Knox of the Bloom

Chapter 9: Discoveries

They marched west, the rising sun chasing the shadows away and casting a welcome heat on Knox's back. Flint-Blade and Yew-Bow were taking point, with Blue-Moon and Nemain taking the rear, leaving Clay-Jug, Eriu and Knox in the middle. Jug shared his firewater with them both as they walked, chatting about the olden times, about when Hornbeard had fought against the Tuccock clan with both his sons by his side.

"But now the three of them will be buried beneath the mud," smiled Jug sadly, finishing off the tale. "It's an end of an era."

"Not if I've anything to say about it," Flint said over his shoulder. "We're still alive. Once one of the Five still draws breath then Hornbeard will be avenged."

"Aye," said Jug," but how? That little shite White-Fang has Sol's men behind him, along with the Willow-Spear clan. I counted at least a hundred warriors. And I know how gifted I am with my axe in battle, Flint, I can't take on a hundred men on my own. Yeah, you and Bow might take a couple but—"

"Oh, shut up, Jug," said Yew-Bow. "The only time I hear you talking is when your jug's run dry, and then it's nothin' but shite talk out of ye."

"You wanna talk about shite talk? What about when you said you shot a Red Stag from three hundred paces? Huh? Took it straight through the heart, ye did, sure. And I've the nicest pair of tits this side of the valley."

"Shut up, the both of you. We need to quicken the pace if we're to beat White-Fang to Old Sister's, he'll be heading there soon enough, once his finished torturing what's left of the clansmen."

They were a quiet group that sorely marched down the slope and back through Old Sister's gate. Once inside of the large hut they were given platters of food and drink.

"So what news do you bring?" asked Old Sister, once they'd had their fill. "How fare's my old friend, Hornbeard?"

"He died fighting. Betrayed by your grandson, White-Fang, aided by that black-hearted coward, Sol." Flint shook his head. "Strange times indeed when a runt of the pack like Fang can take the seat of a man such as Hornbeard."

"Aye," said Jug, lifting his jug in the air, filled once more. "To you, old friend, may you be at rest among your father and our ancestors."

Yew-Bow sat up, lifting his arm from the woman's shoulders he'd been lying beside. "That boy won't be sitting in Hornbeard's seat long. It takes a man to hold a throne, and that boy's spine will bend and break under the burden of leadership."

Flint-Blade stood up and drew his knife, the warriors behind Old Sister went to cross spears, to shield Old Sister, but she helf up a hand, stopping them. Flint-Blade stepped close, and sliced the blade across the palm of his hand. "Let it be a Blood Feud then, Old Sister, against your grandson, White-Fang, and Hornbeard's cowardly brother, Sol."

Old Sister stood up, took the blade and sliced her own palm. They pressed hands together, and their hands were wrapped in a cloth, binding their oaths.

*

Two days passed before White-Fang appeared above the hill, a long line of warriors spread across the lip of slope, as silent and cheerful as an open grave.

The two days had been spent in preparing for battle. Arrows had been made, ditches cleared, bowmen readied. The night before White-Fang had appeared, Knox had been sitting in the large hut, speaking with Eriu.

"Aren't you afraid?" she had asked him.

He had shaken his head, but staring over the sharpened points of the stakes, he feared he'd spoken a lie, for it was fear he felt in his heart now. Old Sister's men amounted to thirty bowmen, and forty warriors, half of which had never experienced a fight before, made up of men simply protecting their families. The women and children had been placed in the large hut, armed with daggers, and would slit their own throats before they let themselves or their children be caught alive by the enemy, for there is a worse fate than death, Knox knew.

He limped down the steps, leaving the Five, or what he supposed now was the Three, alone to brew on their thoughts. For it was late in the day, and the mass of warriors up on the hill were setting up camp, starting fires.

Knox found Eriu in the hut she'd been allowed stay in, and the Fae woman who'd helped heal Knox, Col, was there. From the sounds of it as he stood in the doorway they were sharing stories, Eriu of what she remembered of the Druids, and Col of her life in the Fae, traveling the land, entertaining and healing. Knox sighed and turned to walk away, not at ease in disturbing their conversation, when who should be in his way but Tapa. The wolf barked at him, as if giving out to him for his eavesdropping.

"What, mo cailin?" he said. "I was only listening for a moment."

Tapa tilted her head and stuck out her tongue, and it made Knox laugh to see her act like a pup still. He knelt down and rubbed her between the ears.

"We'll show them bastards, won't we girl?" He got himself a lick on the nose for his trouble.

"Having fun?" a voice said.

Knox turned to see Col and Eriu standing in the now open doorway, looking at him.

"Not waiting with the other warriors?" said Col. "I thought you all would be singing battle cries by now."

"I'm no warrior," said Knox, limping a step towards them. "And that was before I got almost ripped in half by a Fugrah."

"Then come sit with us. Tell us of your life." Col took his hand and showed him inside, where he sat on the bench, Col and Eriu took the pallet.

"It does well to make the mind busy in times of strife," said Col.

"Tell us abut yourself," said Eriu.

So Knox sat, and he too the offered skin of firewater from Col, and spoke of his past. . .

*

"My earliest memory is Hornbeard. He told me my mother had been a clanswoman, but never mentioned my father, and around the camp it was never spoken of. Throughout the years I've tried to discover more of my past, but those questions always fell on deaf ears.

"I had a good childhood, shown how to trap animals and make a life on the mountains. My youth was spent fishing and hunting and a grew to a formidable woodsman.

"Hornbeard took a shine to me, always quick with a word of encouragement when I brought back a stag, always ready with a tale and a cup of ale."

Knox took a sip of firewater to stifle the pain that burned in his chest.

"I was a favorite of his and the Five, shown how to defend myself should our camp ever be attacked. But I was never the best at fighting.

"I was never in the camp long, preferring the solitude of the mountains and the smell of the forest. Once I even spent the Cold Days alone in the passes, seeing if I could survive, testing my strengths."

"But what about your parents? You never knew them?" asked Col.

"No, my mother died when I was born, and I never knew my father. . ."

A voice spoke from behind them. "I knew your father." Flint-Blade was leaning against the doorframe.

"You've never spoke of it before. Why now?" asked Knox.

"Because tomorrow we may all be dead, lad, and I think you deserve to know the truth. Your father was a Bronzeman, he was a part of a unit that was scouting the area. He took a shine to your mother, and they spent the Warm Days together. But then his unit had to return south, and they separated bitterly. It was only after he left that your mother found she was with child."

"A Bronze Man." Knox shook his head. "No wonder I've always felt different from everyone in camp."

"Aye, lad, that's why."

"What was he like?" asked Knox.

"He was a good sort. But Hornbeard didn't take kindly and tried to separate them many times. They had to meet in secret, but I knew they were together. He had a pendant, of an eagle carrying a fish which he showed to me, told me it was a family heirloom. If you ever go south you should look for him. That's if we survive."

So that's why Hornbeard had given him the bronze dagger.

It had been his way of hinting to him, as only the Bronze Men carried them.

Knox could only stare in wonder at his dagger, and imagine if his father still lived.