The ground was littered with the dead or dying, crawling, twitching. Knots still fought, here and there, mostly in ones and twos.
Orgull banged his hatchet on his buckler, started yelling.
‘Iron throats, iron throats, to us. Iron throats.’
Maquin looked at him. Strength in numbers. He took up the cry, Javed following.
There were not many left. One iron collar was cut down as he stared at the three men, but others broke away from their combats, joining Orgull and Maquin and Javed. Almost instantly there were eight of them grouped together. Then twelve. The men left with iron about wrist or ankle looked on wildly, then set to attacking each other. None would risk assaulting twelve men.
‘What now?’ one of the iron collars said.
‘Wait for them to come to us,’ another said.
Kill or be killed.
Maquin gave a yell and ran at the last few men scattered around them. Orgull hesitated briefly, then followed, as Maquin knew he would. The others were close behind Orgull. Together they killed every other surviving man left in the pit.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
CORBAN
Corban looked back along the range of hills. It was late in the day, and they had travelled leagues already, but he could still see the battleground in the distance, a dark shadow on the green plains. Birds circled the air above it in a dark swarm.
I hope that Edana and the others are safe.
‘Come on,’ Coralen called from the front of their small column. ‘Keep up.’
‘Keep up, keep up,’ Craf squawked from Brina’s saddle. He had been much more vocal since being separated from Fech.
Corban kicked his horse on. Guilt gnawed at him for leaving Edana and his friends, but a fierce joy filled him every time he thought of Cywen. He had felt so overwhelmed by the losses of friends, the death of his da and him supposedly being a god’s avatar that at times he’d felt like a small twig tossed and turned by great waves. Now for the first time he felt that he was actually doing something. Taking control. He did not care for the politics of the west, who ruled where. For him the last year had been all about their survival. Survival of his loved ones — his family and friends. And Cywen was part of that. At least, she will be.
Storm appeared out of the darkness, stepping into the firelight of their camp. She was carrying a young buck between her jaws. She dropped her kill at Corban’s feet and he rested a hand on it, accepting her gift. He and the others then set to skinning and cooking it.
‘She’s quite useful,’ Coralen said, using her knife to strip the last piece of meat from a bone.
‘Changed your mind about turning her into a cloak, then?’ Dath said cheerfully.
Corban put a hand protectively on Storm’s shoulder. She was spread beside him, cracking bones for marrow.
‘All the while she brings me dinner,’ Coralen said. ‘Besides, I have a wolven cloak already.’ She patted the saddlebag she was sitting upon.
Corban had kept his wolven pelt too, as well as the gauntlet and claws. He looked at Coralen, their small fire highlighting the lines of her hair and face. You must find this hard, leaving Rath and your people behind. But can I trust you?
‘Are you leading us in the hope of seeing Conall?’ he asked her.
‘Conall?’ She regarded him for what seemed a long while. ‘He’s my brother. When I heard he was dead, it was like a punch in the belly. And now I know he’s alive, somewhere on the other side of those mountains. But what’s happened between him and Halion. .’ She shook her head. ‘They were always so close. You need that, growing up the way we did. Someone to rely on. To turn to.’ She looked up and Corban saw tears glistening in her eyes. He was surprised at the number of words coming out of her mouth. Usually she just gave out sharp-edged dour remarks.
Her eyes focused on Corban. ‘Why are you asking me this?’
Then her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
‘Oh I see it: you don’t trust me. Think I might betray you to your enemies for the sake of Conall. Well, feel free to find another guide, and I’ll ride back to Rath and my people.’ She almost spat the last words, then stood up and walked away, slung her saddlebag down beyond the reach of firelight.
‘Very tactful,’ Brina whispered to him.
‘I trust you,’ Farrell called out after her.
‘Shut up, oaf,’ Coralen’s voice drifted back.
The next day dawned cold, with frost stiffening the grass. They broke their fast with cold meat and watered-down ale, then set off again. Coralen was silent the entire time; Corban decided it was prudent to do the same.
A while after highsun Coralen stopped. They were winding their way through the foothills that skirted the mountains, and were high up a slope. Domhain was spread to the west like a great tapestry.
‘What is it?’ Gar asked Coralen.
‘I think someone is following us,’ she said, staring back into the distance.
They all stared.
‘I see it,’ said Dath. He’d always had sharp eyes.
‘You’re looking in the wrong direction,’ Coralen said. ‘Over there.’
‘Oh,’ said Dath. ‘But I thought I saw. .’
‘What?’ Coralen said, following his stare. Corban looked too, but could only see rolling hills and patches of woodland.
‘Nothing,’ Dath said, abashed.
Coralen pointed.
‘Ah. Yes.’ Dath stared hard. ‘I can see something.’
‘How many?’ Gar asked.
‘Hard to tell. Only one, that I can see. Could be more.’ He squinted. ‘Maybe two.’
‘I’ll send Craf,’ Brina said, and the bird flapped into the air.
They carried on for a good while, keeping to the trail that Coralen had been leading them on.
Shadows were lengthening, darkness sinking into the hills like deep pools amongst rocks, when Craf returned. The bird was squawking, an edge of terror to the sound. He swooped out of the grey sky, hurtling straight for Brina. ‘Help help help help,’ Craf croaked as he all but crashed into Brina, trying to flap his way into the inner recesses of her cloak. ‘Eat me,’ Craf screeched, his head poking out of Brina’s cloak, looking up at the sky.
They all looked up. For a fleeting moment Corban thought he saw a dark smudge, then it was gone. ‘What about those following us?’ Coralen asked Craf.
‘Man, hound, follow,’ Craf said.
‘Thank you,’ Coralen said.
‘Welcome,’ Craf muttered.
Corban blinked. He’d never heard Craf be polite before.
‘ We’d best get off the trail and see who it is that’s behind us,’ Coralen said.
Corban took his place on a shelf of rock above the path; Storm and his mam crouched nearby. Dath was on the other side of the trail, on a ridge amongst trees and scrub, his bow strung. The rest of them were spread either side, hidden behind rock or tree. It felt like a long time before Corban heard the sound of hooves.
Eventually a figure appeared in the gloom, emerging from the shadows. A man on horseback, a tall hound padding beside him. Then Corban recognized him and leaped forward, yelling, ‘Don’t shoot him,’ to Dath.
The man reined in, his hound growling. He aimed a clipped command at the hound. ‘Hello, Corban,’ he said.
‘Ventos.’
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
FIDELE
Fidele stood on the battlements of Jerolin. It was cold, snow from the mountains carpeting much of the slopes and plains to the north. The lake glistened beneath a pale sun. Looking east, she saw at last the sight she had been waiting for. Riders, eagle-guard cantering past the stockaded walls of the lake town and onto the road that wound up to Jerolin. As they drew closer she saw that they circled another figure.