Brothers in Arms; the re-awakening
Chapter 17

There were only three guards manning the gatepost and when they saw, not the kitchen detail staggering towards them laden with dirty pots, but instead Donal charging down upon them with his great broadsword unsheathed and brandished threateningly they did not attempt any opposition. Dropping their weapons, they fled away at once along an adjoining passage, shouting and crying out in warning

as they ran; the last of them rang a jangling alarm bell. Within a few seconds there were answering cries from all around as the fortress began to rouse and mobilise, and among these they could hear the guttural grunts and coughs of the Inquisitors.

“Everyone out, as quickly as you can,” urged Donal, giving thanks inwardly that the gate had not been more powerfully warded, and standing watch as the others filed rapidly through the gateway and out into the open under a clear and star-laden night sky. Just as Ethan passed him, still clutching his little burden tightly, two red-robed Inquisitors rushed toward Donal along the same passage the guards had used to escape. Donal stepped out in front of them, blocking their way and they stopped for a moment, eyeing him warily, and then came forward again, although more slowly and cautiously this time, as the narrowness of the corridor prevented them from attacking from opposite sides.

Their blades whirred and flashed in unison in front of them and they were clearly an experienced team, darting in and out in a close, complex pattern, trying to replace a gap in Donal’s defence. But the broadsword, swinging in a wide arc, held them at bay until Jac came running back through the gateway to help. The Inquisitors retreated momentarily at his arrival, and Donal seized the advantage; he leapt

forward with a great sweeping stroke, his speed for such a big man taking the Inquisitors by surprise. Both managed to parry the blow but it’s force was such that they were stunned and thrown backwards to the ground. As they sprawled in confusion Jac slipped a thin stiletto into the ribs of one and sliced a knife across the throat of the other; both slumped on the ground silently as if hardly realizing they had been so skilfully slain. Donal and Jac joined the others outside, pulling the gate

behind them and wedging it shut as best they could with a few rocks they found close by.

A narrow path, obviously a back entrance and rarely used, and laid with gravel and small stone chips, led away from the gate, running for a while under the shadow of the stone walls of the fortress, and then curving steeply but steadily downwards. On the other side of the path was a sheer drop of hundreds of feet to where a slope strewn with huge twisted and contorted rocks and boulders ran on further down to an arid heath.

Kitti looked up at the skies to orient herself and gasped.

“The stars, Targon, the stars,” she said, suddenly comprehending where they were, “We must be on the other edge of the Splinter altogether. If we can only make it down from here we’ll have a straight gallop to the sea - two days at the most.”

Leading the horses as fast as they could they hurried along the path. Then from far above them they heard triumphant shouts of discovery followed rapidly by a volley of stones and arrows, skipping and dancing on the path around them like a deadly hail. The fortress wall was moulded into the cliff and therefore uneven, so they were shielded to some degree by the overhang. A stone from a catapult lashed into Ethan’s hat with the speed of a bullet and he ducked and crouched over, dodging and weaving to protect and shelter his tiny charge.

“We’ll never make it on foot, once we break out into the open we‘ll be sitting ducks,” he shouted to the others, “We’ll have to ride.”

He grabbed the reins of his horse and swung into the saddle in one movement, one big arm still cradled tightly around the little Dran.

“It’s too dangerous,” screamed Kitti, “the path’s far too narrow,” but her warning was lost in the tumult as Ethan was already thundering past her, stones and grit stinging her cheeks and flying around her and out over the side of the cliff, the iron-shod hooves casting bright sparks against the darkness of the night. He was followed by another volley of arrows and stones, which were now accompanied by spears and javelins.

“Ethan’s right,” shouted Jac, grabbing his own reins as a spear buried itself in the ground right in front of him, “We make far too easy a target if we stay here; let’s mount up and take our chances with the cliff edge. Go, Kitti, go now! I’m not leaving till you do.”

Kitti had no choice but to agree, but when she tried to follow Jac she found trouble controlling her horse. Just as she had managed to get one foot in the stirrup a dart from above buried itself viciously in the terrified beast’s eye. With an agonized squeal of pain the horse reared upwards and backwards, and began to topple slowly over the edge of the cliff, dragging Kitti after it, her foot still caught fast in the stirrup.

“Kitti!” shouted Targon in alarm, but before he or Donal could react Jac had already drawn and thrown one of his little hooked daggers in a quick fluid movement. It sliced cleanly through the leather of the stirrup; breathless with fright, Kitti rolled away in the dust, scrambling to safety as her mount crashed over the edge.

“The jewel,” she cried in sudden anguish, realizing what she had lost; she leaned perilously over the edge, looking down hopelessly down into the darkness, “The jewel’s in the saddle bag; we must get it back.”

“It’s too late,” said Jac, retrieving his dagger, then dragging her away and pulling her roughly up behind him, “It’s lost now and we’ll be lost as well if we don’t get out of here at once; and anyway,” he reached up a hand and touched her cheek, oblivious to the missiles still whistling around their ears, “You are more important than to me than any jewel”, and he saw her smile briefly in spite of her distress. He spurred his mount’s quarters vigorously and making light of it’s double burden, it

raced after the others at a furious pace.

They quickly left the danger of the walls behind, although the occasional arrow still threatened them. The path, though narrow and steep, was in good repair, and it was only their headlong speed and urgency which caused them once or twice to swerve frighteningly close to the edge of the drop. But soon enough they had all reached the bottom in safety, and there, skidding to a stop, they paused for a few

moments, for the time being beyond the range of pursuit.

“So this is where their forces have been concealed”, said Targon, “I can hardly believe it; a hidden fortress in the Devil’s Splinter; the source of the Mfecane, right here in the very lap of the Free Nations. No wonder their strikes have been so quick and effective and so difficult to predict and guard against. This will be valuable information for the Keeper; we will have to see this nest laid waste and destroyed.”

“Look, Kitti,” he pointed, “Look how cunningly they have constructed their lair; the walls of the fortress are exactly disguised by the curvature of the hill. And that path we’ve just come down; from here it would appear no more than a dried river bed. I’d guess that the other entrances are disguised in the same manner; see all those clefts and cracks in the face of the cliff over there. Any of them could be concealed entrances. And if they only used them at night, who would ever guess

what was hidden here,” he said, trying vainly to pick out the likely entrances in the darkness.

“All of which means they could be organizing a posse from one of those other entrances even as we speak,” said Ethan, “So let’s get out of here pronto. Kitti, it’s an easy run to the sea, I think I heard you say, and I’d sure like to check that one out for myself. So show us - now!”

Kitti lead them west at once and at a fast gallop. The horses were fresh and rested and proved able to maintain a good pace for many hours, leaving the Devil’s Splinter and the dungeon of the Inquisitors far behind them in the night.

Richard looked towards the rising sun, waiting. Before him lay the carcase of Kitti’s horse, which an Inquisitor was examining carefully, searching slowly and systematically through the packs. A lute, a mandolin and a fiddle were thrown roughly aside to crash and splinter uselessly on the jagged rocks, as if in calculated mockery of the loving care that had been lavished on them by their previous owners. A few small daggers and swords were inspected more closely and stored away for the fortress armoury; they were without exception sharp and well tended.

Then the Inquisitor gave a shout of triumph and held up a small stone box. He came running over to Richard and handed it to him. Richard slowly undid the simple clasp and opened the box, the stone sides grating slightly in mild reproof. Set snugly inside the box, the Jewel glowed like a star; Richard smiled, contemplating it for a moment before lifting it out into the sun, where it shone so brightly in the early morning light that it seemed to have caught fire.

If the loss of the dragon had angered him, the company’s escape had been even more unexpected and puzzling. No-one had ever escaped from the fortress before, not since they had first built it, in such great secrecy, fifteen years ago. Of those who entered the fortress, only the Inquisitors, whose loyalty was beyond question, could be allowed to leave, such was the importance of keeping the secret. All others, and not just prisoners but the ordinary guards as well, were dead men once

they had passed through the gates. The guards did not know this, of course; they were eliminated quietly once they had outlived their usefulness, their comrades being told only that they had been reassigned to other units. Their comrades, all too aware of the uncompromising attitude of the Mfecane towards awkward questions and dissent, always accepted this explanation without demur.

So this escape was a double blow. The Warrior and his friends would surely be running at once to the Brotherhood, and word of the fortress would surely now reach the Free Nations; even those stupid and cowardly fools would be forced to take some sort of punitive action. Though perhaps not even then would they be provoked, he thought with a wolf-like grin; perhaps they would again content themselves with sending a delegation carrying letters of protest and suggesting negotiations on the matter, little comprehending how such an action only emphasized their unfitness to survive; the investors of the Mfecane despised such manifest weakness.

But how had the prisoners managed to get out of the cell and overpower the guard? And how had they found their way to the stables, and from there to the most lightly guarded exit in the whole fortress? And where had the hunchback’s body disappeared to? Had the escaped prisoners taken it? But how could they have accomplished such a thing? And why would they have risked recapture to steal a corpse? Was their friendship so extreme? That the hunchback had not really died

did not occur to him; he had seen him lying dead, bloody on the sand beneath the dragon’s claws.

But now all these worries had lessened in the face of the capture of such a valuable prize, more than adequate compensation. He had known that they had possessed the Jewel, but he had presumed they had hidden it long before they entered the Splinter, probably somewhere in the trackless mountains that they seemed to know so well; so they had not been properly searched after their capture in the webs. In retrospect he realized how big a mistake that might have been, one that he would not make again.

That they had been so stupid as to bring it with them into danger was scarcely credible to him. They had probably reckoned that the stone box, which he had to acknowledge had been constructed and shaped with great skill and artifice, a skill and artifice he had not known existed, would safely conceal it. But despite his belief that they had left it behind, he had not risen so quickly and ruthlessly through the ranks of the Inquisitors without exploiting every opportunity and when his guards had reported one of the horses slain and lost over the edge, he had ordered an immediate search for it’s carcase among the fallen rocks and scrub at the base of the cliff.

The most he had hoped for were clues of where they would be heading; towards the sea, he was fairly sure, but the Inquisitors did not yet know the location of the Keeper’s Island. So what they had found was beyond his wildest expectations; that the one horse they had managed to bring down should have been the particular one carrying the Jewel was yet another irrefutable sign to him that the tide of history was flowing inexorably with the Mfecane, and that the star of Richard of Lyonnaise would continue to rise and shine ever brighter in the firmanent.

“The Warrior has chosen to fight,” he said to the Inquisitor, “But it will not prove to be a long defence. The old fool in the Brotherhood must have known little enough of the powers of the Jewel to send it away so blithely, but we know better; ah yes, we know all too well of it’s many devices, for they were used against us to great effect many times in the past. But this time we shall use them to punish the warrior and his companions for his defiance and for his false pride.

“It is a shame he is to die, for he could have been of great service to the Mfecane, but he has chosen his own path and decided to oppose us; and so he has ordained his own fate and contrived his own destruction, and that of his companions. The Jewel has one particular attribute that will lead to their ruin.”

He motioned the Inquisitor to step back, set the Jewel on the sand and whispered a few words over it. Sending it away so soon after replaceing it was a considerable gamble; his superiors in the Templar order had considered him reckless and headstrong, and perhaps in the old world their judgement had been correct. But in this new world such vices had became virtues; he needed to be sure the Crusader and his companions were stopped, and he also wanted real proof of the Jewel’s

powers; on the Crusades he had seen many legends and myths crumble before the force of cold steel and the threat of a strong arm, many apparently magical artefacts futile and impotent in the face of brute strength.

He watched closely, and barely a few moments passed before the Jewel began to settle deeper into the ground, burying itself in the soil, which seemed to whisper in return as it was covered. Soon it had disappeared from his satisfied gaze.

“Already it is hungry, searching for them, seeking them out, hunting them down,” he said, looking to the west again, “And then it will slay them and return to us.”

He sensed a question in the Inquisitor’s manner; an unusual thing, and under other circumstances insulting and even intolerable, but he was so gratified by the replaceing of the Jewel that, on this occasion at least, he was not inclined to take it as an affront to his authority and order a peremptory execution. For once he would offer an explanation.

“Weapons are meant be used, not hidden away in fear. Those who cannot give treasures away do not possess them, but are possessed by them,” he said.

They had continued riding through the night, allowing their horses no rest, and they had reached the top of a small thorn-crested hill when Ethan felt a shy, hesitant tug at his sleeve. Throughout the night, even as they rode hard to

out-distance what they reckoned would be the inevitable pursuit, he had made sure the little Dran was warm and comfortable, and several times he had been able to moisten her lips and get her to drink some of their water.

“Hey you guys,” he shouted in delight, “Look at this! My little lady is starting to wake up.”

The company reined in their horses and crowded around. Ethan drew back the edges of the blanket in which he had wrapped her, and they saw a little face peeping out at them, wise-looking and gnarled as a walnut.

“Yep,” said Ethan proudly, “There she is; as snug and warm as a wee mouse in a corn-stack.”

As they looked, the first rays of the new morning crested the hillock and reflected in her eyes, which they saw now were as sparkling and blue as cornflowers, like they were born to shine in the sun. Then the little Dran spoke in a barely audible whisper. They had to lean forward to hear, and her idiom of speech was strange, but they understood her very well.

“Dark and chill it was, black as deepest night, grimdamp to me ever, and my face to the wall turned, hope a fickle jade only to curse; then a great kindly man to sweep me away from my wretchedness to my truest dream; the rising of the sun one last time seen.”

With an obvious effort she reached up and traced something on Ethan’s brow with a forefinger, her wrist as thin and brown as a hazel twig and her hand trembling. The gesture was tender; Ethan felt her touch burn him, but the sensation was not unpleasant, and he felt that something he did not understand had passed between them.

“To you give I the thanks and the gift,” her whisper suddenly getting softer and fainter, as if she had achieved her main purpose and could now take her rest.

“Jac, get over here, I think there’s something wrong,” said Ethan anxiously, his delight turning quickly to fear, but the little Dran forestalled him, looking now directly into his eyes; he felt her gaze pierce him.

“Yes, my gentle one, I am dying now, the long sleep calls me; your healer’s great skills for others; but I am dying gladly, my eyes yet bright with warmth; escaped the grimdamp have I, and seen the sun rise again and felt morning-wind fair on my face; this gift only you of all others could have given me.”

Her eyes closed and she spoke one last time, her voice hushing and slipping away into silence.

“And now a last boon, my gentle one, a last wish to me by you be granted; to let me die at peace, in your arms.”

Ethan looked helplessly at Jac, who shook his head sadly. He saw Donal nodding at him encouragingly, so he tightened his grip on the little Dran, hugging her even more closely and on an impulse began to croon an old Irish lullaby he had once heard many years before.

As he started singing, Donal recognized the simple air and joined in, then the others, even Jac, and Ethan felt the tiny body relax, as if it was being released. The breathing slowed, then stopped, and he felt her body grow stiff and cold; tears came to his eyes and he finished his song and wept then, unabashedly and freely, as his companions stood silently around him, sharing his grief.

“I’ll bury her nearby,” he said shortly, blinking through the tears and looking round for a likely site, “I know we don’t have much time to stop here, but there ain’t no way I’m leaving her for the buzzards.”

“I will help you, if you will allow me,” said Donal, placing a supporting hand on his shoulder, “I have buried many good men, and I would honour your brave and kindly deed, which has made me truly proud that I am known as your friend.”

They found a suitable place under an old hawthorn tree with branches which stretched out above them reaching to the west. The soil was light and sandy and easily turned, and so it was not long before the little Dran was placed carefully in the ground, her expression composed and peaceful.

“Time melts lives,” said Targon sadly, as they gently lowered the first sods into the grave to cover the body. They piled a few stones together as a simple cairn, and Ethan knelt down beside it, twisting his big hands in sorrow.

“Goodbye, little lady,” he said, “We didn’t know each other very long, but you were a real spunky gal and I’m glad I had the chance to give you any help that I could. I didn’t think I was taking you out just to die so quick on me; one last morning doesn’t seem so much, but I know, I know in my heart of hearts it meant a lot to you. You deserve a hell of a lot more than a few rocks and a few wild flowers laid over you and a few words from a old mugger like me, but I’m all the preacher we’ve got at the moment and I reckon, wherever you are now, you’ll understand all right. If time melts lives, then you melted my heart, and I won’t forget you, never ever.”

“And you have melted all our hearts, Ethan,” said Jac, “This is a harsh, cruel, unloving world, and even as a Healer, and expected and trained to care, I replace my heart often hard and unforgiving to weakness. But you have shown me the price and the worth of compassion; the great worth of a simple act of kindness.”

“Compassion, yes,” said Kitti, “But also wisdom, strength and courtesy; you have shown those since first we met you, and we have learned these great things from you; that a good deed shines more brightly and casts more warmth than any jewel.”

“OK, OK, that’s enough,” said Ethan, becoming embarrassed and standing up suddenly, briskly brushing the soil off his knees, “So I’m a hell of a guy, ain’t I? And they make such a fuss of Mother Teresa. Now let’s get out of here on the double before Donal and Targon start blubbering as well.”

“It was like staring unprotected at the sun,” said Targon that night, with an expression of wonder on his face, “It’s mind was like a fire, like the centre of a burning star, bright and fierce, painful, yet golden and beautiful and unforgettable. I could sense nothing of it’s mind, and I was sure it would not be able to comprehend my plea for understanding, but yet I still believed it a great and utter wrong that such a wild and magnificent creature should be bound and trammelled

so shamefully.”

“I knew my death was already ordained and certain, so I determined to at least try and right that one particular wrong. With my last strength I hacked at the chain, and I managed to cleave one of it’s links. Somehow the dragon must have acknowledged and understood my call. Not only that, but it’s wild magic was able to see deep into the truth of my infirmity, and it’s claws rent my neck and spine in so skilful a way as to slice and cut and release the tortured muscles and tendons

which have cursed and crippled me all my life.”

As he spoke he turned and twisted his neck, craning to look this way and that, up and down and from side to side, as if still unable to believe how he had been so transformed. At Jac’s request he removed his shirt so that the young healer could once again inspect his back and neck, although this time in a much less curt and clinical manner then before.

“If the skill that made the cuts in the first place was both fell and dire,” marvelled Jac, “the skill that has remedied them so well is even greater and more wonderful; and look, see how even the new wounds have healed as if cauterised.”

“Truly,” agreed Donal, “It is easier by far to destroy something than to put it together again.”

“The shock from the dragon’s strike must have made me seem as a dead man, or perhaps that was all a part of it’s deeper purpose, for drenched as I was in my own blood the guards obviously made no attempt to ensure that I really was dead. When I awoke, I was lying on a heap of kitchen refuse, and it took me some time to understand what had happened to me, and how I could still be alive. Then when I stood up and stretched and found that not only was I alive but that my deformities had been cured I could scarcely believe my good fortune I almost felt like singing, although I felt that in the circumstances I might not receive an appreciative audience.”

“And why didn’t you just high-tail it out of there when you had the chance?” asked Ethan, although he already knew the answer.

“And leave my Kitti behind, alone in a cell with a rowdy, unreliable crew like yourselves?” laughed Targon, “Besides I had to show her the new, improved version of Targon.”

“The new one is great,” smiled Kitti, stepping over the camp-fire to ruffle his hair affectionately, “So long as he does not change overly much and become too vain. Remember that I was very, very fond of the old version as well.”

“The kitchens were deep down in the fortress,” continued Targon, “and it was easy to see when the prisoner’s meals were being dispatched; we were getting the worst of the slops. From the amount that was being prepared I realized that we were not the only prisoners, but to my shame,” he glanced at Ethan, “I thought only of ourselves, and trying to free them as well never once occurred to me. I marked the direction the guards bringing the meals took as best as I could and when nightfall came I took my chance under the cover of darkness. Perhaps the dragon’s magic was still helping me, for the fortress is still very alive even at night, but I remained undiscovered as far as the dungeon, and was even able to mark the stables on the way.”

“There was only one guard on duty outside the dungeon, and he was half-asleep, so he was not hard to overpower and gag. And the rest you know.”

“You did well, my friend,” said Donal, “It was a brave act and we are all deeply in your debt, although fortune shone on us at every turn. I hope our good fortune continues, for tomorrow”, he turned then, looking keenly to the west with faraway expression in his face, and with what sounded to Ethan like pain in his voice, “Tomorrow we reach the sea.”