by John Gwynne
Camlin sighed. ‘Looks like you’ve thought it all through.’
She nodded.
‘Well, seems that’s settled, then.’
She gave him a long look, suspicious at first, which slowly changed to something resembling pleased, and she went back to eating her squirrel.
He looked back to the tower, saw a black smudge swirl around the cloud of smoke and come flapping up the hill towards them.
Is that Craf? He felt a little jolt of relief, hadn’t realized he’d been worried about the old crow.
The crow saw him and spiralled down, started cawing as it drew close and alighted upon a branch over his head.
‘Craf hungry,’ it squawked, beady eyes staring at the pile of skin, bone and offal that had been a squirrel a short while ago.
‘Help yourself,’ Camlin said with a wave of his hand. ‘Didn’t think you usually asked,’ he added.
When the crow had done it hopped closer to Camlin.
‘Well?’ Camlin asked, eager to hear the bird’s news.
‘Edana,’ Craf squawked.
‘Aye, you’re right,’ Camlin said, groaning at his stiff back as he stood. ‘Best off saying your news once. She’s over there.’
Camlin strode through wide-spaced woodland towards Edana. She had fewer about her now – just Halion, Vonn and Baird. Nothing of her earlier emotion showed on her face.
She just looks tired, Camlin thought.
‘Craf’s back,’ Camlin announced and the crow fluttered down onto the log Edana was sitting on.
‘You all right?’ Camlin asked Edana. ‘My Queen,’ he added. ‘After earlier – the prisoners.’
She passed a hand over her eyes and sighed. ‘So much death,’ she said. ‘Will there ever be an end to it?’
‘Gotta believe there will be,’ Camlin shrugged. ‘Called hope, I’ve been told.’ He gave a lopsided grin. ‘Long as it doesn’t end with ours. Death, that is.’
She smiled at that, a little snort of laughter.
‘How many stayed?’ he asked, referring to the prisoners.
‘Twenty-eight,’ Halion said.
Camlin nodded. ‘Trust them?’
‘Not really,’ Edana admitted. ‘But if I’m going to raise a warband, more than half the men of Ardan are probably wearing Rhin’s colours right now. I have to believe that it’s against their will, that they’d rather fight for me.’
‘Think that’s most likely true enough. Always some rotten apples in the barrel, though.’
‘I know,’ Edana said. ‘But how do we root them out?’
‘New recruits, put ’em at the front of the first battle, and the second: let ’em prove themselves, risk dying for you. The bad ’uns will most likely run first chance they get.’
Baird grunted approvingly and Edana nodded thoughtfully at that.
‘I’ll do that,’ she said. ‘Now, Craf, what news have you for us?’
‘Rhin at Dun Crin,’ Craf said. He paused and looked at them all. ‘Very angry.’
Baird laughed at that.
‘How many?’ Halion asked.
‘Lots,’ Craf muttered. ‘Thousand? Ten thousand? And giants from Murias.’
Camlin raised his eyebrows.
That explains the strange tracks in the meadow near Morcant’s tower.
‘God-War,’ Craf muttered, ruffling feathers with his beak.
That again.
Vonn tensed at Craf’s words.
‘It must be taken seriously,’ Vonn said.
Vonn had already spoken to Edana and Camlin about this God-War, told them about how he had stolen the giant’s book from his father, Evnis, which had in turn been taken from him by Brina during their flight to Domhain. Camlin and Edana had witnessed this. But Vonn also told them of a necklace hidden in Evnis’ tower at Dun Carreg. A necklace with a black stone as a pendant.
Ask Craf what the Seven Treasures are, Vonn had said.
I don’t need to ask Craf, Edana had replied, I know the old tales as well as any. Cauldron and cup, spear, axe and dagger, torc and necklace.
Aye, necklace, Vonn had said. It makes sense – Dun Carreg, fortress of the Benothi. Nemain their queen.
So what if you’re right? Camlin had asked.
If one of the Seven Treasures is in Dun Carreg, then we must do something about it. Craf keeps squawking about the God-War, a prophecy, about Corban and the Bright Star and Black Sun. About the Seven Treasures.
It all sounds right strange to me, Camlin had said.
Aye, me too, Vonn had agreed, but you are not understanding. If Craf is right, if this God-War is happening, then what is happening here, in Ardan, is just a pebble in the ocean. If this is true, then we must help.
How would we help? Edana had asked.
We must go and get the necklace, and take it to Corban in Drassil.
Edana had just stared at Vonn, Camlin hadn’t been sure if she thought he was mad.
I’ll think on it, was all that she had said, and then left.
‘I am taking it seriously,’ Edana said to Vonn.
‘Then what will be done about it, the God-War, the necklace?’ Vonn pressed.
‘I am going to retake Ardan,’ Edana said slowly, ‘or die in the trying. If by some stroke of good fortune I am victorious and Rhin is slain or sent back to Cambren, then I will gladly tear Evnis’ tower down stone by stone until this necklace is found, and I will personally take it to Corban in Drassil. But until then, I must concentrate on what is in front of me. Ardan and Rhin first.’
‘Wrong,’ Craf said.
‘I like that bird,’ Baird chuckled. ‘He’s got stones. Speaks his mind.’
‘Well, a good counsellor does, I suppose,’ Edana said. ‘But they also know when to stop, and not labour a point,’ she added with one eyebrow raised. ‘I have listened, weighed the choices, and I have made my decision.’
‘But—’ Vonn began.
‘No,’ Edana said, her voice rising. ‘Enough, Vonn.’
Vonn scowled at her a long moment, jaw working as he struggled with the words itching to get out of his mouth, then he clamped his jaw shut and nodded.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
HAELAN
Haelan stared at Cywen as moonlight silvered her face. He was terrified, being out, as he had grown so accustomed to hiding, but Buddai had been uncontrollable after he’d got a sniff of Pots, snapping his leash and heading off into the darkness, and Pots had run with him. For one elongated moment Haelan had watched them go, then he’d been scrambling after them, cursing them both the entire time it had taken him to catch up with Buddai and wrap the remains of the torn leash about his arm.
Buddai had calmed for a while when they reached this courtyard; maybe the sounds of guardsmen and the crackling fire reminded him that death lurked around every corner in this place. That was until the figure had appeared at the window. Buddai had taken a few deep sniffs through his broad muzzle, whined and then he was off again, Haelan standing no chance of even slowing him, let alone stopping him.
‘Haelan, what are you doing here?’ Cywen whispered.
‘Chasing the dogs,’ he whispered back, eyes flitting between Cywen and the firelight flickering at the building’s corner.
Cywen smiled, ruffling Buddai’s fur.
‘I mean, how are you still alive? Where are you hiding? Are you alone? How do you have Buddai with you?’ She took a breath, clearly framing more questions.
‘It’s not safe here,’ Haelan said. ‘Come with me.’ He went to move away but Cywen gripped his wrist.
‘I’ll tell you everything, I promise,’ he said. He looked up, the open sky, moon and stars feeling like it went on for ever. He shuddered.
Cywen stared at him, then nodded.
‘Follow me,’ he whispered and ran.
They passed through wide streets, always keeping to the edges, to the shadows. Soon they were entering a courtyard with an old oak at its centre, its trunk wide and thick, roots churning up the flagstoned floor. Haelan hea
ded to a deeper shadow in its midst, and then he was scrambling into it, climbing into the hole that led to his den – his sense of safety grew palpably with each step deeper into his underground hiding place.
‘This way,’ Haelan whispered as they slithered down a slope about the length of a man and reached the spot where you could turn left or right. The familiar stench from the left drifted up to him, but by now Haelan hardly noticed. Cywen clearly did, though, wrinkling her nose and then putting a hand over her mouth.
‘That’s disgusting,’ she whispered.
Haelan grunted and turned right. They shuffled along a dark narrowing space, forced onto hands and knees as the tunnel they were in followed a twisting root, then Haelan heard a welcoming whine and saw a flicker of light. He smiled.
A space opened up before him, wide enough for about six men to stand abreast, and about a dozen paces long. Beyond that the tunnel narrowed again, twisting off about the root it followed. The small chamber was lit by a bowl of oil on a knot in the thick root, flame dancing upon its surface.
Two faces greeted him, Swain and Sif – Wulf’s son and daughter – and six bundles of fur, Buddai’s and Storm’s cubs bouncing and leaping in their excitement at his return. Seeing them like this, he realized how they’d grown. They were only five or six moons old, but already they were all taller than Pots, their necks and broad chests thickening with muscle.
Like Buddai. They’ll not grow as big as Storm, but big enough, and they’ll be wide and strong, I don’t doubt.
‘Calm down,’ Sif scolded the cubs as they bounced into her. She was on her hands and knees, playing with her bag of stones and nuts, rolling them into each other. Some of them Sif had chalked white.
I still don’t understand that game, but it’s kept Sif quiet for over a moon.
Buddai and Pots burst into the chamber, making the cubs even more excited. One of them froze, black-faced and brindle-coated, and stared at the darkness of the tunnel. It growled, revealing a row of razor-sharp puppy teeth.
‘Shadow,’ Haelan said, reaching out a hand to the cub, but she didn’t stop growling.
The other cubs stopped their frolicking and stared too, cocking heads, and then they were all growling as Cywen emerged from the darkness.
Shadow, the black-faced cub, took a snarling step forwards, legs bunching, about to leap, the others moving tight about her, all growling, hackles up. Haelan felt a real moment of panic, snapping a command at them that was completely ignored. Then Buddai was standing between the cubs and Cywen, baring his teeth, daring them. The cubs stopped, tails dropping, submitting. Shadow gave a last little growl of protest, and then she too was quiet.
Thank Elyon.
‘I thought they were going to attack me,’ Cywen said, looking relieved as she stroked Buddai’s broad head. Then she threw her head back and laughed, long and sounding slightly mad.
‘I can’t believe you are all here,’ Cywen said, sitting down and cuddling Buddai. Pots put his forelegs on Cywen’s shoulder and licked one of her ears; the cubs tentatively approached her, sniffing. Cywen held her arms out and beckoned to Sif, who walked over and hesitantly allowed Cywen to hug her. After about a count of ten Sif was sitting in Cywen’s lap, hugging her tightly in return.
‘How has this happened?’ Cywen asked.
‘The battle,’ Swain started, ‘when it happened, we were here, with the cubs—’
‘Because Corban had asked us to look after them,’ Sif said with big, serious eyes.
‘He did, I remember,’ Cywen agreed.
‘We didn’t know what to do,’ Swain continued.
I was terrified, Haelan thought, remembering the distant din of battle, the screams and battle-cries, flames, smoke. He’d been in the courtyard above, playing tug with Shadow. She’d heard it first, stopping and staring, ears going flat to her head.
‘Buddai was here, with the cubs,’ Swain continued, but he ran off when the fighting started, and then all the cubs were off as well, following him. We chased them, and then, a man appeared in front of us—’
‘He had rings in his beard,’ Sif said.
‘Aye,’ Swain said, eyes distant, remembering. ‘He was going to kill us, tried to, but Buddai killed him.’
‘Ripped his throat out,’ Sif added matter-of-factly.
‘We picked up all the cubs between us and tricked Buddai into following us back here.’
‘How did you manage that?’ Cywen asked.
They were silent a few moments.
‘I pinched one of the cubs – twisted her ear and made her cry,’ Haelan said. He still felt guilty about that. ‘Buddai followed us back here, and then we tied him up.’
‘We were scared he’d get killed,’ Sif said.
‘You were right to do it,’ Cywen said, stroking Sif’s hair. ‘Buddai would have been killed. I think you saved his life.’
Sif smiled at that, nodding. By now all six cubs were rubbing up against Cywen, sniffing, nibbling her clothing; one was tugging at her hair and she absently pushed it off.
‘And since then,’ Swain went on, ‘we’ve just . . . stayed hidden. Every now and then me or Haelan sneak out for food and water. Pots is good at foraging for the cubs – he’s always disappearing and coming back with something for them.’
Sif screwed her face up at that, and Haelan remembered some of the things Pots had returned with – an arm once.
The cubs hadn’t complained.
‘What’s happening, up there?’ Swain asked Cywen.
‘I’m a prisoner,’ Cywen said. ‘I tend to the sick – wounded from the battle. Most have recovered, or died, but there are still a few to tend to.’
‘I meant Corban,’ Swain said. ‘And Da?’
‘Wulf? I think he escaped,’ Cywen said, and Swain and Sif physically drooped with relief.
Tahir? What of my shieldman? And my friend. Tahir had driven Haelan mad, with his strict rules about where Haelan could and couldn’t go, what he could and couldn’t do.
And his mam’s old sayings. I wish I could see him and hear one of those sayings now.
‘Tahir?’ he asked.
‘Your shieldman? I don’t know,’ Cywen shrugged. ‘There was a lot of confusion. Many escaped,’ she said hopefully, ‘and they’re in Forn, still fighting.’
‘How do you know, if you’re a prisoner?’ Haelan asked suspiciously. He wanted good news, but he didn’t want to be lied to, treated like a child.
‘A patrol of Vin Thalun came back this morning. I saw them. There were more dead and wounded than the living amongst them.’
‘Ha,’ Swain barked a laugh. ‘My da’s work, for sure.’
‘No doubt,’ Cywen said.
‘So, what now?’ Haelan asked.
‘You could stay with us,’ Sif said.
‘I wish I could,’ Cywen replied, ‘but I can’t. I tend the sick and cannot abandon them. Besides, if Calidus found me gone, he’d tear Drassil apart looking for me. He might find you . . .’
‘Why would he do that?’ Sif asked.
‘Because I am Corban’s kin, and he thinks Corban will come for me. I am bait in a trap.’
‘Will Corban come?’ Haelan, Swain and Sif asked together.
‘I don’t know.’ Cywen shook her head. ‘He did the last time, when I was Calidus’ prisoner.’
‘But if it’s a trap . . .’ Haelan said.
Then Corban cannot come. He is our hope. Haelan loved Corban, admired him as the greatest warrior and leader the world had ever seen.
‘Then you have to escape, get out of here, before Corban comes for you.’
A smile twitched Cywen’s mouth, not light-hearted, but serious and determined. ‘My thoughts exactly,’ she said. ‘It’s just the how that I’m struggling with. And now that I know you’re here.’ She smiled. ‘You’ll have to come with me, else Calidus may find you in his search for me.’
That thought both excited and scared Haelan.
To be away from this danger, the daily fear of bein
g discovered and caught. But being away from our den, which has kept us safe and hidden a whole moon.
‘And, talking of being discovered, I should go back to the hospice, else the sun will be rising.’
Sif squeezed her harder and Cywen squeezed her in return.
‘I cannot tell you how happy I am to know that you are alive and here,’ Cywen said. ‘And my Buddai . . .’ She hugged the hound’s neck, kissing him.
‘I’ll return soon,’ she said, then made her goodbyes, ruffling the cubs’ heads and hugging Sif again. She gave Buddai a stern order to stay and then backed into the darkness of the tunnel. Buddai whined but he did not follow her. Haelan did, though, and soon they were at the slope that led up to the courtyard. Moonlight showed them the way.
‘That smell,’ Cywen said, wrinkling her nose as they stood in the darkness at the base of the slope. She was staring into the darkness of the tunnel where the smell was drifting from. ‘I recognize it,’ she said quietly, her expression changing. She looked scared. ‘Is that another tunnel?’ she asked him.
‘It is,’ he said, remembering the first time he’d found this place, how he’d crawled that way first, eventually stopping and coming back. ‘It gets too narrow.’ Strangely, the cubs never went that way.
‘Good,’ Cywen said, her expression relaxing.
‘Why?’
‘Because I know that smell, and I think there are draigs down there.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CORBAN
Corban sat upon a giant bear, hands gripping the high pommel of a saddle as it shambled along a fresh-built road that cut like a spear through the trees and undergrowth of Forn.
Jael’s road, which he built almost from the boundaries of Gramm’s hold to see him and his warband to the walls of Drassil.
The bear’s pace was surprisingly fast, eating up the leagues at a relentless pace throughout each day’s travel. His legs were aching; the girth of a bear was unsuitable for his human legs.
I miss Shield, he thought, not for the first time.
The trees were thinning, now, the terrain changing and more sunlight breaking through the canopy above. There was less vine and thorn on the ground, more grass and wildflowers. And then Corban saw the stumps of trees, a whole vale harvested of timber.