by John Gwynne
Cywen ran her thumb along the tip of her knife, pulled it back over her shoulder, focusing on the wooden post. A moment later the knife blade was deep in the post, its hilt vibrating with the force of her throw. She smiled, pleased with the accuracy, drew another knife from her belt and did it again. And then again.
Someone clapped behind her. She spun around, pulling another knife.
It was Princess Edana, Ronan at her shoulder.
‘What are you doing?’ Cywen snapped, despite herself, sheathing the blade. She didn’t like the thought of people being able to sneak up on her.
‘I knocked, but there was no answer,’ Edana said. ‘You must have been concentrating very hard.’
‘I was,’ Cywen said, marching to the post and pulling out her knives.
‘Be careful, you might cut yourself,’ said Ronan, Edana’s shieldman. He was grinning.
Cywen whirled; in a blur she sighted and threw the blade in her hand. With a soft thunk it sank into the tree Ronan was leaning against, about half a hand above his head.
‘Careful, girl,’ he spluttered, ducking. His grin had gone.
‘I only cut what I mean to,’ Cywen said, trying to keep a smile of her own from her face.
‘Can I see?’ Edana asked, looking at the knife in the tree.
‘Of course.’
Ronan wiggled the blade free, whistling as he ran his finger over its edge. ‘It’s weighted strange,’ he said.
‘It’s made for throwing, not stabbing. My da makes them.’ Inside she winced. Her mam had taught her to throw a knife, but her da had told her to keep the skill to herself, said others wouldn’t like her being so skilled with a weapon. Said it wasn’t womanly.
‘Your brother has caused quite a stir, taking his wolven to the Rowan Field this morning,’ Edana murmured as she studied Cywen’s knife.
‘What?’ said Cywen.
‘You don’t know?’
‘Nobody tells me anything,’ Cywen muttered sourly. ‘What happened?’
Edana told her.
So that’s what he and Da were talking about. Cywen felt a grin spill onto her face.
‘Your mam is at the keep,’ Edana said.
‘What?’
‘Gwenith. Your mam. I saw her in the keep. She was talking to my parents.’
‘She’s never done that before. What about?’
‘I don’t know.’ Edana shrugged. ‘I thought you might.’
Cywen shook her head. Her mam, seeking an audience with Brenin and Alona. Why? But she had looked troubled, of late. ‘You are a most useful friend to have,’ Cywen said, smiling at the Princess. ‘My very own spy in the keep.’
Edana grinned. ‘Where is your brother?’
‘He went to see Dath by the boats.’
‘Maybe he knows why your mam was in the keep. Let’s go and ask him.’
Ronan took the knife from Edana and handed it to Cywen. ‘That’s quite a skill you have there,’ he said.
Cywen stared at him a moment, saw the summer sun had dotted his face with freckles. He looks so young, she thought.
‘See something you like?’ he said, grinning again.
Cywen looked away, scowled, feeling her cheeks flush.
‘To the beach,’ Edana said.
They rode out of the fortress and took the track that led down to the bay.
‘There they are,’ said Edana.
Two figures were standing a little way off, near one of the boats. One was sitting on a smooth, table-like slab of rock, a small shadow at its feet. Storm. The other was throwing stones into the bay. They both turned as they heard the approaching horses.
Cywen lifted her hand, smiled at her brother and saw him wave in return.
They dismounted, Ronan minding the horses as Cywen and Edana joined Corban and Dath.
‘Cy. My lady,’ said Corban. Dath just stared at Edana, which for some reason annoyed Cywen.
‘Oh, none of that,’ said Edana, her lips pursed. ‘My name is Edana, not “lady”. We were looking for you.’
‘Aye. Well, you have found us,’ Corban said with a faint smile.
‘Edana saw Mam,’ Cywen said. ‘At the keep, with the King and Queen. Do you know why she was there?’
Corban shook his head. ‘No.’ He frowned. ‘Why? Mam’s never done that before.’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘We’ll ask her tonight.’
‘No, Corban,’ said Edana. ‘Your mam took pains not to be seen – cloak on, hood pulled up, and she was led into the keep by my mother. Not Evnis or Heb, no other guards. If you ask her, it will probably lead back to me. Then your spy would be discovered, and that wouldn’t do at all, would it?’
Storm appeared from behind a boulder and padded over to Corban, standing by his heel. Edana bent down. Storm stayed where she was, considering the Princess with copper eyes.
‘Friend,’ Corban muttered, and the wolven-cub padded forward, sniffing Edana’s outstretched hand.
‘She’s beautiful,’ said Edana, beaming.
‘Aye, she is. Shame not everyone agrees with you.’
‘I heard about your morning. In the Field.’
‘Oh aye.’
‘You should have seen him,’ said Dath. ‘Ban, all on his own, standing up to at least a score of them, warriors an’ all.’
Corban coughed, blushing suddenly, and looked at his feet.
‘And he put Rafe in the right place – knocked him on his arse,’ Dath continued, laughing now.
‘Enough, Dath. It wasn’t like that, anyway.’
‘Yes, it was,’ said a voice from behind them. Ronan strode closer. ‘And I’m not the only one who saw. Took some stones to do that.’
Corban just grunted.
‘How was your first day in the Field, Dath?’ Cywen asked.
‘Good,’ said Dath, skimming a stone into the bay.
‘Your da must have been proud.’
‘Well, he was there, at least.’
‘Who’s your weapons-master, boy?’ asked Ronan.
‘Tarben,’ Dath said, turning now. ‘He knows how to use a blade.’ Reverence dripped from his voice.
‘Aye, to be sure. And if his skill with a blade doesn’t kill his foe, he has a secret weapon,’ said Ronan, grinning.
‘What’s that?’ asked Dath.
‘His tongue. Once he starts moaning, he can suck the joy of life right out of any man. Makes you want to lay down your blade and let him kill you. I’ve heard it’s ancient sorcery, passed down from the giant Elementals.’ They all laughed except Dath, who looked a little offended.
Ronan winked at Cywen and she felt her cheeks colour again. She looked away, struggled for conversation.
‘It is good to have your da back from Tenebral,’ she said to Edana.
‘Yes, it is. Mam is smiling again. Although he has been different.’
‘Different?’ said Cywen.
‘I’ve never seen him so angry as when Marrock was taken.’
‘And my lord,’ said Ronan. ‘Pendathran thought he had lost his brother’s-son. And to the same killers.’
‘Marrock is back now. And Father is planning to deal with Braith. Once and for all.’
‘What do you mean?’ Dath asked.
‘I’ve heard him talking with Pendathran. My father is talking of clearing the Darkwood, once and for all.’
‘How?’ said Ronan. He shook his head. ‘He cannot do that – the Darkwood does not lie only in Ardan. It spans a border with Narvon, leagues long. Owain,’ he hawked and spat, ‘he will not lend his aid. Braith will just hide his men in those parts of the Darkwood that cover Narvon. Brenin cannot take armed men there.’
‘Not yet. But Father thinks the situation will change. It is to do with his journey to Tenebral. I couldn’t quite understand what he meant. But he is asking for a gathering on Midwinter’s Day, with Rhin, Owain and Eremon.’
‘Where? Here?’ said Ronan. ‘They will never come, not so far into Ardan. Owain judges others
by his own heart. He would fear treachery.’
‘Not here,’ said Edana. ‘At the giants’ stone circle.’
Many stories surrounded the huge ring of stones, holy place and ancient meeting ground of the Benothi giant clan.
‘Maybe,’ muttered Ronan. ‘It still lies within Ardan, but within sight of Narvon’s border. And close to the Darkwood, which I like even less.’
Edana shrugged. ‘Father is sending out riders, inviting them all: Owain, Rhin, even Eremon from Domhain.’
‘Why?’ said Corban, frowning. ‘What is he hoping to achieve?’
‘I’m not sure. I wasn’t supposed to hear, you understand, I was . . .’
‘Spying,’ said Corban with a grin. Edana shrugged and smiled back.
‘And why would Eremon of Domhain come? Braith and the Darkwood are far from his borders,’ Ronan said.
‘There is more to it than outlaws in the Darkwood,’ Edana said. ‘It has to do, I think, with a prophecy, or something that Father heard in Tenebral.’ She took a deep breath, frowning. A cold breeze gusted off the bay. ‘He mentioned a sign, on Midwinter’s Day, and a . . . a Black Sun.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
VERADIS
‘We are close,’ Calidus said over his shoulder, guiding his mount forwards. Alcyon strode in his customary place, alongside the Vin Thalun.
‘How close?’ Veradis called out, Nathair riding silent beside him.
‘It is difficult to say, with certainty,’ Calidus said. ‘Telassar has not remained hidden throughout the ages just because of these mountains.’
Veradis looked about him. They were picking their way along a narrow path beside a chattering stream, peaks rearing all about them.
‘What do you mean?’ Veradis said, cupping a hand to his mouth to make himself heard.
‘There is a glamour upon this place. Earth power has been used to keep the fortress of the Jehar hidden. That is how I know we are close. I can feel the glamour.’
‘If that is so, how will we ever find it?’ Veradis called.
Calidus reined in, turned in his saddle, white teeth glinting in what passed for a smile. ‘Need I remind you? Alcyon and I are versed in the earth power too.’
‘I remember well enough. I’ll not be doubting you on that score again.’ Veradis glanced at Nathair. The Prince’s face was grim. A dark mood had fallen on Nathair with the passing of each night since they had left Rahim’s fortress.
Calidus clicked his horse on again, and they continued on down the narrow track.
At least it is cooler, thought Veradis. The heat of this land had been starting to wear on him, but he had felt his spirits lift ever since they had entered this range of mountains, two nights past now, the temperature dropping as they climbed.
He looked over his shoulder, saw the stream disappear down a narrow gully, and frowned. He did not like travelling with so few men about Nathair. Mountains were a breeding ground for brigands, and the narrow paths they had taken through them were ready-made for ambush. Calidus and Alcyon counted for something, but even they could not stop an arrow in its tracks.
After the battle with the giants, Nathair had led his warband back to Rahim’s fortress, where they had been greeted with shock and celebration. Three nights of feasting had passed, Rahim heaping praise and gifts on Nathair and his men. Then they had set out west, Nathair saying he wished to return to Tenebral with the good news of their victory. One day’s ride from the walls of the fortress, though, and Nathair had placed Rauca in charge of the warband, charging him with their safe passage back to the coast and the meeting place with Lykos and his fleet. Rauca had been flushed with pride.
‘We are to Telassar,’ Nathair had said to Veradis.
No matter how hard Veradis had protested, the Prince refused to take any men with them, other than Calidus and Alcyon.
‘I will not appear at their walls with a warband at my back. I mean to win them, not estrange them,’ Nathair had said.
So here they were, wandering Elyon knew where in the middle of a strange country, deep within an unknown range of mountains, which apparently had some kind of sorcery cast over them, following a giant and a pirate spymaster.
Veradis studied Alcyon, who was sitting on the far side of the campfire, orange flames making shadows dance and flicker across his angular face, merging with the tattoos that spiralled both his arms.
I owe him my life, he thought, not altogether comfortable with the idea. Still, it was better to be alive and indebted to a giant than to be dead. He took a large gulp from a skin of wine. He could still see the giant towering over him, still remember the sickening sensation in his stomach as he had waited for the giant’s axe to fall, then seeing its head rolling in the dust before him.
‘I have not thanked you,’ he said over the flames.
Alcyon looked up, his eyes small pinpricks as the firelight flickered over his face.
‘For what?’ the giant rumbled.
‘Saving my life. On the ridge.’
Alcyon grunted. ‘It was a battle. We do what we have to do.’
‘Aye. Nevertheless, you have my thanks.’
Alcyon shrugged, grunted again.
Calidus chuckled, a high, thin sound, like air sucked through a hollow reed. ‘My giant is unaccustomed to such praise.’
‘My giant?’ said Nathair. He sat slightly apart, hands clasped around knees drawn up tight to his chest.
‘Alcyon is . . . indebted to me, shall we say,’ the Vin Thalun said.
‘Have you ever ridden a draig?’ Nathair asked the giant.
‘Nay,’ said Alcyon. ‘I am of the Kurgan. It was not our way.’
‘They were quite impressive, would you not say?’
‘Aye,’ muttered the giant, ‘but you slew them, regardless of how impressive they appeared.’
Nathair laughed, the first time that Veradis could remember since Rahim’s fortress. ‘But we were a thousand strong, with Rahim’s warriors, against only four score of them.’
‘True enough,’ agreed Alcyon.
‘And it only took a handful of them to kill five score of my men,’ Veradis added, remembering the devastation the draigs had caused as they had rampaged through his shield wall, scattering all in their path like so much kindling.
‘I would like one,’ Nathair said.
‘What?’ spluttered Veradis. Alcyon and Calidus said nothing, but they both suddenly appeared animated, eyes focused on the Prince.
‘Do you think it possible, for me to ride one?’
There was a long silence, broken only by the popping of twigs in the fire.
‘Yes,’ Calidus said eventually. ‘Giants are bigger, obviously, but a saddle could be fashioned to accommodate a smaller frame. Also, the ones that we fought, they would have been old, fully grown. Draigs grow quickly at first; they are adolescents in little more than a year. One would be big enough then for you to ride it, and although they continue to grow, from then on the process is much slower. Those that you saw, large enough for a giant to ride, would have been ten years old, maybe more.’
Nathair nodded thoughtfully. ‘And how would I get one? I would imagine they are hard to catch. How are they trained?’
The edges of a smile touched Calidus’ lips. ‘If they are walking, then it is already too late,’ he said. ‘You must have them in the egg, be there when they hatch, let them have your scent as you give them their first taste of meat. They are fiercely loyal. Only one person will they ever suffer to ride them, and that is the person who feeds them, rears them.’
‘So. Where would I find a draig’s egg?’
‘The swampland you saw, on Tarbesh’s border,’ growled Alcyon.
Veradis wrinkled his nose, remembering the swamp beyond the river Rhetta.
‘There are other places, throughout the Banished Lands: Forn Forest, parts of Benoth, the Kavala Mountains,’ said Calidus.
Alcyon rose, walked to Nathair and kneeled before him. ‘You have my oath, Prince of Tenebral. I will
find one for you.’
Nathair laughed loudly. ‘Alcyon, my thanks would be beyond measure. Can you imagine riding a draig into Jerolin?’ he said, slapping Veradis’ leg.
‘If it would squeeze through the gates,’ Veradis muttered.
‘Alcyon,’ Nathair continued, ‘you would be a friend indeed if you would do such a thing for me.’
The giant nodded curtly, his gaze flickering to Calidus. He resumed his place by the fire.
Silence fell over them for a while. The fire guttered low as they passed the skin of wine around.
‘I believe we will see Telassar on the morrow,’ Calidus said, startling Veradis.
‘Are you sure?’ asked Nathair.
‘There has been a shift in the glamour. Its presence is beginning to fade.’
‘Uh,’ grunted Nathair, his mood darkening. ‘Calidus, do you know anything of this fortress of Telassar, of the Jehar? Now that I find myself here, I feel suddenly apprehensive, as if I carry a great weight.’ Nathair avoided the Vin Thalun’s eyes as he spoke, gazing instead at the embers of the fire.
‘Yes, I know something of Telassar, and its people. Mostly tales and rumours, but I have found much truth wrapped up within such stories before.
‘The Jehar are of the Old Blood. A people that dwelt here before Elyon’s Scourging – they survived both fire and water when the giant clans and the race of men were decimated. I say survived, but maybe they were spared – I know not,’ he shrugged. ‘All that is told of them is that they are fanatical. They live to serve Elyon, and they are reputed to be warriors without equal, trained from when they can stand.’ He smiled, teeth and eyes reflecting red in the glow of the dying fire. ‘I know not how much truth is in these tales. But some, at least.’
‘How do you know so much?’ Veradis asked.
Calidus shrugged. ‘I am Lykos’ eyes, his ears. The Vin Thalun’s network of information-gatherers . . .’
‘Spies, you mean,’ said Veradis.
‘Aye, spies. They are everywhere. Remember, the Vin Thalun are sailors; the whole of the Banished Lands coast is open to them. And also, before I served Lykos, I travelled much. There is little that I do not know or cannot discover, if I set my will to it.’