CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CAMLIN
Camlin led them through the woods to where the horses were hobbled.
They were still there, four of them.
Quickly, Marrock split the group. Edana and Halion mounted one horse, Heb and Brina another, though the old lady complained about having to hold on to Heb.
‘You can squeeze me as tight as you like,’ Heb said, ‘only admit that you like it.’ Brina slapped him across the back of the head.
Camlin chose Vonn, Anwarth and Dath to help him; the first two because they had fought well, and they were quick, looked as if they could move fast if they needed to. He chose Dath because the boy could do with a job to do. He felt sorry for the lad, knew what it was like to lose kin. He looked as if he was falling deeper into a pit that could be hard to climb out of.
‘I’ll help,’ Corban volunteered.
‘Don’t think the smell of your wolven will help us sneak up on a herd of horses,’ Camlin said. ‘Could do with you, though, Gar. You’ve a way with horses.’
‘I’ll be going where Corban goes,’ Gar said, and Camlin could see there was no negotiation in that. He shrugged.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Marrock said. ‘I could do with a lesson in sneaking about.’ He grinned.
Camlin smiled back. ‘All right then.’
‘We’ll ride to where the two hills meet, wait for you there,’ Halion said, pointing across undulating meadows into the distance.
‘If we have not joined you by sunrise, go on without us,’ Marrock said.
With that the two groups split. Camlin watched Halion and Edana lead the riders off, heading along the wood’s fringe, away from the village to avoid any watching eyes.
There was a new tension in the air between Marrock and Halion. The turn of events had hardened Marrock’s opinion that they should have sailed back to Ardan. Can’t turn back time, though. A good leader should know that. Camlin liked Marrock, thought of him as a friend. But Halion’s the natural leader, here. He’s led men before, given orders.
It’s Edana that should be leading us, but instead she follows where anyone brave enough to speak up points. Edana had a haunted look about her; she had been silent since the battle on the beach. Truth was Edana didn’t look fit to lead a pony, let alone a desperate band of runaways through enemy land. Is she even worth saving? Worth going through all this for? The thought of leaving, of just slinking away, entered Camlin’s head again. But Edana wasn’t the reason he was here, anyway. It was a combination of circumstance and a sense of loyalty to the friends he had made. Marrock, Dath, Corban. Loyalty? What’s happening to me? He had felt a sense of camaraderie with Braith and his outlaws in the Darkwood, but he had always known that any one of them would cut his throat in his sleep if the circumstances called for it. Being here was different. The friends he’d made were not like that. He’d finally found a sense of belonging, of doing something right. It probably won’t last, he thought, but while it did, he would not be leaving. Not today.
Brina and Heb’s grumbling faded as they shrank into the distance. Gwenith and Farrell rode the other two horses, Corban and Gar jogging behind them. The wolven looped out wider, became a white blur in the long grass and meadow flowers. There was a noise from amongst the trees, high up, and Craf emerged from the canopy. The crow trailed the riders, soon becoming just a dark smudge in the sky.
‘Better get on with it,’ Marrock said.
‘Aye, chief.’
The sun was low in the sky, sending long shadows behind them as they approached the paddocks. The ground was undulating, with long grass sighing in the breeze, allowing them for the most part to remain hidden from the village strung along the coast and river.
It took them a long time to reach the edge of the first paddocks; Camlin paused behind a post-and-rail fence. The warband’s camp was mostly on the far side of the river, and fires were lit as dusk settled, the sound of singing drifting across to them.
At least fifty horses were penned before them, cropping grass, herded together, most in the centre of the paddock. On the far side a smokehouse stood before the river. A warrior was standing at its open doors, silhouetted by light from within. It looked as if the building had been commandeered as an impromptu stable and tack room.
He felt a presence at his shoulder, saw Marrock creep up close.
‘So how do you want to do this, chief?’ Camlin asked.
‘I was about to ask you the same question. You’re a bit more practised at this, so I thought I’d learn from you,’ Marrock said. ‘One thing I do know: if we’re going to ride those horses away from here we’re going to need saddles and tack.’
‘Just what I was thinking,’ Camlin said, nodding towards the smokehouse. ‘I’ll take Vonn and Dath, see what we can do. Wait for my signal, then start catching some horses.’
‘Will do.’
Camlin circled the paddocks and smokehouse, making his way almost to the river, where the grass became tall sedge and reed, the ground spongy. He waited for Vonn and Dath to follow, then gave his orders. Vonn looked at him determinedly, but Dath appeared nervous, distracted. When Camlin had finished talking he sent Vonn off to his point, but held on to Dath’s arm. The boy looked at him.
‘I know you’re hurting, lad, but I need to know you’re gonna do this right.’
‘I. . I’ll try,’ Dath mumbled.
‘I’m looking for better than try,’ Camlin said, holding Dath’s face in his hands, locking eyes with him. He could feel him shaking. ‘Your da’s dead; it’s a sad truth. But we’re not. And we need you. Do you understand? We are each other’s kin, now. You, me, Marrock, Halion, your friend Corban, all of us. We are bound together. Let’s see if we can keep each other alive, an’ live long enough to avenge our dead.’
Dath sucked in a deep breath, the trembling in his limbs settling.
‘I’ve given you a job to do. A man’s job. Because I know you can do it. I’ve seen you today; you’ve fought well. And you have skill with that bow of yours.’
Dath looked down. ‘I’m afraid.’
Camlin chuckled. ‘Aren’t we all? You’d have to be dead to be feeling no fear right now. Use it, lad. Let it keep you sharp, alert. Don’t let it beat you.’
Something firmer entered Dath’s eyes then, a decision made. He nodded.
‘Good lad. Now, get on, and do your part.’
The sun was just a glow on the horizon; darkness was pulling in tight around the light from the smokehouse. Camlin watched Dath fade into the grass, giving him more time than he should need to reach the smokehouse and sneak around to its far side. Then he stood and walked tall through the grass, ducked under the paddock rail and made for the building. A warrior still stood at its doors.
‘Evening,’ Camlin called as he drew near, holding a hand up and smiling. ‘How goes it?’
The warrior shrugged, peering at Camlin. ‘Well enough. What can we do for you?’
‘Just came to check on my horse, an’ stretch my legs. Can only do so much sitting and drinking.’
Another figure appeared at the doorway, taller than the first. ‘Can never do enough drinking,’ he said. ‘Don’t happen to have a drop, do you?’
‘No,’ Camlin said, close enough to touch them, now.
‘Pity.’ The new figure shrugged and stepped back inside.
‘All quiet, then?’ Camlin asked, glancing through the doorway after the disappearing figure. The smell of fish drifted out. A pot was warming over a fire, saddles and rugs stacked along one wall, bridles, reins, girth straps all hanging on another. There was only one man in there.