DAVID A. GEMMEL. SWORD IN THE STORM

‘I have been wondering why a longship was beached in the bay, and who went to meet it. And why?’

‘And what answers did you find?’

‘None. Sea Wolves raid for plunder, that which they can carry away. Gold and silver. Sometimes women. There is little gold in Seven Willows.’

‘But there is great wealth – at least as you humans see it,’ said the Thagda.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Who is the richest laird among the Rigante?’

‘My own lord. He owns three mines, two of silver, one of gold.’

‘And what do you think he prizes above all?’

‘How would I know?’

‘Think on it.’

‘Can you not just tell me?’

‘The oak is calling me,’ said the Thagda. Ponderously he turned and walked back to the tree, where his form once more merged into the bark. As he disappeared his voice floated back: ‘Come to the Wishing Tree woods on the night of Samain. We will talk more.’

Conn sat before the fire, trying to make sense of the meeting. The Sea Raiders. Gold. Prizes. The remembered conversation floated like wood smoke around his mind, tantalizing yet insubstantial. Then he heard a rider galloping along the trail. Rising from the fire he called out to Parax. The old man came into the camp and slid from his pony.

‘What kept you?’ asked Conn.

The horse with the chipped hoof. I found it.’

Tell me.’

‘It is being ridden by the merchant, Phaeton.’

‘Phaeton met with the raiders?’

‘Aye, and here’s the thing. Raids on Seven Willows ceased in the year he came to live among the villagers. Once I found the horse I went back to the house and questioned Dara. Phaeton had strong links with the mining settlement at Broken Mountain, and several other centres to the south. Every one of those centres has been raided, more than once.’

‘He was supplying information to the raiders,’ said Conn.

‘Aye, that is how it looks. He would have known the movements of silver shipments, in which villages the wagoners would rest. And so on. With the mines giving out, there was no reason for him to stay.’

‘I can see that, but why the last secret meeting? What were they planning, I wonder?’

‘No tracker can answer that,’ said Parax. ‘But there is no gold in Seven Willows.’

Conn felt a cold breeze whisper against his skin, as he remembered his conversation with the merchant. ‘Then there is the question of ransom . . .’

Phaeton had left the sentence unfinished, and Conn had not followed it through. ‘Yes, there are riches,’ he whispered. The Long Laird’s wife and daughter. They would fetch ten times their weight in gold if held for ransom. How many raiders are there to each ship?’

‘Forty, fifty. I’ve never been close to one,’ said Parax, ‘but judging by the impression made by the keel I’d say closer to fifty.’

The ship did not return to the sea,’ said Conn. The raiders were waiting for Phaeton to leave.’

‘How can you be sure?’

Conn ran to his pony and saddled it.

‘We’re going back,’ he said, vaulting into the saddle.

The two men rode swiftly back along the high trail, but both their ponies were tired from the climb and when they reached the last crest it was already dusk. A towering plume of smoke was rising from Seven Willows, and Conn could see fleeing villagers running for the northern hills. To the south he could just make out heavily laden raiders moving slowly towards the woods

Conn reined in his lathered pony. ‘What now?’ asked Parax.

‘I’m going to the bay where you found the keel mark. You get down to the settlement. If Fiallach still lives, tell him where I am.’

‘And he’ll come running to rescue you?’ spat Parax. ‘I think not.’

‘He’ll come if they have Tae.’ ‘Yes, but what if they don’t? What if she escaped?’ ‘She didn’t. If they had not found her the raiders would still be in Seven Willows, searching. Now go!’

As he spoke Conn urged his weary mount towards the south.

The giant Vars raider, Shard, stood in the gateway of the settlement, enjoying one last look at the blazing buildings. At first the raid had gone well. He had beached his ship, Blood Flower, at noon, and ordered his warriors to move to the high woods overlooking the settlement. The storm had been a blessing from Wotan. Not one sentry was on the stockade wall as the fifty raiders emerged from the tree line and loped down towards the open gates.

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