Barbarian

Chapter XXV

The body crumples in a heap. I can only stare, mouth agape. The arrow’s tip, wedged deep into the druid’s back, is surrounded by a growing puddle of blood, soaking into the man’s cloak.

Garrick curses and slips his dagger out of his boot. For a second, he only glances frantically around the small clearing, his eyes darting to every bush, every rock. The dagger suddenly flies out of his hand and a yell of pain sounds out from a little ways off.

Garrick grabs my hand and we race towards the sound. What we find is our worst nightmare… a roman sprawled out on the leaf covered ground. An ant crawls across his cheek. The dagger sticks out of his chest. His eyes are open and black. 

Garrick swallows anxiously. “We must warn the others. The messenger has arrived.”

My hand tucked into his, we race back through the forest, branches slapping at our faces and tugging at our leines. 

We break out of the woods, expecting the worse. But the village is just as we left it: quiet, nearly empty, peaceful. 

But a quick glance up the mountain proves that in only a few minutes, all of Ifrinn will break loose. The entire Roman camp is out and about even though the sun’s rays have almost disappeared. They move quickly yet silently around their tents, like snakes, slithering on their armor and sliding their swords into their sheathes. They keep glancing down the hill, as if expecting an army of Brigantes warriors to be waiting for them.

If the Romans are planning a surprise attack, then they are wasting their time. There is no army here in Bùrnibh. The people will not fight. The most they will do is roll over and whimper. There’s a dead scent in the air. No one is out. Nothing stirs. 

“Garrick! Maeve!” Brogan’s voice calls out from the entrance of the village. At first I think that the Romans have already made it down the mountain but one glance at Brogan’s excited expression lets me know that all is fine for now. 

We hustle over to where Brogan, Ailis, and Dalla are standing. Four saddlebags lie at their feet and numerous sacs are scattered around. 

Brogan grins and the twinkle I saw back in the clearing shines through his eyes. “Look what w--”

“Keep quiet,” Garrick warns. “We don’t have much time.”

Brogan’s happy expression quickly disappears. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“The messenger has arrived. Don’t turn around, but the Romans up on the hill are planning an attack. We have to leave. Did you find mounts?”

Brogan’s eyes darken and its apparent that he is struggling to not take a peek over his shoulder. “That is what I was about to tell you about. We have acquired four horses. They are still saddled in a paddock on the other side of the village. Their owners were apparently killed in a Rogue raid a few days ago. We managed to get them for next to nothing.”

“Good. Let’s go.” Garrick turns to leave, but Brogan catches his arm.

“What about the villagers?”

“What about them?”