‘Really?’ Rhin frowned at Cywen. Rhin looked at Morcant, and Evnis saw the warrior nod. ‘Very well,’ Rhin said. Noise erupted as men started swapping bets on the two warriors. Evnis saw Rhin pause as she was returning to her chair, cocking her head as if listening to something. He saw her lips move, as if she were talking to someone, then people were pushing in front of him and he jostled through them to keep his view. When he could see Rhin again she was seated in her chair.
‘Begin,’ she said.
Both warriors held only a sword, no shield or second weapon. Evnis remembered seeing Morcant duel with Tull, and he knew that Morcant was fast, deadly, even though he had lost that duel. But he had also seen Conall spar many times, often against four or five of his own men. He had never lost.
The two men touched blades, then Conall was lunging forwards, his sword moving quickly, a combination of four, five, six strikes, all blurred into one long move. Morcant retreated, blocking with a touch, a sidestep, until his heels were almost touching the fire-pit. He sidestepped again, swung overhead, pivoted, chopped at Conall’s ribs, but Conall was not there; the man was in constant motion, spinning away, striking as he moved. And he was smiling.
Morcant followed, parrying, pressing Conall, restricting his space. Evnis nodded approvingly; he had never seen anyone take the fight to Conall like that — most tried to weather the storm, defend until Conall raged himself out, but not Morcant. He blocked, struck, parried, stepped forwards, struck again, mixing stabs, slashes, lunges.
This cannot last long.
Conall was no longer smiling.
The two men moved apart, both breathing heavily. Morcant rested a hand on his thigh, leaning on his blade, sword-tip digging into the earth. Conall took a step forwards and Morcant flicked his wrist, sending earth straight at Conall’s face.
Conall stepped away, the smile returning.
‘I saw you fight Tull,’ he said.
‘Worth a try,’ Morcant said, then he was moving forward, sending Conall backwards with long sweeping cuts. Conall retreated to the edge of the ring, almost leaning against the men who made it. Then he was attacking again, Morcant retreating. For a while they just stood, feet planted, trading a flurry of blows, sparks flying. Then Conall’s speed increased, and Evnis could see that finally Morcant was struggling to block the torrent. Conall concentrated his attacks on Morcant’s injured side, striking harder and harder, faster and faster, the blows repeating down Morcant’s arm, into his wounded shoulder.
Morcant lunged inside Conall’s blows and wrapped his sword arm around Conall, pulling him close, punched him in the face, then hammered his wounded arm. Conall staggered, screamed, tried to pull away, but Morcant would not let go and continued punching Conall’s wound, blood spraying with each punch.
It is over, thought Evnis, surprised to feel a pang of sadness for Conall.
Then Evnis saw Conall’s face twist in a snarl, and he barrelled forwards, headbutting Morcant full on the bridge of the nose. Now it was Morcant’s blood that spurted, his turn to stagger backwards. Conall followed, swaying, punched his sword hilt into Morcant’s shoulder. Then Morcant was on his back, Conall’s sword at his throat.
‘You’ve been here before,’ Conall said through ragged breaths, then he looked to Rhin.
‘Morcant has served me well, and today especially. It would be poor treatment if I were to take his life as payment. Let him live, just blood him a little.’
Conall sliced his cheek, opposite to where Tull had done the same.
‘And it would seem that I have a new first-sword.’ She held her hand out. Conall crossed to her and helped her rise, then they performed the ceremony, cutting their hands and mingling their blood, Conall swearing the oath of loyalty.
He is moving up in the world, then. I wonder if he realizes what he has let himself in for. Evnis smiled grimly, knowing of Rhin’s appetites.
Evnis rose early, his body aching and stiff from the previous day’s battle. Groaning, he pulled his boots on, splashed water in his face and left his tent to relieve himself in the fresh morning air. He nodded to Glyn, his warrior standing on watch at the tent’s entrance. As he was fastening his belt, a messenger ran up to his tent.
‘Queen Rhin wishes to see you,’ the lad said.
Conall opened the tent flap for Evnis, beckoning him to enter.
‘Risk much to gain much,’ Evnis said to him as he brushed by.
‘Just so,’ Conall said.
‘You look tired. A long night?’ Evnis said.
Conall raised his eyebrows and smiled.
Rhin was seated in one of a handful of chairs around a wide table, maps and parchments strewn across it. When she saw him she rose and took both his hands in hers.
‘It has been a long time, since that night in the Darkwood.’
‘It has, my Queen,’ Evnis said, surprised to find his voice choked with emotion. ‘We are close, now, so close.’
Conall poured them some mead.
‘So,’ Rhin said to Evnis. ‘I find myself in a wonderful position. Cambren, Narvon and Ardan are mine. And soon I will add Domhain to that list.’
‘The dream has become reality,’ Evnis said and they raised their cups and drank.
‘Ardan I will leave to you,’ Rhin said.
‘Thank you, my Queen.’
‘It is only what we agreed, all those years ago. I must turn my attention to Domhain, and I will need someone that I trust to oversee things here. I understand that Owain left some cleaning-up to do?’
‘There are rumours of resistance in the south,’ Evnis said.
‘I have heard that. You will put an end to it.’
‘I will.’
‘I shall give you men, gold, resources. And I will leave Morcant with you. He has served me well. Even if he has been bested he still has a reputation. He slew Tull, after all, and brought me Owain.’
‘As you wish,’ Evnis said. I do not like Morcant — we all need a little pride and arrogance to see us through these times, but he is too proud, too arrogant. And he had some help in bringing Owain to heel. It was Braith who found him. ‘And shall you stay a while in Ardan, before you leave for Domhain?’
‘I think I must leave soon. I have received some strange news this morning — troubling. A messenger arrived from Cambren, and also I have heard from Uthas.’
Evnis remembered the Benothi giant, the comrade who had been present in the Darkwood all those years ago when Evnis had made his pact with Asroth. He remembered the giant with some fondness, because he had tried to help Fain, had told Evnis of the book beneath Dun Carreg and had urged him to take Fain to the cauldron. ‘Is he well?’ Evnis asked.
‘No. He tried to contact me last night, but I was busy and the connection faded before it had begun. Then, this morning, I have spoken a little longer with him. He gave me much to think on.’
Evnis was silent, waiting for Rhin to continue. He knew it was better not to rush her.
Then there was a noise at the tent flap, voices. Conall went to see.
‘It is Nathair, my Queen.’
‘Ah, earlier than I expected. Show him in. And, please, next time announce his full title. He is a king, after all.’
Evnis smiled, seeing Conall’s discomfort. Even as first-sword there are things you will not like to do.
The usual group of people attended Nathair: Sumur, Calidus, Veradis and Alcyon, his bulk overshadowing them all. Quickly they were all seated and sipping at their cups, except the giant.
‘My thanks for your help, yesterday,’ Rhin began.
‘You’re welcome. Though I think the result would have been the same, just a little delayed,’ Nathair said. He was reclining in his chair, looking relaxed, happy even.
‘Perhaps.’ Rhin shrugged. ‘But I shall not forget your aid. What would you ask of me? If I can give it, I will.’
‘Straight to the point,’ Nathair said.