The Fifth Beast (ManxMan Chinese/Celtic Fantasy Story)

Chapter 50

A lot of time passed before the Kirinches decided to disturb their leader in his golden tent, where he was spending time with the defeated Sidhe lord. The sun had already risen when they found out that there was no leader, no defeated Sidhe lord, and no rich ransom in the tent. Everything disappeared without a trace, as if carried away by witchcraft — or precisely by the witchcraft of the Sidhe.

Not a lot of time passed before they were convinced that the leader was nowhere in the camp, and their eyes turned to the Steward of the North's castle. Three hundred horsemen rode up to the moat with the drawbridge still down on its broken chains, and almost simultaneously all of them uttered a shocked sigh or some exclamation.

Niall Mac Nechtan, Lord of Lightning, stood on the bridge above the gates, clad in shiny gold-embroidered brocade. Anyone who knew him well might have noticed that he was deathly pale, with a feverish, nervous blush burning his cheeks, which was completely unusual for him. And his braid, the white braid of the Lord of Lightning, was braided somewhat clumsily, as if for the first time in many years, even decades, he braided it himself.

Next to him stood the Yuizhen of the Kirinches, completely naked, except for the slave collar, the chain of which Niall held in his hand. Faolan Three Swords was not himself: his army and his retinue had never seen him with such an expression on his face, with his eyes fixed on nothing, with a slight shadow of a smile on his lips. All the wounds received by the Yuizhen in the battle of Sliabh Mis Castle disappeared without a trace; the broken lip, the black eye, the cut across the chest, and everything else. Faolan Three Swords was like an inanimate doll, like a man under a terrible deathly curse, and even in the hearts of the bravest warriors of the Orda, fear was born.

Niall pulled Faolan towards him, and he obediently knelt down, still with the same blank look. Niall stroked his chest possessively, hoping that the Kirinches would correctly interpret why Fao was naked, why he was wearing a collar, why he was so obedient to his captor. Lips swollen from kissing and hickeys on the shoulders and neck would complete the picture, but they all disappeared along with Fao's wounds; besides, it would be difficult to see them from the other side of the moat.

Judging by the horror and disgust on the faces of the barbarians, they did not doubt that it was not their Yuizhen who f&cked the defeated Sidhe lord, but quite the opposite.

"I swore a sacred vow not to cast any spells on the Kirinches until dawn, but the sun is already high," Niall said coldly and haughtily in Mengyu. He didn't shout, didn't even raise his voice, but there were echoes of thunder in it, and the ground under the horses' hooves seemed to tremble in time with his words.

Not one or two, but dozens of Kirinches grabbed their amulets or folded their fingers in a protective gesture against evil spells that Niall had seen during his trip to Khanbaliq.

"When the sun reaches its zenith, not a single Kirinch will be left in Mag Tuired," Niall went on, just as cold and calm. "You will take with you not a single cattle, not a single tael of silver, not a single slave. Or I will catch up with you and kill you, and those who are young and pretty, I will turn into my bed slaves, like the Yuizhen." In lieu of illustration, he pulled Fao's chain again and forced him to press his cheek against his thigh.

The phrase was somewhat incorrect grammatically, and Niall could not translate a couple of words he wanted to add, but the effect was lethal. Niall calculated correctly: it was the last threat that seemed the most terrible to the barbarians. As far as he knew the Kirinches culture, to die in battle was the most honorable and preferable death for a warrior. But the prospect of becoming a bed slave to a powerful lord should have made their knees wobble with fear.

If Niall had simply shown them the captured Yuizhen, the warriors would have tried to free him, or at least avenge him. But the Sidhe's bed slave, disgraced and humiliated, for some reason no one wanted to avenge.

Oh no, Niall still miscalculated. The red-haired barbarian jumped off his horse and threw a spear, aiming at Niall. Maybe he had even aimed at Fao himself, but it was all right. A thrall wouldn't suffer greatly from a spear wound, it would heal almost instantly. A sex doll was much stronger than a fragile mortal.

Pain pierced Niall's heart at this thought, he almost closed his eyes, while the spear was already humming and hurtling towards him, the wide spearhead blazing in the sunshine. Niall barely had time to accelerate, dodge the spear and catch it by the shaft. He twirled it in his hand, turning the tip forward, and only then did his mind make notice that the tip was not blazing in the sunshine, but glowing with white-hot metal. Cumal was able to do such tricks as a boy, and when he grew up, even before his coming of age, he was able to make a spearhead or a sword blade actually burn with real fire.

Niall, however, was not sure that he had not imagined it. He did not have time to look closely: the reflex worked, and his elbow straightened, sending the spear back at the redhead. But Niall didn't want him to die and aimed not at the chest, but at his side below the chest, so as not to damage the vital organs. All the same, the force of the blow knocked the half-breed five steps away and pinned him to the ground.

Sencha yelped and jumped off the horse. Off the hefty bay stallion that Tseren rode. And the boy was dressed partially in some barbarian rags, as if he was dressing hastily, grabbing whatever was lying around. Niall even automatically turned to look behind him, as if hoping to see the real Sencha in the courtyard going about some business. That was where Niall had left him the previous night before going with the ransom to the Yuizhen of the Kirinches!

Then he remembered Sencha's sighs and tears. He remembered how fervently the boy had begged to go with Niall to the barbarian camp. How, with bated breath, the boy had asked about the red-haired half-breed. Why, just look at how he threw himself on his knees in front of Tseren, lying flat on his back, and began to tear his own tunic into bandages!

Also Niall remembered that Sencha had seen him off at the gates, not being dressed in his usual nice clothes of bright colors, but in something dark, inconspicuous, and his flaxen curls, visible in the twilight for thirty paces, were tied up with a kerchief. Yes, it was easy for him to slip out of the gates, hide in the moat, and then at dusk climb out on the other side and make his way over the hills to the barbarian camp. Sneaky boy!

Niall thought about asking the Kirinches to return Sencha to him. But, no matter how the boy had got there, now he wouldn't be torn away from the red-haired barbarian even by force. And if Niall drew attention to him, if he showed that his servant mattered to him, who knew what the barbarians would do? They could easily decide to vent out their anger on him, even kill him.

Niall clenched his teeth and decided that if Sencha was smart enough to get to the barbarians, then he should be smart enough to get out. He seemed to be in no hurry to cry help and protection from his lord!

And there was no time to be distracted by Sencha. The redhead's attack and Niall's response seemed to bring the Kirinches out of their stupor. Most began to turn their horses, but not all of them. Some barbarians began to lift the wounded Tseren on his giant horse, but some of them suddenly rushed to the drawbridge, pulling arrows from their quivers and even swords from their scabbards, which would be completely useless in such a situation. Fao's personal retinue, the same fourteen warriors, loyal to him to the end. What did they hope to achieve?

Niall smiled coldly and unleashed several lightning bolts on them. He didn't intend to kill, he only stunned them, and only the nearest ones. The rest came to their senses immediately, they lowered their swords and bows, and the fight had gone from their eyes. They slowed down and instead of a stupid attempt to attack the gates, preferred to retreat, carrying their stunned comrades away.

All three hundred mounted barbarians, as one, spurred on their horses and rushed away from Sliabh Mis. Warriors from Fao's retinue threw their stunned comrades across their own horses. Sencha climbed onto the bay stallion, helped Tseren sit in the saddle in front of him, put his arms around his waist — the redhead was barely conscious and dangerously leaning to the side. Sencha kicked the horse with his heels, pulled on the reins, and only then turned around, meeting the eyes of his lord for the first time.

Probably Niall's face was terrible to behold, because the boy turned pale, hastily turned away and never looked back.