Midnight Falcon

Bane, seeing the breach in the line, dropped back and ran to fill it. He killed two Vars and kicked out at a third, who had just reached the crest. The man slipped and fell, rolling back into his fellows. Gryffe raced to join Bane. A sword blade rammed into his side. The mail shirt stopped the blade slicing into his flesh, but Gryffe felt a rib snap under the impact. Dropping his sword he lunged at the Var, punching him full in the face. Then he grabbed him at the throat and groin, heaved him into the air and hurled him into a group of Sea Wolves about to clear the crest. Sweeping up his blade Gryffe gave a great shout and threw himself at the charging men. His sword hammered against an iron helm, splitting it in two, the blade crushing the skull beneath. Fi

As Snarri and Dratha ran at the woman by the wagon a slim warrior moved to stand before her. Snarri saw that the man was middle-aged, with only one eye. The Vars leader leapt to the attack. Instead of jumping back, or parrying, the one-eyed man ducked under the sweeping blade and sent a deadly thrust at Snarri's face. The huge Var swayed away from the thrust, and kicked out, catching the one-eyed warrior in the knee. The Rigante stumbled. Dratha stepped in swiftly, bringing his axe down on the man's shoulder. The snapping of bone followed and the Rigante cried out. Then he surged to his feet, the axe still embedded in his flesh. Dratha tried to leap back, but the warrior's sword opened his throat in a bloody spray. Snarri swung his longsword at the Rigante's neck, but mistimed the stroke, the blade clanging against the man's helm, knocking it from his head. Dazed, the Rigante tried to turn, but Snarri's reverse sweep smashed his skull to shards.

Another fighter loomed before him. Snarri blinked. The man was wearing an iron breastplate, helm and greaves, styled in the Stone fashion. And he was carrying two short swords. His face and arms were spattered with blood. Snarri attacked, but the warrior moved like quicksilver, blocking his thrust and spi

Back at the crest of the hill the fighting was chaotic and furious. Of the two hundred Vars who had made the charge only around a hundred and ten had made it to the crest. Of these more than half were down. But so were many of the defenders. Gryffe, blood-covered now, was still fighting furiously, as was Fi

Fi

At that moment men began to rush past the dazed soldier, throwing themselves upon the Vars, stabbing them with hunting knives and daggers. It was the bowmen who had fled the field earlier. Catching his breath Fi

The fighting was over within a few minutes, his sergeant Prasalis knocking the last Var to the ground before braining him with several vicious blows. Prasalis looked round, saw Fi

'Are you hurt, sir?' he asked, kneeling down.

'Aye, but I'll live… I think,' said Fi

'There's nothing too deep, and your skull isn't cracked.'

'How many did we lose?' asked Fi

'I'll find out, sir,' said Prasalis, moving away.

Bane, his swords sheathed, his helm discarded, walked over to where Wik was standing, staring down over the settlement. The outlaw had an odd expression in his face that Bane could not read.

'Good to see you,' said Bane, with a smile. 'Thought you might have left us.'

'I did leave you,' said Wik. 'I was pissing myself with fear.'

'Then why did you come back?'

Wik shrugged. 'I've been asking myself the same thing. The other five gold pieces, I expect.'

'Nonsense,' said Bane. 'You came back because you're a man. Don't belittle yourself. How do you feel?'

'Truly? I feel sad, and I can't tell you why.'

Bane placed his hand on the man's shoulder. 'We saved hundreds of lives today. We stood our ground and we won. But I feel sad too.' He smiled. 'And I don't know why either. We'll talk later. For now let's see to the men.'

Prasalis returned to Fi

'What are our losses?'

'Eleven of our men and sixty of the outlaws dead or dying. The Vars lost one hundred and sixty-four men. The survivors fled to the east.'

Fi

'His name was Grale,' said Bane. 'I almost killed him two years ago. A friend of mine told me he was once a hero – that he had fought bravely at Cogden Field.' Bane glanced across at the silent figure of Meria. 'He died for you, lady,' he said. 'I hope you have the grace to remember his name.'

From the hills to the west came the refugees from Three Streams. Vorna and a group of the women began to move among the wounded, tending them.

Bane called Gryffe and Valian to him, then he walked over to Fi

Fi