Conflict and Courage (50 page)

What met their
eyes when they entered the farm courtyard was one of horror. Every
living creature was dead. Cherry and Baltvei came to a halt in the
centre of the yard, the bile rising in the girl’s throat, even
Baltvei gulped noisily as he tried to stop himself from
retching.

Peter waved her
towards a smouldering barn to the left and still mounted, sword at
the ready as Wilhelm had taught her, she entered. A dead hound
bitch and what was left of her puppies lay in a tangled bloody mass
inside the door. Larg paw prints were everywhere, somewhat larger
than that of the Lind. Leaning against the only intact wall the
rabbit hutches were overturned, their former occupants nowhere to
be seen.
Escaped more than likely
, thought Cherry, noting
the lack of bloodied remains in the vicinity. She retched again.
Even the horrors of the battle at the Keep had not prepared her for
this.

Then came the
call she and Baltvei were dreading.

It was Peter’s
voice. “To me,” he was shouting, “we’ve found the family.”

The family were
inside their farmhouse cabin where they had taken refuge when the
attackers had descended.

“They nailed
them to the walls,” cried Peter. Tears were streaming down his
cheeks.

Cherry
swallowed.

“Alive?” she
gasped, staring at the blackened corpses.

“Looks that
way,” was his grim response, “nailed them up then set fire to the
building. I can smell oil. It’s built of wood; it would’ve gone up
like a torch.”

Cherry gazed at
a very small body hanging on the wall by its arms. As she watched,
the blackened timbers collapsed and the body fell to the ground
among a burst of blackened wood dust and embers.

Cherry was
noisily sick.

“Find a spade,”
ordered Peter, “we need to bury them.”

The human
element of the patrol completed the grisly task in absolute
silence. As she helped shovel earth over the grave, Cherry was not
alone in vowing to bring the perpetrators of this atrocity to
justice.

The tracks of
their enemies leaving the farmstead were clear and internment over,
the twelve pairs, in silence, prepared to follow.

: Twenty
Larg :
telepathed Baltvei
: all mounted but one, he the
leader will be, tracks lead south. Peter say thinks they make for
coast where boat waits for them :

: Why did they
do this Baltvei? :

: Larg enjoy
killing, you know this, revenge, they know army is defeated :

: It all seems
so pointless. What did that family do to them? :

: It is ever
so. All we can do is protect what we can and save who we can :

: They never do
stay do they? :

: I do not
think they like our rtathlians :

As Peter led
the patrol south, they came across other devastated farmsteads.
Only one however, contained the same horrors as the first one, most
of the other farmers had managed to get away and to free their
livestock.

At this second
farm, the raiders had been even more creative, staking out their
captives, torturing and raping them before letting the Larg finish
them off. The dead faces would haunt the patrol members for months
to come.

The news
arrived that the raiders had been run to earth by a detachment from
Lindar Ratvei. After a short and bloody fight, all had been slain,
ex-convict and Larg both.

Predictably,
the Larg had refused to surrender. The humans with them had not
appeared to be just quite so keen on a glorious death on the
battlefield.

Faced with a
suicidal charge, the Lind had had no alternative but to kill them
all.

One of the
humans killed was en ex-lieutenant of Duchesne’s regiment, one who
had burned alive the captured male defenders at Settlement during
the Battle of the Alliance. His death was mercifully quick unlike
those of his victims but unlike the Larg, the Lind were not
vindictive. They did not enjoy killing for killing’s sake.

During the next
few days, another Larg raiding party was caught and despatched when
Peter’s patrol, together with the pack Ratvei Lindar, ran them down
in the uninhabited woodlands some hectares west of the Vadath
border. Predictably, not one invader emerged from this melee alive
either.

They swung
round and headed home to Vadath.

When they
arrived at the newly named Trumpet Keep they learned that the
southern rearguard, made up of a few Larg and a few dozen of the
remaining infantry soldiers had gone during the night.

The north had
lost too many already.

* * * * *

“You have come
a long way since we landed on Rybak,” Laura informed her husband
when she, the children and the ltsctas greeted him on his return to
the stronghold, “from being the most troublesome crewmember on the
Argyll to commander of the northern armies!” She wrapped her arms
round him, “I’m so very proud of you.”

He looked down
at her.

“It just shows
that everyone has it within them to make good.”

“You are
talking about Pierre Duchesne?”

“Yes. He’s
another whose redemption is very real. Whatever his past crimes he
has proven himself a good man, an honourable man and a true leader
of his people. He and his fought well and bravely for Vadath.”

“They’ll never
be welcome in Argyll,” she warned.

“They are
welcome here in Vadath, that’s all that matters. There’s plenty of
land for them here. Within a generation no one will remember where
they came from, nor will they care.”

“And Vadath has
survived.”

The two of them
stood and watched as their youngsters, child and ltscta both,
swarmed around and over the indulgent Faddei and Asya in a noisy
and exuberant demonstration of high spirits.

“I suppose,”
said Francis, “we’d better go rescue them. Asya and Faddei mayn’t
survive their ministrations. Looks as if the play is getting out of
hand.”

Laura
laughed.

“I think we can
safely leave Faddei to ensure the rumpus doesn’t go too far.
Myself, I would like some quality time with my husband, wounds
permitting.”

“I’ll manage,”
he answered with a grin.

: Go on
:
telepathed Asya and Faddei in unison.

Hand in hand,
they ran towards their quarters, laughing as they went.

* * * * *

“Aoalvaldr
failed in his quest to destroy us,” said Tara with
satisfaction.

“Yes he did,
but many lives were lost,” replied Winston filled with the
gut-wrenching knowledge that his own son was dead.

He waved to
Hilary who was beckoning and strode away to see what she
wanted.

“Many ltsctas
lost fathers,” added Kolyei. He himself had lost his father Sanvei
to the Larg when he was a few seasons old. He recollected that time
well.

Tara was
thinking of her parents’ deaths in the cosmic storm before she had
even heard of Rybak.

“We will write
down all their stories so they’re not forgotten, won’t we
Kolyei?”

“No more
journeys?” he asked.

“Perhaps not as
many nor as far. We will settle at the stronghold with Peter and
Radya, bring up our children. One day though, I would like to go
west again.”

“When we grow
old?” Kolyei teased, “yes, I would like that, we could look up old
friends.”

“Mariya knows
you know.”

“Knows
what?”

“Who we met
there.”

“Perhaps, but
she won’t say anything.”

“Do you think
anyone will ever read that part of the history of our journey we
hid with her?”

“Maybe, if the
need arises.”

* * * * *

“What a waste,”
said Geraldine of Richard as they and their respective Ryzcks
rested before returning to their duty stations, “if only there was
a way to stop it.”

“The pirates
here to stay,” was Jsei’s comment, “and Larg will attack us always.
We might be able to make deal with the ex-convicts but not in my
lifetime.”

Richard turned
to Jsei, “I think you may be right. The Larg’ll always be a threat
but in Murdoch the men will change. The male and female ratio will
balance out in a generation or so, perhaps then the pirate raids
will stop.”

“I doubt it,
even if Murdoch proper becomes more civilised, the pirates have
their island base now,” said Dahlya.

“Perhaps the
pirates will start attacking them?”

“Who, the
Murdochians?” Dahlya rocked back on her paws in amazement.

“Just a
thought, but if you were Murdoch’s king, would you want slavers and
pirates rampaging through your country? We humans have more in
common with the people of Murdoch than we think. Our descendants
might find themselves allied to Murdoch, a mutual pact against Larg
and piracy,” he shrugged and looked at her, “with our Lind partners
we will continue to defend our continent against all threats. Our
people shall remain free and safe in this world of Rybak. We shall
not fail them. Let us raise our glasses.”

Richard stood
up. “A toast,” he cried.

“A toast to
what?” the survivors of the Fourth and Tenth Ryzcks asked.

“To freedom,
what else is there?”

The voices,
human and Lind resounded round the stronghold.

“
To
Freedom
.”

* * * * *

“There are only
four of the original twelve who started out left now,” said Tara,
“and every one of them bar one killed by the Larg.”

“They knew it
might happen any time,” said Peter, “but it didn’t stop them.”

“You serve with
the Vada,” she fretted, “what if it happens to you and Radya?”

He kissed
her.

“It won’t,” he
promised, “I don’t know why but I have a feeling in my bones that
this is the last we’ll see of the Larg here in Vadath, in Argyll
too for that matter for a long time.”

“Do you really
think so Peter?” Tara was begging to be convinced.

“Depend upon
it,” he said, donating another kiss, this time on her forehead,
“I’ve not been wrong yet when it mattered, have I?”

She snuggled
in, careful of her knitting bones and his partially healed wounds,
comforted despite the nagging worries.

Her eyes
fluttered shut. Tara was asleep.

Peter lay awake
for a while then he too fell into dreamland.

Vadath’s war
was at an end, Vadath’s peace was at its beginning.

* * * * *

The news of the
events in Vadath was not long in arriving at Lord Regent Sam
Baker’s seat of government at Fort. By now there were more
southerners who could communicate with the Larg and the news
arrived as the defeated armies began their evacuation of the
beachhead.

The Larg envoy
padded his way to the Conclave chamber the moment he learned of the
defeat, his human translator a few steps to his rear.

Lords Baker,
Cocteau and van Buren were deep in discussion when the heavy door
creaked open and they entered, the guard closing it quietly behind
them, being careful to keep his distance from the envoy.

“News?”
demanded Sam.

The envoy sat
at the door and his Altuinq came to a halt a few paces from the
table.

“Not good,” the
unfortunate man replied, “Bluaor received word a while ago. The
armies are on their way back home.”

“The
regiments?”

“Safe. They
should reach the island landfall by dusk.”

“The kohorts?
Aoalvaldr?”

“The kohorts
have been routed. Aoalvaldr and his kohort were destroyed Bluaor
thinks a week past as he attempted to run south to the beachhead.
It appears that our surprise attack was not such a surprise as we
intended.”

“Duchesne?”

“Aoalvaldr did
not destroy him. Our intelligence indicates that he has
survived.”

Sam Baker let
out a hiss of displeasure and disappointment.

“The Larg did
manage to capture a significant amount of cattle,” continued the
man, “they are on the island awaiting transport. That should
appease the Largan’s anger.”

“Anger?”

“That your
regiments did not go to their assistance during the battle.”

“That was not
part of the agreement and he knows it.”

More
information emerged as the days passed.

“It appears
that General Karovitz did offer some assistance to take out the
Keep but the offer was refused. The Larg did not wish to share the
victory,” said Sam Baker to Henri Cocteau.

“They will not
refuse a second time.”

“There won’t be
a second time Henri. I’m not going to squander lives on another
foolhardy attack on the north. We need them to protect our own
borders and to keep the population in line.”

“I don’t think
our ‘allies’ will say much. Last time I spoke to Bluaor he was very
reticent.”

“Infighting
between the packs?”

“It’s more than
that. They would hardly have initiated an attack on Vadath if there
was a power-struggle in progress.” Henri Cocteau shrugged his
shoulders. “We’ll no doubt hear all about it when they decide to
tell us. We have more important matters to attend to, the recently
vacated Lordship of Duchesne for one thing. Gardiner wants it for
his second son. It’s a valuable piece of real estate for all that
it’s so far away. Prime agricultural land and abundant
forests.”

“I think not,”
hissed the Lord Regent. “My son William is a far more suitable
candidate and he is betrothed to your daughter Henri. Let’s keep it
within the family.”

“Let’s have
another look at the charts,” said Sam, “betrothals can be broken.
Elliot and Ruth are still only nine. Perhaps some reallocations are
in order, especially with the disappearance of Duchesne’s three
sons.”