by John Gwynne
‘It’s a wolven-cub, Cy. I found it in the Baglun.’
‘Oh.’ For a moment she could not think of anything else to say, then a flood of questions welled up in her mind. It must have shown on her face, for Corban stopped.
‘Please, Cy, wait. Or I’ll have to give the same account scores of times. I just want to go home. I’ll tell you all when we get there.’
A warrior strode up: Marrock. He saw Corban and hurried over.
‘The Queen would speak with you. Now.’ Without waiting for an answer, Marrock turned and strode away. Corban followed the disappearing warrior in silence. Cywen hurried after them.
It was dark now and fat raindrops were starting to fall. Sharp gusts of wind sent them stinging into Cywen’s face. She pulled the hood of her cloak up.
Soon the feast-hall loomed out of the darkness and they marched through its doors; there was a spitted deer turning above a fire. They trod stone corridors for a while, then Marrock walked through another doorway. Alona was sitting in a dark wooden chair, draped with furs.
Standing before her were Cywen’s parents Thannon and Gwenith, along with Gar.
‘Are there any more from your hold that will be joining us, Thannon?’ asked Alona. The smith flushed.
‘No,’ he muttered, shifting uncomfortably. ‘Ban is not of age, and this is a serious matter. I should be present.’
‘Most certainly, as should the boy’s mother,’ she said with a quick glance at Gwenith. ‘The presence of his sister and my stablemaster is debatable, however. But,’ she held up a hand to ward against the bubbling protests, ‘I will allow them to stay. We will not be discussing any secrets of the realm, I think.’
Corban moved forward, standing immediately before the Queen. Cywen stood next to her mother. Corban began to say something, but Alona raised her hand.
‘We must wait for one more,’ she said in cold tones. Corban nodded and looked at the floor.
Long moments passed until footsteps were heard in the corridor. Evnis swept in, dirt and dried blood smearing his pale face.
‘Evnis,’ she said. ‘Pendathran has told me some of what has happened. How is your son?’
‘He is alive, my Queen. Brina is tending him. She met me on the road, has insisted on caring for him at her cottage. That is why I have been so long.’ He took a deep breath, as if to say more, but then decided against it.
‘So. Corban, you have claimed King’s Justice.’
Corban lifted his gaze from the floor and nodded.
‘Yes, my Queen.’
‘Unfortunately, as you know, your King is not here. Are you content to settle for your Queen’s justice?’
‘Of course. Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘You are King Brenin’s voice, while he is away.’
‘Good. I shall hear all that is to be said, and when I give my decision, it shall be final. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, my Queen,’ said Corban.
‘Evnis?’
‘Of course,’ the counsellor said.
‘First, Corban, tell me. How did you come to know of “King’s Justice”?’
‘Brina has told me of it.’
‘Brina. Really?’ Alona raised an eyebrow.
‘I help her sometimes. Gathering herbs, doing chores.’
‘I see.’ She looked at Corban thoughtfully. ‘Evnis. May I hear your account of today’s events.’
‘There is little to tell, my Queen. A while after highsun the party that I was leading in the hunt entered a glade deep in the Baglun. There were wolven there. And this lad,’ he said with a gesture at Corban. ‘The wolven attacked us. We killed them all, sustaining grievous losses and injuries. My Vonn,’ he paused, a tremor in his voice. ‘Vonn was injured, though he lives. There were cubs in the glade. I killed them all, except the one that the boy holds. He refused a command from me to relinquish it, counsellor to the King, and then he refused an order from your brother, battlechief of Ardan. It is a simple matter–the cub must be destroyed. And this insolent child requires some disciplining.’
Cywen could not believe what she was hearing. With a conscious effort she closed her mouth. How had Ban got involved in this? And defied Evnis and Pendathran, two of the most powerful men in the kingdom.
‘Marrock, how is it that this has come to pass? I have never heard of a confrontation with wolven like this, in our generation or any other.’
Marrock stepped forward, old scars he had received from a wolven livid on his cheek and neck.
‘I am not sure, my lady. My experience with wolven is limited. But from what I know they are from the old days, if we are to believe the tales. The giants bred them as another weapon in their War of Treasures. Heb could tell us more. I know that they are wolf-like, though larger, of course, and said to be extremely intelligent. They are trackers, hunters, killers. I would hazard a guess that the cubs played a large part in making the wolven attack today. I looked at the glade. There was a large den, dug beneath a great tree. Usually cubs would not be moved until they were much older, and without the cubs I suspect that the wolven would have simply left.’ He looked at the bundle of fur in Corban’s arm.
‘My guess is that the wolven would not move the cubs out of instinct, and so chose to stay. Then when they were discovered, they fought like demons to protect their young. And these wolven, they live their whole lives in a pack. Their bonds, I would guess, must be very strong.’
Alona nodded, then, slowly and deliberately, she turned her gaze upon Corban.
‘Well?’ she said. ‘What have you to say?’
Corban looked uncertain and for a moment Cywen thought he would just hand over the wolven-cub, but then she saw him stand a bit straighter, recognized his stubborn expression.
‘It, it is difficult to explain,’ he said.
‘Well, you must try, or the cub’s life is most certainly forfeit,’ Alona replied stonily.
He nodded. ‘To understand what I have done, and why I have done this, I must…’ he paused. Cywen saw fear or worry in his face. He took a deep breath. ‘To understand what I have done, I must tell you of the last time I entered the Baglun Forest.’
Alona waved a hand in the air. ‘Proceed.’
Corban told of his foray into the Baglun, of his hearing the howling, of finding and saving the wolven, and of being found by Gar. Cywen glanced around, saw shocked expressions on her mam and da’s faces. Even Gar’s normally steely demeanour was troubled.
‘When I stood in the glade today, facing those wolven, I was scared. More than scared. Terrified. Frozen with terror. I thought I was going to die. Then she looked at me, the wolven, and I knew her. And she knew me. She remembered the swamp.’
Evnis snorted and Corban blushed.
‘It’s true, she did. And what happened to them–they were protecting their young, only what any here would have done.’
‘Eight men died. Three horses. Almost my whole pack of hounds,’ Evnis growled.
‘I’m just saying, it was not the cubs’ fault. They were innocent, and you trampled them.’ Corban paused, gritting his teeth. ‘When it was all over, when they were all dead, I saw this cub was still alive, so I grabbed it. I didn’t really think about it, it just happened. But, when I looked at it, held it, felt it wriggling, it, it felt right. It is right, to protect the innocent, isn’t it.’
‘Yes,’ Cywen whispered.
‘If I’d have let Evnis kill it, I don’t know, it just would have all been for nothing–pulling the mother from the bog, getting lost–all of it.’
Alona bowed her head. Silence settled in the room. The Queen stirred, gripping the arms of her chair.
‘What would you do with this cub?’ she asked Corban. Evnis’ eyes bulged. Something–hope?–danced across Corban’s face.
‘I would care for it. Raise it. My da has bred and raised the finest hounds; no one would be able to do it better than he.’
‘Whoa, boy,’ spluttered Thannon, ‘that is no hound you have in your arms.’
‘But what
if it was raised like one?’ Corban enthused, carried along by the idea. ‘What if you could raise it as you would a hound? They are not so different–just bigger and with longer teeth.’
The corners of Alona’s mouth twitched.
‘Your enthusiasm is compelling. Marrock, is this possible?’
Evnis made a disgusted sound in his throat.
The huntsman shrugged. ‘I could not say with any certainty. Maybe. It is quite a risk. But…’ He tapped the hilt of his sword with one finger. ‘But perhaps this lad, with Thannon’s help, is equal to the task.’ He shrugged again.
Evnis opened his mouth, but Alona spoke before he did.
‘Yes, it is a risk.’ She held Corban with a stern gaze. ‘But I feel inclined to grant this request. We need examples of mercy as well as harsh justice in these difficult times. Thannon, as head of your hold, are you willing to assist your son in this?’
Thannon glanced at Gwenith, who gave a quick nod.
‘I am, my Queen.’
‘Good. But,’ she said, stern and cold again, ‘if there is one incident where a subject of mine is harmed by this creature, it will be destroyed. Immediately, with no chance of reprieve. Those are my terms.’
‘What?’ choked Evnis. ‘How can you even countenance this? These beasts are killers. Letting it live dishonours my son. How can you do this?’
‘That cub did not savage your son, Evnis. And the others were trying to protect their young, nothing more, according to my huntsman.’
‘Nevertheless…’ Evnis began.
‘Might I remind you that you swore to abide by my decision? It is final.’
Evnis stood there a moment, struggling to master himself. He bowed his head.
‘If that is all, my Queen, I would tend to my son.’
Alona nodded and Evnis left abruptly.
Cywen shared a shocked look with her mother and father, then Corban surged forward, dropped to his knees before Alona and kissed her hand. He stood slowly, not knowing quite where to look.
‘My… my thanks,’ he stuttered. ‘You will not regret your decision.’
‘Time will be the judge,’ Alona replied. She gestured towards the door and, recognizing the dismissal, Corban left. Cywen followed her mam, and for the briefest of moments saw Alona’s gaze lock with Gwenith’s, then they were in the stone corridors again.
Gwenith broke the silence as they bustled out of the rain into the warmth of their kitchen.
‘I’ll fetch some goat’s milk. T’would be a shame for the cub to die of hunger after all you’ve done for it.’
Corban put the cub down on the floor, where it stood quite still, legs straight and stiff. He sat down beside it, holding his hand out near its muzzle. The cub stretched its neck out, sniffing, ears twitching. It was covered in thick white fur, darker stripes zigzagging its torso. Buddai uncurled from his spot before the fire, stretched, padded over to the cub and pressed his wrinkled black muzzle hard into its fur, taking deep, snorting breaths. The cub nipped Buddai, who shook his head. All watched to see what the hound would do. He collapsed onto the ground, pawing at the cub with his huge, heavy pads. The wolven-cub pounced at one of his ears, growling.
Thannon laughed.
‘Fool hound,’ he snorted, ‘still thinks he’s a pup. Well, lad, if Buddai is happy for the cub to stay, so am I. Is it a dog or a bitch?’
Corban shrugged and lifted the cub’s back leg.
‘Bitch.’
‘What are you going to call her, Ban?’ asked Cywen. Lightning flashed above the fortress, thunder rumbling almost immediately behind it. The kitchen door blew open, banging against the wall, rain sheeting onto the stone floor. Gar closed the door.
‘Storm. I shall call her Storm.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
VERADIS
Veradis sat in the chamber where his father had greeted them. Now the table was cleared of maps; instead, jugs and cups were laid out. King Lamar sat with Krelis and Ektor either side of him, Prince Nathair and Veradis opposite. They had shared a meal in the great hall, all going well enough except for one incident with Nathair. He had made to sit in the chair beside Lamar, the one that always remained empty: Veradis’ mother’s chair. Of course his father had blamed him for not explaining the tradition to Nathair, and Veradis was inclined to agree. He had been distracted, in conversation with Elysia, the stablemaster’s daughter, at the time. His father had been in poor humour ever since.
‘Aquilus honours me by sending you, Nathair,’ said Lamar.
The Prince inclined his head. ‘My father values you, Lamar. He knows your loyalty.’
Lamar leaned forward. ‘So. News of the council, I believe you said earlier.’
‘Aye. The council. We are on the brink of momentous times. As you know, my father sent messengers to all corners of the Banished Lands, and most honoured his call. Only a handful did not come.’
Veradis watched his father’s and brothers’ faces as Nathair spoke of Aquilus’ council, of Meical and the writings he’d discovered by the giant, Halvor. He told of the claims and mysteries spoken of in his book. Nathair finished with the proposal of an alliance of kings against the times ahead, and of the debate that raged back and forth.
Lamar’s face gave away nothing, but he asked many questions, especially regarding the arguments made for and against the alliance, and particularly about who had spoken against Aquilus. Krelis exclaimed often, audibly muttering whenever Nathair described someone speaking against the King. Ektor said nothing, but was intent throughout.
‘This Meical,’ said Lamar. ‘I have heard his name before, but never seen him. Tell me of him.’
‘He is counsellor to my father, but rarely found within the realm. He has been absent for many years, gathering the information I have told you of.’
‘What does he look like?’ Ektor interjected.
‘He is tall. Very tall. Dark haired, battle scarred,’ Nathair said with a shrug. ‘There is little more to tell.’
‘What of his eyes? What colour are his eyes?’
‘I… dark. I do not know for sure. Why?’
‘Probably nothing,’ Ektor said, waving his hand.
‘Is there aught else you can tell me of him?’ Lamar asked.
‘Aye. My father trusts him utterly. It was only after his return that the messengers were sent out heralding the council.’
‘And what of you? Do you trust him?’
Nathair leaned back in his chair. ‘He is my father’s counsellor, not mine. We do not confide in one another. But I bow to my father’s wisdom. If my father trusts him, then I see that as good reason to do the same.’
‘Aye, well spoken. Aquilus is no fool, that is one truth I know for certain.’ Lamar looked weary as he leaned forward. ‘So, this is news indeed. A God-War, fought before our eyes. More even, with us as their pawns. The evidence of the Scourging is left in the scars of the land, but still, it is hard to imagine, eh? Gods, angels and demons, here.’ He clenched a fist, knuckles popping, and winced. ‘But not before the coming of this Black Sun?’ He frowned. ‘I would like to see a copy of this book.’
‘As would I,’ said Ektor hungrily.
Lamar placed a hand on Ektor’s shoulder. ‘My son is most learned, and we have a collection of ancient manuscripts, here in this very tower. Ektor may be able to help in the understanding of these predictions.’
‘I have heard of Ektor’s reputation,’ said Nathair, and Veradis saw something flicker across his brother’s face. Pride? ‘I am sure that can be arranged.’
‘So, then, what would Aquilus have me do?’ Lamar asked.
‘Prepare. Train your warband for the coming war, and begin this alliance, helping those that stood with him at the council.’
‘And how are we to do that, exactly?’
‘My father will let you know. There is talk of a force needed to deal with the Hunen, the remnants of a giant tribe causing some kind of mischief in Helveth. It may be that my father will send a warband.’ Nathair
shrugged. ‘It is only talk, at present.’
‘You have given me much to think on,’ Lamar said. ‘If there is no more to tell, I think I will retire now. We shall speak more on the morrow.’
Nathair dipped his head and began to rise. ‘My apologies, for earlier,’ he said.
‘Apologies?’
‘Aye. About the chair. Veradis has since informed me of your custom.’
‘It would have been well if he had informed you before the meal,’ Lamar said.
‘I have apologized, Father,’ muttered Veradis.
‘Apologized,’ said Lamar, quiet and cold. ‘Not to me. But anyway, how can you apologize for forgetting your mother? No amount of words can undo that.’ He rose.
‘You should not be so harsh, Lamar,’ said Nathair. ‘Veradis has risen far in Tenebral. Far indeed. He is my first-sword, and captain of my warband. You have much to be proud of. Why not think on those things, instead of dwelling on some petty mistake.’
Lamar tensed. ‘Petty.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Importance is oft a case of perspective. Risen far, you say. Maybe, but maybe too far, too fast. A child does not become a man overnight.’
‘No, true enough. But perhaps your eyes expect a child, where a man now stands.’
Lamar gripped the back of his chair, hands whitening. ‘Do not seek to instruct me, in my own hall, on how I treat my own kin. You are not king yet, Nathair. You are young, but your years are poor excuse for such arrogance.’
There was a moment’s silence, Lamar’s words hanging in the air.
He calls you a child, Veradis’ thoughts whirled, and insults Nathair, the one man to believe in you. Anger flared deep within. ‘You owe Nathair an apology,’ he growled, finding himself rising in turn, ‘he is your prince, and is due your respect.’ His heart was pounding, and suddenly Krelis was standing too. Lamar’s gaze shifted from Nathair to Veradis, and for long moments they all just stood there.
‘Respect,’ Lamar eventually said. ‘A pity you know so little of it.’ He turned and left, Ektor rising quickly and following him. Krelis lingered a moment, then left too.
