Malice: The Faithful and the Fallen Series Book 1

  ‘Demonstration of what?’ Orcus said suspiciously.

  ‘Alcyon, join us,’ the counsellor called out, and out of the laurels strode a huge form, black braided hair and a drooping moustache framing a weathered, deep-lined face. Swirling blue tattoos coiled up massive arms and disappeared under a coat of chainmail. The hilt of a great broadsword jutted over one shoulder.

  ‘Giant,’ Rauca spat like a curse, and, as one, Nathair’s three companions drew their swords.

  At the same time the counsellor dipped his head and muttered something. The flames of the cook-fire suddenly sprang up, higher than a man and leaped forwards, cutting a line between Nathair and his companions, leaving the Prince on the wrong side, alone with the giant and counsellor.

  Orcus took a step towards the flames and staggered back as they flared in his face, the heat searing.

  Veradis heard the scuffling of feet as the rest of their warband poured over the ridge behind him. On the far side of the flames he could see the blurred figures of the giant, Nathair and the counsellor. The giant had drawn his huge sword and was levelling its tip at Nathair.

  Veradis sucked in a deep breath, ducked his head behind his shield and ran at the flames.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CYWEN

  Where are they? thought Cywen as she ran her hand down the foreleg of a large roan colt–Gar had asked her to check over a number of horses while he was gone. She grunted as her fingers found a small lump on the underside of the horse’s hoof.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked the horse trader who owned the colt.

  ‘He’s lame,’ she said with a shrug, absently pushing back a strand of dark hair fallen from her pin.

  ‘What?’ said the trader, eyes narrowing, staring at Cywen down a long, thin nose.

  ‘He’s lame,’ Cywen repeated.

  They were standing in a roped-off section of the meadow amongst rows of horses brought for the Spring Fair. Cywen was having the time of her life. First Gar had asked her to help him choose and haggle for the new stock that Brenin wanted bought in, and on top of that he had asked her to aid him with the King’s horses. It had been as close to a perfect day as she had ever known. That was, until she had seen Dath with a face as long as one of the horses she was tending. He had told her everything, but only after she’d threatened him with a fist in the eye. Poor Corban, she thought, swinging between worry about him and anger at Rafe. She felt a swell of rage, imagined punching Rafe’s arrogant face. No, Mam’ll skin me if I’m caught fighting again. And now Gar had been gone for so long, saying that he must go and find Corban. Now she was beginning to worry about him as well. With an effort she focused back on the horse trader in front of her.

  ‘Where is Gar?’ the thin-faced trader asked.

  ‘Not here,’ she shrugged. ‘He said he had urgent business, could be gone all day. Like I said, the horse is lame. I’m sure Gar would still be interested, but not at the price you’re asking. Come back next spring, if you’d rather barter with him.’

  The trader scowled, moaned a little more but still accepted the coins that Cywen offered her, then walked away stiffly, muttering under her breath. Cywen smiled to herself and patted the roan’s neck.

  ‘That was well done,’ a voice said from behind, startling her. She turned to see a tall, willowy girl, long golden hair framing a pretty, serious face.

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied. Then she recognized her. ‘You’re…’

  ‘Edana, and you are?’ the young princess said.

  ‘Cywen. I help, at the stables. Thannon the smith is my da.’

  ‘I’ve seen you before, mostly with Gar, around the stables. I just didn’t know your name, that’s all. You handled that trader very well.’

  Cywen smiled. ‘The horse is lame, but not for long. Look.’ Cywen lifted the roan’s foreleg, resting the upturned hoof above her knee, Edana looking over her shoulder.

  ‘See here,’ Cywen ran a finger over a lump on the tender part of the hoof. ‘Watch.’ She pressed the tip of the knife to the lump and gently sliced the skin. ‘This has been here a while, the skin has grown thick,’ she explained. Grunting in concentration she continued to cut carefully away at the tough skin. Placing her thumb behind the lump she pressed, and, with a pop, the skin burst, yellow and green pus leaking out. The horse’s muscles twitched. Cywen murmured soothingly, still applying pressure with her thumb until the cut stopped weeping.

  ‘That’s disgusting,’ said Edana.

  ‘We’re not finished yet.’ Cywen dipped a cloth into the water trough next to her and began cleaning the wound. She pressed the knife’s tip firmly into the cut, pushing hard on the other side with her thumb.

  ‘There it is,’ she whispered, pulling a sliver of wood from the cut. She held a long thorn up for Edana to see. ‘He’ll be fine now.’ She grinned, slapping the horse’s neck.

  ‘How did you know that was there?’ said Edana.

  She shrugged. ‘Gar has taught me a lot.’

  ‘He has indeed.’

  Something caught Cywen’s attention over Edana’s shoulder, a flash of blond hair, a familiar swagger. Rafe. ‘Watch the colt for me,’ she blurted as she broke into a run, ducking under the rope that ringed the paddock. She sped through the crowds and with a loud thump threw herself into Rafe’s back. They both fell to the floor with a crash, limbs tangled.

  ‘How do you like it?’ she shouted, jumping clear of Rafe as he rolled over. She aimed a kick at his stomach and leaped upon him again, raining down a furious barrage of blows. They rolled on the ground, Rafe trying to protect himself, then Cywen was grabbed and hauled off.

  ‘Get off me!’ she screamed, squirming in the grip of Vonn and Crain, aiming a last vicious kick at the prostrate Rafe.

  ‘Calm down, wildcat,’ Vonn said.

  She struggled a moment longer, before realizing that the two holding her were not about to let go any time soon. Rafe groaned, holding his stomach as he rolled onto his side and rose unsteadily. He was covered in grass stains and mud, his fair hair sticking out wildly in all directions. A thin trickle of blood ran from his nose.

  A crowd had gathered around them, and someone laughed. Rafe’s cheeks coloured.

  ‘Are you mad, girl?’ he said, wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand. He glanced at the crowd. ‘You should be more careful, you’re lucky I didn’t hurt you.’

  ‘You’re the lucky one,’ she snapped. ‘Lucky you’ve got two bodyguards to protect you.’

  ‘What illness do you have,’ Rafe said, ‘that causes you to attack innocent people? From behind, like a coward.’

  Cywen renewed her struggling; Rafe began to laugh. It spread round the crowd as Cywen tried more and more frantically to break the hold on her wrists, spitting and snarling at Rafe.

  ‘Please, stop,’ Vonn said, ‘or I’ll have to ask Rafe to fetch a bucket of water to cool you down.’

  ‘He’s–the–coward,’ Cywen grunted, but stopped struggling. ‘Rafe. He’s been doing his warrior training for over a year, picking on someone who hasn’t even set foot in the Rowan Field.’ She spat at Rafe. ‘Have you got round to learning the code yet? Or are you too slow-witted to understand it?’

  Vonn’s face creased in a smile. ‘Got some spirit, hasn’t she?’

  Rafe’s eyes narrowed. ‘Your brother needed to be taught a lesson, as do you,’ he hissed, a fist bunching as he took a step towards her.

  ‘Stop,’ cried a voice from within the crowd. Rafe paused, fist still balled as a slim figure stepped out of the mass. It was Edana, mouth set in a stern line, her back straight as she strode into the circle that the crowd had formed.

  ‘Let her go,’ she snapped, shooting a withering glance at Crain and Vonn.

  ‘We would not have harmed her,’ Vonn said, releasing Cywen. ‘Just didn’t want her harming Rafe.’

  ‘She attacked me,’ Rafe said, licking his lips. ‘She should be taught a lesson.’

  ‘A lesson?’ said Edana. ‘Well, maybe, but not b
y you, Rafe ben Helfach. I’ve heard what your father’s lessons are like, and I would not wish that on anyone. Even you.’ Rafe coloured.

  ‘Come on,’ Vonn said to his friends. ‘Best to make a retreat. I feel we’re outnumbered.’ He winked at Edana.

  ‘It’s a shame,’ Rafe called over his shoulder, ‘that Corban doesn’t have some of his sister’s courage, then maybe he wouldn’t need her to fight his battles for him.’ He pointed a finger at Cywen. ‘And you should remember that the King’s daughter may not be around to get you out of trouble next time.’ Then he strode into the crowd.

  Cywen made to follow him but Edana touched her arm and she stopped.

  ‘Come on,’ Edana said, steering Cywen gently towards the paddocks. They walked in silence.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Cywen, stroking the colt. ‘Sometimes I do things before I think. Actually, a bit more than sometimes.’ She blushed at the thought of what she’d just done, and in front of Edana, daughter of the King. ‘Sorry,’ she said.

  ‘Are you going to tell me what that was all about?’

  Edana listened intently as Cywen told of what had happened between Rafe and her brother, the sun dipping slowly towards the western horizon, turning the bay into an undulating sea of bronze. Around them the paddock gradually emptied of people, a crowd gathering towards the northern edge of the meadow as sunset approached.

  ‘… and now I’m starting to worry about Gar as well, because neither of them has returned, and look how late it is,’ Cywen finished.

  Edana looked past Cywen towards the giantsway. ‘I can see two riders. Look.’

  ‘I think it is them,’ Cywen said.

  The girls marched across the meadow, Cywen half running and Edana walking beside her, her long strides keeping pace easily. They reached the road and followed it until the point where it forked east and west. The riders were closer now, one on a horse, the other a pony.

  Cywen ran forward, hugging Gar’s leg as he pulled his piebald to a halt. ‘Where have you been?’ she cried. ‘You’ve been gone so long.’

  ‘Best ask your brother,’ said Gar, his face its usual stony expression.

  Cywen looked at Corban as he trotted up on his pony. ‘Oh, Ban,’ she said, seeing his cut and bruised face.

  ‘Cywen,’ he mustered a smile. Then Edana walked up behind his sister. Corban flushed a shade of red.

  Gar nodded to the blonde-haired girl.

  ’I’ve been watching Cywen working with the horses,’ Edana said. ‘I am most impressed with her skills. She told me she has a good teacher.’

  ‘She learns quickly, when she stops talking long enough to listen,’ said the stablemaster.

  ‘Where have you been, Ban?’ Cywen asked.

  ‘In the Baglun.’

  ‘What? Why?’ gasped Cywen.

  ‘Never you mind. But don’t tell Mam,’ he added quickly.

  ‘We’ll talk about the other thing later,’ Corban whispered, glancing at Edana.

  ‘The other thing? Do you mean Rafe?’ Cywen followed Corban’s gaze. ‘Don’t worry about Edana, she knows all about it.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Corban, shoulders slumping.

  ‘Your sister has had words with Rafe,’ said Edana.

  ‘What?’ Corban said with a squeak. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I was so angry, Ban, when Dath told me what happened to you. Well, I saw him walking in the crowd, Rafe, that is, and…’

  ‘What did you do?’ said Gar sternly, a sick expression settling upon Corban.

  ‘Well, I don’t remember it very clearly, but I did knock him over, and punch him a bit. And kick him.’

  ‘His nose was bleeding when I arrived,’ added Edana.

  Gar just stared at her, so Cywen looked to her brother for support. His face was set like stone.

  ‘My thanks,’ said Corban eventually, coldly, sounding as if he was having trouble breathing.

  Cywen just looked at him, a weightless sensation growing in her stomach.

  ‘The next time I have a fight to conduct, I shall call for you to fight it for me.’

  ‘Rafe said something like that,’ Cywen said, then closed her mouth quickly and clasped a hand over it.

  Corban grimaced.

  ‘Ban, don’t be silly,’ Cywen said. ‘Nobody will even remember it tomorrow. And stop screwing up your face like that, it makes you look like old Eluned, and that’s not a good thing, you know.’

  Corban took a deep breath.

  ‘Anyway, better get you cleaned up and see what we can do about your cloak before Mam sees you. She’s likely to skin you if you turn up at the handbinding like that.’

  ‘I know,’ he said dejectedly.

  ’Speaking of mothers,’ said Edana, ‘I think I’d better go, otherwise my mam will be wanting to do something terrible to me.’

  The stablemaster dipped his head. ‘My lady.’

  ‘Gar,’ Edana said with a smile, then she turned and walked quickly back towards the crowds in the meadow.

  ‘What an idiot,’ said Corban, scowling.

  ‘No she’s not,’ snapped Cywen.

  ‘Not her, me.’

  Cywen stopped herself from agreeing with him. I’ll remind him some other time, she thought, when he’s not quite so distraught.

  ‘And I’m not talking to you,’ said Corban, pointing a finger at his sister.

  ‘Come on, you two,’ said Gar. Suddenly he stood in his saddle, peering eastwards down the giantsway.

  ‘What is it,’ asked Cywen.

  ‘Two riders,’ Gar murmured. With a shrug he sat back and together they headed on towards the village.

  ‘What were you doing in the Baglun?’ Cywen asked. Corban ignored her. ‘Come on, Ban, I know it’s not nice, what happened with Rafe. Your poor face.’ She rested a hand on his leg. With a jerk of his wrist Corban steered Willow away.

  ‘Why are you punishing me?’ she said, tears blooming. ‘If you want to get angry with someone, why don’t you try Rafe?’

  Corban scowled at her and kicked Willow into a trot. Cywen began to jog after him, but when she drew level with Gar, the stable-master called her.

  ‘Leave the lad a while,’ he said.

  ‘But…’

  ‘Leave him be,’ he said sternly. ‘You’re not helping.’

  ‘Not you too,’ she muttered, kicking at the road.

  ‘I know you meant well, but sometimes, this time, it would have been better if you had thought before you acted. Do you not see, in Corban’s eyes your bravery has made him a coward twice over.’

  ‘He’s not a coward,’ she snapped.

  ‘It doesn’t matter what you or I think. He thinks it.’

  ‘Is it really such a big thing?’ she asked. ‘He’s only got a cut lip. I’ve had worse falling off a horse.’

  ‘It’s not about the cut. He will be entering the Rowan Field soon to begin his walk to manhood. This will rest heavy on him.’

  ‘What can I do?’ she asked.

  ‘Do? Nothing else, Elyon forbid. This is something he must come through by himself. Teach yourself to think before you act, that is something you could do.’ He looked at her bowed head. ‘Give him time.’

  She nodded.

  Dath came running down the road to meet them. Corban pulled to a halt, Dath reaching him just before Cywen and Gar.

  ‘How are you, Ban?’ said Dath, looking intently at his friend.

  ‘I’m well, Dath,’ he replied curtly. Then he sighed. ‘My chin’s a bit sore, to tell you the truth, so is my lip. And my ribs.’

  ‘I’ve got your gifts,’ said Dath.

  ‘Oh, I’d forgotten,’ said Corban, rooting around in Dath’s bag.

  ‘I heard what you did,’ Dath grinned at Cywen, ‘people are talking about it all around the fair.’ She pulled a face, causing his smile to flee.

  ‘This is for you,’ Corban muttered and threw something to Cywen.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, running her fingers over the horse carved on the brooch
. ‘Thank you, Ban.’ More tears sprang to her eyes.

  The sound of hooves grew behind them: the two riders Gar had seen cantering along at a ground-eating pace. They drew alongside the group. Both had large round shields strapped to their horses’ saddles, and longswords at their hips, their cloaks travel-stained. Gar nodded a greeting. One–the younger, Cywen thought–bright blue eyes sparking in a boyishly handsome face, flashed back a grin.

  ‘Greetings,’ he said. ‘Judging by that great pile of stone perched over there we have reached Dun Carreg.’

  ‘Aye,’ answered Gar. ‘You have.’

  The blue-eyed man smiled at his companion and clapped him on the back. ‘You hear that, brother.’

  The other sat silently on his horse, staring at the fortress. ‘We would speak with King Brenin,’ he said, black hair framing a stern, weathered face.

  ‘You will find him in the meadow,’ Gar said. ‘His nephew is handbound today.’

  ‘My thanks,’ the stern warrior said, and the two men urged their horses off the road towards the meadow.

  Gar watched them go, a frown creasing his face, then he turned to Corban. ‘Come, the sun has almost set. Cywen, try and work some kind of glamour on your brother’s cloak while I introduce him to a bucket of water.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  KASTELL

  Kastell stretched in his saddle, filling his lungs with a deep breath. The air was crisp, laced with the scent of pine from the mountain slopes they were riding towards. As his home faded behind him, the fortress Mikil, he began to feel his spirits lift. Life in the fortress had become almost unbearable of late, so when his uncle Romar, who was also King of all Isiltir, had suggested he ride in the guard of this merchant train he had accepted without hesitation.

  Maquin, his shieldman, rode at his side, a tall spear cradled easily in the crook of his arm. Kastell had known Maquin longer than any other, the last remnant of his father’s hold. They were all dead ten long years, slain by the giants as they raided out of Forn Forest.

  Kastell reined in his horse and looked back, brushing his red hair from his eyes. To the east was Forn Forest, oldest and most dreaded in all of the Banished Lands. Kastell looked at the brooding darkness only a few leagues away and shivered, though the sun was hot on his face. The giant trees rose like a murky bulwark, a dark undulating ocean that travelled endlessly into the northern horizon. Although Mikil lay only a few nights’ journey from the great forest, this was the first time he had really looked upon it in years. Since the slaughter of his family. Many of Isiltir’s warriors rode patrol along its borders, protecting against the beasts that would stray from within Forn’s depths: the savage Hunen giants, bent on revenge for grievances long past, packs of wolven and swarms of great bats that would drain a man of every last drop of blood.