Pagan Siege (Tribes of Britain Book 5), Sam Taw [beautiful books to read .TXT] 📗

She froze, her strategy had failed. My hand leapt to my mouth to stifle my cries. I was sure that he’d shout to his clansmen; summon all those on guard to assist him, but he did not. Perhaps he thought her too small to be a threat, we will never know, but he grabbed a thick staff as long as he was tall and thundered towards her. Still Senara did not move, her feet rooted to the hillside, her hands level with her hips.

“No!” I cried, too scared to watch and too dazed to look away. He was less than a boat length from her and gaining speed along the river bank. He raised one end of the staff high, preparing himself for a crushing blow down on her fair head.

My nails dug into my palms but I felt no pain. A rush of emotion flooded my head at the thought of burning another of our friends on the pyre. Kewri swayed, clasping the sleeves of his tunic in sudden panic. Only Nectan seemed to be enjoying the events as they played out before him.

Why wasn’t Senara running? There had been more than enough time to slip away and disappear from such a hulking great brute, yet her feet were stock still. Other than the snapping of twigs underfoot, his grunts and puffs were muffled by the rushing waters of the river. Before his staff could land on her skull and crack it open like a nut, Senara reached to her belt, whipped out her dagger and threw it with alarming precision into the man’s face.

His head snapped backwards; his mouth gaped open as her dagger embedded itself to the hilt in his left eye. It took another moment for his body to slump; first to its knees, dropping the staff as he fell, before tumbling forward onto a soft bracken death bed. Senara wasted no time in mourning. She kicked his shoulder until his corpse rolled over, allowing her to retrieve her blade. I could tell from her swift escape that she was not troubled by her encounter in the slightest.

How I wish that the men could have seen her courage and fortitude. I’m sure many would have turned on their heels and fled in the face of such an enemy, but not she.

There were just two guards left to dispatch. Both had the protection of stone and wooden blockades, a paling wall and probably three or more hidden pits filled with spikes, if experience had taught us anything. I couldn’t see a way for her to approach. The Alchemists had spent a lifetime guarding their hoard. They knew every rock and crevice in the gorge. Every weakness would have some kind of trap set in addition to the guards.

It was the one area where Nectan’s information was vague. He claimed that he had no involvement in the defences and scant knowledge of any planned traps. At the time of his telling, I’d found that hard to believe. How could someone as senior as he, not know about the preparation of siege walls, yet be so accurate with the watchmen and their look out posts? Something about Nectan did not add up. He seemed to be enjoying the whole situation far too much for my liking.

Senara disappeared into the undergrowth and out of our sight, leaving the dead man on the slope shrouded by ferns. Kewri let out a huge lungful of air, I suspect he’d been holding it for some time.

Our relief was short lived. From where we stood, we could see the heads of the last two guards above the defences. They were peering through the hurdle fences between the rocks and posts. From the head bobbing and speed of their movements, I guessed that they sensed something was wrong. Perhaps the dead guard had let out a particular warning sound, a bird call or something that I’d missed during Senara’s calm encounter. Whatever had spooked them looked set to ruin our whole plan.

If Senara waited much longer to kill them, they would summon the entire Alchemist Clan from deep within the tunnels. Our numbers were too few to confront them head on, and we were scattered right across the two adjacent valleys.

It was my turn to hold my breath. Nectan sat chewing on a strip of dried meat, Kewri fidgeted on his rock and I paced along the ridge top in a growing fog of panic.

“Maybe I should ride down and distract them.” I muttered, knowing that it was a foolish suggestion the moment it left my lips, but I felt so helpless. Kewri said nothing, sensing that I was just speaking my thoughts.

Nectan took my offer seriously. “You can’t do that, Fur Benyn. Who would tend to the sick? Do you think Kenver would spare you after all that’s happened?” I couldn’t tell if his concern for my wellbeing was genuine or whether he felt it was simply the right thing to say under the circumstances. Either way, it didn’t assuage my suspicions. Despite my misgivings, his argument was valid.

I shook my head, muttering my agreement to his common sense. What use is a stupid old woman in such matters? Kenver had let me live once but he’d made it plain that his leniency would not stretch further.

Every moment we waited seemed an eternity. My mouth dried, I chewed the sides of my fingernails until they bled and still there was no sign of our brave young warrior. The moon began its descent and as the night wore on, my hope faded.

“She can’t afford to leave it any longer.” I wailed. “The guards are restless.” I turned to Nectan. “Can’t you tell? They can sense trouble.”

Nectan nodded. All hope swept out of me, leaving me empty inside. She’d failed us. All our preparations were for nought. I closed my eyes and imagined all