The Fighting Man. Adrian Deans
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mean you harm,’ replied a voice, high pitched and mad with mirth.
‘They fear our weapons,’ said Valla. ‘They have none of their own, save rocks and sharpened staves … but they have some skill with those.’
At that moment I realised that the tip of my sword was dripping blood. I must have caught one of them swinging in the dark – and couldn’t help but feel a little pride. They had no weapons? They weren’t so tough.
‘I am Brand,’ I shouted, planting the sword at my feet. ‘Son of Holgar … thegn and reeve. I am lord of this wood. Who wishes to taste my sword?’
If anything, the laughter got louder and more deranged. One voice began shrieking, ‘Lord of the Wood! Lord of the Wood!’
I estimated that there were at least five or six voices contributing to the laughter, and took a couple of paces in the direction they seemed thickest, when suddenly the small clearing flared brightly with a greenish light and I spun around to see Valla standing over the fire with her hands raised above her head. The fire burned green with a great intensity that faded quickly, and left the air stinking like a cess pit.
‘Behold! I am Valla! Leave this place or I will boil the blood in your veins, wither your children and bring terror to your dreams.’
The laughter ceased.
Valla held her pose, still as a clay figure, until the green flames turned red again and her arms drooped to her sides.
‘They will return,’ she said, softly. ‘Only one of us can sleep, the others must watch and keep the fire alive.’
As for that, we had only collected so much fuel, so I strode to the edge of the light and, always with an eye on the forest, began collecting bark, twigs, cones and anything else that might burn and keep us alive.
‘How did you do that?’ I asked, dragging a good-sized log while still brandishing my sword and keeping my eyes to the forest.
‘You said my magic would be useful,’ said Valla. ‘I agreed. It was time to unveil my power … but the Rockers will return.’
It was all a bit much, and I wasn’t sure which of the two lines of questions I most wanted to pursue.
‘The green flames?’ I faltered, once again feeling the hair rise on the back of my neck. ‘What sort of spell … ’
‘Sulphate of copper,’ said Carl, ‘…blended with pitch to keep it burning bright for a few moments.’
I turned to glance at him, peering calmly into the trees, holding only a stave.
‘So you know the ingredients,’ shrugged Valla. ‘It doesn’t reduce the effect of the magic.’
‘There is no magic save the Lord’s,’ replied Carl. ‘Yours is just the application of basic alchemy.’
‘Magic or alchemy … does it matter? I brought the preparation for such a happening … and now the Rockers have withdrawn.’
‘Who are the Rockers?’ I asked.
‘Outlaws … dispossessed … poor folk without clan. They live deep in the forest and keep to themselves … until they are invaded and robbed.’
‘I didn’t know it was their hare!’ I said hotly, raising my voice slightly in case the Rockers were within earshot.
‘You knew it was someone’s,’ said Valla.
‘You ate it too.’
‘Can I suggest we remain silent?’ asked Carl.
The noises of the forest slowly returned, meaning either that we were alone, or that the night creatures had accepted the new presence of the Rockers.
‘So, they kill with rocks?’ I whispered, examining once again the rock lying exactly where my head had been.
‘That is their way,’ whispered Valla, ‘and rarely do they fail at it. You were lucky.’
‘We were all lucky,’ said Carl. ‘If Brand hadn’t woken us, there would certainly have been more rocks in the dark … although, perhaps not for you.’
I couldn’t see Valla’s face, but I laughed softly, despite the continuing threat from the darkness.
‘Aren’t you going to tell us again that all men are beasts?’ I said, and to my vague dismay, Valla said, ‘Yes, all men are beasts … but know this Brand. I would gladly rut with the foulest peasant before I lay with you. So keep that in mind next time you picture me naked and lying beneath you. It will never happen.’
I had no idea how to respond to that, but it left me feeling sad. And of course, the serpent again began to uncoil.
Chapter 6
A Strange Device
We took it in turns to snatch a little rest, with always two watching, but sleep had not come easily with the constant threat and also the knowledge that you would be woken as soon as you shut your eyes.
And yet, we did shut our eyes. Carl and I had been watching, as Valla slept, and the next I knew I was waking with a start – in cold, grey mist which hung about us but swirled with every breath or movement like gossamer pricked with tiny crystals. Beyond the clearing, the trees were dark shadows, like brooding chessmen from an unfinished game.
Carl and Valla were asleep, and the forest was quiet. I sensed the Rockers were not close, but climbed to my feet and stretched, pulling my sword from its scabbard and examining the half-dried blood on the tip. I knew that I ought to be cleaning and sharpening the sword after blooding it, but felt a strange unwillingness. The blood marked my first effort as a warrior and I was loath to lose it.
We were in a small clearing, only twenty paces across, but so thick was the mist it was almost impossible to see from one edge to the other. I strained ears and eyes but caught no warning, so began collecting more fuel and added kindling to the fire which had all but died. I dug into the coals, found some still faintly pink and blew, crumbling dried bark onto the embers as they glowed. Soon the fire was crackling once again and Carl stirred. So I decided to leave the clearing discreetly.
As I’ve said before, there are some stinks I cannot bear – one in particular. Some might suggest that my experience of lying all night in a latrine might have inured me to the stench of turd, but if anything it had made me even more squeamish. There were certain conventions about shitting near camp sites. At least thirty paces into the woods was regarded as good manners, but that was never enough for me so, sword in hand, I crept through the misty bracken, twisting and turning past rocks and huge trees, until I found a place sufficiently remote for my taste.
After completing my ablutions I began to retrace my steps, and soon realised I’d lost the trail.
I stopped – the loudest sound being my own breathing – and turned slowly in a complete circle, trying to recognise a landmark leading back to the clearing. Nothing seemed familiar, so I chose the most obvious path – and found myself back at the place of my ablutions.
The faintest stirrings of panic began to grip me, but I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I was only fifty or so paces from the clearing. Dare I risk a shout? Or a whistle perhaps?
My low, tuneless whistle sounded dead against the ever-swirling mist, so I tried a little louder. There was no response, and I began to feel terribly alone. Again, I shook my head and breathed deeply to clear the beginnings of panic. I felt the urge to start running and shouting but quelled it, knowing that panic would only lead me astray, and shouting could bring the Rockers.
Picking a direction slightly to the west of the first I had tried, I determined to go as straight as possible for fifty paces and then if necessary, return and try again – gradually radiating until I found my companions.
Halfway through my third attempt, I heard Carl shout, but it sounded far behind me and I immediately turned and headed in the direction of the shout. Then he shouted again, and Valla screamed, and