by John Gwynne
Vonn hurried up the remaining steps, across a landing and into a single chamber, sparsely furnished. An open window let moonlight in; shutters had been ripped from their hinges and cast upon the floor. On the far wall a tapestry hung, half-torn, an open door visible behind it.
Vonn swore as he strode to the door and peered through it.
‘They got here before us,’ he said, stepping out and punching the wall.
‘There must be something we can do,’ Lorcan said, ever the optimist.
‘What, like sneak into the keep and steal it from under Rhin’s nose?’ Vonn said bitterly. ‘Camlin might be a good thief, but he’s not that good.’
‘I am,’ a voice croaked from the open window.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
RAFE
Rafe paced down the corridor, walking past Roisin’s new chambers. He heard laughter echoing from within and ground his teeth as he turned a corner.
Morcant is a puffed-up fool, taken in by a woman’s smile and charms. Don’t think Rhin’ll be too pleased.
He grinned viciously at that thought.
Days had passed since Rafe and Morcant had returned, in which Rafe had discovered that Rhin and Uthas had drunk from the starstone cup and as yet had not awakened. Rafe had used the free time to reacquaint himself with the fortress. He looked around Evnis’ tower, the kennels he used to tend, and wandered the halls of Dun Carreg, reliving memories, with Scratcher a constant shadow at his side. Today had left him in a black mood, though, because all memories led to that hateful night when he’d fought Corban in the court of swords, and lost. The night when Corban and his wolven had slain Rafe’s da. Now he was heading for Rhin, hoping that she’d awoken.
I want to get on with this war. Rhin said we’re going to Drassil, and that’s where Corban is supposed to be. Maybe I’ll get to challenge him to another court of swords. Now that is something I’d look forward to.
He spent some time imagining how that would turn out – each version ending with Corban defeated and begging for his life. Rafe was smiling by the time he reached Rhin’s chambers.
Rhin’s guards greeted him with a curt nod, one of them opening a door for him. He walked in, shivering as he remembered the last time he had been in here, when Rhin contacted Conall through her frame of wood and flayed skin.
The table was empty of all of that now, just one thing sat on it: an old casket, a black velvet cushion within it, and upon that a necklace of silver and jet.
Not jet – the stone is carved from a fallen star. The starstone necklace.
The necklace was of twisted silver, thin wire knotted around a black stone, like silver veins threading through a black heart. As Rafe stared, it seemed to pulse, and for a moment he thought he heard whispered voices, a host of them swirling around him.
He shook his head, staggered a little, as if dizzy.
‘You all right?’ Salach asked him, one eyebrow raised. He was standing with Eisa by the open window, the sound of the sea and the smell of salt spray drifting in from the darkness. Eisa looked much better now than when Rafe had found her staggering out from the Baglun.
‘Aye,’ Rafe grunted. ‘Rhin?’
‘No change,’ Salach said, nodding to a closed door. ‘With Uthas. The cup does its work upon them.’
Rafe knew what that was like, remembered the ecstasy and the agony. And the waking up, too, a tidal wave of new sensations crashing upon his senses.
‘How long before you woke?’ Eisa asked him.
Rafe shrugged. ‘Morcant said it was a ten-night.’
‘It’s been sixteen nights, now,’ Salach grunted.
Rafe pulled up a chair and sat before the necklace, staring at it.
‘I had strange dreams last night,’ Eisa said to Salach. ‘In them I saw Nemain.’ The giant was staring at Salach, watching him intently. ‘She spoke to me. She called me a traitor.’
‘Traitor, hero, all depends on your perspective,’ Salach muttered.
‘How did she die?’ Eisa asked.
‘I have told you. She attacked our allies at the gates of Murias. Uthas challenged her and they argued, struggled. She slipped and fell from her tower window, a tragic accident.’
‘I remember now,’ Eisa said, nodding to herself. Rafe saw her eyes flicker briefly to the twin blades of Salach’s axe, curving over his back like iron wings.
The door suddenly creaked open. Rhin was standing there, silver hair dishevelled, yet she looked radiant, younger, a glow to her skin, a sparkle and vitality in her eyes. She threw her head back and laughed, the sound warm and resonant. Behind her Uthas stirred on a bed, sitting, rubbing his head.
‘Food and drink,’ Rhin clapped as she strode into the room, swaying a little, her legs unsteady, like a newborn colt taking its first steps around the paddock. She grabbed Rafe’s hand, staring disconcertingly into his eyes, and licked her lips.
‘I seem to have quite an appetite.’
Uthas filled the doorframe behind Rhin, staggering like a drunkard, but nevertheless appearing more youthful, his skin having lost its grey pallor.
Then Salach and Eisa were talking at once, Uthas laughing a deep, booming laugh, Rhin still holding Rafe’s hand and staring into his eyes, far too intently for Rafe’s liking.
A blast of cold air and a flapping sound filtered through the noise. Rafe turned to see something black come hurtling through the window. A bird, flapping and landing on the table, skidding to a halt and grasping the chain of the starstone necklace in an oil-black beak. For one moment it stood on the table, beady eyes darting about, locking with Rafe’s, silence settling upon the room as men, giants and a queen all stared in dumbfounded shock at the crow. Then it was airborne, flapping away, back out of the window.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CAMLIN
Camlin watched the crow swoop out of the window.
‘Got it!’ Lorcan declared with satisfaction as he caught and dangled a necklace from his hand.
‘Hurry,’ the crow squawked.
Not yet, thought Camlin, his arm starting to tremble from maintaining the draw on his bow. The outline of a head appeared at the window high above. Camlin released his arrow, the head leaped back. He heard the crack of an arrow-point skittering off stone, a yell from within the room.
‘Lead on,’ Camlin grunted, turning and following Vonn as they ran through a dark and deserted street. Behind them, from the room in the keep, shouts rang out, closely followed by horn blasts.
Camlin and the others sprinted through a maze of streets, all about them lights appeared at windows, doors opening, warriors emerging, pulling on boots or buckling on sword-belts, the fortress coming to life in the wake of their passing.
They were heading back to Evnis’ tower, Vonn leading the way. He was the first one through the gates, Lorcan and Brogan close behind, Camlin acting as rearguard. They pounded across the courtyard towards the stone steps and open doorway beyond that led to the tunnels and escape. Camlin skidded to a halt, shouted a warning.
When we left, the doors were closed.
A figure burst from the shadows of Evnis’ tower, crashing into Vonn, sending them both tumbling down the steps. A giant’s figure filled the doorway, at the same time as Camlin spun to see the gates filling with more men and giants behind them.
No going back through the gates, and there’ll be no getting into the tower and to the tunnels. He looked around frantically, past kennels to a stairwell set in the outer wall. Hardly slowing, he grabbed Lorcan’s cloak and shoved him that way, Brogan following, at the same time drawing and nocking, sending an arrow into the mass of men coming through the gateway. He heard a scream, didn’t wait around to see who his arrow had hit; instead he tracked the man locked in combat with Vonn, but they were too entwined. They rolled to a stop and then Vonn’s voice grunted.
‘Rafe?’
The other figure froze for a heartbeat, and Camlin drew, blocking out the sound of onrushing feet from the gateway, and released.
Somehow Rafe knew, whether
by some instinct or he heard the creak and twang of the bow, Camlin did not know, but Rafe hurled himself away from Vonn, the arrow aimed for his throat sinking into the meat of his thigh instead.
A giant surged out of the doorway towards them, Rafe bellowed, a mixture of pain and rage, and then Camlin was running, Vonn tight on his heels, both of them sprinting along past the wooden kennels and up the stairwell, taking them two at a time.
They climbed, higher, Vonn’s laboured breathing right behind him, the bulk of Brogan above him, waiting.
What do we do when we get to the top of the wall?
A hurled spear hissed past his ear and cracked into the stairs ahead of him, falling away.
‘Duck!’ Brogan yelled, as he hurled his own spear over their heads. It struck a warrior a stride behind Vonn hard as a hammer, piercing chainmail, sinking deep into his chest, sending the man flying back into those behind him.
Then Camlin was at the top, a cold wind whipping across the battlements. Vonn hurried behind him, Brogan was moving forwards to cut down the first man he met with a diagonal slash carving through cheek and jaw. A two-handed swing sent the next one slipping and tumbling off the steps.
Camlin loosed an arrow hissing into the mass of men crushed on the steps, heard a scream, nocked again, loosed, saw another man fall.
I could do this all night, he thought, or as long as my bag of arrows lasts. Without taking his eyes from the enemies on the stairwell, he brushed a hand over the quiver at his belt, counted ten or twelve more feathers.
Shouting drew his attention along the wall, where a knot of warriors were heading their way. They’d soon be surrounded.
Really need t’think of something, quick.
‘Any ideas?’ he yelled.
‘Hoping you’d be the man for that,’ Vonn grunted back to him, deflecting a spear aimed at Brogan.
Then a giant was on the steps before Brogan, a double-bladed axe in his hands, and Brogan was stepping back, defending raggedly, the power in the giant’s blows too much for him.
Camlin aimed at the giant’s heart, loosed, saw his arrow chopped from the air, splintered; Rafe was standing half a step behind the giant, eyes fixed on Camlin.
I put an arrow through his thigh. He shouldn’t be here. I really need t’put that lad in the ground.
Brogan stumbled back another step, one more and he was back on the battlements.
‘Hold,’ a voice cried from the stairwell.
The giant paused, looked back.
A figure in gleaming mail and black leather climbed the stairs, slipping past the giant.
‘Morcant,’ Camlin muttered with hatred. He knew him from way back.
‘You’ve got nowhere to go,’ Morcant said, raising a hand to the warriors closing on Camlin and his companions. They formed up a score of paces away, swords and spears bristling. Behind Morcant half-shadowed warriors gathered, iron threatening, and another hulking giant. Camlin blinked, recognizing Eisa.
‘You can fight to the death, brave men that you are,’ Morcant shrugged. ‘Or you can give us the necklace, and him.’ He pointed at Lorcan. ‘Oh, aye, I know who you are, Lorcan ben Eremon. So, the stone and Lorcan, and the rest of you walk out of here alive.’
‘You’re a whore-born liar,’ Camlin said calmly, and sniffed. ‘No point making deals with the likes of you.’
‘On my honour,’ Morcant said.
‘That counts for nothing,’ Camlin laughed.
Morcant’s eyes narrowed. ‘I remember you,’ he said. ‘Braith’s snivelling arseling in the Darkwood. You’ve been a thorn in my flesh a long time. I think I’m going to kill you soon.’
‘He’s mine!’ Rafe shouted from a few steps back.
Camlin glanced at the others: Vonn frowning, Brogan’s face set, ready. Lorcan was chewing his lip.
He’s a good lad, and still with a head full of nobility and glory. He’d like t’save us.
‘Morcant’s a snake,’ Camlin said, ‘you can’t trust him.’
‘I do understand your reasoning,’ Morcant said. ‘But if you can’t trust me, perhaps you can trust . . .’ He beckoned and a cloaked figure appeared, obviously a woman, the warriors on the stairs parting for her. She walked a step higher than Morcant and stopped, pulling the hood from her head.
Lorcan hissed.
‘Mam,’ he whispered.
‘Oh, Lorcan, my boy,’ Roisin said, a tremor in her voice.
She’s supposed t’be dead in Dun Crin’s swamps!
‘I forgive you, my darling,’ Roisin said to Lorcan. ‘I understand. You were infatuated with Edana. But come, join me now. Make everything right again.’
‘You made me choose. And what you wanted to do – it was wrong. And what of Rhin?’ Lorcan said. ‘You said she will kill us. You always said that.’
‘Things have changed,’ Roisin replied. ‘Rhin has bigger enemies than us to deal with now. I have been talking with Morcant, and he is regent of Ardan, high in her favour. Rhin is unhappy with Conall’s rule in Domhain, and she searches for someone who will rule Domhain in her name. That could be us. You. Morcant says if you bend the knee to her, swear fealty, Rhin will be merciful.’
‘Serve her?’ Lorcan snapped. ‘She killed my da.’
‘Aye,’ Roisin admitted, ‘a terrible deed, and a mistake. But this is war, bad things happen, and we must look to the future. Sometimes we need to forgive and move on. For all our sakes, and for the sake of our people in Domhain.’
‘And my companions?’ Lorcan said.
He’s wavering. Sure enough, she might have made some bargain t’save her and Lorcan’s skins, but I don’t reckon Morcant’s about t’let me and the others walk out of here with our heads on our shoulders.
‘Morcant’s a liar,’ Camlin said to the boy.
‘Enough,’ Roisin said. ‘Lorcan, come to me.’ She held her hand out. ‘Please.’
‘I have your oath, Mam? They’ll live?’
‘Of course, my darling,’ she said.
‘On my life?’ Lorcan said.
‘Yes, and mine, too.’
‘Don’t do it,’ Camlin hissed at Lorcan.
‘It’s our only chance,’ he said quietly. ‘She’ll not harm me, she’s my mam, and I’ve seen the effect she has on men. Once she has them they’ll do anything for her. Look at the way Morcant’s looking at her.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll be a prisoner, but who knows, maybe you’ll come and rescue me. But only if you get out of here alive.’
And then, before Camlin had a chance to grab him, Lorcan strode down the steps, towards Roisin.
‘You and the necklace,’ Roisin said. ‘I’ve begged and pleaded for your life, and the bargain only stands if you have the necklace.’
‘It’s here,’ Lorcan said, putting his hand inside his shirt of mail. He’d placed it around his neck while he fought. He sheathed his sword and lifted the necklace free, clutching it tight in his fist, and walked down the stairwell. He took Roisin’s out-held hand.
‘Set them free,’ Lorcan said to Morcant.
‘Of course,’ the regent of Ardan said. Then he stepped forwards and punched a knife into Lorcan’s throat.
Roisin screamed as Lorcan began to crumple. With one last great surge of strength Lorcan heaved his arm upwards, launching the starstone necklace high into the air. Morcant stared at it, reaching out. There was the whisper of wings, a dark shape swooping down to pluck the necklace from the air, just before Morcant’s fist snapped shut, and then Craf was swooping upwards, a shadow in the night.
Roisin wailed, wrapping her arms about Lorcan, falling to her knees as his body collapsed, one hand on his throat, trying to stem the pulsing blood.
Another cloak-wrapped figure strode up the stairwell. Rhin. She grabbed the wailing woman and effortlessly dragged her to her feet.
‘Did you think that my Morcant was under your spell?’ Rhin snarled. ‘That he was yours to use?’ She stabbed Roisin in the belly with a knife, twisted it and pulled it free. Roisin gasped, hands clutching
at her wound. Her legs buckled and she fell to the steps.
‘Foolish woman,’ Morcant smiled, kicking Roisin’s body down the steps, limbs flopping.
Brogan gave out a great bellow as he bunched his huge shoulders and charged down the stairwell like an enraged bull.
‘No-Neck!’ Camlin yelled after Brogan, but the warrior was battle-mad and full of vengeance for Lorcan, deaf to words. He threw himself into the cluster of figures on the stairwell, all of them crashing to the ground, even the giants, figures unbalanced, tumbling down steps, some falling with a wail over the edge, Brogan rolling amongst them, still bellowing his fury.
Camlin looked at Vonn, both of them knowing there was no getting Brogan back.
‘Let’s jump,’ Camlin shouted at Vonn.
‘We’ll die,’ Vonn said.
‘Probably,’ Camlin shrugged, ‘but some chance is better’n no chance in my book.’ He leaped onto the battlement, Vonn hesitating a moment, then climbing up beside him.
‘I’ll see you after,’ Camlin shouted, wind snatching his words as he jumped into the darkness.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
LYKOS
Lykos hoisted his pack onto his back, pacing in front of his gathered men.
My ship-breakers.
His best men, the ones he used to storm a ship in a sea battle. Many of them were men who had been with him from the beginning, when he had united the Three Islands, and that meant wading through a sea of blood and iron to crush his rivals and take the islands for his own. Eighty killing machines, each one proven a hundred times over, with the scars to give testimony.
Hard men, one and all.
He glanced up at the sky; the full moon was painting the world in shades of blue-black, gossamer clouds shimmering as if they were gilt-edged.
The drum of footsteps, and Calidus was walking into the courtyard, Legion looming behind him, more Kadoshim following.
‘All is ready?’ Calidus asked him.
‘Aye.’
‘Many years we have laboured together, you and I, and now we are so close. I have been faithful, made you Lord of the Vin Thalun, the Three Islands united behind you. You remember, your heart’s desire?’
