritha was upon its back.
She killed my da. And she killed Sig.
The anxiety in his veins shifted, something both hot and cold running through them. His fingers twitched for his seax.
The draig smashed into the shield wall, a concussive explosion.
“Ach, we’re late,” Balur One-Eye spat. “Best be getting in there before it’s all over. Asroth needs putting down, and his pet draig.”
“Yes,” Drem growled, a hot anger melting his fear.
“We will have to carve a way to him through the Shekam and their draigs,” Ethlinn said.
“Aye,” Ukran grinned, as if he were looking forward to it. He hefted a double-bladed battle-axe.
Drem had thought the Shekam and their draigs would be unstoppable; he remembered full well his encounter with one draig in the Bonefells. Even Hammer, a giant bear, had been hard-pressed. But Bleda had spoken to them all during the night, assured them they could be beaten, with the right tactics: his Sirak archers and a flanking attack from Ethlinn and her bear-riders. The draigs outnumbered them, but the bears were all wearing coats of mail, which helped to balance the odds. Drem had believed Bleda and trusted his plan. Now, though, seeing the draigs and giants…
Bleda and his Sirak are slowing them, so perhaps he was right. But he is alone, outnumbered, he needs us, now.
“This is as far as you go,” Tain said to Craf, who was perched upon his shoulder. Other crows flew in a slow spiral high above the crow and crow master.
“Craf brave, Craf fight,” the crow squawked.
“I know you’re brave,” Tain said gently, “but we need your eyes and your wits more than your beak and talons. Here,” Tain said, offering his wrist to Craf. The crow jumped onto it and Tain lifted his arm up into the boughs of a tree that loomed over them.
“Craf watch, think, help,” the crow said, and then hopped onto a branch. “Tain be careful, or Craf be sad.”
Raina shrugged her round shield from her shoulder and took her single-handed hammer from her belt. Rolled her wrist. All along the line warriors checked weapons, adjusted grips. Drem pulled on the buckle of his iron helm, making sure it was tight. He took his round shield from its saddle hook and checked the grip, then tugged his boiled leather gloves on and drew his sword.
“On me,” Ethlinn said, and without another word she was riding out from the trees onto the plain, her long spear in her fist. Balur strode at her side.
Drem looked down at Reng, who led the Order’s huntsmen.
“I’ll swing wide and hit those big bastards from the other flank,” Reng said. “You’re welcome to join us, but probably best if your white-furred friend charges with the other bears.”
“Aye.” Drem nodded.
Reng gave him a grim smile. “I’ll meet you in the middle,” he said, and then he was riding off, the Order’s hunters following him, a pack of wolven-hounds wrapped in mail loping across the plain.
Drem saw the Shekam crashing into the bulk of Queen Nara’s warriors, heard the screams of horses.
“We’ve come a long way from the snow and ice of the Bonefells,” Drem said, leaning forwards and patting Friend’s neck. He blew out a long breath and then Friend was lumbering out from the trees, Fen loping at their side, the three of them quickly catching up with Ethlinn and her giants. Friend made for Hammer and pushed in between her and another bear. Her head swung towards Friend and she rumbled a greeting. Alcyon looked over at Drem and gave him a nod.
“This is it, lad,” Alcyon said. “All the grief they’ve given us and this world. Time to give them some back.”
“Yes, it is,” Drem said, his eyes searching for Fritha upon her draig.
And then Ethlinn was charging, all of them following.
Drem shifted in his saddle, felt his blood pounding like a drum in his head, had a flash of his father’s face, blood on his lips, heard his father’s voice in his head.
Sometimes the only answer is blood and steel.
The gap between bears and draigs closed. Sirak warriors were swerving and wheeling around the Shekam like a swarm of angry bees, Shekam giants roaring and swinging their huge, long-bladed spears. Drem saw a Sirak decapitated, a horse’s side opened up from shoulder to flank, another horse hurled from its feet by a draig’s lashing tail. But giants and draigs were falling, too, studded with a multitude of arrows. Some of the Shekam were looking their way now, roaring out warnings to their kin, draigs turning. It was too late, Ethlinn’s line of bears was an unstoppable avalanche of meat and bone, leather and steel. Balur bellowed a battle-cry, Sig’s sword raised high, two-handed over his head.
Sirak riders were bolting away.
Then the bears crashed into the Shekam.
Friend ploughed into the side of a draig, the giant upon its back thrown from his saddle and disappearing in the crush. The impact threw Drem forwards in his saddle. The draig was shoved a score of paces by Friend, claws scrabbling in the dirt for purchase, and then it was coming back at them. Friend lashed out with his claws, opened red lines down the draig’s shoulder and neck. The creature roared, head whipping around, jaws biting into Friend’s shoulder and chest. The mail protected Friend from the worst of it, but the draig’s canines tore through iron links, sinking into the flesh beneath.
Friend’s paw slapped the draig’s head, raking a bloody trail down the beast’s muzzle. Drem leaned and chopped with his father’s sword, saw another deep gash open in the draig’s shoulder. The animal released its grip on Friend and stumbled away.
The draig’s rider appeared, limping, dragging himself back into the saddle. He drew a curved, thick-bladed tulwar that was strapped to the draig’s harness.
“On,” Drem urged Friend. Blood pulsed from the puncture wounds in Friend’s torn mail.
The giant and draig rushed at them, the draig’s jaws wide, the giant raising his sword.
They came together in a crash of muscle, fur and scales, teeth clashing as draig and bear tore at each other. The giant swung his curved sword at Drem, who deflected it on his shield, the blow shivering through his arm. Drem steered the blow wide and lunged with his sword. It stabbed into the giant’s belly, scraped along mail plates, slipped between two and sliced through leather. The giant yelled as he swung his sword again, Drem throwing himself backwards as the sword hissed past his face.
Drem and the giant were both shaken in their saddles as bear and draig slammed against each other, biting and tearing.
There was a flash of iron and grey fur and Fen was leaping onto the back of the draig and hurling himself at the giant. Jaws clamped on the giant’s shoulder and neck, a savage shake of Fen’s head and the giant was screaming, blood erupting. Drem stabbed his sword into the giant’s throat and he was toppling from his saddle, Fen falling with him, still snarling and tearing.
Friend’s muzzle and fur were soaked red, claw marks raking the bear’s neck, but the draig was in worse condition. The two beasts were close in size, but Friend’s coat of mail had turned the balance and the draig staggered back, a tremor in its legs, its head and neck lacerated. Friend must have bitten deep, because a gout of arterial blood spurted from the draig. It swayed, then its legs gave out and it crashed to the ground, tail lashing.
Drem cuffed sweat from his eyes, his left arm throbbing from the giant’s sword-blows upon his shield. Amidst the ever-moving chaos and madness he glimpsed Balur One-Eye, covered in blood, swinging Sig’s longsword around his head, chopping into a draig’s neck, half-severing it. Ethlinn was upon her bear, swirling her spear two-handed, a clatter of wood and steel as she duelled with a Shekam giant upon a draig. Sirak riders were swerving and loosing arrows. Raina was battered to her knees, holding her shield up as a giant chopped at her, Alcyon bellowing and hacking with his twin axes, trying to reach her. Reng’s charge of horse crashed into the Shekam’s flank, sixty wolven-hounds running before them, leaping up at draigs and giants in a snarling, snapping wave. Close by, Tain was trading blows with a Shekam giant, Tain stumbling backwards. A squawking, deafening noise above—Drem glanced up to see a murder of huge black crows spinning downwards, swirling about the giant attacking Tain, pecking, raking him with their talons. The giant bellowed, rivulets of blood running down his face. He slashed with his long spear, birds squawking, an explosion of black feathers, a handful of crows falling dead, others continuing their barrage upon him.
He saw Queen Nara, yelling, wielding her sword, rallying her battered warriors. A Shekam giant rode at her, swung his spear, Nara swaying, parrying, but the spear’s angle changed, the blade skimming over her sword, chopping into Nara’s neck. There was a fountain of blood as she toppled from her saddle. Beside her Madoc, Nara’s first-sword, screamed, his horse pressed tight in a melee. In one fluid movement he lifted his feet from his stirrups and stood upon his saddle, dropped his shield and drew a knife from his belt, then leaped at the giant who had slain Nara. He crashed into the Shekam, sword and knife swinging and stabbing, the giant crying out. They tumbled to the ground together.
Drem hefted his shield, gritted his teeth and looked for a way through to Fritha and her draig. He couldn’t see her through the tumult of battle, his vision filled with giants and draigs.
I’ll have to carve a way to her, he thought, and looked about for someone else to kill. Friend charged at another draig.