by John Gwynne
‘Up,’ Maquin ordered.
Slowly the man stood, eyes flickering to the sheathed sword hanging over the cot.
‘Don’t,’ Maquin grunted, kicking the back of the man’s leg, sending him tumbling away from the cot. He slung the sword and belt over one shoulder.
‘Why are you here? Not at the arena?’ Maquin asked as the Vin Thalun climbed to his feet.
He glowered at Maquin. ‘Someone has to stand guard; Lykos’ orders. I pulled the short straw.’
‘Outside,’ Maquin ordered and followed his prisoner out of the door, directing him behind the cabin, into the trees. It was twilight; the world was slipping into degrees of shadow. Maquin dropped his bundle of provisions. ‘On your knees, hands behind your head,’ he grunted.
The Vin Thalun lunged forwards, turning as he moved, reaching for Maquin’s knife arm.
Maquin was too quick for him, sidestepping, slashing at the warrior’s hand, his blade coming away red. He barrelled forwards, the Vin Thalun somehow managing to grip his wrist. Maquin head-butted him, blood spurting from the Vin Thalun’s nose. He staggered and dropped to the ground.
Time for you to die.
The Vin Thalun must have read the thought in Maquin’s eyes, and he began to plead.
Undergrowth rustled and Fidele stepped out from amongst the trees.
‘You’re not supposed to be here,’ Maquin said.
‘You’ve been gone a long time. I was starting to worry.’
That felt strange – someone caring whether he lived or died. ‘Found someone in the cabin. You should look away.’
‘I’ve seen the colour of blood before. And he’s Vin Thalun,’ she snarled, looking at the rings in his beard. ‘I’d be happy to watch you slaughter a whole nation of them.’
‘All right then,’ Maquin grunted.
‘I can tell you where they are,’ the warrior blurted as Maquin stepped close, knife moving.
‘Where who are?’ Maquin growled; his knife blade hovered at the man’s throat.
‘Lykos’ secret. The giantess and her whelp.’
CHAPTER FIVE
CAMLIN
Camlin lay on a table in a ship’s cabin, various pains clamouring for his attention. The broken arrow shaft still buried in his shoulder won.
‘Bite on this and lie still,’ a voice said beside him. Baird, a warrior of Domhain, thrust a leather belt at him. He was one of Rath’s Degad, the feared giant-killers of Domhain. He had been assigned by Rath to see Edana to safety. In Camlin’s mind there was still a way to go on that score, as they were stuck on a ship with only a handful of faithful men about Queen Edana; the rest of them were loyal to Roisin, the mother of Lorcan, young heir to the throne of Domhain.
Running again.
‘Take it, you’re going to need it,’ Baird said. He grinned at Camlin, the skin puckering around the empty eye-socket in his face.
‘Don’t see there’s much t’be grinning about,’ Camlin said bitterly.
‘It was a good fight. One to make a song about,’ Baird replied, referring to the battle fought on the beach and quayside as they had made their escape. ‘And we’re still breathing. Happy to be alive, me.’
With a grimace, Camlin bit down on the belt.
‘You’ll need to hold him,’ Baird said, and Vonn’s serious face loomed over Camlin, his hands pressing on his chest.
‘Still need t’breathe, lad,’ Camlin muttered.
‘How can I help?’ Edana this time.
Half of Ardan is in this cabin.
‘Don’t think you should be in here, my lady,’ Baird said. ‘There’ll be some blood, probably some cursing too.’
Edana snorted. ‘I’ve seen enough blood already, and spilt some myself. As for the cursing, I’ve travelled with Camlin for near a year now. I don’t think I’ll hear anything I haven’t already.’
‘Well, if you’re set on staying, try holding his feet.’
Baird cut away Camlin’s shirt sleeve, gently probing the arrow shaft. A spike of pain lanced through Camlin, blood oozed lazily from the wound.
‘Sure you know what you’re doing?’ Camlin growled. ‘What with only one eye . . .’
‘Is this the time to be upsetting me?’ Baird said, grinning again. ‘Done this a few times, should be fine. The arrow-head’s too deep. Going to have to push it through.’
‘Best get on with it, then, it’s not going t’fall out by itself.’
‘Agreed,’ Baird said, gripping the broken shaft.
Camlin screamed.
‘How does it feel?’ Vonn asked.
Camlin stood on the deck of the ship, leaning on a rail, watching the dawn sun wash across blue-grey waves. To the east a line of dark green marked the distant southern coast of Domhain.
Slowly he rolled his shoulder and lifted his left arm, which had been healing nicely for the last two days.
‘Feels like I’ve been shot with an arrow,’ he grimaced. ‘It’s mending well,’ he added at Vonn’s concerned expression. Lad’s got no sense of humour.
Be a while before I can draw my bow, though, damn Braith to the Otherworld.
Images of the battle filled his mind: Braith, his old chief from the Darkwood toppling off the quay into the ocean. Conall knocking his brother Halion senseless as Camlin escaped to the ship with Roisin’s son, Lorcan. Looking back as they sailed away, Conall cutting Marrock’s throat and tossing him to the waves.
Marrock. First real friend I’ve had in a long while. He felt the man’s loss keenly, along with Halion’s. They had felt like a brotherhood, friends bound by more than a common cause. And the others – Dath and Corban, even old Brina. I wonder, have they found Cywen? Are they still even breathing? The world was in flux, constantly changing around him. It was hard for a man to keep up. ’Specially when all I’ve known for twenty years is the Darkwood. Still, can’t change the truth of things. Have t’bend with it. Better’n breaking.
You should leave, the old persistent voice said in his head. Walk away, make a life for yourself before you get yourself killed for some lordling’s cause that means nothing to you. Besides, look at you – you’re not the sort t’be mixing with queens and noble warriors; you’re a thief, a villain.
Dolphins leaped through waves, keeping pace alongside the ship. Can’t leave now, I’ve come too far, made promises.
You’ve sworn no oaths.
Not out loud, no. But I need t’see this through. Besides, can’t exactly walk away right now. I’m not much for swimming.
‘Where’s Edana?’ he asked Vonn, who had settled beside him, staring silently at the coastline.
‘In her cabin. Baird’s guarding her.’ He was silent a moment. ‘Do you think we can trust him?’
‘Baird? He’s a good man t’have around in a scrap. Trust; now that’s another matter. What d’you think?’
‘I wouldn’t ask me. I’m not such a good judge. I trusted my father, remember.’ He pulled a sour face and looked down at the waves.
Camlin felt a wave of sympathy for the young warrior. Evnis, betrayer of Dun Carreg, slayer of Brenin, King of Ardan. Not the best da in the Banished Lands to have.
‘Think you can be forgiven for that,’ Camlin said. ‘Most of us do. Trust our da, I mean. For a while, at least.’
Vonn didn’t respond.
‘As for Baird, my guess is he’s one of those that gives his word and keeps it as best he can. Him and Rath were close, and he swore to the old man to see Edana safe.’
‘He did,’ Vonn agreed.
‘Well, t’my mind she’s not safe yet. We may be on a ship sailing away from Domhain, Rhin and Conall, but most of those aboard don’t owe Edana naught, and Roisin and her boy Lorcan command a score of warriors. We won’t be safe till we’re off of this tub and away from them, is my thinking. Even if Edana is promised to Lorcan, I don’t trust Roisin to keep her word. ’
Edana. Fugitive Queen of Ardan. Initially Camlin had become part of this group through circumstance. After the fall of Dun Car
reg it had been his friendship and loyalty to a few – Marrock and Halion, the lads Dath and Corban – that had kept him with them. Now, though, they were all gone. He stayed now for Edana. At first she had seemed to be a spoilt princess, ill equipped to lead and not worth following. Over the course of their flight from Dun Carreg, through the wilds of Cambren and the mountains that bordered Domhain, Camlin had seen a change in her. A moment stuck in his mind, in the mountains when Marrock had chosen to stay on a suicide mission and delay their pursuit. Edana had stepped in. We’ll all stay, or all go. I’ll not lose you so that I can run a little longer. That’s what she had said.
Took some stones, that did. And from that moment a kernel of respect for the young woman had taken root in Camlin. Over the following moons it had grown, seeing how she had dealt with old Eremon and the cunning politicking of his Queen, Roisin.
Think she might be worth following, after all.
As if the thought of her had been a summons Edana appeared on the deck and came towards them, Baird at her shoulder. Her fair hair was bound tight in what looked like a warrior braid; her face was pale and drawn. A grey cloak, the colour of Ardan, was wrapped about her shoulders, her hand resting on a protruding sword hilt.
‘I’m going to see Roisin,’ she said. ‘Thought my shieldmen should be at my side.’
Shieldmen. Been called plenty of things in my time, but not one of those before.
‘Of course,’ Vonn said.
‘What’s this about?’ Camlin asked, then felt Vonn frowning at him. Keep forgetting she’s a queen.
Edana looked about. The ship was a single-masted trader, the steering rudder on a raised platform at the stern. Roisin and her son slept – and for the last two nights had all but lived – in a cabin beneath the steering platform. Two warriors stood by the door.
‘It’s time we all know where we stand. I would know if Roisin will honour Eremon’s last words to us.’
She straightened her shoulders and set off, Baird, Vonn and Camlin falling in behind her. Edana stopped before the two warriors guarding the stern’s cabin.
‘I would speak with your lady,’ she said, her voice firm.
The two men regarded her a moment.
‘Get on with it, then, Cian,’ Baird said good-naturedly, but Camlin could feel the threat of violence emanating from the man. He was like a pulled bowstring, always on the edge of release. One of the warriors frowned at him, but after another moment he knocked and then entered the cabin.
‘And tell Roisin to pour some wine,’ Baird called after him.
Edana looked at him and he shrugged.
‘She will see you, my lady,’ Cian said, holding the door open. Edana entered. Cian stepped between her and her shieldmen. ‘Not you,’ he told them.
‘I swore an oath to Rath,’ Baird said. ‘See her safe to Ardan. I’ll not be letting her out of my sight after the stunt Quinn pulled. You going to try and make me an oathbreaker?’ He took a step forwards.
‘Let them in,’ a voice called from within the cabin.
The warrior hesitated a moment, then stepped aside before following them into the room.
The cabin was dark; Camlin’s eyes took a moment to adjust. Instinctively he hung back, eyes scanning for points of exit. A shuttered window on the far wall, the door behind him. That was all. The room was small, sparsely decorated – a table, two chairs, two cots built onto the walls. Roisin sat in a chair at the table, a flickering candle highlighting her pale skin, jet black hair a dark nimbus about her. She looked exhausted, cheeks gaunt, eyes dark pools of shadow, but even under these circumstances she was still beautiful.
‘Forgive Cian,’ she said with a wave at the door. ‘My shieldmen have been tense since Quinn’s betrayal.’
That’s fair enough, thought Camlin. He caught us all off-guard. Should have trusted my instincts, though. Never liked him.
‘That is understandable,’ Edana said, taking a seat and the wine that Roisin offered her.
Quinn had been King Eremon’s first-sword, Roisin’s champion. He had turned traitor on the beach in Domhain, when it had become clear that the ship they were boarding was too small to take them all to safety. With a handful of warriors he had attempted to snatch Lorcan and use him to bargain with Conall. Camlin had seen Halion put a sword through the traitor’s heart, although Quinn’s poison-tipped blade had slowed Halion enough for Conall to take him prisoner.
‘I would talk frankly with you,’ Edana said. ‘These are dark times, and some clarity would go a considerable way to easing all our minds.’
‘Dark times indeed. My husband is murdered, my kingdom stolen. My son pursued by a usurper.’
‘Yes. The crimes against us both are many. But I have not come to talk of the past, but of the future.’
‘Ask your questions,’ Roisin said, taking a long draught of her drink.
‘Your intentions. You have twenty shieldmen about you still. Do you intend to honour King Eremon’s last words to me? To set me ashore in Ardan?’
‘Ah, Eremon. The stubborn old fool. He should have fled with us. Should be here.’
They sat in silence, Roisin staring into her cup. With a shudder she lifted her gaze.
‘And what of your promise to him? To take Lorcan with you to safety? To be handbound to him?’
Edana looked at her calmly. ‘I will not be handbound to Lorcan. That agreement is dead. It was on the condition that Domhain’s warband defeated Rhin and helped me regain the throne of Ardan. Domhain’s warband is scattered; that hope gone. But if you wish, I will take you and Lorcan with me, give you what protection I can.’ She smiled wanly. ‘It may not be much. I hope to return to Ardan – as Eremon said, there is rumour of resistance gathering in the marshlands around Dun Crin – but it will be dangerous. Rhin rules there, with Evnis as her puppet. I do not know how many, if any, will be loyal to me. I cannot guarantee your or Lorcan’s safety. Your other option is to sail as fast and as far away as possible, to go into a life of hiding, but I fear Rhin will hunt you, as she has hunted me. Lorcan and I are a threat to her power: we are legitimate heirs and a standard for the dispossessed to rally around.’
‘There is another option,’ Roisin said, slowly sitting straighter, looking at Edana from under heavy-lidded eyes. ‘I could hand you to Rhin. A gift, in return for Lorcan’s safety.’
She has teeth yet, the snake, Camlin thought, feeling a tension settle upon all in the room.
‘That would be foolish,’ Edana said, smiling tiredly. Of all of them she appeared the calmest. ‘You cannot trust Rhin, whatever promises she makes. Lorcan is still a threat, no matter what gift he gives her. And she has placed Conall on the throne of Domhain – he will not suffer Lorcan to live. Surely you know that.’ She stared straight at Roisin, holding her gaze. The older woman glared back, fierce and proud. Then, abruptly, like a sail with its wind taken from it, she slumped.
‘I know you speak the truth,’ she whispered.
‘I will offer you a new deal,’ Edana said. ‘We have a common enemy, one that wishes us both dead and our supporters destroyed. Join me – see me safe to Ardan, help me in the fight to reclaim my home, and when it is done, I shall do the same for you. I vow on the cairns of my murdered parents, by the blood that runs in my veins and with every ounce of strength I possess: I shall see Lorcan back upon the throne of Domhain.’ She stood suddenly, drawing a knife from within her cloak. Roisin tensed; her shieldmen took a step.
Edana drew the blade across the palm of her hand, blood welling, dripping, and offered her knife to Roisin.
The older woman sat and stared a moment, then stood and took the knife. She cut her palm and gripped Edana’s hand tightly, their blood mingling.
‘I vow to see you safe to Ardan, and to do all I can to help you reclaim your throne,’ Roisin said.
More like you know where you and Lorcan are best protected, thought Camlin. Not that sticking close to us is anything like safe, but if Rhin is going to be hunting us, the more swords about eve
ryone the better.
Roisin sighed, sitting back in her chair as Cian moved to her side.
‘But Lorcan will be disappointed that you are not to be handbound,’ she said. ‘I think he is a little infatuated with you. Perhaps you could not tell him for a while, let him down gently.’
Just then the door burst open, Lorcan striding in, a warrior shadowing him. He was slim, dark-haired, fine featured, almost pretty like his mother. ‘Ah, my two favourite ladies,’ he said with a smile. ‘My mother and my future wife.’
Edana rolled her eyes and Camlin suppressed a laugh.
CHAPTER SIX
RAFE
Rafe splashed up to his waist into the surf and grabbed the body floating in the waves. A black shaft sprouted from its chest. That’d be more of Camlin’s handiwork. Rafe had seen the huntsman on the quay, shooting arrow after arrow into Conall’s men. Half a dozen other corpses were laid out on the beach with matching arrows sticking from some part or other of their bodies. He looked out to sea, but the ship Camlin, Vonn and his companions had escaped on was long gone, not even a dot on the horizon now.
What am I doing here?
The answer to that was simple enough: he’d been ordered to come. Back at Dun Taras, when a hungry mob had opened the gates to Queen Rhin, Rafe had told Rhin and her force how he’d seen Edana and her companions flee the fortress. Conall had set about raising a pursuit, and Braith, Rhin’s huntsman, had been part of that. Braith needed huntsmen, had asked for any that knew how to handle a brace of hounds. Conall had volunteered Rafe. And that was that.
So here I am, hundreds of leagues from home, on a cold beach on the edge of the world.
Rafe grunted as he dragged the corpse to shore; another warrior came to help him as he struggled onto the shingle. A hound whined and sniffed the body as Rafe and the other warrior hauled the dead weight along the beach, laying it down alongside the other dead, over a score of those who had ridden from Dun Taras with Conall.
That Halion knows how to swing a blade, I’ll give him that.
