Pagan Siege (Tribes of Britain Book 5) by Sam Taw (10 best novels of all time TXT) 📕

my thoughts without the need to voice them. “I’m not slacking off, Fur Benyn. The Chief put me in charge of them. We are to remain behind, keep order and oversee the new buildings.” Skentel yelled at the youths, informing them of his intentions.

“Won’t they down tools the moment your back is turned?” I asked, astounded at their compliance.

“Nah. They’re good men. I told them that if they built their muscles quickly enough, the Chief might change his mind and allow them to go with him to the mines.”

“And how long do they have to reach peak fitness?”

“Chief Tallack told me that he intends to leave on the morning tide.” His grin was delicious. Had I been a number of summers younger, I would have relished a night or two beneath his furs. We shared a conspiratorial chuckle together as he walked alongside my pony, avoiding the worst of the dry fissures in the fractured earth. How had I missed the presence of such a sharp-witted lad in the compound for all this time? I knew him by sight, but to my recollection I’d never treated him for sickness or wounds in all his days amongst us.

“What else did my nephew tell you?” It stung that I knew nothing of Tallack’s plans. I’d spent my entire life wishing that I could be rid of the burden of having Chieftain blood, be away from the constant turmoil and strife, but when my wish was granted without warning, it upset me. I was no longer in the Chief’s inner circle of advisers. Endelyn and Treeve had taken my place. Breathing steadily, I managed to hold back my emotions at this revelation, keen to hear this clever man’s take on my nephew’s plan.

“We’re to return at nightfall for a bowl of stew in the Long Hut. I gather the Chief wants to make an announcement, but I think we’ve all guessed what that will be.” He glanced up at me and sneered.

“Kitto?”

“Yeah. It makes sense. He’s taken more heads than the rest of us combined, although some might say through the luck of the gods more than skill. There will come a day when he can no longer cut through enemies with sheer force.”

I smiled to myself. Skentel was perceptive enough to wait for that day before challenging the mighty warrior. He was in possession of some admirable traits, being both patient and strategic. There were now two potential threats to Tallack’s leadership and I didn’t envy my nephew’s chances for long-term success.

We chatted amiably all the way back to the compound, stopping every once in a while, to gather what hardy plants I could from the side of the track. He told me that Tallack and his crewmen planned to sail to Bentewyn, where the largest of our tin mines were located, while the Head Hunters rode across land. With that many warriors at his back, Skentel claimed that Tallack was confident of overthrowing the Alchemists within a quarter moon.

I held my gaze steady, lest he should detect my doubt. Was this the entirety of my nephew’s plan? He was simply going to charge in and ask Kenver for our mines back. Had he forgotten the trouble his half-sister, Wenna had attacking the same valley just one summer ago? The entire settlement was deeply embedded in the woodlands, the access points narrow and sheltered. It was a perfect spot to slaughter all invaders before they could get within fifty boat lengths of the mines.

If this was what Tallack had in store for his men, Skentel and his little crew of spindly boys would be the only warriors left by the next full moon. How could I make my nephew understand my misgivings if he no longer sought my counsel?

I thanked Skentel for his protection and rode through camp to Ren’s hut. He was asleep inside, wearing little more than a loin cloth. His ribs were still too prominent, but there was some colour in his face. More than anything, the poor man needed good food and lots of rest, but neither were possible.

What food remained in camp was cooked at the Long Hut fire pits and distributed evenly to all the tribe. Only the homesteaders failed to abide by our sense of fair play. They hoarded and stole and kept whatever they could scavenge for themselves. I couldn’t blame them. They’d spent a lifetime around the moors or along the borderlands fending off attack from the Duros. Their will to survive in such harsh conditions left little room for community customs such as sharing.

“Ren?” I spoke softly, trying not to startle him from his nap. Creeping closer, I could see the sweat shining on his skin, his heart beat pulsed between his ribs. He was skinnier than the camp dogs. I touched his shoulder and he awoke with a start. His taut frown relaxed when he saw it was me.

“What is it? Has something happened?” He sat up and pawed at my arm.

“No, not yet, but I fear it will if we can’t talk some sense into my nephew.” I sat on the edge of his bunk as he lay back down and rubbed at his eyes.

“What’s he done now? It’s not another pointless contest is it?”

I screwed up my face, bewildered. “You mean he hasn’t told you that he’s leaving on the morning tide?” This was worse than I feared. Tallack relied on Ren’s superior navigation skills, not to mention his talent for diplomacy in tricky situations. If he’d cut Ren out of his circle of advisers too, we were all in grave danger. I started explaining all that I’d learned from Skentel while my friend splashed cold water on his face, slipped on a pair of leggings and a loose tunic, and prepared himself to approach the Long Hut with me.

It was dusk when we arrived at the main door and the place was already packed with warriors and elders. The sticky heat amplified the musky stink of so many