The Fifth Beast (ManxMan Chinese/Celtic Fantasy Story)

Chapter 40

The heavy gates of Sliabh Mis were half-open, the portcullis raised and the drawbridge lowered. Yeah, they had let in the peasant from Slaine, because he brought important news for the lord, and didn't bother to lock the gates again, although the sun had not yet risen!

Niall had to slow down so that the guards could hear the curses he was spitting out and the orders to immediately, right this minute, raise the drawbridge and lower the portcullis. As they fiddled with the levers — slow as turtles to Niall's eye — he accelerated again and ran up with lightning speed into one of the gate towers.

He saw in the gray predawn fog how the chain of hills in the northwest seemed to stir and move forward. In a second, they became mounted barbarians with shields and spears. Their faces were indeed painted black, black were their saddles, even the metal parts of harnesses didn't shine — they must have wrapped them in rags or painted over. Their chain mails were covered with dark clothes, the shields were painted black. Those horses which weren't black were covered with dark saddlecloths, smeared with dirt and soot. No wonder they invaded Mag Tuired unnoticed!

Niall cursed himself up hill and down dale. Moron! Scatterbrain! Good-for-nothing! Why didn't he put sentries on the border, build watchtowers, place lightning traps at the very least — they wouldn't hurt the attackers much, but Niall would knew if one of the traps had been activated! Although, it was impossible to determine by whom or what — by a mounted invader, or a cow wandering in the forest. But at least he would have done something, instead of lying in bed, not a care in the world, believing he had plenty of time! Wonder that Faolan Three Swords didn't take Sliabh Mis in Niall's absence! Yes, gathering an army couldn't possibly go fast, and from Khanbaliq to Mag Tuired there was at least a month's journey, or even longer.

He expected the barbarians to make a brazen but hopeless attack, if only for the purpose of intimidation. It would be like a dark avalanche going down the hills, and in a couple of minutes they would be at the distance of a bowshot from the walls, and Niall hadn't posted his archers yet! But the drawbridge was already rising in jerks, swaying on chains, and the portcullis fell down with a clang, and the heavy, iron-bound gate began to close. About damn time!

The leader on a beautiful gray stallion raised his fist in the air, and turned the horse back. The rest followed suit. The black avalanche rolled back over the hills, and Niall swore again. He hoped to make an estimate of their numbers, at least. Of course, there must be some infantry in reserve, to be brought into action later on, but he needed to find out how much cavalry they had. By Goddess, how fast they marched into Mag Tuired, how quickly deployed in full battle formation!

It was unlikely that there were really thousands of them, as it seemed to the frightened peasant, but how many in total? With less than three thousand troops, a castle like Sliabh Mis could not be taken. They must be now setting up camp. Niall should count the smoke from the fires, this would help to estimate their numbers. However, everyone knew the oldest and simplest trick of deceiving the enemy about their numbers, namely building more fires than necessary, or less.

Niall sighed and went to get dressed. Why didn't Fao come with less pomp, if he really wanted to take Niall up on his invitation! His lips curved into a smile despite the graveness of the situation. He didn't doubt for a moment who the leader on a gray stallion was, even if he was too far away, and his face too dirty, and his magnificent body hidden by armor and clothes. Because the gray stallion, scarcely smeared with soot, was quite recognizable. Its name was Liath Macha, and Niall had lost it so ingloriously on his way back from Airenn.

Well, the barbarian chief had good taste. Liath Maсha was an excellent horse, trained for hunting (for combat the Tuatha Dé preferred chariots drawn by two horses). It had been taught not to fear dogs, arrows, clappers, even Niall's lightning bolts. Fao must have had no trouble training it for the barbarian style of fighting from horseback.