By the time Braxter reached the Western gate Randyl was already outside, pacing back and forth impatiently. The guard had explained on the way to the gate that it had been him who had personally seen the outrider on the horizon and had run immediately to the Baron's chambers to bring the news to Randyl. The outrider was visible to them all by now - approaching at a gallop across the open plains to the West of Boreham with his red flag unfurled behind him like some giant sail.
Ja'aris had gone through the gates and stood silently, thumbs hooked into his belt while Randyl stalked back and forth like a caged animal. Closer and closer the rider came on at full tilt, they could see his legs kicking as he urged his mount to run faster.
"Are you alright Braxter?" L'non asked from beside him. "You've gone very pale."
"Feel sick." Was all the reply he could manage and he clamped his teeth down as his stomach tried to prove just how sick he felt.
"The waiting's the worst part. But by the looks of this we won't have much more waiting to do." L'non's attempt at comfort did nothing for Braxter who mumbled something incoherently about the pain and death part of a battle surely being worse. L'non seemed not to hear him or if he did hear, he chose not to respond and so they stood in silence as the rider bore down on Randyl and Ja'aris. A number of other guards had joined them by now either being alerted to the site of the outrider by other look-outs elsewhere on the wall or by the clamour they had made running through the castle.
The sun shone down clear and bright and a light wind blew cold but not uncomfortably so. In fact, due perhaps to Braxter's current feeling of nausea, he found it quite refreshing. At any other time, in other circumstances he would most likely have found the day to be a rather pleasant one and he wondered wistfully if he would ever experience one of those again.
The rider reined his mount in as he approached, his red flag dropping immediately to trail along the ground behind him and he leapt from the horse in one swift motion when he reached them.
Randyl spoke to him briefly and although Braxter couldn't make out what words were said his stomach flipped at the reaction of his friend who shook the rider by the hand and then turned and began to walk back through the gates in the wall. Ja'aris followed quickly behind, a smile closer to a grimace spread across his face.
"The waiting, it appears, may well be over" rumbled L'non into the cold air as Randyl approached, his stony gaze holding none of the dark humour of Ja'aris.
Braxter didn't think he could speak. His stomach felt like it was full of ice and for some reason his jaws were aching. Then he realised that he was still clenching his teeth. He tried to relax them and failed so he was glad when L'non spoke for him, asking just the questions he wanted but was unable to ask for himself.
"How many?"
"Near three thousand." Randyl replied to a chorus of gasps from the assorted guards who had gathered there.
"How long?" L'non continued. Randyl paused, his eyes flicking to Braxter before his face creased and try as he might, he couldn't stop the smile from spreading, his teeth exposed - white and pointed.
"Today." He almost whispered but it was loud enough to carry in the silence so that everyone there could hear. "They'll be here before sunset."
Braxters stomach cramped and his mouth filled with saliva. Oh Gods, don't let me throw here he thought to himself as he bent double with his hands on his knees. It was only as he realised that of all the things he could be asking of the Gods, their intervention on that particular matter was perhaps not the most productive thing he could be asking for. He almost laughed to himself. Almost. Instead another cramp seized his stomach and he stayed where he was - bent double at the waist - certain now that he was going to be sick. He was aware of movement all around him as the guards readied themselves for the imminent battle. Runners were sent for to carry orders to the different assembled troops and voices began to call out instructions like "Ready the horse!" and "Pikemen - assemble at the double!" It all seemed too real, too much like it was actually happening now and he was just being swept along with it. There was going to be a battle - an actual battle - against a force of nearly three thousand monstrous beasts and for some reason he'd managed to get caught up in it and there wasn't a thing he could do to get out of it. Yes, he thought I'm definitely going to be...
Through the watery blur of his eyes he saw a pair of boots beside his own at the same time as he felt a hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting even through his clothes.
"Easy Braxter. Deep breaths." L'nons voice, as calm as ever spoke to him and surprisingly he did feel better, if only marginally. L'nons boots were joined by two others which he recognised immediately even before their wearer spoke.
"Been sick boy?" Ja'aris laughed, patting him on the kidneys and making him feel ten times worse just as he was starting to feel better. He breathed deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth before standing up slowly. The watcher stood beside him, smiling mischievously, tattooed head shining in the sun. Braxter clenched his fists by his sides wondering how good it would feel to knock that condescending smile off Ja'aris' face even for a moment.
"Look pale boy. Something you ate?" He winked at L'non, his tongue licking over his lips and teeth. Braxter looked away from him, repulsed by the thought that while he was trying to regain control of his stomach, Ja'aris seemed to be almost salivating at the prospect of the upcoming battle.
Bodies ran everywhere now, left and right, uniformed and civilian both. Randyl stood aways off, talking to three guards. He pointed first one way and then another and another before all three simultaneously ran in three different directions, eager to carry out whatever orders they had been given by their new leader. Boreham was a hive of activity all around him and that did nothing to make Braxter feel any better. Nor did the confident way Randyl strode towards him, a trace of a smile playing at his mouth and a sparkle in his eye. Gods, am I the only one scared here? he wondered. Or am I the only one with enough sense to recognise the danger we face?
"Braxter, you look-"
"Pale. Yeah, I know. I've been told." Braxter interrupted his friend before he could get any further, his tone making it clear that no further comments on his pallor or demeanour were required. Randyl looked momentarily taken aback, glancing at L'non who shook his head slightly but said nothing.
"Something he ate." Ja'aris said through his smile. Braxter glared at him angrily but Randyl didn't seem to notice or if he did he didn't care. He'd already gone back into his Field-Marshall role and was walking over to where a group of civilians were unloading a cart of weapons.
"No, not there! We need them closer..." Braxter watched him go, watched the men stop what they were doing and listen to him without question and then do exactly as he had instructed them. He watched the ease with which his best friend took charge and exuded confidence to everyone around him, infecting them with a belief that was disproportionate to the fact that he had been in charge for less than two days. "It's as if they were waiting for a leader to come along and now they have one they're ready to do anything he asks." He spoke the thought out loud absently.
"Anything at all. Do battle, fight and die. And what a leader to do it for." Ja'aris agreed with his comment, pausing for a moment. "I feel completely the same" he finished.
"You do?" Braxter asked, unsure if the watcher was building up to another of his jokes but it seemed that this was another rare occasion when he was actually being sincere.
"Absolutely. He's got every quality that I'd want in my leader. He's a devil with a blade but he's wise as well, decisive too and fears nothing. Fast and strong. Fair but ruthless. Mark my words boy - if we survive this battle he'll go down in history in the same way the legends of the Seven Year War have done. He'll be in the company of Johan the Brave and Lenny of the Vale. They'll sing songs about him for years to come. Nailed on. He's the perfect warrior." And saying this he smiled broadly with none of his usual wickedness or cruelty. On his face Braxter saw only respect and admiration.
"As for feeling ill before," Braxter glared at him again as if daring him to ridicule him but Ja'aris raised both his hands palms out in defence, "there'll be plenty of time for that tomorrow, don't you worry. You'll not be alone there."
"Serious?" Braxter asked cautiously.
"Serious." Ja'aris pursed his lips. "The only reason this lot aren't feeling it now is because they've all jobs to do and they're distracted. Once the thought catches up with them they'll feel different I tell you. Seen it before. But you ask yourself this - when did the feeling pass? When did you stop feeling like you were about to throw?" Braxter thought about the question for a second before remembering with a flash of anger.
"When you came over here and started to take the..."
"Exactly. And I knew you would. You replaced the fear with anger and straight away you began to feel better."
"Better, but really angry. I even thought about taking a swing at you." Braxter remembered how close he'd come while Ja'aris just laughed.
"And what better way is there to feel when heading into battle. Turn the negative into a positive. Get yourself angry and channel that anger into something productive." Ja'aris spoke slowly, carefully pronouncing each word and Braxter noted once more just how articulate the watcher could be when it suited. "Trust me. It's what a lot of men do."
"Even you?" he asked, hesitating for a moment before daring to continue. "Do you ever feel so scared that you feel sick to your stomach and have to get yourself angry before a fight?"
Ja'aris laughed loudly at that, genuinely and warmly. "Nah, boy." He growled and the laughter disappeared instantly. "Haven't you noticed - I'm just angry all the time!" And with a final wolfish smile of a trained killer, he stalked away.
Braxter turned to look at L'non and followed the watchers gaze to where Randyl was now moving the cart load of weapons presumably to where he wanted it but the civilians around him couldn't put it.
"He is amazing isn't he." He said, more to fill in the awkward silence between them than because he expected or needed an answer.
"Of that there is no doubt." L'non observed with a vague twitch about his mouth which could have been a smile of sorts but which could also easily have been something else.
"So are you like Ja'aris regarding the fear thing? The coming battle doesn't scare you because you're so angry all the time about life in general?"
L'non did smile then, glancing at Braxter before continuing to observe Randyl.
"Twelve in each group! Blades down. Pommel up. Like so!" his friend barked orders and the people followed them immediately.
"The prospect of battle scares me plenty my friend but what follows the battle concerns me also." Braxter's blood ran cold and his stomach cramped again at L'nons words.
"What - you mean if we are defeated? You don't believe we'll win?" To this L'non sighed and bowed his head, as sure sign that he was choosing his words carefully. Eventually he spoke but if his words were intended to comfort Braxter he failed.
"I believe McSween's plan is a good one and where we may have been undone by the Ulrogg in a physical battle we will instead be triumphant using strategy and their own weapon against them." He paused and chewed at his lower lip, black eyes watching, unblinking. "It is what follows that which concerns me some. You're friend is much changed from the young man I saved from the warg pack."
"Yes, that's what Ja'aris was just saying. He's a complete warrior now." Braxter announced cheerfully, still not understanding what was concerning L'non so much if not the pending battle.
"But this town, this whole land will need a ruler once the Ulrogg have been vanquished and great warriors do not always make for great rulers of men. Tell me Braxter - how do you think your friend would react to being told his rule is not the way? Do you believe he will relinquish his new found power as easily as he assured The Baron that he would? Would you like to be the one to tell him he must?"
L'non let the question hang in the air ominously as they watched Randyl ordering the people into their roles, looking strangely reminiscent of a puppeteer who had once performed for them on a visit to Brookdale many years ago but feeling many more.
Braxters lips moved silently as he thought L'nons questions over in his mind. His Adams-apple bobbed nervously at the thought of having that conversation with his friend. Words failed him and he began to feel queasy all over again.
"Let us not dwell on this now." L'nons words cut through his thoughts. "There is a saying which comes to mind - one job at a time - and we have much to prepare before this next job. So let us begin." And he put his arm around Braxter and walked him back through the gates into town, leaving Randyl alone to continue orchestrating his army.
The next few hours saw Braxter wrestle with his nerves while trying to occupy himself as best he could. He had gone with l'non and copied the watcher as he checked his blade and prepared what armour as he could find to fit.
"Lighter is better for what you have to do. You'll be moving quickly and quietly. Keep away from chain and ring and stick to leathers" he said taking the chain-mail shirt from Braxter and handing him a roll of leather cloth. "Leather also means it will be easier to adjust the cut and fit." And with that he'd left Braxter alone while he went to speak to those men who would make up his reserve unit.
When unrolled the leather cloth turned out to be a pair of leggings which was reinforced with padding in place to protect his vitals but was thin and light around the knees. There was also a jerkin which had a double layer over his torso while being soft and flexible over his arms. With a few alterations and a number of strategically tied lengths of chord he soon had it tailored to his size.
"At least I'll look the part" he said to himself as he looked himself over in the mirror. His sword was strapped to his hip and he practised drawing it at speed, wondering how it would feel when the time came to do it for real surrounded by hundreds...no, thousands of others doing the same, fighting for their very lives. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes and nausea crept back into his stomach. He swung his blade left and right, then left and right again, growling to himself as he did, spinning on the spot, parrying an imagined enemy before skewering it and leaving it for dead. He ground his teeth and swung his sword again left, right and left. This time taking the head from a different Ulrogg, breathing deeply but realising that he no longer felt nauseous.
"I'll be damned if he isn't right!" he laughed to himself, remembering Ja'aris' words about anger being channelled correctly overcoming his nerves. He slid his blade into his scabbard and left the armoury in search of further distraction from the prominent dark thoughts which were trying to take hold in his mind.
He found such distraction soon enough and without much effort losing himself in the hard physical work of lifting and carrying sandbags, forming makeshift barricades. Should the Ulrogg break the Boreham army line and then breach the town itself, the sandbags were being positioned to offer one last line of resistance against the invaders. It was monotonous work but it kept his mind occupied which was his main reason for joining in with the task and as the final sack was laid in place, with the workers gathered there standing back with satisfied looks on the faces of one and all, the church bell rang out loud and clear across town.
Braxter stood up straight, stretching his back and taking a long deep breath of the cold afternoon air.
"Braxter." L'non appeared beside him making him jump. "Your armour fits you well. I see you managed to find work?"
"Yes. Just finished putting the last bag in place." He patted the top row with one hand as if to verify just how sturdily it had been laid in place.
"And just in time it seems." L'non said gravely to the background noise of the church bells peals which continued to ring out.
"What do you mean?" Braxter looked about him as people began to move hurriedly from all around, confusion beginning to show on his face. "And why's the church bell ringing like that?"
"It's a call to arms my friend" the watcher said. "The Ulrogg are here."
The door to the Baron's chamber was open but even if it had been closed Braxter was fairly certain he'd have been able to hear Randyl's voice as he spoke to the officers gathered there. He and L'non had hurried there as quickly as they could but with so many bodies running through the streets in seemingly random directions the going had been slow at times. More than once he had felt L'non grab him by the collar and pull him aside roughly in order to avoid a collision with somebody equally intent on getting to wherever they had to get to on hearing the church bell ring.
And so now they were late and he hoped that he hadn't missed anything important. Gathered in the chamber stood not only the closest members of the war council but representatives from every unit assembled in the army. Randy obviously wanted to make sure that everyone felt part of this battle, everyone was included in the fight and addressed them from atop the Baron's table suited in full battle dress - armed and armoured - one hand on the pommel of Coraich and the other pointing, stabbing the air with his index finger as he made his point.
"This is our best chance - our only real chance of defeating the Ulrogg and to do this we need to work together. We have the numbers but they have the weapons. And they are disciplined. Let us not fool ourselves that today will be anything but the hardest day of our lives. But we will be victorious. Be proud. Be strong. Be merciless. And let the fields run red with Ulrogg blood." Randyl stretched his arms out wide, light blue smoke streamed from his mouth and gathered in his palms briefly before drifting quickly to each of the men gathered there. It shrouded their bodies lending them an eerie outline and, just as voices began to be raised in concern, the smoke was absorbed through those mouths, through eyes, noses and even ears until not a trace remained.
Braxter stood in the doorway and so was excluded from the effects of the smoke but noticed the immediate change in the assembled soldiers body language - backs were straightened, heads were held high, chests were puffed out. Everyone there stood to attention.
"Bonner's gift" L'non spoke from beside him, low enough so only he could hear.
"Bonner as in the alchemist from the song?" Braxter remembered the tale which had been woven into a poem of sorts and then over the years gradually put to music. It told of a battle where, after drinking a concoction brewed by the town druid, the men there defeated an enemy who outnumbered them three to one. The potion had apparently given them an endless amount of courage and made them indefatigable to the point where after the battle was won and bodies had been counted the biggest cause of death had not been sword or spear but rather where the soldiers heart had literally exploded in his chest due to the extreme stresses which had been placed on it.
"The very same" L'non confirmed. "Every one of them will feel like ten men going into battle now."
"People of Boreham - are you with me?" Randyl bellowed across the room. The response was instant and unanimous.
"YES!"
"Then today let us carve a place from ourselves in history. Soak your steal in Ulrogg blood and fear not the beast for today is our day!" Randyl finished by punching the air with a clenched fist.
"OUR DAY! OUR DAY!" Cries echoed around the chamber as men hurried from the room. Men and women and some not much more than boys roared and called, clapping one another on the back and shoulders, armour clanking and clunking as they ran to their waiting troops at the Western Gate.
Ja'aris was the last to leave Randyls side - a warriors shake of hands and a bowed head first from Ja'aris and then from Randyl accompanied by a perfectly reciprocated cold grin from each of them before they parted - and Braxter met him in the doorway.
"Here we are then boy. Moment of glory and all that tripe." He punched Braxter on the arm not very gently before taking a step back, a look of awe spreading across his face. "Nice cloth boy. You even look half like a fighter now" he laughed as Braxter flushed red, looking down self-consciously at his new armour.
"Oh, er..." he stammered, unsure if Ja'aris was being sincere or mocking him again.
"Relax lad. You look good. You're much changed from the boy we saw fishing. And for the better I'd add. Even learnt how to look after a blade haven't you? Go on, hand it over - let me take a closer look." Ja'aris held out his hand, gesturing towards Braxter's sword expectantly. Braxter unhooked his belt and handed it over as requested, feeling the loss of his weapon as if he'd lost a layer of clothing. Ja'aris turned it over, this way and that, his black eyes running over every line and curve of the sword, thin lips pursed and a frown creasing his forehead until eventually he seemed to reach a conclusion on its value.
"Yes, you've done a good job at cleaning this thing up. Thought you might do. Thanks for that. Saved me doing it." And saying so proceeded to fasten the belt about his waste.
"Hey! What? You can't do that! Give it back!" Braxter tried to take his sword back, only to have Ja'aris calmly swat his hands away. "L'non, do...something!" But L'non stayed silent and passive, watching.
"Relax boy. You really think I'd leave you unarmed? Is that how much you think of me, honestly?" Ja'aris face had grown serious again leaving Braxter more confused by the second. "I just thought you might want to swap your weapon for mine." He finished fastening the belt and in one smooth motion produced his twin blades from inside his shirt. The two daggers hung from his hand casually, suspended by their leather bindings and turning in the air slowly as if to show themselves off to their prospective new owner.
"Really? For me? Why?" Blurted Braxter. He knew very little about weapons but estimated that their worth would probably be a small fortune at least and so far more than the standard sword which the watcher seemed to want in return.
"We're likely to be fighting different fights from here on in. Knives aren't the best idea when running at a battle line. And as for you - you'll most likely fair better carrying less weight. You can travel faster that way. Also, I've seen you fight with a sword - you can't be any worse with a knife! Less likely to hurt yourself anyways." He laughed a deep wet chuckle as Braxter rolled his eyes and helped him fasten the blades around his shoulders, carefully adjusting the straps to fit him snugly. "Just don't get too attached to them. And don't lose them! I'll want them back when this is all over, hear me?"
"Yes, of course. I'll keep them safe." Braxter said looking down at himself and seeing how the weapons hung close to his back but within easy reach should he need them quickly.
"Good." He said matter-of-factly before turning to L'non. "In that case - shall we, brother?" his tongue slid over every word as if oiled.
"Let's." L'non turned to Braxter, placing his hands on his shoulders. "Iridium - el haas indictum." His words came out as a whisper as he touched his fingertips lightly to Braxters forehead.
"Wait - wh?" Braxter panicked, not knowing what the watchers words meant.
"Just a blessing from older days. It means both farewell and good luck at the same time." L'non smiled warmly and held out his hand.
"What? You're going?" The panic threatened to overcome Braxter as he realised the watchers were leaving.
"Our lives lead us in different paths now my friend. We are needed at the front line. You must go with Randyl. Watch him. Watch over him." He glanced down at the open hand he still held out to Braxter and raised his eyebrows expectantly. Braxter hesitated a moment before he seized it by the wrist, pulling him close and throwing his free arm around his shoulder in a fierce embrace.
"Will I ever see you again?" he managed to say without bursting into tears.
"I sincerely hope that you do Braxter Kinross but although watchers watch, even we can't see everything." He smiled at Braxter again, his black eyes deep pits of warming affection and stood back, adjusting the sword at his hip.
"Gods! I thought you were going to kiss then! Brother - let's go!" Ja'aris' voice cut through the moment with all the subtlety of a runrig plowing a field.
With a final laugh L'non turned sharply on his heel and strode quickly away down the corridor. Braxter had known that their roles in the battle would mean that they would not be fighting alongside one another but he hadn't anticipated the sense of loss he would feel when the actual time of separation arrived. His stomach knotted and twisted and he forced himself to take deep breaths, turning into the Baron's chamber to join Randyl and McSween.
"Hold on!" the voice behind him cut through his thoughts and made him jump. " What am I? Chopped chump?? C'mere!" Ja'aris grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him then grabbed his wrist and pulled him close, hugging him warmly, all in one smooth movement.
"Take care of yourself boy." He growled into Braxters ear. "And look after my pal for me." Then, with a final squeeze, which Braxter was certain was held at the point where it was about to break several of his ribs, he let go and ran away along the corridor after L'non. He didn't look back or wait for any words from Braxter and that was good as far as Braxter was concerned because he no longer felt he could say anything without embarrassing himself severely. Instead, once the watcher was out of site, he walked into the room which until so recently had been known as the Barons Chamber to join his two remaining friends.