The Paradise War (43 page)

“I have never been so cold,” I observed to Tegid one day, as we stopped to chop holes in the ice of the river to water the animals.

“Save your breath,” he told me bitterly. “The worst is yet to come.”

Hoping to lighten his mood, I replied, “Then the worst will be wasted on me, brother. I am numb from head to heel—I will not feel the difference.”

He shrugged and continued chopping. When we had made a large enough hole in the thick ice, I scooped the ice chips from the hole with my hand to clear it. The water made my hand feel warmer for an instant, and then my fingers grew numb again. We brought our horses to the hole and, while they drank, I asked, “How much farther, Tegid? How many more days on the trail before we reach the fortress?”

“I cannot say.”

“You must have some idea.”

He shook his head gravely. “I do not. I have never attempted the journey in the snow. Our pace has slowed from when we first began, and even then it was not quick. As our strength begins to fail in the high passes, we will move even more slowly.”

“Perhaps it will clear soon,” I observed. “If we had even a few good days, it would help.”

He cocked an eye to the sky—dark, as it had been for days on end, the clouds thick and gray with shut-up snow. “No,” he said, “I think that will not happen. Indeed, I am beginning to think that the Season of Snows will not end until Lord Nudd is defeated.”

“Is that possible?” The notion of never-ending winter would have seemed ludicrous, if not for the evidence mounting around us with each passing day.

The bard’s voice was solemn when he answered. “Great evil is loosed in Albion. Anything is possible.”

Though I hated to admit it, I knew in my heart that he spoke the truth. Lord Nudd and his Demon Horde had seized Albion, and the hatred of Nudd’s cold heart now inundated the land—howling in the cruel, cutting wind, and raging in the stinging ice and blinding snow.

“Have you told anyone this?”

Tegid busied himself with the horses but made no reply.

“You should tell the king, at least.”

“Do you think he does not know this already?”

After watering the horses we moved on, but with heavier hearts for the bleak prospect ahead. Day followed day. The land became steeper, the trail narrower and harder to follow. Our pace slowed accordingly— though we rose earlier, we were forced to rest more often, so gained no benefit there. Still, all was not against us. For, as the hills became more rugged and rocky, the sparse brushwood of the empty upland hills gave way to forest. We were able to find as much firewood as we needed, and, for the first time since leaving ruined Sycharth, we were at least warm at night.

Also, the game which had fled the lowlands seemed to have taken refuge in the forests. We began to see signs of animals among the forest runs, and sometimes the gray flicker of a wolf loping silently through the trees. Prince Meldron formed a hunting party, which he led. At first, the hunters were luckless. But as the forest became more dense and the game more plentiful, the prince’s efforts began meeting with some success. More and more often, we had the roast meat of wild pigs and deer to fill our stomachs.

One day, as we set about making camp, a small hunting party rode out in search of game. The hunters had not long left the camp when one of their number came riding back. “Hurry!” he cried. “We need six more warriors to follow me.”

“What is it? What has happened?” inquired Tegid.

“We have found an aurochs,” the hunter explained. “The prince has sent me to bring six more men to join the hunt.”

“I will go,” I offered, feeling a strange tingle of excitement as a long-forgotten memory awakened. An aurochs . . .

“Choose five to go with you,” Tegid told the rider. “I will remain with the king.”

He did not lack volunteers, and in a moment we were mounted and flying after our guide. We rode along a hunting run cut deep into the forest. Because of the trees, the snow had not drifted to much depth, so we were able to ride with good speed. In almost no time we joined the prince and his party: four companions—Simon and Paladyr among them—and three hounds.

“Here is where we raised the trail,” Prince Meldron said, pointing to the snow with the butt of his spear.

I saw from the enormous tracks in the snow that a huge and heavy creature had wandered into the hunting run. And next to the first set of tracks was a second, slightly smaller set. Two animals. I looked in the direction indicated by the tracks, but the trail turned and the forest grew close, so I could not see far.

“The tracks are new,” the prince observed. “The creatures can be but a little distance ahead of us. We will loose the dogs. Ready your spears.” He turned his horse and shouted, “Release the dogs!”

Freed from the leash, the three hounds—all that were left of the king’s hunting pack—raced after the quarry. We lashed our horses to follow. The cold wind bit our hands and faces as the horses’ driving hooves kicked up a spray of snow. Along the trail we flew, spears level, slicing the chill air.

The narrow corridor of the hunting run turned, and we rounded the bend to see that it ended at an outcropping of stone a short way ahead. Tumbled slabs of moss-covered stone thrust up from the level ground, forming a toothy, jagged wall atop a small mound. And before this gray green mounded wall stood two aurochs, enormous beasts, an adult and a youngster—a cow and her calf, I guessed—by the look of them, exhausted.

The smaller animal was a young bull, huge and sleek and black, its enormous shoulder hump rising like a dark hill above the broad plain of its back. Its mother was even larger—a massive mountain of flesh and hide, hoof and horn. Separated from their herd, the beasts had grown weak with hunger and thirst. They had stumbled into the run and lacked the wit to realize the danger. These great creatures know few predators; lords of the forest, they are seldom challenged—even by the wolves which will only attack an old or enfeebled animal.

At first glimpse of the beasts, the dogs sounded. Their long, quavering cry pierced the air and echoed down the run. At the first shivering note, the aurochs made to bolt, but saw that they were trapped by the close-grown pines and blackthorn thickets on either side. As the dogs raced swiftly toward them, the larger aurochs trotted forward and stopped stiff-legged to await its attackers. The young bull remained behind its mother, safe for the moment.

On Ynys Sci I had taken part in many hunts, but never hunted an aurochs. Indeed, I had never before seen one of these secretive beasts in the flesh. Seeing one now, even from a fair distance, I marveled at its size. Closer, it made our horses seem small, foolishly delicate creatures— more like deer than the mounts of warriors.

I thought the beast would charge us. But it remained steadfast, with stiffened legs and lowered head. The wide-sweeping horns, sharp as spearpoints and strong as iron, tilted toward us. One misstep and both horse and rider would be impaled; those gracefully curved weapons would rip the belly of a horse wide open, or pass like an arrow through the body of a man. One mistake and the unlucky hunter would not live to make another.

Heedless of the danger, the hunters raced ahead, raising the hunting cry, flying full-voiced down the run. Like keening eagles we swooped toward our prey. The aurochs stood like a massive black boulder in our path, waiting patiently. Not a muscle twitched, not a nostril quivered. Likely, the animal had never been attacked, and even now did not sense the peril hurtling down upon it.

Our horses sped closer. The dogs bayed, their necks stretched low and teeth bared. The first riders were almost within striking distance. Yet the cow did not move. Far better if the beast takes fright, turns tail, and flees—then it can easily be ridden down from behind. A quick spear-thrust behind the shoulder and into the heart, and the hunt is over. The kill is quick and clean.

But the aurochs did not easily surrender or retreat. The beast stood its ground, forcing its attackers to maneuver in close around it. At such close range the chances for a misstep multiply.

The hounds reached the cow first. Most creatures succumb to terror at the sound of a hound’s hunting cry, and the sight of a pack closing for the kill sends most prey into a fatal panic. Not the aurochs. The bold black beast merely lowered its head still further, protecting its throat. The dogs circled, barking and snarling in a frenzy of rage and frustration, yet keeping well out of range of those long, lethal horns.

We halted a short distance away to assess the situation. “We will drive the animals apart,” said the prince. “You four distract the cow.” He pointed at Simon and three others. “The rest come with me. We will take the young bull first.”

The small aurochs was welcome, to be sure, but the larger animal was the more desirable, for it would feed that many more. The prince thought that without its offspring to protect, the cow would be easier to kill. And at first the plan looked likely to succeed.

As it happened, the seven who were to take on the calf had the more difficult task. And as for driving the animals apart—they seemed to have taken root where they stood or been frozen to the spot, for neither so much as lifted a hoof. Nevertheless, Simon and his group went to work, whooping and shouting, dodging and feinting, in an effort at diverting the aurochs cow.

Meanwhile, the rest of the hunters joined Prince Meldron in forming a large circling ring, riding around and around the young bull, waiting for a chance to strike. One look at that vast, thick-muscled shoulder and that massive neck, and I knew that nothing save a direct, plunging thrust would kill it, and even then I doubted that a single spear could bring it down.

The young bull gazed placidly at us with calm black eyes, wagging its immense head from side to side. With each sweep, its horns described a killing arc which only a fool would ignore. And there were no fools among us this day.

But the prince and his men had hunted aurochs before. After circling the beast long enough to establish a predictable rhythm, the prince, who had been holding his spear aloft, lowered the spearpoint and, in the same motion, turned his horse, driving toward the aurochs, approaching it obliquely from the rear.

Those of us opposite the prince shouted at the animal. The spearhead flashed nearer its mark. The prince leaned forward to plunge the spear deep, the full weight of horse and rider behind the gleaming blade.

Just as the prince tensed to deliver the blow, however, the young bull turned, raising its head at the last moment. If I had not seen it, I would never have believed a creature that large could move so fast.

In a shattered instant, the great black head jerked and the wide-spreading horns struck the prince’s horse just behind the left foreleg. With a quick, effortless toss of its head the horse was caught.

The same moment, swift and certain, the prince struck with his weapon, driving the spearhead deep into the shoulder. Thinking to turn the beast, I heaved my spear as hard as I could. My throw glanced harmlessly off the aurochs’ hump and made no serious wound. But the aurochs spun toward me, thus freeing the prince. Meldron threw himself from his mount just as the screaming, flailing horse toppled backwards.

My action spared the prince a nasty wound, or worse. But now I had no weapon and the prince had no horse. I continued the circuit around the aurochs and called to Meldron. As I came upon him, I reached down a hand; he caught it and vaulted up behind me in the saddle.

Meanwhile, the dogs, seeing the beast’s head rise, sprang to the attack. One of the hounds succeeded in getting close enough to sink its teeth into the soft skin of the aurochs’ throat. The dog bit and held on. The aurochs lowered its huge jaw, catching the hound’s head between its jaw and chest. Then it simply knelt and crushed the dog.

The two remaining dogs smelled the blood and rushed upon the aurochs. The young bull turned to meet the attack with a sweep of its horns and caught one of the hounds, piercing it through the neck and lifting it high. The hapless dog whined hideously and thrashed to free itself, but only succeeded in working the smooth horn deeper. The aurochs tossed its head to shake the dog loose.

The hunters saw their chance and took it. Three riders turned as one, and three spears sliced the air. Two spears found their mark in the aurochs’ neck, and another bit deep into the swelling side between two huge ribs.

The last two riders drove in and two more spears penetrated the exposed neck; one of these severed an artery. Blood spewed in a sudden fountain and gushed from the great beast’s mouth and nostrils, steaming in the cold air.

The aurochs fell to its knees in the snow, and one of the hunters rushed upon it. In an instant he threw himself from the saddle, plucked a spear from the fallen beast’s side, and drove it in again, thrusting the spearhead into the base of the skull behind the horns. The young bull stiffened and then rolled onto its side, dead before its body stopped quivering.

We paused but a moment—just long enough to retrieve our spears, and for the prince to mount another’s horse—then turned to join the assault of the larger aurochs. But the cow must have seen what happened to her calf, for the larger beast broke from the circling riders and hurtled toward us. None of us was in position to meet the charge, and we all scattered to get out of the way. This gave the wily creature a wide-open path of escape.

The cow ran to the rock mound behind us, and those of us closest gave chase. I was one of the nearer hunters, and Simon was another. Four of us flew after our retreating prey, and the prince began shouting orders to the others to take up positions on the near side of the mound to seal off the beast’s escape. We would chase the aurochs around behind the mound and into the waiting spears of our fellow hunters.