Malice: The Faithful and the Fallen Series Book 1

  Thannon leaned close to Corban and patted his son’s knee with a big, calloused hand. ‘Not long till your nameday, Ban,’ he said quietly. Corban shivered with excitement.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ Thannon said. ‘Once we get back, we should start work on your sword.’

  Corban grinned. ‘That would be fine,’ he said. Finally, a real sword, hard iron instead of a wooden stick. ‘Mighty fine.’

  Thannon smiled back at him.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  CYWEN

  Cywen didn’t like the stables at Uthandun: they felt too new. She was riding out today with Princess Edana and her parents. Most of their horses were stabled in meadows outside the fortress, but the royal mounts were kept within Uthandun’s walls. She frowned to herself and shivered unaccountably. Something here didn’t feel right. She wanted to go home.

  Don’t be such a bairn. She led her saddled horse out into the yard where Edana were already mounted.

  And anyway, she had no reason to feel this way. Quite the opposite. Ronan had asked her to walk with him last night. He made her laugh and blush in equal measure. He had spoken of them as a couple, of asking her da for permission to court her. She felt a fluttering in her stomach, just at the thought of it, could still taste his lips. She shook her head and looked around shyly, as if people could guess her thoughts, just by looking at her. But no one was paying her any attention. Except Ronan, of course. They shared a smile.

  They were going for a ride in the Darkwood today, King Brenin having said to King Owain that he would like to see something of the forest. Owain had immediately put a guide at their disposal.

  Queen Alona was also coming with her husband, which meant Tull and a score more stern-faced warriors. She mounted quietly.

  There was a clatter of hooves and Vonn rode into the yard. He dipped his head to Alona.

  ‘King Brenin sends his apologies,’ he said stiffly, ‘but he and my father are unable to ride out today. They have been unavoidably detained.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Alona, then frowned. ‘This place is so dull,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Well, as we are all here ready, we might as well go without them–wouldn’t you say, Tull?’

  ‘Whatever you wish, my lady.’

  ‘Will you join us, Vonn?’ she asked.

  ‘I am afraid not,’ the young man said. ‘My father bid me return to him as soon as I have passed on this message.’

  ‘Then I’d best not keep you,’ Alona said.

  ‘My lady.’ He dipped his head and turned his horse.

  ‘Why the long face, Vonn?’ Edana asked as he passed them.

  ‘Huh? Nothing.’ He shrugged. ‘Father…’ he muttered, then shook his head. ‘Nothing. Or nothing you would understand, anyway.’

  Edana frowned.

  Cywen scowled at Vonn, suddenly remembering that day in the paddock, when he had confronted Ban, when Shield had killed the hound. ‘Perhaps you have broken his heart, Edana,’ she said, ‘now that he knows the two of you will never be handbound.’ It was common knowledge that Evnis had been manoeuvring Vonn as a potential husband for Princess Edana. According to Edana, last night her father had made it clear to Evnis that this would never happen.

  Vonn smiled humourlessly at her and leaned over in his saddle. ‘Would you hear a secret?’ he said quietly, not waiting for a reply. ‘I am glad that we will not be bound. Glad. I love another.’

  ‘Who?’ the two girls said together.

  Vonn grinned, suddenly looking handsome, and touched a finger to his nose. He kicked his horse on and left the yard.

  Soon all were gathered for the ride, a score of grey-cloaked warriors about them. Tull headed the column, towering over Alona and the red-cloaked guide, a huntsman of Uthandun. Then they were on their way, through the hard-packed streets of Uthandun, out onto the green hill, and suddenly Cywen felt her spirits lift. She saw Corban standing by the bridge that spanned the river. There was only time to smile at him, then they had passed him by, cantering over the bridge and turning west along the river’s bank before their guide veered under the trees of the Darkwood.

  ‘Who do you think it is?’ Edana said to Cywen as they trotted down a dappled path, the sun making shifting patterns on the ground as branches above swayed in the breeze.

  ‘Who what is?’ said Cywen.

  ‘Vonn’s mystery girl.’

  ‘I did not think him the type to fall in love. He always seemed too arrogant.’

  ‘There are always females hovering around him, though,’ Edana said.

  ‘Like flies,’ muttered Cywen.

  ‘Maybe he smells bad,’ Edana said.

  Cywen laughed.

  ‘But I’ve never seen him look interested in any other women,’ Edana continued.

  ‘Thought he only had eyes for you?’ Cywen said. ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ Edana said sharply. ‘I just hate not knowing. We shall have to watch him a little closer, when we go home.’

  ‘Watch who?’ Ronan said as he cantered closer.

  ‘Vonn.’

  ‘Vonn. What for?’

  ‘Because he has a secret,’ Edana said mysteriously.

  ‘Cywen,’ Queen Alona called from the head of the column. ‘Come. Ride with me.’

  Cywen kicked her horse forward, Edana raising her eyebrows.

  ‘I saw your brother, at the bridge,’ Alona said.

  ‘I did too.’

  ‘How… how is he? Since that business with his wolven?’

  ‘Well, sad, of course,’ she said, not knowing how honest she should be. ‘I hear him crying at night, in his chamber.’ She shrugged. ‘They had a bond.’

  ‘It was a shame,’ Alona said. ‘But there was no other choice. After what that wolven did.’

  ‘They deserved it,’ Cywen snapped. ‘Rafe drew his sword. I think they would have murdered Corban and Farrell, even Bethan–Storm saved them, did no different to what my da’s hound would have done, yet she’s punished, not Rafe or Crain. Ban went to help someone, and then he’s punished. It’s not fair,’ she said, then blushed and closed her mouth. They were all thoughts she’d had countless times, but she had never intended to voice them to the Queen of Ardan.

  Tull grunted beside them, something like approval in his eyes. Queen Alona frowned at him.

  ‘And if it had been Corban that had had his arm mauled, or Farrell?’ she said. ‘Your judgement is subjective, Cywen. No, it was the only option. The wolven should have been destroyed.’ Alona shrugged. ‘Other than that, has Corban been different, in any other way?’

  ‘No…’ said Cywen. In truth Corban was changing in all kinds of ways. Ever since that man had left–Meical–he had seemed quieter, withdrawn. She had wanted to talk to him about that and tell him what she had overheard, but every time she tried, something stopped her, whether it be circumstance or just a feeling. And at other times he seemed like the old Ban, only more confident, more sure of himself–at least when he was teaching her and Dath their weapons. Without even realizing it, Corban had become their leader, the glue that held them all together.

  ‘Not really,’ she amended. ‘He misses Storm.’ She shrugged. ‘And he sits his Long Night soon, takes his warrior trial. He is just growing, I suppose.’

  Alona nodded slowly, thoughtfully. ‘Tull, how does Corban fare in the Rowan Field?’

  ‘Corban? He has done well, my lady. Very well. He could be a master with a blade, though…’ he frowned, said no more.

  ‘Though what?’ Alona prompted.

  ‘Nothing, really,’ the warrior said. ‘His style, that is all. It is different. Maybe because Halion is his master.’ The big man shrugged. ‘With a spear he is adequate: not the best, but not the worst. With a bow, well, let’s just say that is not for him.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Alona said.

  Tull was silent a moment, then spoke again. ‘He has grit… courage. The deep kind. I’ve not seen it so clear in one so young before.’ He nodded to himself and said no more.
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  They rode in silence a while, the thud of hooves, the creak and jingle of harness filling the forest.

  ‘There is a glade ahead, my lady,’ their guide said. ‘A good place to rest the horses and stop for a drink.’

  They spilt into the glade, the sunlight suddenly dazzling. Cywen was still at the head of their column, with Alona, Tull and their guide trotting into the centre of the clearing. The rest of them, Edana, Ronan, the other warriors, spread to either side of the Queen, some dismounting.

  Cywen looked up, blinking, and shielded her eyes from the sun’s glare. Birdsong filled the glade, bees buzzing lazily around clumps of snowdrop and red campion.

  Then the first arrow struck.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  CORBAN

  Corban stood by the bridge, staring across the river at the Darkwood.

  He missed Storm.

  Two nights had passed at Uthandun and not knowing was finally becoming too much for him. Last night he had asked Brina if Craf had news of Storm. She had said only that the wolven was still here, prowling the fringes of the forest.

  The drumming of hooves pulled his attention away from the forest, back up towards Uthandun. A group of riders were trotting down the hill, all in the grey cloaks of Ardan, apart from one redcloaked figure at the front.

  Queen Alona rode beside the red-cloak, a huntsman by the look of him, a bow and quiver strapped to his saddle. Tull towered beside them, a huge shield slung across his back. Behind them Corban saw Edana riding beside Cywen.

  A score or so warriors of Ardan followed, Ronan first amongst them.

  Alona’s eyes hovered on Corban as they crossed the bridge. He smiled at his sister. Ronan nodded to him and then they were riding past, people crossing the bridge standing to one side to give the riders passage. Once on the far side they branched off the giantsway, then the red-cloaked rider took them into the forest.

  Taking a deep breath, Corban shouldered a small sack and strode purposefully across the bridge towards the forest, not looking back. But soon something made him turn, and he paused to look back at the bridge, one figure catching his eye. He stayed where he was, the figure getting closer, walking with a distinctive limp.

  ‘Why’re you following me?’ Corban said as Gar drew near.

  The stablemaster blinked, cheeks reddening. ‘What are you doing, wandering off into the Darkwood?’ he said.

  ‘I don’t need following. I’m not a bairn,’ Corban snapped.

  ‘No, you’re not. A bairn gets itself into less trouble than you,’ Gar murmured.

  ‘So. Why are you following me?’ Corban repeated.

  ‘Your mam asked me to. To make sure you stay safe.’

  Corban grunted.

  ‘What are you doing over here, then?’

  Corban was silent a moment, considering his options; he could lie and return across the bridge. But he had made a decision, set his will to it, and he just could not bear to go back on it. He took a deep breath.

  ‘I’m trying to find Storm,’ he said.

  ‘What? But she’s in the Baglun.’

  ‘No. She’s here. Brina told me.’

  Gar was silent, thinking it over. ‘We should go back. Now,’ he said eventually. He held up a hand to halt Corban’s forming protest. ‘I know you must miss her–I know I do. But, what is best for her? If you see her now, all you’ve done for her will be for nothing. They will kill her.’

  ‘I, just, I’ve brought her food…’ Corban muttered. His shoulders slumped, then he shook his head and straightened his back. ‘No, Gar. She’s followed me to another realm, almost a hundred leagues. I don’t know what to do after, but I must see her.’

  They stood there, branches and leaves rustling above, distant sounds from the fortress filtering across, blending with the river’s steady murmur. Gar nodded. ‘If your will is set…’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘All right, then.’

  Corban blinked, his mouth open, ready to argue on. ‘All right, then,’ he echoed. ‘Good.’

  ‘So, where is she?’

  Corban shrugged. ‘Brina said the forest’s edge.’

  ‘It’s a big forest, lad.’

  ‘I thought it likely she’d be west, somewhere. Not too far from the fortress, if she’s followed us here.’

  ‘So, do you have a plan?’

  ‘Aye,’ Corban grinned. ‘To walk far enough into the forest that I won’t be heard at Uthandun, and start calling her.’

  Gar snorted. ‘That should work.’

  So they set off into the trees, Corban going first, trying to follow a fox trail through the thick undergrowth. After a while they reached a stream, mushrooms growing in clumps along its bank.

  ‘As good a place as any,’ Corban said, feeling suddenly nervous. He cupped his hands to his mouth. ‘Storm,’ he shouted.

  He repeated the call a half-dozen more times, then sat on a stump beside the stream and waited.

  It was not long before Corban heard foliage rustle, off beyond the stream, and saw a flash of white. Then Storm was there, loping towards him. She jumped the stream and powered into him, both of them falling, rolling in the damp leaves and earth.

  Corban was laughing, could not stop, though tears streaked his face. Storm was bashing him with her head, whining and rubbing her muzzle against him, her breath hot in his face.

  ‘Whoa, girl,’ Corban said, trying to sit up, pushing her off him. She bounced away, spun in a tight circle and jumped back on him. He slipped and fell again.

  Eventually he managed to stand. Storm looked up at him. He glanced at Gar, saw the stablemaster actually smiling at him. His own jaw ached from grinning. Storm was thinner than he remembered, her fur dirty and mud stained. He reached for his sack, pulled out a leg of mutton he had secreted away from last night’s meal and gave it to her. She instantly set to ripping strips of flesh from it.

  Corban grinned at Gar, then dropped to his knees and buried his face in her fur.

  They stayed like that a while, Storm eating hungrily, cracking bone between her powerful jaws to reach the marrow, Corban and Gar just watching her.

  Suddenly Storm tensed, her head snapping up, looking over the stream. A sound filtered faintly through the forest: shouting? Screaming? the distant clash of iron.

  ‘Come, Ban,’ said Gar, splashing across the stream.

  They struggled through thick vegetation at first, thorns snagging at their clothes, then they stumbled upon a wide track. In one direction they saw a lone rider, swaying in his saddle as he disappeared around a bend. Corban thought he wore a grey cloak. In the other direction, much closer now, was the noise that had drawn them. Beyond all mistake it was the sound of battle. Screams drifted up the track, iron clashing on iron.

  ‘Off this track,’ said Gar, slipping behind a tree. Corban followed, Storm beside him, her hackles raised. Slowly Gar picked his way through the forest, Corban and Storm behind him, moving parallel to the track.

  The noise ahead stopped, the silence replacing it feeling heavy, oppressive. Still they made their way forwards, Corban trying to step lightly, every twig that snapped under his feet making him wince.

  Then they stepped into an open glade, sunlight streaming down from above. Bodies littered the ground, men, horses, all still, blood soaking them, the grass. Crows exploded upwards as they entered the glade, squawking in protest. One stayed perched on a horse’s flank, its beak dripping red. Flies buzzed in thick clouds.

  Here and there, dotted amongst the fallen, were men in red cloaks, but most of the dead by far wore the grey of Ardan.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  VERADIS

  ‘Finally,’ said Veradis, reining in his mount and shading his eyes from the sun. He sat his horse at the head of a long, wide column of riders, Calidus and Alcyon either side of him.

  ‘Impatient to shed more giant blood?’ Calidus said, smiling thinly.

  ‘No,’ Veradis muttered, glancing at Alcyon. ‘It is just good to reach a journey’s end
, that’s all.’ He frowned. ‘Well, one part of the journey.’

  The passes had opened early in the Agullas Mountains, Veradis leading a warband across the mountains into Helveth almost as soon as word of the early thaw reached him. He had been preparing all winter, after all, so he and his warband were more than ready. He was leading around five hundred men of Tenebral north, and half that number again of the Jehar rode with them. They were led by Akar, the first warrior he had met in the hidden vale. Veradis felt proud as he surveyed the column: his was a warband the likes of which had never been seen before.

  Almost a whole moon they had been travelling, nearly two hundred leagues since Jerolin, and now the end was in sight: Halstat, where they were to join the kings of Helveth and Isiltir in their bid to break the strength of the Hunen giants, once and for all.

  Helveth had proved to be a land of great lakes in the south, giving way to wood and vale as they travelled further north. Now they rode on a far-reaching plain, flat as far as the eye could see in all directions except north, where the Bairg Mountains loomed tall and jagged. Their destination, Halstat, was a mining town, grown rich on salt and iron from the mountains.

  Veradis clicked his tongue, touched his horse’s ribs with his heels and set off towards the distant town, the column of warriors lurching into motion behind him.

  ‘We are not the first to arrive,’ Alcyon said as they drew nearer. Before the town were scores of tents, two large groups clustered either side of a wide road that ran through the heart of the town. To the left of the road the banner of Isiltir snapped in a strong breeze, to the right the black and gold of Helveth.

  ‘It would appear we are the last,’ Calidus added.

  ‘Our journey was the longest,’ Veradis said, somewhat defensively. Though excited to be away from Jerolin at last, to be actually doing something, he also felt a pressure upon him. In Tarbesh, Nathair had commanded. The campaign in Isiltir Peritus had led. This time he was battlechief of this warband, his warriors’ lives resting on his decisions. He felt the weight of that responsibility keenly. And Calidus’ presence felt like some kind of watchdog, though he knew that was not Nathair’s reason for sending the Vin Thalun. They would be fighting giants again, likely with Elementals amongst them, so the presence of Calidus and Alcyon would be most useful.