Camlin screamed, almost fainted, lost the grip on his sword and heard it clatter to the ground. Braith gave him a scornful shove, sending him stumbling backwards. A handspan from him was Lorcan, Roisin’s lad. He groaned and stirred, his eyelids fluttering. Something else was between them, a knife, stuck in the timber.
Quinn’s knife. Poisoned.
‘Get up, Cam. At least die on your feet, not grovelling on your arse.’
With an act of will more than muscle Camlin lunged for the knife, grabbed its hilt, wrenched it from the timber and threw it at Braith, aimed straight at his heart.
The woodsman was quick, his sword moving on a reflex. Camlin heard the sound of metal connecting, the knife deflected.
It’s over. He closed his eyes a moment, tried to struggle to his feet, but only got one knee under him.
Braith strode towards him, then Camlin saw the knife hilt sticking from the woodsman’s shoulder.
‘Take more’n that t’stop me,’ Braith said. He gripped the knife and pulled it out, threw it into the sea, then levelled his sword at Camlin.
‘Any last words?’ Braith said.
‘Rot in hell.’
‘Told you to stick with me, didn’t I, Cam?’
‘You did. Told me a lot of other things, too, most of ’em lies.’
Braith paused, a ripple passing through his body.
It’s affecting him already, quicker than Halion — because the wound was so deep? Halion’s wound was only a scratch. Camlin climbed to his feet and took a step backwards.
‘Not feeling so good?’ he asked Braith.
‘What?’ Braith blinked and shook his head, his eyes becoming unfocused.
Camlin darted forwards, stooping to pick up his sword. Braith lunged at him, the blow going wide. Camlin struck at Braith then, but the woodsman seemed to rally, his eyes sharpening, and they traded blows, Camlin steadily retreating towards the steps. Even poisoned, Braith was a better swordsman than he was. They slammed in close, Braith scoring a gash along Camlin’s ribs that burned like a line of fire. Camlin managed to punch Braith in the gut and step away, then Braith swayed again, his sword-point wavering. Camlin smashed his own sword down, knocking Braith’s blade from his grip. The woodsman just stared at him, confused. Camlin swung hard, with all his strength, his blade biting into Braith’s neck. There was a spray of blood and Braith toppled backwards, off the quay into the lapping waves below.
For a moment Camlin just stood there, not quite believing he was still alive. Halion.
He turned to see Halion on his knees, leaning on his sword.
How is he still conscious?
He was circled by a ring of the dead, beyond them a crowd of warriors. Conall stood before them.
‘Give it up, Hal. You’ve lost.’
With an effort that set his limbs quivering, Halion climbed to his feet. Camlin could hear his laboured breathing.
‘Come back to me, Con. Be the man you were — my brother. Not this oathbreaker, obsessed with what? Yourself? Revenge?’
Conall sneered. ‘I was pathetic — your puppet. No longer. I’ve risen far without your help. Evnis was right: it was you who has always kept me down. Now get out of my way. I’m wanting a chat with young Lorcan.’
‘Con, listen to yourself. I know you — you’re better than this. Please. .’
Conall hesitated, staring at Halion, a softness creeping into his eyes. He blinked, then a cold expression passed across his face. He took a step forwards and Halion raised his sword, the tip hovering in front of Conall’s chest. Conall laughed.
‘If you’ll not see reason, Con, I’ll have to stop you another way.’
‘Don’t be a fool, Hal. Look at you, you can hardly stand.’
‘I’d rather stand and die than see you become the thing we’ve both hated.’
‘Careful what you wish for, brother.’
Halion swung his blade; Conall, parrying, swept it away and down, Halion’s sword-point digging into the sand. Halion staggered forwards a pace, then punched Conall in the face.
The warrior stumbled back, wiped blood from his mouth.
‘I’ll not warn you again, Hal. Get out of my way.’
Footsteps drummed behind Camlin, a handful of warriors running along the quay, Marrock at their head. Quinn’s men are all dead, then.
Conall saw them too.
Halion staggered back against the steps, one hand reaching out to grip them, holding him upright.
‘You’ll not be climbing these stairs while I draw breath,’ Halion said. ‘I swore an oath.’
‘This is madness. Out of my way.’ Conall strode forwards and Halion swung his blade again. Conall blocked and lunged, punching his sword hilt into Halion’s face.
Conall froze, looked shocked, surprised at what he had done.
Halion slumped to the ground, motionless before the steps.
‘Get him out of my way,’ Conall said.
Warriors rushed forwards and dragged Halion’s body away, laying him out in the sand. Conall climbed the steps, others following.
‘Help me.’ Camlin heard a voice — Lorcan, trying to stand.
Camlin retrieved his bow and put an arm under Lorcan, helped him upright and together they staggered along the quay. Men reached them — Marrock and Baird.
‘Halion?’ Marrock hissed.
‘Back there. Conall has him.’ He saw the look in Marrock’s eye. ‘It’s too late — there’s no saving him. Too many of Conall’s men.’
‘Drop the boy,’ a voice cried — Conall, powering along the quay.
‘Get him out of here,’ Marrock snarled, shoving Camlin into Baird’s arms.
The scar-faced warrior grabbed Camlin and Lorcan and half dragged them back along the quay.
Boots thudded behind, warriors sprinting after them. Camlin heard the clash of weapons as he reached the ship; the boarding ramp was already pulled up. Baird hoisted the still-groggy Lorcan onto his shoulder and jumped across, then Camlin was being heaved over, Vonn grasping his arm and pulling him aboard.
A deep voice was shouting orders, poles pushing the ship away from the quay, oars splashing into the water and pulling.
‘Halion? Where is Halion?’ It was Edana, holding his face in her hands, almost yelling.
‘Conall has him,’ Camlin breathed.
Horror swept Edana’s face. ‘And Marrock? Where is Marrock?’
Camlin didn’t answer, just stared back down the quay as the ship moved away. A crush of men was gathered a way back, shouts drifting across to the ship. A man screamed and toppled into the water.
Marrock held them off. Gave us time.
Then Conall was marching clear, dragging a man with him: Marrock, battered and bleeding.
‘Give me Lorcan,’ Conall yelled across the waves.
‘Never,’ Roisin screeched at him.
Conall pulled Marrock close, putting a knife blade to his throat.
‘Edana, is that you, with your pretty fair hair? Bring me Lorcan. I’ll trade you.’
Edana did not answer, but Camlin saw her eyes darting about the ship, weighing the odds.
Only me ’n’ Vonn with you for sure, probably Baird and a few others loyal to Eremon. The rest by far are Roisin’s men. Nearly two score of them. He saw by Edana’s face that she’d come to the same conclusion.
‘Last chance,’ Conall yelled, his voice fainter. ‘Marrock’s your only kin. And I like him. Don’t make me kill him.’
‘Camlin, put an arrow in Conall’s eye,’ Edana hissed fiercely.
Camlin looked at the arrow shaft sprouting from his shoulder.
‘I’ve a hole in my shoulder, can’t draw a bow worth a damn.’ He grimaced. I’m sorry, Marrock. You’ve been a good friend to me. The first. He glared balefully at Conall.
‘This is on your head,’ Conall cried. He drew his knife across Marrock’s throat and let him topple into the waves.