‘He hasn’t. There’s just something about him. He’s dangerous.’
Evnis looked sceptical.
Brenin was becoming impatient. ‘Come, we have other priorities. But keep a watch on them. And, both of you,’ he added, pointing a finger at Evnis and Heb, ‘be careful what you tell him. What is it that he seeks about the Benothi? Report back to me. Every word.’
Suddenly Brenin noticed his daughter. ‘Edana, I thought I told you I was busy. This is not the place for you now.’
‘Yes, Father,’ Edana said, eyes downcast. Cywen and Conall followed her to the door, Conall closing it fast behind them.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
CORBAN
Corban gulped back the last of a cup of his mam’s mead, and smiled at Thannon, who winked at him as he stood to leave.
‘Where are you going?’ Thannon asked him.
‘To see Dath.’
‘Wait a moment,’ his da said, shifting in his chair. ‘It is a big day, the morrow, for you.’
‘I know,’ Corban said, ‘which you’ve told me more than once today, already.’
Thannon shifted in his chair again. ‘Please, sit with me a little longer.’
Corban sat back down.
‘I remember the day you were born,’ he smiled. ‘I held you in one of my hands, you were so small. And now look at you…’ He sniffed. ‘I hope you know this already, but now’s a good time for saying it. You are my greatest hope, my joy.’ He reached out and gripped Corban’s hand. ‘No one could have made me prouder, Ban.’ He tapped his chest. ‘You make my heart swell.’
Corban swallowed, wanted to say something, but there was a lump in his throat that swallowing didn’t move.
Thannon stood suddenly. ‘Go see your friends. But not too late, mind–you’ll need your strength for the morrow.’ He grinned. ‘Listen to me, I’m starting to sound like your mam.’ He chuckled.
Corban smiled at him, then his da left the room, and Corban set off. The wide stone streets were mostly empty, dusk settling like a blanket upon the fortress. His da had never spoken to him like that before. He smiled, and felt a surge of love for the big man. But there was another face, amongst those childhood memories, in fact in almost every single one: always there, and a whole host of others, besides.
Gar.
In his own bluff way the stablemaster had been like a second father to him. Helping him, teaching him, rescuing him in the Baglun, following him into the Darkwood. Protecting him, with his own life, if need be. Without realizing it his course changed, and he found himself making for the stables.
He hadn’t seen Gar since the arrival of the Tenebral party. One moment he was with them in the courtyard, then he had vanished. Corban remembered again how he’d felt when he saw the newcomers’ leader–Nathair, Tenebral’s King. Somehow this Nathair had seemed familiar, a memory tugging at the edges of his awareness. He had felt sick, suddenly, and thought he’d seen a dark shadow marring Nathair’s face. Just the memory of it chilled him.
He looked up and saw the stables before him, a light flickering high up in an unshuttered window–Gar’s stable loft chamber. He’d lived there as long as Corban could remember, saying that if there was any trouble with the horses he needed to be nearby.
The stables were empty now, and Corban stepped through, the familiar smells of horse and hay greeting him. He climbed the hayloft stairway that also led to Gar’s chamber. Storm followed him, silently as a wraith, as he made his way past stacks of tied hay. He paused before reaching Gar’s half-open door.
Gar was sitting on his cot in the flickering torchlight, giving all his attention to a long, gently curved blade. The stablemaster worked oil into the blade with a cloth, then skilfully rasped a whetstone down its edge.
Corban stared. He didn’t even know Gar possessed a sword, let alone one such as this. Then he heard footsteps coming up the stairwell, and without thinking, he slipped into the hayloft shadows with Storm.
A figure appeared and Corban’s eyes widened to see his mam.
She rapped on Gar’s door and strode through without waiting for a response.
‘I got your message,’ he heard his mam’s voice, clear through the thin partition walls. ‘What’s wrong?’
Gar did not answer at first, and Corban heard only the rasp of his whetstone along the length of his blade. Suddenly even that stopped, the cot creaking as Gar stood.
‘We must go. Leave Dun Carreg,’ the stablemaster said.
‘What?’ his mam stuttered. ‘That’s not possible. Why?’
‘You saw who arrived, this day?’
‘Yes, but, it need change nothing.’
‘You do not understand, Gwenith. The man with Nathair, I know him.’
‘The man with… But how? Who is he?’
‘His name is Sumur, and he is Jehar.’
‘Gar, I do not understand. How can that be?’
‘I do not know,’ Gar said.
‘Could you not speak to him, if you know him? Find out what this means? Maybe…’
‘No,’ Gar snapped. ‘You remember what Meical said: speak to no one, not even if Aquilus’ kin rides through Stonegate. I have not spent sixteen years obeying to stop now, when we are so close. And, besides, something is wrong. Very wrong.’ Gar paused, the silence suddenly heavy. ‘Sumur did not see me, of that I am sure. But for how long? We cannot stay here. Corban cannot stay here. We must leave, I am certain.’
‘But where? This is too soon. We are not ready–Ban is not ready.’
Corban could hear Gar pacing. ‘Plans rarely run to course, Gwenith. As to where: Drassil, of course. Where else?’
Moments dragged by. ‘Very well. But not the morrow. He takes his warrior trial, sits his Long Night. Meical said he must do that, before…’ her voice trailed off.
‘Aye, all right then,’ Gar agreed reluctantly. ‘The morrow we prepare. The day after, we leave.’
Footsteps sounded as his mam left, Corban hugging Storm tight until they had long since faded from hearing.
Not until he heard the rasp of Gar’s whetstone again did he dare move. He crept out from behind the hay-pile, holding his breath, then down the stairwell. Storm shadowed him into the darkness.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
VERADIS
Veradis shifted his coat of mail on his shoulders and looked up, seeing a pale blue sky through leafless branches. It was early, a thin film of mist clinging to the ground, the forest litter slick with dew.
He made his way through groups of quiet warriors towards Alcyon, ringed by the leaders of this small alliance. They had met the previous evening to discuss their battle plan, but Braster had insisted they also gathered at dawn to go over matters.
The red-bearded King nodded to Veradis. ‘We all know what we are about this day, and we have only made it this far with the help of those with no obligation to be here.’ He looked from Veradis to Alcyon and nodded curtly to them. ‘Thanks are due.’
Romar looked away.
‘That’s it,’ Braster growled. ‘I’ll see you all this night, drink to our victory with you. Until then: truth and courage, and may Elyon’s hand be upon you.’
‘Truth and courage,’ Veradis repeated as the group split, heading for their various warbands, Veradis walking with Calidus and Alcyon. They were to form up behind the larger forces of Braster and Romar, the two kings commanding close to three thousand men between them. Veradis and his companions had a twofold task. First, to protect Alcyon and Calidus from any specific attacks. The giant and the Vin Thalun were the only means of counteracting the Hunen’s Elementals.
Secondly, and only if the first task was deemed no longer necessary, Veradis was to lead his warband to the flank and do what damage he could, leaving the Jehar to protect Calidus and Alcyon. Calidus had pointed out that the Jehar were more than adequate protection, but Romar had been adamant that Veradis was to remain a rearguard force.
‘Half a league and you will see Haldis, King’s man,’ Alcyon sai
d, his teeth flashing fiercely.
‘These giants,’ Veradis said. ‘There will be many of them–many Elementals?’
‘Aye. But we will look after you, little warrior,’ the giant said, a smile twitching at his moustache.
‘That is not what I mean. How can only you and Calidus stand against so many Elementals?’
‘You have seen him,’ Alcyon said. ‘You know what he is. We giants have lived long, yes, had a long time to learn our craft. But he is older, much older.’ He shrugged. ‘He is powerful.’ Then the giant was gone, striding towards the black mass of the Jehar, his great broadsword slung over his back.
Veradis’ warband was loosely gathered before him, a line of fifty men, ten rows deep. Bos grinned at him and moved so that he could take his place in the front rank. Somewhere ahead a horn blew once, and the host moved forwards, swarming around the thinning trees.
They reached the crest of a ridge and looked down on tilled and cultivated land, the signs of organized crop-growing looking strangely out of place in the forest. Then Veradis sucked in his breath as he saw Haldis for the first time.
A crumbling, vine-covered wall lay ahead, many sections fallen to ruins, leaving gaping holes in the wall like an old hag’s teeth. Within there were huge cairns, hundreds of them, their stones thick with moss and yellow lichen. Then beyond this, a sheer cliff-face of dark granite rose up from the ground with a line of trees fringing its upper edge. Its entire face was covered in carvings: huge, snarling faces, warriors in combat, and all manner of creatures. Wolves, eagles, bears, draigs and snakes were represented, surrounded by swirling runes. At the escarpment’s base was a great arched gateway, taller and wider than a dozen giants and black as night. Veradis shivered.
But there was no sign of the Hunen. No movement anywhere.
There was a strident horn blast from behind him. Alcyon, head, shoulders and chest above the tallest men about him, waved an arm, signalling to stop here, and the warband slowly came to a halt on the upper level of the slope.
The lower slope before them was a seething mass of movement of those ahead in the column, reminding Veradis of the ants he had seen in the forest near Jerolin. How long ago that seemed. The first ranks were splashing across a stream. Veradis made out the bulky shape of Braster, and before him the Gadrai. Then the first of the Gadrai approached the ruined wall, beginning to scramble across fallen stone.
A noise broke the tension he felt, as a high, pealing horn sounded from somewhere beyond them, an ethereal, haunting sound. Then something resembling smoke or mist poured from the black gateway in the rock face. Quickly this spread around the cairns, hugging the ground and flowing towards the crumbling wall and the warriors.
Many were within the wall now, and those in the front ranks stopped as they saw the mist approaching them. Silently the mist rolled across the still warriors, engulfing them and obscuring them from view, filling the entire area between the escarpment and the wall.
For long moments the whole dell was draped in an eerie silence. Then the screaming began.
Veradis took a step forward, and had to stop himself. Behind, he heard the deep voice of Alcyon rise up, blending with Calidus’, growing louder, singing words he did not understand.
A breeze touched his face where there had been none, quickly growing in strength, gusts tugging at hair that poked from under his iron helm. The wind swirled about him now. It seemed to gather before his warband, snatching at leaves and ferns on the ground, then suddenly set off down the slope, howling, whipping up white-tipped foam on the stream before the wall as it rushed past and slammed like a physical thing into the wall and mist within.
The mist immediately skirting the wall just evaporated, but very soon the wind’s effect lessened, as if it had run into a barrier. Alcyon and Calidus’ voices rose in volume until the wind they had sent rushing into the dell made headway against the mist again, though slowly. The mist frayed, slowly dissolved, revealing their fellow warriors within the wall. They seemed somehow stopped in their tracks. Veradis strained to see and made out men’s arms flailing, heard terror in the screaming, then realized what was happening.
Men were sinking into the ground, whole companies already swallowed–marked only by iron helms, or a patch of hair, a shield, a grasping hand. The ground had turned to bog, a suffocating, sinking pit.
‘Elyon help us,’ Bos whispered.
Veradis forced his way back towards Alcyon and Calidus, men making way for him.
Alcyon and Calidus were standing with arms raised and voices intertwined, drenched in sweat, their muscles trembling.
‘There is more than the mist,’ Veradis yelled over the singing and the screaming from below. ‘Look, the warriors are sinking into the very ground.’
Calidus’ voice stuttered, faltered and he staggered forwards a step, Veradis steadying him.
‘Closer,’ the Vin Thalun croaked. ‘We must get closer.’
Veradis nodded and returned to his warband, leading them forwards down the slope. A score of paces before the ground levelled he stopped, and heard Calidus’ voice change in pitch, the alien words coming in a new rhythm.
Veradis’ view of Haldis was restricted now, but he could still see a way beyond the wall, where the screaming was loudest. Men were still sinking, some flailing wildly and buried to their knees, hips and chests. Many were dead, mouths full of black earth, whereas others pushed against the sucking ground with shields, or were trying to dig themselves out with sword or spear.
Alcyon and Calidus’ song rose in volume, the mist almost defeated now, lingering only as thin tendrils.
Something caught Veradis’ eye–a movement near the stream, in it, the water swirling. Whatever it was, was coming closer, the wake of its passing flooding the banks behind it, thick sedge and reeds parting before it.
‘Do you see that?’ he said to Bos, pointing. Before the warrior could answer him something was emerging from the water, a silvery-grey head, rising on a thick, reptilian torso.
‘Wyrm,’ Veradis yelled.
It slithered onto the bank, great loops coiling out of the stream, and moved with alarming speed up the slope. Towards them.
It’s coming for Calidus and Alcyon, Veradis realized. He shouted a command, his warband pulling in tight, forming a wall on the slope. Behind him he heard the Jehar unsheathe their swords as one, a metallic clap of thunder.
‘Don’t like the look of that,’ Bos muttered next to him.
Me neither, thought Veradis, though he kept silent.
The wyrm paused before their shield wall, body coiling beneath it before it reared up, arcing above the wall. It was huge, its head alone larger than a man, with great curved fangs longer than a sword. Shields shattered as it crashed into the wall, those before it crushed in an explosion of blood and bone.
The shield wall broke apart, men running in all directions. Veradis chased the beast, with Bos following, and Veradis slashed at the creature’s body. His blade bit, though not deep, and something viscous and jelly-like oozed out from the cut. But his blow did nothing to slow the wyrm. It broke onto the slope beyond the shield wall now, a space of grass and fern before the loosely clustered Jehar. Behind them Calidus and Alcyon continued their song, as yet oblivious to the wyrm. This time the creature did not pause, just ploughed into the dark-clothed warriors. Instead of bracing to meet it they parted, allowed it into their midst, then swirled about it like black waters with their swords rising and falling.
The wyrm was at last wounded, black blood seeping from a thousand cuts. It roared in defiance and lashed out, catching a warrior in its jaws, blood spraying. But the swords continued to slash at it, and with a great shudder the beast crashed to the ground, spasmed and then was still. As things grew quieter about him, screams from Haldis below drifted back up to Veradis. The burial ground was still a bog, warriors suffocating in the dark earth, but as he looked back to Calidus and Alcyon he sensed a change in their song.
As Veradis watched, he felt a tremor pas
s under his feet, then saw a shift in the ground within the wall. It began to solidify, and men were able to resist their descent into the earth, while others were able to drag or dig themselves out with the last of their strength. Many were dead, caught in a permanent embrace under the crushing earth.
Calidus and Alcyon were both slumped on their knees as Veradis approached, gasping in huge, racking gulps of air.
‘You’ve done it,’ Veradis panted.
‘For now,’ Calidus wheezed, rolling onto his side.
Suddenly a roar erupted from behind the wall. Veradis turned, to see the mounds coming to life. He blinked, and saw giants leaping into focus. Whatever glamour had hidden them was stripped away and now they were rampaging amongst men who were not yet recovered from their encounter with the sinking ground. Their newest threat took the form of huge warriors wrapped in black leather and iron, wielding great double-bladed axes or crushing war-hammers.
Chaos erupted anew.
Hundreds had died in the suffocating earth, but there were still many of Braster and Romar’s men left alive, though Veradis had never seen this number of giants gathered together. It was hard to make sense of the battlefield. Men were still confused by the mist and shifting earth, and the giants took full advantage, dealing out death with breathtaking ferocity. Everywhere Veradis looked he saw the pale-faced Hunen, laying about them with their axes and war-hammers, the warriors of the alliance struggling to reorganize themselves.
Alcyon was still on his knees, though his breathing was less laboured now.
‘What shall we do?’ Veradis asked the giant.
‘Take your men down there,’ Alcyon commanded, ‘before the day is lost.’
‘But… will you be safe?’
‘Aye,’ the giant grunted. He glanced at Calidus, still lying on his side. ‘Their Elementals will not attack again, not with their own warriors in the thick of it.’
‘Will they attack you? The wyrm…’
Alcyon shrugged. ‘If they do, the Jehar are their match.’ A smile flickered across the giant’s face, more a grimace. ‘We will be safe, King’s man. Do not fear for us.’