Age of Iron (30 page)

“Attack!” shouted one. They pulled out weapons and heaved on reins. Lowa shot another before the charge started. Five down, nine to go. She shot the lead rider before they were fifteen paces away. The next went down before five.

“Now!” said Lowa.

Along the ditch the girls leaped up, swung slings and loosed stones at the riders. Lowa saw a couple fall, and shot one more herself before another was right on her and a sword was swinging at her face.

Y
et again the gods had shat all over Weylin. His soldiers lay dead around him. Sixty or so tribespeople peered down at him, javelins primed. Somehow the first three volleys of their wicked little spears had missed him. He closed his eyes and waited.

“Hold!” Queen Ula’s voice. “You. Weylin.”

Weylin opened his eyes. “Yes?”

“Why does Zadar want Lowa?”

“I don’t know.”

A few people jeered.

“If you tell me, I’ll consider letting you live.”

Oh crap
, thought Weylin. It was obvious what had happened here. They’d caught Lowa, sent out the shout, then Lowa had used her twisty ways to persuade them that she’d been wronged. He could see why she might think that she’d been hard done by. (Ha! he thought. Screw you, Dionysia. I can think from another person’s point of view.) But that didn’t explain why they’d taken her side against Zadar. They must be mad.

But now, more importantly, what could he say that would persuade Queen Ula to let him live? He couldn’t think of anything. Why did Zadar want Lowa dead anyway? He had no idea and couldn’t begin to guess.

“I really don’t know,” he said.

“Oh well,” said Ula, “then I’m afraid I have no choice…”

A thought appeared in Weylin’s head as if Dionysia had shot it there with a sling from the Otherworld. “But I do know why
I
want her dead.”

Ula looked at him for several heartbeats.

“Why?” she asked

“She murdered my wife.” Weylin nodded. The lie was easy because it wasn’t even a lie. Brilliant.

Ula sat back. Her eyebrows converged and lifted like two caterpillars squaring up for combat. Was this his chance?

“And she killed my brother and my best mate.”

“Why?”

“Zadar … wanted to talk to her. That’s it, nothing more. My brother and a guy called Atlas – lovely guys, family men, had ten kids between them – were sent to get her. She killed Atlas before they’d even seen her with that Bel-cursed bow. They never had a chance. She shot my brother in the back as he ran for cover. I don’t know why she did it. I guess she’d done something to make her scared of Zadar. People said that she’d murdered others, and it’s true that a lot of people she didn’t like disappeared.

“Then we were riding along the next day, heading back to Maidun. An arrow came out of nowhere and killed my wife, and I saw Lowa riding away over a hill. So I don’t know why Zadar wanted to talk to her in the first place, but I know why I want her dead.”

“But Zadar killed her whole troop of archers? And her sister?”

“Who told you that?”

“She did.”

“Far as I know, she didn’t have a sister. She certainly didn’t have a troop of archers.”

Ula was looking worried. Maybe he was going to get away with this. Ula whispered to a man, who left the arena.

“Kill him!” someone shouted.

“No,” said Ula. “Let’s see what Lowa has to say first.”

Ah yes
, there was the flaw in his plan. And he’d been doing so well.

L
owa sprang back out of the ditch, arrow nocked. The woman who’d swung at her was down. No riders remained seated. The girls were among them, launching larger short-range stones from a few paces, then moving in with knives.

“Lowaaaa!” came a distressed wail. She looked for its source.
Bel! How had that happened?
Spring was clasped to a rider’s chest, looking over his shoulder as he galloped away. Lowa raised her bow and steadied for the shot.

The rider was the earless Ogre. If she shot, it would probably go through him and into Spring. She could reduce her pull so the arrow didn’t penetrate all the way, but the shot would still have to be powerful enough to go through his mail. It was too chancy. A head shot would do it, but the way their heads were bouncing she’d as likely hit Spring. If she took the horse out, Spring might be killed in the fall.
Shit
.

She slung her bow across her shoulders, raced for the nearest horse and leaped onto it. By the time she’d gathered the reins and turned the animal, Ogre and Spring were over the ridge and out of sight.

When she crested the valley top, they were perhaps four hundred paces away. Ogre had stopped and dismounted to change onto one of the scattered horses. He must know which are freshest, thought Lowa. Spring, still clutched to his chest, was whirling fists and feet like an enraged wildcat. The selected horse bucked, Ogre had to leap to avoid its crashing hooves, and Spring broke free. She spotted Lowa and started towards her, but Ogre picked up a spear and flung it. Spring staggered for a few steps, looked down at the spearhead protruding from her chest, then toppled forward.

“No!” screamed Lowa.

Ogre ran to Spring, put a foot on her back and pulled the spear out. He scooped her up, slung her light, limp body over a shoulder, clambered onto the horse and sped off.

Rage boiled from Lowa’s stomach. She dug her heels in and her mount sped up. He had a two-hundred-pace head start, but Lowa’s mount had a lighter load. Two miles later she was a hundred and fifty paces behind. A mile after that the gap was a hundred paces. With fifty paces between them, her horse was panting more than she’d heard a horse pant before. Spring was lifeless over Ogre’s shoulder. Blood ran down her back and dripped from her hair. Lowa could have shot Ogre without harming Spring from here a hundred times out of a hundred, even with the longbow being so cumbersome on horseback. Bringing down the horse would have been even easier. But shoot Ogre or the horse and it meant Spring hitting the ground hard, and she dared not risk further injury to the girl, in case she’d somehow survived a spear through the chest. It was a ridiculous hope, but Lowa was clinging to it.

Twenty paces. She could hear Ogre’s horse panting. Spring’s blood had run down its flank. Too much blood.

Ten paces.

“I’ll be on you in moments!” Lowa shouted above the drumming of the hooves on the metalled road. “Stop now, give me the girl, and I’ll let you live!”

Ogre ignored her. Five paces. She bent low in the saddle, squeezing her thighs to urge on her tired horse. The horse, perhaps sensing an end to its exertions, sped up. Without turning, Ogre reached back and stabbed a knife into his horse’s rump. His mount screamed and bounded forward, but Lowa was still gaining.

Four paces. She could smell his rank odour. Three paces. Spring’s body was bouncing on his shoulder. Two paces.

“I’m here!” she said. “This is your last chance!”

Still he ignored her.

She took an arrow from her quiver. She’d grab Spring and stab Ogre in the neck in the same movement. She reached out. Her fingers brushed through Spring’s hair. The girl’s eyes were glassy.

As if he sensed Lowa’s momentary distraction, Ogre turned and threw his knife. Lowa gasped as the blade sank to the hilt in her horse’s right eye. The animal’s front legs buckled, its head hit the road and Lowa was catapulted. She landed hard on a shoulder, a pace behind the hooves of Ogre’s horse. She rolled twice and was back on her feet to see Ogre twist round again, this time to wave goodbye.

Her bow had landed further along the road, undamaged, thank Danu. She unslung her quiver. A couple of shafts were broken, but it was the heads that mattered. She picked out three good arrows, stashed the quiver in an old badger hole a few paces from the road and covered it with a leafy branch. Not perfect, but hopefully she’d be back soon. She slashed a tree with her knife as a marker for her quiver in case somebody took the horse for meat. She picked up her bow and arrows and set off at a jog along the road after Ogre. She didn’t know why, but she very much wanted to retrieve Spring’s body.

“R
un me through it again.” Queen Ula stood, hands on hips, looking down at Weylin. Six men and women in black leather stood around her, throwing spears ready.

There were javelins everywhere, many sticking out of dead bodies. He could have grabbed one and hurled it at Ula, but he’d probably miss, and her guards would kill him with their spears if he tried anyway. Brains, he thought. That’s what I’m going to need to get out of this. I’m definitely fucked.

Surrounded by corpses, he told his tale again, hoping it was the same as the first time. He was just following orders. Lowa was a criminal who’d murdered his wife, brother and best friend. He’d been given the task of chasing her down and meant no harm to the good people of Kanawan. He’d been stunned when they slaughtered his troops, and very confused, particularly given how Zadar would respond.

To his surprise it looked like Ula might be believing him, or at least not totally rejecting his tale. She was biting her lip and looking around, presumably waiting for Lowa. She’d sent several people out of the arena and they’d all come back shaking their heads. If they couldn’t find Lowa – or Dug or the girl for that matter – then … He decided to risk it.

“She’s disappeared, hasn’t she?” he said, trying to sound conciliatory rather than triumphant.

Ula looked uncertain.

“I don’t know what she’s told you, but that Lowa Flynn, she knows how to talk. Much better than me. I guess if I were her, looking for sanctuary with decent people, I’d say Zadar had killed some of mine and I’d escaped. I think that’s how she got that guy – Dug, is it? – to go along with her. He killed a couple of ours when she escaped before. That’s why Zadar wants him too. No doubt he thought he was doing the right thing but, well, he’s in trouble.” Weylin sucked air through his teeth. “And you, Queen Ula, have a very similar problem. You’ve helped somebody who’s wronged Zadar.”

Ula wouldn’t meet his eye. Weylin took this as a good sign. He looked about at his dead comrades and shook his head theatrically.

“You sent the shout, you see? Zadar knew we were coming here. And when we don’t come back? It won’t be so easy to trick the next soldiers he sends. And there’ll be many, many more of them. Zadar’ll probably come himself. You heard what happened to Cowton? I was there. I tried to hold our people back, but Cowton had wronged Zadar. So he killed
everyone
. Children, dogs, chickens – every living thing. And most of them not quickly. Some of the things I saw…” Weylin thought back to that day at Cowton and managed to muster a shudder, even though he’d been one of Zadar’s most enthusiastic sadists.

“Find Lowa!” Ula ordered one of the troops in black out of the arena. At the same moment one of the women whom she’d sent out earlier appeared over the top of the arena wall. She tripped down the steps to Ula and whispered something.

“Fuck. Well, go after her,” said Ula. She glanced at Weylin then raised her eyes to the sky as if looking for answers up there.

Weylin smiled. So Lowa had done a runner. He wondered why.

Lowa ran, tripping along lightly at her keep-going-for-ever pace. Her breath was even, her head bobbing gently and regularly. The road was through woods, shaded from the sun, which made things easier. Pipits and tits flew from tree to tree alongside her, chirruping aimlessly. She couldn’t work out if it was the same few birds following her or loads of them lining her route.

She’d seen Ogre once, near the start when the road crossed a broad, open valley. She’d hidden by a tree until he was out of sight. He’d certainly be able to outrun her on a horse if he pushed it, but if he didn’t know she was following she had a good chance of catching him. He didn’t know that she’d been running long distances for pleasure since she was a girl so hopefully he’d decide that she couldn’t still be after him.

She felt good, happy even. That was strange given the last few days and given that she was chasing a child’s corpse, but that was what running did for her. It delivered a sweeter, cleaner euphoria than any alcohol or mushroom.

Why, she thought as she ran, had Ogre taken Spring? His gang must have been after Spring all along. Had she met Spring before? Something had nagged at her about the girl – a look, a mannerism, a way of speaking that she recognised perhaps. Maybe she’d just seen her somewhere? Lowa had travelled a lot with the army and seen a lot of people, so it was more than possible.

She ran on, clutching at and failing to grab any memories of Spring. What she didn’t wonder for a moment was why she was running back in the direction of all her troubles to rescue a dead girl.

“I might be able to help you,” said Weylin.

“How?” said Ula eventually.

“I could talk to Zadar. He listens to me.”

“Go on,” said Ula.

“Well, it depends.”

“On what?”

“Where are the rest of my troop? The ones I left at the top of the hill.”

Ula turned to the woman who’d returned with news of Lowa. They spoke quietly so he couldn’t hear, but he saw the woman draw her finger across her throat.

Ula looked at him.

“Are they all dead?”

She shook her pretty face from side to side as if wondering what to tell him.

“Tell me the truth. If none of them got away, I might be able to help you.”

The two women spoke again. Ula straightened. She narrowed her blue eyes, beat her fingers against the back of the bench in front of her, then said, “One got away. He took Spring. Lowa went after him. So she didn’t just run off. Everyone’s saying that Lowa’s trying to rescue the girl. That’s hardly the behaviour of a murderer saving herself.”

Bel’s balls
, thought Weylin. By Kornonus he hated lying. Not because there was anything wrong with it, he just wasn’t very good at it. Then it came to him. He ran a hand through the knot of hair on the back of his head and chuckled.

“Oh she’s good. Covering up her flight like that … She’s not coming back. She’s used you and she’s off. That’s what she does. Now, if you let me go, I’ll go to Maidun, talk to Zadar—”