‘He has insulted me; I will not ignore that.’
Lykos frowned and stepped close to Maquin, studying him. ‘You have the death wish upon you. You want to die — I can see it in your eyes.’
Maquin just stared back at him.
Lykos grinned. ‘He is baiting you, Jael. He wishes to die and is using you.’
‘Then I will grant him his wish,’ Jael said, stepping forwards.
‘No, you will not,’ Lykos said, a harshness in his voice. ‘He is mine, and I do not want you to kill him.’
‘I am king here,’ Jael said.
‘Not yet,’ Lykos replied. He stepped in close to Jael and whispered in his ear. Maquin strained to hear, but could catch nothing of it. But he did see Jael’s expression change — from anger to fear. Jael stepped away.
‘Have him; he is yours, a gift from me,’ Jael said.
‘Run away, coward,’ Maquin said, seeing his opportunity slipping away.
Jael smiled at him, that familiar, maddening smile. ‘But, Lykos, some advice. Kill him soon. Otherwise he is likely to bring you bad luck, as he has his previous masters.’
‘I am more than his master,’ Lykos said. ‘I am his owner. He drew a knife from his belt and stepped close to Maquin. He grabbed a handful of Maquin’s hair and cut it with his knife, then opened his palm for Maquin to see.
His warrior braid.
‘You are mine, my property, a warrior no longer.’
The warrior who was leading Orgull turned and did the same, cutting Orgull’s warrior braid from his beard. All along the line of captives the same thing happened.
‘Now let’s get these useless piles of dung onto the ships,’ Lykos yelled, pushing Maquin. ‘You’ve got a long way to row.’
Laughter ran through the ship men.
As Maquin walked away he looked back over his shoulder.
‘I’ll see you again,’ he shouted at Jael.
‘I doubt that,’ Jael said. His laughter followed Maquin as he shuffled towards the black ships.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CORBAN
Corban stared at Halion and his sister Coralen. She stared back.
Before anyone had a chance to speak, a warrior rode up. He was old, his hair a mix of grey and white flowing from beneath an iron cap. Corban remembered him, from the gathering at Badun on Midwinter’s Day. Brenin had invited the rulers of the west — Owain, Rhin and Eremon — to a council and to witness the day turn to night, as had been prophesied. This man had been the representative of King Eremon at that meeting. Rath. He slid from his saddle and gripped Halion by the shoulders. ‘It’s good to see you, little bastard.’
‘And you, old man.’
Another warrior rode up, younger, a jagged scar running through the empty socket of one eye.
‘Some still live,’ the man said. ‘They have fled into the mountains.’
‘We must talk, but later,’ Rath said to Halion. ‘Let’s see if we can run the swine down before they reach Cambren.’ Rath yelled orders as he rode after the giants’ trail, some men following him, others staying, moving amongst the dead. The red-haired girl, Coralen, picked up her fallen helmet and, tucking her hair back into it, mounted her horse and rode after Rath.
Corban looked about the glade, bodies twisted in death littering the ground — men, giants, wolven. Brina crouched beside Heb, holding his hand. Corban hurried to her and knelt beside her. She looked at him with bloodshot eyes. Corban wanted to say something, to comfort her, but knew that no words could take away the pain in her eyes. He put a hand over hers.
Corban remembered Heb standing before the giant, defying it. ‘I heard him say something to the giant — in giantish. What did he say — at the end?’
‘He said, I will not run.’
‘He was a brave man. Good and kind,’ Corban said.
‘He was an old fool, and now he’s dead and has left me,’ Brina whispered. She bowed her head and wept. Craf fluttered down out of the branches and landed close to them. He stared at Brina and Heb, head cocked, then shuffled over to Brina and leaned his beak against her.
Gwenith was sitting up now, Gar feeding her sips of water. Corban rushed over and embraced her.
‘I thought you were dead,’ he said, fresh tears springing to his eyes.
‘Can’t get rid of me that easily.’ She smiled weakly.
Edana was sitting with Marrock and Vonn, who lay with his back to a tree, white faced, clutching his broken ankle. Marrock sat with his arm across his lap, blood staining the bandages around his wrist.
Corban moved amongst them all, checking their wounds, fetching salve and bandages from Brina’s seemingly endless stores. Finally he checked Storm. The wolven was covered in a mass of new wounds, claw and tooth marks all over her body. They were all superficial, nothing so deep that would not heal, if kept clean. ‘My brave girl,’ he whispered as he poured water over the cuts. She nuzzled him and licked his cheek.
Farrell stood over the body of his da, lying at the fringe of the glade where he had placed him.
‘I’ll raise a cairn over him here,’ Farrell said.
‘I’ll help you,’ Corban said.
‘We all will,’ said Edana.
They lay Heb and Anwarth side by side, then those that could set about gathering stones and rocks from the surrounding area.
As the last rocks were placed on the cairn a sound drew Corban’s attention, a scratching, rustling sound. Storm stared with her ears pricked forward at a bundle of cloth on the ground. It was moving, feebly, something inside it.
The bird, Corban remembered. Brina had tucked it into her cloak. It must have fallen free during the battle. Cautiously he unwrapped the bundle and a ruffled black bird stared up at him. It flapped its wings, or tried — one of them hanging limp — and squawked, sounding to be pain.
Corban reached a hand out and the bird pecked at him, catching his finger. Blood welled and Storm growled.
The bird wriggled to its feet and shuffled away from Storm, but Dath and Farrell helped contain it.
‘Craf, do you know this crow?’ Farrell called.
‘Raven,’ the bird with the injured wing croaked, a correction. It sounded offended.
Craf fluttered over and for a moment the two birds regarded each other in silence, then the raven hopped over to Craf and started pecking him. Craf squawked and flapped his wings, buffeting the unsteady raven away.
‘Don’t do that,’ Edana yelled, who had joined them. She jumped in and grabbed the raven, pinning its wings as she lifted it.
‘Get off get off get off,’ the bird screeched. Vonn started laughing.
‘What, so you can attack our Craf again?’ Edana said. ‘No, I will not. But I will wring your scrawny neck if you keep trying to peck me.’ The raven was twisting in her arms, but at Edana’s words it went limp.
‘That’s better. It’s clear that you can’t go anywhere — look at your wing. And it must hurt. I would help you, but only if you behave. I’ll not have you attacking me or my companions, and that includes Craf.’ The bird looked at her resentfully.
‘So, what will it be? Shall I tend your wing. Or do you want to try attacking us again, and I twist your neck.’
‘Is she reasoning with a crow?’ Dath whispered to Corban.
‘It’s a raven,’ he said. ‘And yes.’
‘It’s up to you,’ Edana continued, and with that she put the raven back on the ground.
The raven stood still, looking up at Edana, then it hung its head.
‘Sorry,’ it muttered.
‘All right then,’ Edana said, and bent to look at the bird’s wing.
The sound of hooves grew and riders appeared from amongst the trees: Rath and his warriors who had given chase to the surviving giants.
‘Did you catch them?’ Halion asked.
‘No. They’re well into Cambren by now. We’d have followed further, but saw patrols of Rhin’s warriors in the mountains, as well as filling the giants’ road. Something’s stirred them up.’