Suddenly Mordwyr’s fisher-boat loomed close, and he threw a coil of rope across. Halion caught it and others helped pull the boat in tight, then people were clambering aboard. Soon they were pushing away, most of them finding somewhere to slump exhausted on the boat’s deck, though it was a tight squeeze in a three-man craft.
To reach the open sea they had to pass by Nathair’s black ship, as it clogged the mouth of the bay. There were lanterns lit, but again no sign of people. As they reached the closest point, when the black hull was no more than a score of paces away, Corban heard a snuffling or growling and remembered teasing Dath about so-called noises on this ship. Had it only been last night?
Storm snarled, her ears flat to her head. Then, suddenly, a roar erupted from somewhere deep within the ship’s belly, all on the fisher-boat staring wide-eyed as they slipped past the larger vessel. Corban gazed back the whole time they were exiting the bay, expecting something to happen, but there were no further alarms. And then, suddenly, they were out in the open water just as the first rim of the sun clawed its way over the edge of the world. Corban felt his eyes roll, his eyelids suddenly heavy.
‘Here,’ a voice said beside him. ‘You should have this back.’ Farrell was offering him his da’s war-hammer, still caked in dried blood.
‘Keep it,’ Corban said. ‘It is too heavy for me. And you looked like it was made for you.’
Farrell looked at the hammer, clearly tempted. ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It is your da’s. It would not be right for me to have it.’
Corban lifted his arm, winced as pain lanced out from his shoulder blade. He pushed the hammer back towards Farrell. ‘I mean it. I could not wield it as it was meant to be wielded. Please, I would be glad if you kept it.’
‘Truly?’
‘Aye. Only use it to avenge my da. That is all I ask.’
Farrell considered, then managed a smile. ‘I am honoured,’ he said.
‘Aye. You are,’ Corban mumbled.
‘So,’ a voice called out from further up the boat. ‘Where is this fisher-boat taking us?’
All were suddenly listening, heads swivelling to look at Halion and Marrock, sitting together in the prow of the boat, Edana between them. Marrock shrugged, and looked at Halion.
‘In truth, my only thought has been to get away, from there,’ Halion said, nodding towards the fortress. ‘Which we have done.’ He dipped his head to Corban, then looked at Edana. The Princess was sitting with knees drawn up to her chest, tear tracks clear on her dirty face. She gave no sign as to whether she was listening or not.
‘My oath, and Brenin’s last charge to me, was to protect Edana,’ Halion said. ‘But how may I best do that? Dun Carreg is overrun, Ardan’s other fortresses fallen.’ He looked weary. ‘Narvon is obviously out of the question, as is Cambren. Where else is left?’
It sounded to Corban that Halion was voicing an internal logic that had already been minutely examined, and he remembered Gar telling him that Halion was a strategist. But Marrock must have taken it as a question, as he spoke up.
‘We could make for Dun Crin, the old giant ruins,’ the warrior said, others near him nodding.
‘I know of it,’ Halion said. ‘A ruin in the heart of a great marsh, to the far west of Ardan.’
Marrock nodded a confirmation. ‘A good place to lie low. If word were to spread of Edana’s presence there, maybe more would rally to her, and give us a chance to strike back.’
‘Strike back, aye,’ Halion muttered, thinking. ‘That would be my first inclination also. But that would not be putting Edana’s safety first. If word of her presence did get out it wouldn’t only reach friendly ears. Owain would hear of it.’ He shrugged. ‘Edana needs her kingdom back, no doubt, and I mean to help her, or die in the trying. But we must decide how best to achieve that aim.’
He looked at the small party in the boat. ‘If what we discovered in the Darkwood is true, then Rhin will soon strike at Owain. When her forces are in motion, when Owain has more to consider than securing Ardan – that would be the time for Edana to rally a warband about her. But until then she must be hidden.
‘I shall take Edana to my father,’ he said finally. ‘He is her kin, though more distant than those we have been speaking of.’
‘Who?’ said Marrock. ‘Who is your father?’
Halion looked at him, his face unreadable. ‘I am the bastard-born son of Eremon ben Parloth, the King of Domhain,’ he said, then turned away, resuming his staring out to sea.
Muttering rippled through the company, but no one objected to Halion’s decision. And Corban felt many things suddenly made sense about his old weaponsmaster. He shuffled to the back of the skiff and his mam came and stood beside him. She wrapped an arm around his waist, and together they looked back at Dun Carreg.
The first rays of the sun were gleaming on its stone walls, and here and there dark plumes of smoke rose up into the pale blue sky.
My da is in there, and Cywen. He swallowed, a lump in his throat, and tears came at last. He gripped the fisher-boat’s rail to stop his hands from shaking.
‘Ban, there are things we must talk about. Things I must tell you,’ his mam whispered beside him. He looked down at her, and she seemed older somehow, more careworn at this moment.
‘Aye, mam,’ he said, a tremor in his voice. ‘But not now. Soon, but not now.’
‘All right,’ she nodded, seeming relieved. ‘Soon.’
And so they stood there, arms linked about each other, watching Dun Carreg shrink into nothing. Corban knew, beyond all measure of doubt, that from this moment things would never be the same again. His life had just changed irrevocably and forever.
First published 2012 by Tor
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Table of Contents
Title page
Dedication page
Acknowledgements
Epigraph page
Contents
Prologue
Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-
FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
CHAPTER SEVENTY
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
CHAPTER EIGHTY
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
Copyright page
John Gwynne, Malice
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