Camlin froze, waiting on Halion’s answer. It felt as if everyone was doing the same; even the wind and waves were momentarily calm.
‘I swore an oath to Brenin. I’ll not be breaking it, Con. Not for you, not for anyone. But you don’t have to do this. Just let us go. We’ll sail away, never to trouble you again. For Elyon’s sake, man, they’re women and children.’
‘That’s not going to happen, Hal. You’re either with me or against me.’
‘Then I’m against you,’ Halion said and raised his sword.
Conall snarled and yanked on his reins. He rode away, following the trail towards the entrance to the beach, his warband moving behind him.
Shouts and screams rang out behind Camlin, close to the ship. He turned to see Quinn surrounded by a knot of warriors pushing back along the quay, towards the beach. Quinn was carrying Lorcan over his shoulder, the lad flopping senseless. Roisin was screaming, trying to climb from the ship, hands pulling her back. Weapons were drawn, clashing. Camlin saw Baird chop one man down, then set upon another. He glimpsed Marrock leaping from the ship’s rails back onto the quay. Quinn was running now, away from the main huddle of bodies, four or five warriors with him, another score at least forming a crude barrier holding Marrock, Baird and his men at bay.
Camlin reached for an arrow, nocked it, let fly; one of the warriors with Quinn staggered and fell, rolling off the quay into the churning sea. He fired again, another man dropping to the ground.
Then Halion and the men with him were mixed with them, iron sparking. Quinn dropped Lorcan, drawing both sword and knife. Camlin saw him open a wound on a warrior’s bicep. Their weapons clashed again in a long flurry of blows, then the man was staggering away, legs unsteady, as if he were drunk.
Poison on Quinn’s blade.
Quinn stepped after him and with a slash of his sword opened the man’s guts.
Camlin shouldered his bow and ran, drawing his sword.
In slow motion he saw Halion step in front of Quinn. Camlin opened his mouth to scream, to warn Halion of the poisoned blades, but then they were at each other, the harsh ring of iron drowning out all other sound. There was a succession of blows, Halion shuffling forwards, then Quinn’s knife was spinning through the air, landing with a thunk in the wooden boards, just a few handspans from Lorcan’s prostrate body.
Camlin was closer now, twenty paces, fifteen. He hurdled over Lorcan, part of him noticing that the lad was still breathing. Ten paces. He saw Halion duck a sword swing, step in close and smash his sword hilt into Quinn’s mouth, blood and teeth spraying. Quinn staggered back, arms flailing, then the tip of Halion’s sword exploded through his back, blood showering Camlin as he reached them.
Halion ripped his blade free and Quinn sank to his knees, then toppled forwards onto his face.
Relief swept Camlin and he called to Halion. ‘Come on, time to leave.’
Then he saw the red gash across Halion’s shoulder.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN
CYWEN
Cywen dismounted from Shield and was almost dragged into the chamber behind Alcyon.
At first she could not understand what was going on; images were swarming her in a fragmented rush. The chamber was vast, at its centre a stepped dais — a cauldron hulking upon it. It seemed to pulse, somehow, a black halo radiating from it. And all around were giants, horses, men, all clashing, with blood streaming in great crimson arcs. But there was more, something else, another presence in the room. Huge coils rippled around the floor, grey skinned like a corpse, but scaled. Then Cywen saw one rear up, a massive flat-snouted face, small eyes, a flickering tongue. Teeth — huge, long, curved.
Wyrms.
Even as Cywen stared with a mixture of fascination and revulsion, the serpent lunged forwards, its jaws simply engulfing a warrior’s head and shoulders, with a contraction of its coiled muscles tearing him from his saddle and slamming him to the ground. Then in great muscular ripples it started to swallow him. She felt her stomach lurch and vomited.
The wyrms were everywhere, quartering the floor with their undulating movements. She saw three of them attacking Nathair’s draig — one the draig had managed to pin down with a taloned claw and was biting great chunks out of the snake’s head and torso. Two others were striking at it, though, one’s teeth fastened at the top of the draig’s rear leg, the other twisting about a foreleg, great loops of its body swirling under the draig’s neck, trying to get purchase. Nathair was hacking at that one with his longsword, cutting red gouges into its flesh. Somehow it managed to loop its tail around the draig’s neck, and with one fluid move contracted, pulling the neck and foreleg sharply together. The draig roared and toppled over, Nathair’s arms flailing.
The serpent’s head reared up now, pulling back to strike, then Calidus was there, his sword slashing in great two-handed blows. The snake’s head flopped, almost severed, only a fragment of flesh connecting it to its body. With a crash it fell to the ground, its grip about the draig loosening. The draig scrambled back up, turning to grip the body of the wyrm still latched to its back leg. The draig’s jaws dragged it from the ground and Nathair chopped into it, Calidus joining him, and together in a flurry of blows they cut the wyrm in two. The draig moved on, the decapitated wyrm’s teeth still sunk into its hindquarters, its neck dragging on the ground, leaving a red trail.
Cywen watched transfixed. Then she was hurtling through the air as Alcyon barrelled forwards, ducking under a snake’s striking head. He managed to regain his balance, swinging his axe to chop into the snake’s skull. Its body rippled in a death spasm and it collapsed. Alcyon wrenched his axe free.
Cywen staggered to her feet, only to see a blur of movement; instinctively she ducked, a wyrm’s jaws snapping shut where her head had just been. Its body slithered forwards, colliding with her, hurling her through the air, only for the rope about her to pull tight and stop her flight dead. She dropped to the ground with a thud, felt the snake’s torso brush against her, one great coil looping about her, pinning her arms to her side. Then it squeezed. She heard her bones creaking, felt every last drop of air expelled from her lungs in one great rush as the beast heaved her upright. She saw its long curved fangs, smaller teeth rowed inside its mouth as its jaws opened wide. There was a wild neighing behind her and a horse’s hooves were lashing over her head, slamming into the snake’s head.
The snake shook its head, like a man in the pugil ring recovering from a heavy blow, then fixed its eyes on Shield, who was standing beside Cywen, nostrils flaring.
Get out, Shield, run; run away, as fast and far as you can. Black dots were floating in her vision. She saw the snake’s head pull back for another strike, this time angled at Shield; then its head exploded, an axe chopping into it. Blood, brains and bone splattered her, the coils about her collapsing heavily to the floor. She fell to her knees, dragging in heaving gulps of air, her throat burning like she was breathing in fire.
Alcyon lifted her up, frowning as he checked her over.
‘Can you speak?’ he asked her.
‘Cut this blasted rope,’ she croaked, her throat raw.
He grinned at her. ‘You’re fine.’ He patted her shoulder with a big hand, nearly knocking her over again. ‘You have a good horse there.’
The battle in the chamber was moving away, Nathair and the Jehar pushing steadily towards the dais where a handful of giants had gathered, intertwined with hissing serpents — a last stand. Cywen was shocked to see the giants and wyrms side by side; there was something about the way they were grouped together, bodies touching, weapons and teeth bristling outwards, as if they were allies, brothers-in-arms. What was so important about that cauldron that they were all willing to die protecting it?