by John Gwynne
Kastell glanced at Maquin, face serious.
‘Joining the Gadrai looking more attractive now?’ asked Maquin.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CORBAN
‘What in Asroth’s Otherworld is the King’s Justice?’ asked Farrell as he munched on a cold leg of chicken.
Corban was sitting in the back of a large wain, bumping along the giantsway, sitting with about a dozen other boys. All of them were eyeing him – or more accurately, the bundle of fur that poked out from under his arm – with varying degrees of curiosity and caution. Farrell was the only one that had actually spoken to him since he climbed into the wain, although all of the others were listening avidly to their conversation.
‘It’s an ancient law,’ said Corban. ‘If you invoke it then your grievance can only be judged by the king.’
‘Asroth’s teeth, I’ve never ’eard of that before,’ whistled Farrell, spitting food everywhere.
‘As I said, it’s an ancient law. I don’t think it’s been used since Ard’s reign.’
‘How’d you know ’bout it, then?’
‘Brina told me.’
‘That witch?’ spluttered Farrell.
‘She’s a healer,’ Corban muttered distractedly. Dark clouds sat on the horizon and a strong, sharp wind was swirling about him.
Glancing down at the bundle of fur nestled in the crook of his arm, he sighed. What am I doing? he thought. I must be going mad. He remembered Evnis shouting at him in the glade and knew he had to do this.
The dead and wounded from the glade had been bound to horses and led slowly out of the Baglun, a rider sent ahead to fetch Brina and any other healers that could make it to the fortress that night. Vonn had fainted when lifted from the ground. Corban remembered his limbs hanging limply as he was carried from the glade.
‘So, what’re you going to do with it?’ Farrell said, nodding at the cub.
‘I suppose that will be for Queen Alona to decide.’
‘Aye,’ Farrell nodded. ‘I s’pose so.’
‘Thank you,’ Corban said, ‘for coming back.’
Farrell grunted.
The fortress of Dun Carreg appeared in the distance. Iron-grey clouds were sweeping in from the sea, causing the day to darken early. The taste of salt was on Corban’s lips, this far inland, and gulls were swirling along the coastline, white specks in the sky.
A storm was coming.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CYWEN
Cywen paced across the courtyard behind Stonegate. Something was wrong. Very wrong, and no one would tell her what. It was maddening.
A steady stream of riders had been returning to the fortress for a while, most of them grim faced and stern. She had rushed to the stables, leaving her self-imposed post at the gates, where she had been waiting for Corban’s return. The place was heaving with activity, horses whinnying, harness clattering, voices thrumming in low, muted conversation. That was different – usually the clamour was deafening, warriors boasting of their feats in the hunt and looking forward to the evening’s feast. As she entered the stables what little conversation there was seemed to stutter and die.
She set about unsaddling a warrior’s horse, asking politely how the hunt had gone, but received a frosty silence and a hard look in answer.
No answers were forthcoming, so soon she gave up and returned to the gates.
The line of returning riders was thicker now. Then she saw the dead and wounded draped over horses, being led by weary-looking riders. Her breath caught in her throat. Da, Corban, Gar, where are they? She saw her da ride through the gates on Steadfast, his huge workhorse, then Gar – stony faced as usual – upon Hammer, Buddai padding along behind. She breathed a deep sigh of relief and rushed over to them.
‘Where’s Ban?’ she said as she fell in beside them. Thannon looked down, grim beneath his beard. She took a step back.
‘He’ll be along soon enough,’ Thannon said.
‘He is well, then? When I saw some of those returning . . .’
‘Aye, Cy, he is well, for the moment.’ He passed a big, calloused hand across his face, relaxing slightly.
‘What has happened?’ Cywen asked.
‘Not now, girl,’ he muttered, glancing about him.
‘But . . .’
He gave her a look that would have stripped bark from a tree. Her protest died on her lips.
‘Go home, girl; we’ll be along soon enough.’ He fixed his eyes ahead, dismissing her, and she dipped her head meekly, turned and left the courtyard. Once out of sight, she retraced her steps and peered into the courtyard, checking that Thannon and Gar had ridden from view, then she ran back to the gate.
It was some time later that the wains carrying the beaters came into view, rattling across the bridge. Daylight was fading quickly, thick black clouds churning overhead, so she could not make out Corban in the press of shapes.
Then she saw him, sitting by the tailgate of the second wain. One hand on the rail, he jumped to the ground, holding his left arm tight to his side.
‘Ban, what’s going on?’ she called as she ran over to him. ‘Are you all right?’ Then she pulled up short. Something had moved in the crook of his elbow. She saw a flash of pale white fur, flecked with black.
He did not answer her, just took a deep breath and began walking. She fell in beside him, almost trotting to keep up.
‘Ban, what’s wrong? Where did you get that pup?’
He sucked in a deep breath. ‘It’s not a pup,’ he said, holding his arms out. Cywen gasped as she saw a long muzzle, fluffy-furred cheeks and copper eyes. Two sharp canines protruded from its lips.
‘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, bu
t 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 st
one 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.
