Fateful Voyage; A Tale of Albion - VII

VII



"Faster, damn you!"

The Sargent, dark cloak streaming behind him, stood upon the bow of the skiff. He was dressed in the golden armor and livery of the Golden Lions; he had a crossbow in his hands.

Though he was yelling orders to the sailors behind him, he kept his attention focused upon the skiff ahead of him; it was swiftly approaching Avalon Isle. He wasn't in bowshot range yet.

Behind him, his men loaded crossbows. Sailors trimmed the billowing sail. But the skiff they were chasing would beat them to the shore, a barren place near Drakoran encampments. Foul beasts, the Sargent thought. Always hated them.

After a while, he saw a man jump into the water, wading in towards shore. His men crowded around him on the bow, watching. They were slightly out of range.

He saw a slim figure upon the stern of the skiff head of him; as he cried out a warning, a blurry object flew by his head, hissing in his ear. Behind him, a man screamed and clutched a clothyard shaft that had sprouted from his chest; it had pierced his armor with ease.

"Down, everyone!," the Sargent shouted, crouching low. A man next to him raised his head above the prow to take a long shot with his crossbow; another clothyard shaft took him in the eye. He was dead before his body hit the boards beneath his knees.

Everyone lay flat upon the deck, including the sailors. There was no sound save for the water sloshing against the hull as the skiff sailed, unmanned, towards the shore.

Finally, after some minutes, the Sargent worked up enough courage to peek over the prow, mouthing a silent prayer to God. He saw the skiff beached upon the sand, and two sailors waving at him. He saw no sign of the damned female and her longbow, nor the Highlander.

"Up, up! They run! We will have them now!," he shouted.

His men prepared to debark as they closed on the beach.

~~~

They ran up and away from the shore, Caddan in the lead, Livia keeping an eye out behind them, her longbow and an arrow in her hands. Wolf sprinted ahead, obviously glad to be off the skiff. They ran into a patch of tangled trees.

Suddenly a deep roar sounded from ahead. Wolf howled, and backed slowly towards them.

The Drakoran burst from the brush ahead of them, looking like a scaled demon from the pits of Hell. Its small eyes glittered with malevolence.

Livia's longbow sang; an arrow glanced off its armored hide.

Caddan drew his blade from the sheath over his shoulder, holding the hilt in both hands.

As Wolf lunged at the beast, another shaft from the longbow pierced the Drakoran's right arm; it grunted in pain, maddened. Wolf grabbed its leg as Caddan swung his sword as hard as he could downwards, slicing into its shoulder, hearing bones break.

The beast screamed and bowled Caddan over, shaking Wolf off its leg, and it fell upon Livia, just as she shot it point-blank in the chest.

Caddan dragged the twitching, dead beast off of her; Livia looked pale. Her leg was slashed open; she was losing blood fast.

Cursing, Caddan tore a strip of cloth off the bottom of his shirt and tied it around her leg tightly; she moaned and told him, "Go, go. No time." She called for Wolf and held his head in her hands; looking into his eyes, she pointed to Caddan. Wolf turned and looked at him, then looked back at Livia. She nodded, and closed her eyes. Her face was very pale. Caddan picked her up, draping her arm over his shoulders.

The blood ran freely down her leg; an artery was hit. He knew she would die soon. Still cursing, he dragged her along. They heard shouts behind them.

"Against that tree," Livia gasped; he took her there and she propped her back up against the trunk, nocking an arrow in her bow. Caddan felt helpless.

"Take them from behind as they come for me," she said in a weak voice; he looked at her, and she smiled a small weak smile as he nodded curtly, saying "Lass-"

"No time," she said. He ran off through the brush to the side, doubling back; Wolf followed him, but he stopped and pointed back to Livia, swaying against the tree-trunk. Wolf ran back to her.

~~~

Livia winced at the pain, he body trembling; but she held her longbow straight as ever, arrow pointed at the path where it emerged from the brush.

Suddenly, half a dozen figures appeared, wearing golden armor and dark cloaks. One gaped at her, raising a crossbow. Livia put an arrow in his stomach and swiftly nocked another arrow, sending another clothyard shaft into the forearm of another who pointed a crossbow at her. He shrieked and dropped his bow as the others charged.

The one in front of her had a shield and sword; his shield was raised, so she put the shaft into his thigh. He tumbled to the ground, cursing. That was when Caddan appeared out of the brush. She smiled at the sight of him, then everything turned to black as she slumped to the ground.

~~~

Caddan leapt out upon the path behind the men; with volcanic fury, he yelled "Griffons!" as he thrust his blade through the back of the man in front of him. His sword burst through his armor and the body fell bonelessly to the ground. Caddan saw a man with an arrow in his leg crawling towards a crossbow; suddenly Wolf leapt upon him, tearing at him.

The three men remaining turned to face Caddan.

He looked at the three men, laughing at him, insulting him. He looked at them and smiled, with a dead-calm certainty that he felt flow through his soul, and as he brought his sword up, held in front of his face, he told them in a clear voice, sounding strange to his own ears; "Ye are goin' ta die, each one a ye. Which one be first?"

The taunts died upon their lips when they saw his face.

Caddan leaped forward, smoldering with fury. The first man threw his sword up to turn Caddan's cut; as the others moved towards him, he gave a savage backhand cut at the man that bit into his side. The man groaned, clutching his wound, as Caddan thrust his blade through his armpit. He barely got the sword out of the body in time to parry a huge cut aimed at his head. He threw himself backwards to avoid a sidehand slash by the other man. He stumbled.

The second man followed up with with a thrust that glanced off Caddan's hauberk. The third man, an older veteran by the look of him, hacked at him; Caddan parried the force of the blow, though the sword gouged him on the shoulder. Bright pain flowed through him.

He counterthrust at the second man, his sword slicing open the man's upper arm. The man yelled in pain and fell back.

The third man, the veteran, hacked at Caddans side, bursting his mail, the edge of the blade tasting Caddan's flesh. Caddan weakly dealt a backhand blow that the veteran parried, smiling.

The second man gripped his upper arm, and raised his sword to attack once more. Wolf leapt upon him, pushing him to the ground, screaming.

Caddan was feeling faint. He knew he had to end the fight now. He fainted a blow aimed at the veteran's head, then whirled around sideways, sword in both hands, swinging with all his might.

His blade crunched through the man's armor at the same time Caddan was struck again by his sword.

~~~

He lay upon the grass, trying to rise, but falling back down heavily to his hands and knees. He was weary, making even the pain a distant thing. He looked over and saw his notched sword beside him, reached out, and gripped the hilt. The familiar feel reassured him.

He rolled over and laid upon his back, staring into the sky. It all slowly came back to him. His heartbeat pounded in his ears; he felt feverish.

Wolf stood over him, licking his face. "Livia," he said, and suddenly sat up. Blood flowed under his armor.

He stood, using his sword as a crutch to prop him up. He walked around the dead Golden Lions at his feet, limped over to where Livia sat, eyes, closed, back against the tree. She was unmoving.

He collapsed to his knees next to her, and touched her arm; her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled wanly.

"You made it home to Trema..."

"Lass, I'm goin' ta carry ya on my back. Let me-"

"No," she said whispering, and smiled. "Wolf is yours now. Remember my tale, at Ulfwych?"

Caddan leaned forward and took her hand; she passed away as he stroked her hand.

He sat there until he felt the overpowering urge to lay down.

He knew that he would die unless he made it to Anniogel, not too far away.

He pushed himself to his feet, using his sword once more. He looked at Livia once more, tears in his eyes, and he stumbled down the path.

His mind faded in and out. Wolf walked next to him, holding his hand in his jaws gently, urging him forward. He fell once; Wolf licked his face and he managed to stand once more, to walk forward.

Sometimes he thought that it was Livia walking next to him; other times, it was Sheymus, looking at him, grinning. Then it was Trema, telling him to come home to her or she'd come out here and haul him in by his ear. Sometimes he sang.

He came to his senses when he heard the shout. He looked around him, and saw the fort ahead; a guard was shouting, drawing his bow. Wolf was hit by the arrow, and collapsed. "No," Caddan said.

He fell to the ground next to the beast, holding it, burying his face in the fur. "No, no" he repeated.

"I thought it was attacking him! It's a wolf!" yelled the guardsman, as his commander cursed him and told him that was Livia's pup.

Caddan felt the men leaning over him as Wolf feebly licked his hand, and then he knew no more.

~~~

Lord Braxton hated these events.

He sat upon his horse at Prydwen Keep, reviewing the new company of Golden Lions. They marched by him, resplendent in their gold and black uniforms.

He watched them, bored.

After the ceremony, he told his officers he was going down to Prydwen Bridge for a time, and would be back.

He trotted his horse out the gate, east towards the river. He thought about the recent business with the Brotherhood of the Griffons, and smiled grimly. At least they were out of the way, and no one the wiser. Councillor Shaw assured him there would be no questions asked.

He dismounted under a willow tree by the riverbank, not too far from the bridge. All was peaceful and warm.

He saw two mounted figures approaching; they rode up to him and likewise dismounted.

"Lady Ulrika," he said, taking her hand.

The Ice Witch looked cooly upon him. "Your rivals are destroyed, Braxton. I am sure you are happy." The young man next to her was unfamiliar to him; some new toy of hers, an Infiltrator no doubt.

"Yes, Milady. You did your part."

"I barely escaped with my life."

"I had no worries for you; I know your resourcefulness."

Braxton smiled thinly.

Ulrika looked back at him, impassively.

"The New Lands will take much more than the Golden Lions to subdue. I almost succeeded in killing their leader-"

"Almost," Braxton broke in, "isn't good enough. But the lands there will be my own some day. Perhaps you will be by my side, then." He handed her a pouch, the sound of coins ringing together inside.

The Ice Witch smiled, a brilliant deadly smile, as she took the pouch.

"Anything is possible."

Braxton bowed to her; Ulrika and her companion remounted, and rode slowly off.

Braxton looked out across the water; he walked down to the bridge, and sat watching the water flow under it. He was thinking of how to approach the current problem again when a shadow fell over him.

He looked up, startled. A gaunt Highlander with intense eyes stood over him. Braxton then saw the blade in his hand. Sweat poured down his face; his guards had been left at the Keep on purpose, for the meeting...

"I have thousands of gold pieces at Prydwen. All that and more-"

The Highlander spoke, interrupting him with a curiously soft voice.

"I shoulda done this that day at Hurbury. But as I said then, Milord...better late than never."

Braxton recognized him; "You," he said in a surprised tone, as the blade slid into his chest.

~~~

Trema looked out the window for the twentieth time.

She was back in the very room in Cotswold Inn that her and Caddan had shared the eve before he left, all those weeks ago.

When word of the Griffons' defeat at the hands of the
barbarians reached her, she nearlt went crazy with grief. Every day since was a torment; the not knowing was the worst part.

She looked down the street through Cotswold.

She planned to stay here until her money ran out, or until confirmed word of her love's death reached her. She had told him she would be here when he returned; the innkeeper looked at her sadly each day when she appeared for her meals.

She could not give up hope, no matter how it hurt.

Suddenly, she spied a figure standing under a tree across the road.

Her heart leaped.

He looked up at her, seeing her in the window. She plainly saw the burden he carried upon him, even from up here.

Crying with joy, she ran out of the room, down the stairs. She threw open the doors to the Inn, ran out into the road, and ran into his arms, weeping.