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

It was followed by a hollow banging of wood against wood and the cracking and splintering of rock and branch. I cocked my head in the direction of the sound, but I heard no more. Scrambling back to the ridge top, I hurried over to Kewri. “Was that it? Do you think he’s done it?”

The giant lifted his shoulders to his ears, pulling a face. “We’ll soon find out.” He said, looking down at the fast river below. The green rocks jutting out from the channel frothed with the swirling power of the tumbling water, every pool spun with hypnotic grace. All three of us trained our attention on the frantic pace of the crystal-clear stream crashing down the steep creek towards the sea.

“Nothing’s happening.” I said, revealing my impatience. “It hasn’t worked.”

Nectan lifted his face to the sky and shook his head. He didn’t need to voice his scornful thoughts.

It was gradual at first, a lessening of the rush and hiss, until the flow was reduced to that of a trickle. We stood close together and waited for the plan to unfurl.

“I can’t bear this,” I said, hurrying to the head of the trail leading into the gorge. “They aren’t all evil like Kenver. I have to save as many as I can…” and with that, I slid and tumbled down the steep bank to the valley floor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Kewri and Nectan dashed after me, leaving the poor pony to fend for itself. I had to be close enough to lend support to any of our men, yet not get in their way. It didn’t take long for me to trip and stumble down the track to the drying riverbed and cross the slippery rocks to the opposite bank.

I couldn’t hear the water at first. It was snaking its way from the hidden tunnels at the head of the river to the lower, much larger mine shafts near to the valley floor. Then a rumbling began, different in pitch and tone to the first time. The low hum became a dull roar mingled with echoing screams of frightened men.

Tallack roused his warriors, ordering them to push the lengths of timber and ladders across the clearing in front of them. Where the rushes and sand gave way, the Head Hunters were able to steer the boardwalks over the spiked pits until the ends were resting on firm ground. Four men crossed as quickly as they dared, before lifting the sharpened paling structures that blocked them from the hurdle gates ahead.

In the stillness of the summer night, the roaring flow found several exits, gushing out of the rocky cliffs with enough force to sweep away the barricades and tunnel reinforcements. Those shafts further up the valley filled with unsuspecting miners were swept up by the current and carried to the surface, coughing and spluttering. Most were too fatigued or injured to fight, surrendering themselves to Massen and the Sea Warriors who waited for them on the trail path with spears aimed at their heads.

Back at the main entrance, two more of our strong men slashed the ropes securing the hurdles between the posts allowing our warriors safe passage over the pits and into the space beyond the defences. Tallack and the Head Hunters stood with sword and spears at the ready.  If he hadn’t already drowned, or had his head caved in by falling rocks and timbers, Kenver would have no choice but to surrender.

Muffled hollering and shouting preceded a tiny rivulet of water sloshing out of the tunnel. The diverted stream had insufficient volume to fill all the connected tunnels. Most of the water flowed from a steep gully carved into the hill side. Some ran from the abandoned shafts at the lowest level of the gorge.

Those men that were left inside the main tunnel entrance could not go deeper for fear of drowning and yet would not venture out and face Tallack and his men. A few of our warriors lit torches and wedged them in the post bindings of the defence wall. Others helped Massen drag the captives from the side shafts and bound them at their wrists and ankles.

“Shall we go in after them?” One of the Head Hunters growled. “The more time they have to get their wits about them, the more dangerous they’ll be.”

“No, let them wear themselves out treading water or struggling up the lethal tunnels. It might be warm out here, but the icy river will chill their bones in there. With any luck, Cernonnus will drag them into the Underworld, saving us the bother of dispatching them by blade.” Tallack sneered over his shoulder at his grinning men.

That was when the first of the Alchemists launched themselves out of the tunnel, roaring and wailing and thrusting their spears at our men. Two stayed in the mouth of the entrance, firing off arrows at anything that moved.

“Take cover!” Tallack yelled, before a blade hurtled past his cheek and found its way into the neck of the archer. Stunned, Tallack turned around to see Senara hopping between the tall boulders, spinning her slingshot over her head. I might have known whose hand launched that knife. It was rapidly becoming her favourite move.

Massen charged into the entrance, deflecting the stream of arrows with his shield until he was close enough to barge the second archer. He smashed him into the rock face until his skull was a bloodied mess of hair and bone. The mighty Sea Warrior used the momentum of his spinning bulk to shove more miners from the safety of the tunnel and into the sharp spears of our men. Another quick lunge and Massen retreated, swiping his sword in a vast arc at shoulder height, almost beheading a miner as he ran.

There was no sign of Kenver, yet more of his miners spilled out of hiding to strike sparks with the blades of our men. Many were cut down by Senara and our archers before they could complete their battle cries