Camlin felt a swell of emotion as he recognized all of those who had fled Dun Carreg on a windswept night, crossing a sea, then travelling through Cambren and Domhain together. Gar with his curved sword across his back, Farrell beside him, still clutching a war-hammer in his ham-fists.
‘Hello, Camlin,’ a voice said, and Camlin looked down to see Dath staring up at him, clothed in brown and green wool, a leather jerkin, a cheeky grin splitting his face. He held an unstrung bow in one hand, a quiver of arrows hanging from his belt.
‘Dath!’ Camlin cried out as he jumped from his horse and embraced the young man, squeezing him tight. ‘Dath, my lad!’ And then they were all scrambling out of their saddles, greeting their friends and companions of old. Even Brogan had joined the reunion, lifting red-haired Coralen up off the ground and swinging her round.
Camlin noticed a small woman standing a little behind Dath, dark-haired and with a curved sword like Gar’s across her back. Dath reached out and took her hand.
‘Camlin,’ Dath said, ‘I’d like you to meet my wife, Kulla ap Barin. She’s a Jehar warrior.’
‘Wife! Good grief, lad, what else have you been up to while I’ve been away? Any bairns?’
‘We are working on that,’ Kulla said matter-of-factly, Dath blushing like a ripe red apple. Camlin laughed.
‘Talking of bairns, who’s this?’ Dath asked, and Camlin saw Meg peering around his leg at Kulla.
‘Ah, this is just a small stray waif I can’t seem t’get rid of. Her name’s Meg,’ Camlin said, still smiling.
‘I’ve saved your life more times than I can count,’ Meg said indignantly. ‘The last time I threw stones at that Rafe, and before that, a giant! But fine! Save your own life next time.’
‘Fierce little thing, aren’t you?’ Dath said. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you.’ He held his arm out in the warrior grip, which Meg seemed to like, because she took it.
‘Throwing stones?’ Kulla said. ‘That’s no good. Has anyone taught you how to use a sword?’
‘She’s nine summers old,’ Camlin said.
‘I had a sword in my hand from my third nameday,’ Kulla snapped.
‘That explains a lot,’ Dath muttered.
‘So, Meg, when we get back to our camp, I shall teach you how to use a sword.’ Kulla looked Meg up and down. ‘Maybe a small one, to start with.’
Meg grinned.
‘Rafe?’ Dath said, looking at Camlin.
‘Aye,’ Camlin replied, his mood changing. ‘He’s got a lot t’answer for, that lad. Last thing he did was murder Baird.’
‘What!’ a voice cried – Coralen. She strode over to them, Brogan following.
‘Aye, lass,’ Camlin said. ‘He put a knife in Baird’s belly. Then he ran off after Rhin, who’s headed to Drassil herself. Brogan and me, we were coming after him alone for a dose of vengeance, before Edana joined the party.’
‘Baird was one of the finest, meanest fighters I’ve ever seen,’ Coralen said, looking as if she might have a tear in her eye, though she seemed angry enough to fight a bear, as well.
‘That’s a truth,’ Brogan grunted.
‘I don’t doubt it,’ Camlin said, ‘but Rafe’s . . . changed.’ He looked at them all. ‘He’s drunk from the starstone cup. Apparently that does things to a body. Makes ’em stronger, faster. And gives you a longer life, as well.’
‘We’ll see what I can do about that,’ Coralen growled.
‘Seems that we’re in the company of like-minded people,’ Camlin said to Brogan, slapping his arm.
‘Aye,’ Brogan said. ‘I owe him for a sore head as well as for Baird, but as long as he dies, there’ll be no arguing from me.’
The camp was busy, everywhere Camlin looked, men, women and giants were industriously carrying out tasks, tending to weapons and a hundred other things. Edana and her warband were greeted warmly and with much enthusiasm.
Not that I’m surprised. An extra two thousand swords is never a bad thing.
Camlin heard the thrum of arrows leaving bows, the thud as they pierced wood.
A fine sound.
He looked to see a line of archers, over thirty strong, all aiming and firing together.
Dath tapped his arm.
‘My idea, that,’ Dath said with a grin. ‘Thought of you and your ambushes, and the damage done by just you and me when we’d shoot together. Thought, what if thirty or forty were doing the same thing . . .’
‘Well, there you are, great minds think alike,’ Camlin said with a smile. ‘The same thing has crossed my mind. I’ve got my own crew of over forty lads and lasses that can draw a bow. Did a fine job in the battle of the Baglun.’
‘Maybe we should introduce our crews,’ Dath said.
‘Now that’s a fine idea.’
‘And I’ll need to hear about this battle of the Baglun.’
‘Aye, you will, lad.’
As Corban and others helped settle Edana’s warband, a group of men and women approached them. Camlin recognized Brina and Cywen walking with them, and blinked at the sight of two giants striding amongst them. One a woman, one white-haired and ancient as a knotted oak, only one eye in his head.
Corban introduced the group to Edana as Camlin joined them, then they were being led through the camp, into a small glade where a fire-pit burned, with logs and tree stumps scattered around to sit upon. Corban sat, and Camlin noticed that wherever he went, Farrell and Gar were as shadows behind him.
‘Well, lass, you’ve either the best timing in the world, or the worst, turning up the day before this fight,’ Krelis said.
‘Well, I’m here to help,’ Edana said, smiling at the big man.
‘I must tell you, Edana, the odds are not good,’ Corban said.
‘We are used to poor odds,’ Edana said, and behind her Vonn snorted.
‘We are choosing to fight on the morrow only because we have to,’ Corban continued. ‘Nathair leads a warband, some four or five thousand strong. If we do not stop them on the morrow they will reach Drassil and combine forces with the warband there.’
‘Would have been best to pick them off in the forest,’ Camlin said.
‘We’ve been trying,’ Coralen snapped.
‘Two thousand eagle-guard have been defending the warband as it moves,’ said Veradis, the brother of Krelis. ‘There are fewer of them, now.’
‘We have been nipping and biting at them through twenty leagues of forest,’ Corban said, ‘and I think it’s fair to say that we’ve taught them to fear the night, and not to leave their camp less than a hundred at a time. But they are too large a force to have broken them.’
‘So you have to fight them, before it’s too late,’ Edana said.
‘Aye,’ Corban said. ‘So, we fight on the morrow. I cannot tell you how great an encouragement your arrival is to us.’
‘The odds are steep, but we do have a trick or two up our sleeves,’ another warrior said, a man draped in furs, long hair bound into thick warrior braids. A single-bladed axe hung at his belt, another was slung across his back.
Wulf, Camlin reminded himself.
‘A well-planned trick can turn a battle,’ Edana said, glancing at Camlin.
‘So, a warband in the forest, and one in the fortress. And us in between?’ Halion asked. He’d been quiet, as usual, listening rather than talking.
But he misses nothing.
‘We are, of course, expecting a counter-attack from the fortress,’ Veradis said.
‘Calidus and his lot don’t usually venture out of Drassil these days,’ Wulf said. ‘They’ve been stung too many times. But the noise we’re going to make on the morrow would likely be too much to resist.’
‘And how will you meet this counter-attack, if you’re engaged with Nathair’s warband in the forest?’ Edana asked.
‘That’s a good question, there,’ another of Corban’s captains said – Tahir, a young warrior with long, thick-muscled arms. ‘We haven’t answered it to our satisfaction, yet.’ He caught Cam
lin’s eye and smiled.
‘We have to break Nathair and Lothar swiftly,’ Corban said. ‘No more harrying their heels. We hit them hard, break them and scatter them in the forest, before they reach the plain, and before any relief force sent by Calidus can reach them.’
‘A charge of horse on the plain of Drassil may help there,’ Veradis said thoughtfully.
‘We are here to help you, and in the helping, kill our enemies,’ Edana said, her expression serious. ‘I fear I have some grim news for you. Rhin, Queen of Cambren, is also in Drassil.’
‘Scouts reported a force to the north,’ Gar said. ‘I’ve sent out more scouts, but heard nothing more.’
‘It’s Rhin,’ Edana said. ‘She travelled by a different road to us, heading north first, but she had over a ten-night’s start on us. She has brought the starstone cup to Calidus.’
‘The starstone cup,’ Corban said. ‘Then that only leaves the necklace and torc unaccounted for.’ He shared a look with Brina.
‘Not the necklace,’ Edana said and gestured to Halion. He reached inside his cloak and pulled out a leather-wrapped package. Unbuckling it, he lifted out the starstone necklace. Its black stone leaked shadow.
Gasps rippled around their circle.
‘We took it from Rhin,’ Edana said.
‘Bet she wasn’t happy about that,’ Dath whistled.
‘So, all of the Seven Treasures are here, except for the torc,’ Corban breathed, eyes fixed on Brina.
‘And Maquin and Alben may well return with that at any time,’ Veradis said.
Brina shared a meaningful look with Corban. He nodded.
‘Craf,’ Brina called, looking up at the branches above them.
‘Yes,’ a squawk drifted down.
‘Go and have a look at Drassil, see if Rhin and her warband of miscreants are lurking in there somewhere.’
Ah, it’s good to see you, Brina. See you haven’t lost any of your bite.
‘Edana asks nicer,’ Craf cawed down at them, but a branch creaked and wings flapped.
‘Rhin has a great warband about her: all of the west, including Conall and the swords of Domhain, as well as Uthas and the Benothi giants,’ Camlin said.
‘Uthas!’ Balur One-Eye said, his voice sounding like hammered iron.
‘Aye.’
‘Ach, but the morrow is looking to be a bloody day,’ One-Eye growled. And smiled.
‘Best see if we can find a way for it to be our enemies’ blood, and not ours,’ Corban said.
‘Four or five thousand in Forn and, now Rhin has arrived, at least that again in Drassil,’ Krelis said. ‘I’m all for slaughtering my enemies, but that’s a lot of men to kill.’
A silence fell as they all thought about that.
‘Well, you make the road by walking it, as my old mam used to say,’ muttered Tahir.
And so they set to planning the greatest battle since the Scourging.
Camlin stood up and paced around the clearing. Everyone else was deep in the discussion of how their forces would be organized on the morrow. He was happy with the part he’d be playing, so he made his way around to Cywen and sat beside her.
‘It’s good to see you, lassie.’
‘You, too, Camlin.’ She smiled up at him, and he remembered a girl standing in the Darkwood, fierce and defiant as her death was ordered by Morcant.
‘I thought you’d like t’know,’ Camlin said quietly in her ear. ‘Morcant is no longer in this land of the living.’
He saw a twitch of anger at Morcant’s name, eyes widening as realization followed, the faraway look a rush of memory gives, then a tear or two.
‘He slew my Ronan,’ she whispered. ‘Ah, but he was fine. We’d kissed for the first time, that day, you know.’ She smiled, a fragile, vulnerable thing that twisted into something bitter. ‘And Morcant stole all that could have been.’ She looked down at her hands, and Camlin remembered her holding them to a warrior’s throat, trying to stem the tide of life as he bled out in a dozen heartbeats.
Wings fluttered above them and Craf circled down, landing on Brina’s knee.
‘Rhin there,’ the crow muttered glumly. ‘Many new spears.’
A silence settled over them.
‘And on the morrow we’ll kill the bastards,’ Krelis said.
‘Aye,’ Corban said. ‘We’ve done all that we could to stop Nathair and Lothar, and we’ve picked off a lot of their warriors, but they will still reach Drassil on the morrow. We cannot let that happen. So, Nathair and Lothar first . . .’ Corban paused, looking around at them all. ‘If we can break them quickly, if we can keep our enemies from uniting, and if we avoid Calidus and Rhin’s warbands unless we can lure them into the forest and fight on our terms . . .’
‘And if Maquin returns with the last of the Seven Treasures,’ Brina whispered.
A lot of ifs there, thought Camlin.
‘What does that mean?’ Edana asked. ‘If Maquin returns with the last of the Treasures?’
Corban and Brina shared a look.
‘Brina has a plan,’ Corban said. ‘A way to end this war. Not just to defeat the warbands arrayed against us, but to defeat Asroth, the Kadoshim, all of them.’
‘How?’ Edana said.
Corban opened his mouth and began to speak.
When he had finished, a silence filled the glade. Eventually Edana stood.
‘Well, I think it’s about time I saw this fabled Drassil,’ she said.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
RAFE
Rafe dug his heels into his mount’s ribs, urging her to climb the slope towards the bright light. Scratcher barked as he loped beside him.
He’s as happy as I am at the thought of getting out of here.
They were in a huge tunnel, had been for a ten-night, now, riding hard with Rhin and her five thousand-strong warband.
Rhin cantered up the slope ahead of him, Geraint and Conall with her, as well as Uthas and his shieldman, Salach. The other Benothi giants were further down the column, acting as rearguard.
Rafe’s horse clattered out from the slope into a huge chamber, bigger than anything Rafe had ever seen before. He let go of the reins, just let the mare take him forwards as he gazed around, awestruck. The chamber seemed circular, a great flagstoned floor curling around something that looked like the trunk of a tree, only it couldn’t possibly be, because it was about a thousand times too big for that.
It can’t be a tree. Must be something carved to look like a tree. Some giant magic.
The stone floor was bordered on his right by steps that followed the curve of the chamber, rising up to a set of huge doors that were wide open, light pouring through them.
I don’t even know what time of day it is, after being in that tunnel so long.
It felt like highsun, though, and judging by the angle of the light coming in through the doorway he was about right.
Highsun on Midwinter’s Eve. The day I arrived at Drassil.
Pale light also leaked into the room from velum-like windows high above, as walls arched and curled overhead, stairwells carved into them. Just looking up at them made Rafe feel dizzy.
Rhin reined in her horse before an old man with patchy silver hair on a peeling head. He looked as if he’d seen better days. Rafe recognized him though, had seen something of his features before, although then they had been framed within the flayed skin of a dead man.
So that’s Calidus. Doesn’t look half as scary in real life.
Surrounding him were the pale-skinned Jehar warriors who had been their guides through Forn, maybe two hundred of them. Clothed in black chainmail, curved swords strapped across their backs, skin pale as death. But it was their eyes that bothered Rafe most of all, like dark wells that bored into your soul. They gave Rafe gooseflesh.
Behind them were more warriors, but these were normal men, clothed in a uniform that Rafe recognized: the black and silver of King Nathair. They were rowed in neat ranks, forming a protective square around a long table and dai
s that backed onto the trunk of the giant tree. On the dais was a huge black cauldron, behind it a big throne-like chair, a pile of heaped bones upon it. Either side of the throne a weapon stood. On one side there was a double-bladed battle-axe, the blades made of black iron, like the cauldron, and on the other side of the chair a long spear leaned. Its leaf-shaped blade was fashioned from dark iron, too.
Rhin dismounted and walked forwards, Uthas joining her, and together they dropped to one knee before Calidus.
‘Well met,’ Rafe heard Calidus say, gesturing for them to rise. ‘Where are they?’ he asked of Rhin, sounding impatient. Rhin turned her head, and Rafe slid from his horse, unbuckling a small wooden chest from his saddle and hurrying forwards.
Rafe dropped to one knee as Rhin had instructed him and held the chest up to Calidus.
‘The starstone cup,’ he said, opening the lid.
‘And the necklace?’ Calidus asked, a frown menacing his face. He looked to Rhin.
‘Edana has it,’ Rafe said.
Calidus’ hand whipped out and fastened around Rafe’s throat, squeezing, dragging him to his feet. Rafe spluttered, tried to talk, but Calidus was choking the life from him. Black spots appeared before his eyes.
‘Edana is coming here, a warband at her back. She will have the necklace with her,’ Rhin blurted.
The grip around Rafe’s throat loosened. He was dropping, felt cold stone slam into his face. Gasping, he lay there and looked up at Calidus, saw the old man was smiling.
What a place, Rafe marvelled as he rode through the streets of Drassil, gazing up and all around, looking at the huge tree trunk rising out of the great hall, branches spreading wide over the fortress.
I am walking in the land of faery tales.
Stone buildings reared tall everywhere he looked, and amidst them, filling every street, was an endless host of warriors. The street Rafe was riding down was busy with Rhin’s warband being directed to stables and paddocks, but all about them, bustling industriously through side streets and courtyards, were men from other warbands, some clothed in the black and silver of Tenebral, others in weathered leather vests and jerkins with bucklers on their arms, rings bound in oiled beards. And scattered amongst them the black-eyed Jehar prowled, only a few, but wherever they went, men parted for them.