Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [78]
In the ruins of the village, the bulk of Grunnarch’s army feasted and drank well into the night. Many of the slaves -young women – suffered horribly, as objects of pleasure for the raiders.
The following morning, the northmen reembarked, sailing down the coast to strike at another fishing cantrev. Again and again they struck the small, isolated communities of the Ffolk, burning, killing, and enslaving. The Bloodriders rode miles inland, paralleling the progress of the fleet as it sailed southward along the coast, taking particular pleasure in wreaking destruction and death upon the inland Ffolk.
After several raids, the alarm was carried throughout the countryside. The word of the depredations traveled even faster than the scourging advance of the Bloodriders. The deeds of those scarlet-garbed horsemen exceeded the horrors of their seaborne countrymen. The Bloodriders could not burden themselves with slaves, so survivors of their raids were rare.
As pandemonium spread in the land, however, the northmen found village after village abandoned before they had reached it. Valuables and livestock had been removed, and the inhabitants had fled further inland.
Finding a large and sheltered bay in the center of Corwell’s eastern coastline, Grunnarch ordered his fleet beached. As planned, here the Bloodriders reunited with the army. A few of the older men were detailed to watch the slaves and the ships, while the rest of the warriors prepared to march.
It was time, Grunnarch knew, to begin the second phase of Thelgaar’s master plan.
*****
“Where’s Newt?”
Robyn’s question brought the companions up short. They reined in their mounts and looked around, realizing that there had been no sign of the little dragon for some time. They did not risk calling aloud for him – they could not take the chance of advertising their position.
“He must have gone back home,” surmised the prince. “Wherever that is.”
“He’s quite a character,” observed Keren. “We owe him a lot.”
“Indeed,” the others agreed. The diminutive serpent – Finellen described him as a faerie dragon – had saved their lives with his timely “prank.”
“But our food will last a little longer now,” observed Pawldo, ruefully contemplating his almost empty saddlebags.
“We’re better off without him,” observed Finellen. “You can trust a faerie dragon as far as you can see him – when he’s invisible.”
By nightfall they emerged from the fens, and found a dry and grassy clearing for their camp. The ground had climbed slightly from the lowlands of the swamp, and they could look back on their path of the last few days.
“Look at that,” remarked Daryth in awe. The towering column of smoke still dominated the sky behind them.
“How many Firbolgs do you suppose we killed?” asked Tristan.
“A lot, I’m sure – but a lot of them got away, without a doubt,” replied Keren.
“And every one of ’em is looking for us,” muttered Pawldo, dismounting stiffly as they halted for the night.
They decided not to risk building a fire, and the warm summer night made this no discomfort. Still tense and jumpy from the intense combat and flight of the day, the companions sat quietly in their grassy bower. The light of a half moon, pouring from a clear sky, gave them illumination and some small comfort. The crimson glow in the western sky added a surreal effect to their surroundings.
“You haven’t told us how you came to be the guests of the Firbolgs,” said Robyn, after a long period of silence.
“Well, it was foolish, actually. I decided to take a short cut – through Myrloch Vale – on my way to the coast.” Keren smiled, sheepishly. “It was the long way around, to tell the truth, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to see Myrloch again, when I was so close.
“Anyway, I got ambushed practically as soon as I came over the pass – a bunch of them got me surrounded and tackled me. Sable put more than one eye out, but