‘Shut up,’ he said, glancing at her irritably. He’d searched her before they’d left and removed four knives that she had secreted in various parts of her clothing. She resisted a smile; he had missed two, and with them she planned to kill Evnis.
‘Weren’t you Edana’s babysitter, too? You’re going down in the world.’
He glared at her, but did not answer, his eyes scanning the battleground before them.
The giantsway ran through the centre of it all, through a wide, flat-bottomed vale where Rhin’s warband was spread to meet them. Her banners rippled everywhere — Cambren’s broken branch on a black field — a host of black and gold, thousands of them. Yet it was obvious, even to Cywen’s untrained eye, that Owain had more men — significantly more.
There was a tension in the air, so strong that she could almost see it, like a heavy mist, and it was contagious. Horses neighed, her own mount dancing skittishly. She searched for Shield again. She had tried to take him as her own mount, but the red-haired warrior Drust had been having none of that and had taken Shield as his warhorse.
She muttered a prayer to Elyon under her breath, begging for the horse to survive the coming battle. Not that you’ve ever listened to me before.
She nudged her horse closer to Conall.
‘Why is Rhin down in the valley?’ she asked him. ‘She was here first, but she’s given Owain the high ground.’
‘I was wondering that myself,’ Conall said.
Twisting in her saddle, she looked behind and saw Nathair on his great draig. She wrinkled her nose, smelling it from here. It smelt of death, of rotting things, and its dung — its smell got into your skin, so badly you could almost taste it. Nathair’s Jehar warriors were spread in a thick line behind him, near the hill’s ridge. Further along were more of Nathair’s warriors, these all on foot in orderly lines, holding great round shields. She recognized at their forefront the man who had sparred with Conalclass="underline" Veradis. Behind them all was Owain’s rearguard, men held in reserve for the coming battle, she presumed.
Cywen saw a handful of riders canter out from the rearguard ranks, Owain at their head. Nathair’s warriors parted for him and he rode to the King of Tenebral, spoke to him a while. Then Owain led his shieldmen towards Evnis and his warriors. Cywen’s heart jumped as she recognized Shield, Drust upon his back. He must be shieldman to Owain.
Owain rode to Evnis, speaking loud enough for Cywen to hear.
‘I have chosen to give you great honour, as reward for your service at Dun Carreg,’ Owain said. ‘You will lead my warriors into the battle.’
‘Sneaky piece of dung,’ Conall muttered.
Evnis was silent a moment, then bowed his head. ‘As you wish.’ He looked about, his eyes finding Conall, and signalled for Cywen to be taken to Nathair.
As they rode up the hill, Buddai following her, Calidus raised a hand, beckoning Conall.
‘Keep a close eye on her,’ Calidus said. Conall nodded curtly. They settled to the rear of the Jehar warriors, Cywen marvelling at the black-clothed warriors’ mounts. They were beautiful to the last one, all fine boned and sleekly muscled.
They watched as Evnis and his warriors rode down the slope towards the main host of Owain’s warband, the ranks parting to allow Evnis and his men passage.
‘Not going to do much fighting back here,’ Cywen said to Conall, watching him keenly. At the very least she could see how far she could push his famous temper.
‘You never know,’ he replied.
‘At least you won’t get to die as quickly as Evnis and your other friends, standing here at the back.’
‘This is a battle; death can come swift enough wherever we stand. And they’re not my friends.’
Then horns blasted out, causing Cywen to snap her head around.
Rhin’s warband was moving.
First the front lines, then all those behind, appearing to ripple like a great beast rousing from sleep. Slowly at first, they moved across the flat plain of the valley, then gathering speed. The bulk of the host was on foot; Cywen could spy lines of mounted warriors gathered at the rear of the field, thickest around a great banner that was planted in the ground. Rhin must be there.
Owain raised a hand and horns blew out. His war-host moved to meet Rhin.
Evnis led the charge. The front ranks of Rhin’s warband picked up their own speed, many running now, yelling battle-cries, the thud of feet setting the earth to trembling.
Cywen held her breath as Evnis hurtled towards Rhin’s front lines, knew that she was about to watch him die. She grinned fiercely.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
EVNIS
Evnis yelled wordlessly as the first ranks of Rhin’s warband loomed closer. Everywhere he could see faces twisted with battle-cries, weapons glinting, hear feet pounding, the drumming of his own horse’s hooves, the riders behind him. He risked a glance over his shoulder, saw a large gap growing between his men and Owain’s charging warriors. Owain is cunning, thinking to remove me and slay a fair number of Rhin’s warband along the way. Except that Rhin could give lessons in cunning to a fox. Time for her first surprise.
He sheathed his sword, reached down to his saddle and drew out a rolled banner. Rhin’s sigil of black and gold unfurled above him, snapping in the wake of his gallop. He yanked on his reins, saw the warriors before him parting as his shieldmen slowed behind him, drawing into a double column, and like that they cantered through the ranks of Rhin’s warband, shouting greetings to Rhin’s warriors as they passed them.
Unluckily for Owain, Rhin and I have ways of communicating that he would not dream of. She had foreseen him attempting something like this, and they had plotted against every conceivable eventuality.
His warriors filtered through Rhin’s warband, moving to the eastern edges. They regrouped around him. For an instant he focused on Rafe, the son of Helfach, his dead huntsman, and his thoughts drifted to Vonn, who had been a friend to Rafe. Where is my son? Is he still in Ardan? Then Rhin and Owain’s charging warriors met, the sound like a concussive crack of thunder.
The warbands poured into one another, and almost instantly battle-cries were joined by death cries. The battle fell into a thousand individual duels, no strategy, no tactics, just kill the man in front, then move on to the next one.
Evnis surveyed the battleground, saw Owain still mounted with his shieldmen about him; further up the slope Nathair and his warriors were spread near the ridge. For a moment he thought he glimpsed Conall. Could have done with his sword beside me. Too late to change his mind now, though. He had judged that Cywen was important to Nathair and did not want to be excluded from any developments there, so Conall was her guardian.
I’ll see them both when this is done, anyway.
He dropped Rhin’s banner and drew his sword. ‘This is it,’ he called out above the din of battle. ‘The future of Ardan will be decided this day. Ride with me now, fight with me now, and your place in it will be assured.’ A cheer went up from the men as they drew their swords, hefted spears and shields. ‘And a hundred gold pieces to whoever brings me Owain’s head.’ There was a louder cheer at that.
Then he was spurring his horse on, picking up speed as he looped out from the fringe of the battleground. There was an explosion of bodies; his horse reared as he slashed from side to side, his sword hacking, cutting, breaking bones, denting helms, great fountains of blood spraying in his wake. His warriors crashed into the battle behind him, spreading like the cutting edges of an arrowhead. He burst clear into the open. The battle was raging. The marshes to the west stopped the combatants spreading that way, and Evnis was on the east side, a wide stretch of open valley. Owain’s warriors were using their great numbers here to curve around the edges of Rhin’s warband, flanking them. Evnis had seen Owain use the same tactic at Dun Carreg. If Owain’s men were allowed to continue with this strategy again the battle would soon be over.