‘I’m fine,’ he said to them, though his eyes were pinched with pain. They reached the end of the vale that Camlin had told them of as the sun was hovering above the mountain tops. The valley sides had narrowed, with great black boulders dotting the land. A narrow ravine closed in, leading sharply up, causing them to ride in single file. Corban looked back over his shoulder and saw tiny figures spill into the valley behind them. No way back now.
The terrain changed as they climbed higher, the ground turning stony, patches of shingle appearing underfoot. It became too dangerous to ride so they dismounted and led their horses. Corban saw a nimble-footed goat standing on a narrow rim above them, watching their passage.
Dusk was closing in when they stumbled into a rocky bowl rimmed by pine trees, their scent thick in the air. Corban was sweating from the climb, though there was a cold wind biting at him. He drank thirstily from his water skin. Halion had gone to look back down the way they had travelled and Corban joined him.
To his horror he could see a long line of figures climbing the ravine, not more than half a league behind them.
‘They’ll not be stopping to make camp tonight,’ Halion said. ‘They know they can’t miss our trail in the dark, because there’s nowhere to go except straight ahead. They’ll just keep coming.’
‘Then we must move on, and not stop either.’
‘Aye.’
Footsteps crunched behind them — Camlin returning from scouting ahead.
‘How is the path?’ Edana asked.
‘We’re going t’have to leave the horses. Gets too steep; they’ll not make it.’
They all looked at him and he shrugged.
‘How far behind are they?’ Camlin asked Halion.
‘Not far. Less than half a league, and they’re moving faster than us.’
Best be moving, then,’ Camlin said.
Marrock stepped forward. ‘I’ll stay, hold them back a little, buy you some time.’ He looked around at the shocked faces. ‘My life’s over now. Might as well do something of worth before the end. I know I can’t shoot a bow.’ He raised his left arm, the wrist bandaged tight. ‘But I can still swing a sword. And one of you can strap my shield tight to my arm.’
‘I’ll do better than strap your shield tight,’ Anwarth said. ‘I’ll be your shield. Two will hold them longer than one.’
‘And three longer than two,’ Farrell said, stepping close to his da.
‘Someone that can shoot a bow would hold them longer,’ Camlin said, reaching for his bowstring.
‘I. . I’ll stay with you,’ Dath said, looking at Camlin.
Heb stood up from where he had been sitting by a boulder. ‘I think I might be of some help. I will stay too.’
‘What?’ Brina said. ‘Don’t be an idiot, you ridiculous man.’ Corban was unsure if she was angry or worried. Probably both.
‘Stop,’ a voice rang out. Edana strode forward, shaking her head. ‘We’ll either all stay, or all go. I’ll not lose you so that I can run a little longer.’ A tremor shook her voice. ‘And I would be proud to stand with you all — more loyal and brave than I deserve.’ She took a deep breath, steadying herself, then looked to Camlin. ‘Is this a good spot to face them?’
‘Depends if you want to hold them back, or try an’ kill them all,’ he said. ‘If you want to hold them off it would be better up ahead, where the trail narrows. If we’re going t’have a crack at sending every last one o’ them across the bridge of swords, then this is better. Me an’ Dath can pick the first ones off with our bows as they come out of the ravine. Once they’re in this bowl you’ll have room t’swing a sword.’ He looked about. ‘This is a good spot.’
To make a last stand, Corban finished for him.
Corban crouched behind a boulder, holding his shield tight, Storm pressed close against him. The sun was just a glow silhouetting the mountain peaks now. Gar was close to him and his mam, her face pale, her knuckles white where they gripped her spear. Dath was just a shadow higher up, amongst a handful of pine. None of the others was visible. He kept his eyes on Dath, knew that when he started firing his bow then the battle was upon them.
Corban heard the arrows before he saw them. The thrum of bowstrings as they were released was followed closely by a scream and a high-pitched whine. Corban risked a glance around the boulder, saw figures strewn at the entrance to the bowl, a hound pawing the ground, but no others. They must have pulled back.
Then there were battle-cries and men were spilling out of the narrow ravine, climbing over the dead. Two arrows struck the first man and he was hurled back, knocking another off his feet, but others rushed past them, quickly spreading out.
‘Now!’ yelled Camlin.
Corban drew his sword as he rushed forwards, Storm and Gar a heartbeat behind him. He saw Halion swinging his sword, then a head was spinning through the air, a dark spurt of blood. Storm leaped forwards, smashing a man from his feet. Corban followed her, took a blow on his shield, pushed it away, parried with his own sword, chopping an arm. He wrenched his blade free, swung again, silencing his screaming opponent. Someone else took the warrior’s place, came rushing at him. He stepped in quickly to meet the man, felt all the years of drill and practice with Gar and Halion take hold of him, his body moving before he had time to think, falling into the rhythms and responses of the sword dance. Before he realized what he was doing, his opponent was falling back, blood jetting from his throat, and he was facing someone else. He blocked a combination of blows, twisted his wrist and slid to the side, chopped neatly at an exposed neck, then he was moving on to another opponent. A calm filled him as he let his body move, not thinking, just doing, and his enemy kept falling before him.
At his side his mam was desperately defending herself, her spear only just holding off a flurry of blows. Corban swung his sword, severed a hand from his mam’s opponent, his mam took the opening and buried her spear-point in the man’s throat.
He heard Storm snarl, turned to see hounds circling her. One stepped too close and she knocked it aside, claws opening red streaks on the dog’s body, but another leaped, landed on her back, jaws snapping, seeking Storm’s spine. She writhed beneath him, rolled over and then the other hounds were jumping in, biting at her exposed belly. Storm regained her feet, shook the hound from her back and snapped the spine of another of her attackers. The rest of the pack cowered back, whining.
It was close to dark now; shapes were blurring, merging as they clashed. He saw Gar, recognizing him by the way he moved, spinning and slashing, in constant motion. Figures fell away in the wake of his passing. Corban backed away as the fighting grew closer, turning to make sure that Heb, Brina and Edana were still safe.
He heard a flapping, saw Craf circling the bowl, squawking frantically. The crow landed on a boulder, close to Brina. It hopped from foot to foot, still squawking. Corban ran to them.
‘Who’s winning?’ Brina said, squinting at him in the dark.
‘It’s too dark to tell.’
‘Let’s see if we can do something about that,’ Heb said. He held a branch in his hand, splintered from one of the pine trees close by. He spoke strange words under his breath.
Craf squawked again.
‘I think Craf wants your attention,’ Corban said.
‘He will have to wait, impatient bird,’ Brina snapped, adding her voice to Heb’s.
At first nothing happened. Then Corban felt a pressure on his ears, the air seeming to push in at him, like when a storm is about to burst, but more extreme. Then he saw a wisp of smoke curl up from the branch, quickly followed by a tiny flame.
Craf jumped onto his shoulder and pecked his head.
‘Get off,’ Corban cried, trying to wave the bird away. Then he finally heard what the crow was saying.
‘Wolven, wolven, wolven, wolven,’ the bird was repeating. ‘WOLVEN.’