Ruin

by John Gwynne

  ‘We share the same enemy,’ Drust said with a shrug. ‘Rhin betrayed Owain as much as she did Brenin. And I would say to you, for all the harm that Owain did to you and your realm, he was acting out of a desire for vengeance, for the murder of his son. He was mad with grief when he thought that Brenin had Uthan slain.’

  ‘That is a lie,’ Edana hissed.

  ‘I know that now. Rhin played him, played all the kings of the west.’

  ‘The game is not done, yet,’ Edana said. ‘So, tell me how you came to be here.’

  Drust told of the battle between Owain and Rhin, Nathair’s and Evnis’ betrayal on the battlefield. Once again glances flickered towards Vonn. And Drust also spoke of Cywen helping him to escape.

  ‘She saved my life,’ he said.

  ‘Ha,’ Camlin laughed at that. All eyes swept to him, half-forgotten in the shadows.

  ‘That girl and her brother,’ he said to their enquiring glances. ‘Always in the right place for some action.’

  ‘Sometimes the wrong one,’ Vonn said, not much louder than a whisper.

  A silence settled over the room; the sound of lapping waves drifted through the stone windows.

  ‘Well, hard tales, of that there’s no doubt,’ Pendathran said. ‘But we are gathered together now. Reunited. And your arrival will lift spirits here – Ardan’s princess back amongst her people.’

  ‘I am Ardan’s Queen now,’ Edana corrected.

  ‘Aye, that you are, lass,’ Pendathran said. ‘We shall celebrate tonight, and welcome our royal guests from Domhain.’ He dipped his head to Roisin and Lorcan. Then he stood.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Edana asked him.

  ‘There is always work to do here, lass.’

  ‘But there is more we must speak of.’

  ‘Such as?’ Pendathran frowned.

  ‘Such as, what is the situation here?’ Edana’s smile had gone. ‘Numbers, strategies, what is your plan? Has it been successful thus far?’

  ‘Survival is the plan,’ the big man said, pausing half out of his chair. He looked a little surprised at Edana’s questioning. ‘The rest is boring details for you.’

  ‘Not boring for me, I assure you,’ Edana said. ‘Please, sit and tell me.’

  Pendathran stayed hovering above his chair a moment, then sat.

  He thinks of her still as the frightened girl he last saw in Dun Carreg.

  ‘As I said, survival is top of that list. There are over four hundred of us here now, and we’re still growing, and less than half of them are warriors. They’re families, mostly, seeking a safe haven from Evnis and his justice.’ He paused and sighed. ‘It’s not easy trying to feed this many people; do you know how many fish need to be caught every day?’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Could be worse, though. Fish is the one thing we’re not short of in these marshes, and we’ve managed to trade for grain and the like from villages beyond the marshes.’

  ‘That may be coming to an end soon,’ Roisin said. ‘We passed through one of those villages on the way in. They’d been slaughtered – every last man, woman and bairn. Made an example of.’

  ‘It was Morcant,’ Edana said.

  ‘That’s not the best news,’ Pendathran rumbled. ‘There’s not one of them that could give away our location, but if we can’t trade . . .’

  ‘And other than survival?’ Edana asked again. ‘What is your strategy against Evnis and Rhin?’

  ‘We take the battle to them, when we can.’ His bushy eyebrows knotted together.

  He doesn’t like being questioned like this. Doubt that he’s used to it, and definitely not by the spoilt princess he still thinks Edana is.

  ‘I’m sure the tales of valour are too many to recount,’ Roisin said.

  ‘Go on,’ Edana prompted.

  Pendathran picked at a nail. ‘We’ve killed a few men in Cambren’s black and gold, those who have ventured into the marshes. A few raids further afield. We’re not strong enough to take the fight to Rhin yet. And everyone here, we’ve all lost kin, loved ones . . .’

  ‘Dun Carreg fell over a year ago,’ Edana said.

  They’re scared, Camlin realized. They’ve been beaten and bullied and just want to hide away from it all for a while. Scared of another defeat, and nowhere left to run.

  ‘It is the same throughout the west,’ Roisin said. ‘Domhain’s king has been slain, its warbands broken, its warriors scattered. But not all of us. Wherever we stand together, there is hope. I escorted Edana here because she told me of the warriors of Ardan. Told me they had courage and would fight.’ She looked around the room.

  She makes it sound as if it was her idea, and she’s not mentioned that she considered using Edana as a bargaining piece with Rhin for her precious son. Still, if she can light a fire under their arses then I’ll not complain.

  ‘But this is not fighting,’ Edana said. ‘This is existing.’

  Pendathran’s face coloured, dark blotches appearing on his cheeks. A silence hung in the air, charged with tension, like clouds bloated with thunder.

  ‘You do not understand, my lady,’ Pendathran said through gritted teeth. ‘This is war-making, and there’s more to it than notions of bravery and glory.’

  ‘I understand well enough,’ Edana snapped. ‘I have seen enough bloodshed to rectify any misconceptions I may have once entertained.’ She looked at her hands and Camlin remembered them shaking, spattered with blood, back in the village roundhouse.

  ‘As have I,’ Roisin added. ‘And I understand caution, was its strongest advocate in Domhain. I was wrong, I should have listened to Edana. Victory usually has to be claimed, not observed. Look, here in this room three realms are represented – Ardan, Domhain, Narvon. And who is our enemy? Rhin. And she is weak, her warbands stretched thin over four nations. Now is the time to strike, not sit back and watch her grow strong again.’

  Pendathran sat straighter at that.

  ‘Roisin is right,’ Edana said, not quite keeping the scowl from her face.

  ‘We have done some of that,’ Drust growled. ‘The band I led, which found you, we were heading to the borderland with that intention. But you must understand, there are practicalities. Four hundred is a lot of mouths to feed. And we are not just warriors here, who would be more inclined to risk all. There are women and bairns – families.’

  Edana shrugged. ‘We can’t make a life here hidden away from Evnis and Rhin. They are searching for you even now; eventually they will find you. Better to act now, while they’re still off balance. And besides, I didn’t come here to catch fish and eke out a life in the marshes. I came here to fight back. I’ve had enough of running and hiding. It’s time that Rhin’s tide was turned.’

  ‘I agree,’ Roisin added.

  Camlin looked from Pendathran to Drust. It was clear that those two had been running things here – Pendathran the chief and Drust his captain. And they don’t look to appreciate two women wandering in, throwing their weight about, despite them both being queens.

  ‘That’s all well and good,’ Pendathran said. ‘But fight back how? Morcant patrols the marshes’ border with more men than we can take, and there’s plenty more where they came from. Evnis has a warband of Rhin’s at his disposal, and whatever else I’ll say about him, he’s no fool.’

  ‘No, Evnis isn’t, but Morcant?’ Edana said. ‘I spent some time in the Darkwood with him. He’s arrogant, conceited. Perhaps we can use that.’

  ‘I think you’re onto something there,’ Camlin said. ‘Prod him and he’ll get angry.’

  ‘And angry people make mistakes,’ Edana finished, with a smile twisting her lips.

  ‘Just so, my lady,’ Camlin said with a dip of his head.

  ‘How do you know so much about Morcant?’ Pendathran asked Camlin.

  Camlin looked at him, didn’t want to say, because he was my chief, for a while. I took orders from him, helped him kill your Queen’s shieldmen, your King’s first-sword, capture your Queen and your Princess.

  Edana filled t
he growing silence. ‘Camlin helped to rescue me from Morcant in the Darkwood. He drew his sword and stood between us.’

  ‘Of course, I remember now,’ Pendathran said, eyeing Camlin suspiciously. ‘You were one of the brigands that we hunted down in the Baglun.’

  ‘I was,’ Camlin said. Can’t deny that.

  ‘And I recall taking you back to Dun Carreg as a prisoner.’

  Aye, that’s true enough. Eighty men after twelve of us. And things were different then. I’d rather run and live than fight and die.

  ‘So if we were to try and prod him, how would you suggest we go about it, Edana?’ Roisin asked. Pendathran and Drust shared a look.

  Edana and Roisin have swept in here like a summer gale. The two men don’t know what’s hit them.

  ‘Camlin is a master huntsman and tracker; during my escape to Domhain he masterminded a number of ambushes against over-whelming odds.’

  Camlin almost blushed at that, feeling heat flush his neck. Don’t think anyone’s ever spoken about me like that before.

  Then he realized that all eyes in the room were upon him.

  He blinked.

  ‘Well?’ Pendathran said.

  Good question. What should we do? He remembered Morcant upon his warhorse in the village square, tall and proud, his words to the village elders. A mixture of threat and bribe.

  ‘Someone needs to take that chest of silver from Morcant,’ he said.

  Camlin blinked as the blindfold was removed from his eyes. Drust stuffed the rag into a hemp bag and moved on to the next person beside Camlin, lifting their blindfold too. It was Vonn.

  ‘I don’t see the need for that,’ Vonn muttered as Drust carried on down the line, pulling blindfolds from another dozen men.

  ‘Makes sense to me,’ Camlin said quietly to him. ‘Less that know the way to Dun Crin, the safer it is. A tortured man will talk in the end, no matter how brave he thinks he is, but you can’t tell what you don’t know.’

  ‘Just feels like we’re not trusted,’ Vonn muttered.

  Camlin raised an eyebrow at that. Something I’m used to. Can’t blame Vonn for feeling like that, though, the way everyone looks at him as soon as his da’s name is mentioned.

  ‘It’s not just us,’ Camlin said nodding down the bench, where warriors who had been at Dun Crin before them were having blindfolds removed.

  Vonn looked but didn’t comment.

  They were sitting in a long barge with about thirty warriors, now standing and clambering onto the riverbank, a force picked to go and get Morcant’s chest full of silver.

  If it’s still there. And if it’s not, we need to find it. Otherwise it’ll be the end of Dun Crin and Edana’s resistance. Only takes one tongue to wag, and there’s altogether too much silver in that chest for everyone to resist. Loyalty only goes so far . . . He’d explained as much at the council meeting. Edana had backed him completely, and Pendathran had grudgingly agreed that the silver posed a danger that should be investigated.

  He stood and stepped onto dry land, gave himself a moment for his legs to adjust.

  Camlin had planned most of this incursion, but Drust was clearly in charge here, Camlin recognizing most of the warriors as Drust’s crew. A few of Roisin’s shieldmen had volunteered as well, though – Brogan one of them. He looked over at Camlin and smiled cheerfully.

  You’d think he was still at the feast night.

  They had had quite the celebration at Dun Crin on the evening that they’d arrived, three nights gone now, a lot of sore heads the next morning. Edana and Roisin had been all business, though, pulling him to one side the next day.

  ‘What is it?’ Camlin had asked them.

  ‘Much rides on this,’ Edana had said to him.

  He nodded. ‘Some objections to your right to lead?’

  ‘I had not expected more politicking,’ Edana sighed. ‘Here, amongst my own people, my own kin.’

  ‘Huh,’ snorted Roisin. ‘Family is politics, the hottest forge you’ll find.’

  Aye, and some come out sharp as iron, others bent and twisted. Some a little of both.

  ‘So my little trip needs to be successful,’ Camlin said.

  ‘Exactly. Eyes are watching, and judging.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’ Camlin mustered a smile he didn’t feel.

  ‘You always have,’ Edana said, and then walked away.

  So here he was, three days later, standing on a riverbank, nominally leading thirty men into enemy-infested land in search of a chest of silver that was probably no longer there.

  Beats sitting by a lake eating frogs. Besides, it’s my fault I’m here, nobody else’s. No one made me open my big mouth.

  He reached inside a pouch and strung his bow.

  ‘You ready?’ he said to Drust as the warrior approached him.

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Course.’

  Drust gestured for him to lead the way, then leaned in close as Camlin was passing him.

  ‘Don’t go getting my lads killed, or me, for that matter.’

  ‘Do my best,’ Camlin said with a sour twist of his mouth.

  They crept single-file along the riverbank, Camlin’s eyes and ears working ceaselessly. When the village came into view he hadn’t heard or seen anything that set his hairs tingling. Birds were singing, insects buzzing.

  Buzzing a little too much, he thought as he paused behind the last cover between them and the first buildings.

  Camlin raised his hand and the group split, more than half of them looping away east with Drust, setting a perimeter. Camlin waited a while, giving them time to reach their marks, then with a nod to those behind him he moved quick and silent across the open ground to the first buildings.

  By the time he reached the central square he knew they were alone. The village was as they had left it, inhabited by a horde of flies and maggots, the bodies of the dead a little more decayed, a little more chewed upon. He threaded his way through the putrefaction, trying not to breathe any more than he needed, then reached the roundhouse doors. They were still wide open, fresher dead littering the floor amongst the more seriously decomposed. Camlin saw one of his arrow shafts poking from a throat.

  The chest was gone, a depression in the ground where it had sat.

  A lot of silver in there to leave that kind of dent.

  He sent a warrior to tell Drust; the red-haired warrior returned with the messenger soon after.

  ‘A waste of time, then,’ Drust said as he strode into the courtyard, pausing and doing a double-take at the scattered dead.

  ‘Elyon’s bones,’ he muttered.

  ‘Not Elyon’s,’ Camlin said.

  ‘Back to Dun Crin, then,’ Drust whispered, not able to tear his eyes away from the heaps of tattered flesh and bone.

  ‘There’s another option I’d advise,’ Camlin said.

  ‘What?’

  Camlin pointed to wheel tracks in the dirt. He bent down, picked at a pile of horse dung close by.

  ‘They took the chest out on a wain, no longer than a day ago. This dung’s fresher’n your breath.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘We should follow it. See if there’s a chance of snatching it.’

  Drust shook his head.

  ‘Risks are too high. And we can’t move across this open ground – no horses. Morcant catches us, we’d be ridden down.’

  ‘True enough, but I’m not suggesting we stroll through the meadows. Most could stick to the waterways, just a couple of us out keeping an eye on the trail.’

  ‘If the trail follows the marshes.’

  ‘Aye, again, true enough. But I’ve more’n a hunch that Morcant is taking his silver through the villages around the marsh.’

  ‘I’ll not risk my men’s lives on a hunch.’

  Camlin sucked in a breath, biting back an angry response. ‘You’re not understanding,’ he said slowly. ‘Morcant will use that silver to bribe the villages surrounding these marshes. I heard him say as much. No matter how loyal a sou
l, there’s not many that’ll choose torture closely followed by death over a bag of silver. Even if no one knows your whereabouts now, once the population around here gets a sniff of that silver there’ll be eyes on you, searching for you. It’ll only be a matter of time before Dun Crin is betrayed. Eventually someone somewhere will offer to guide him and a lot of sharp iron to Dun Crin – it’s just too much silver. If we don’t find and take it from him, you and all your men are dead. Just not yet, that’s all.’

  Drust frowned at him, the silence growing.

  ‘We don’t know these marshes well enough. We’re as likely to get lost as find this chest of silver.’

  ‘I might have a solution to that.’ Camlin looked around the edge of the courtyard. ‘Meg,’ he shouted. There was a silence, then a shadow emerged from a building, Meg stepping into the sunlight.

  Least she’s got the manners to look guilty.

  ‘Thought you might follow us,’ Camlin said.

  Drust scowled.

  ‘She’s only a bairn, but she’s also part water rat. No chance of Morcant or his lads ever catching her. And she knows the marshland. Ready-made guide.’

  Drust thought some more, scratched his beard, blue eyes narrowed.

  ‘You need to take that silver,’ Camlin said. ‘It’s self-preservation.’

  ‘Think you might be right,’ the ageing warrior said, frowning down at Meg. ‘All right then. We’ll follow your marsh rat.’ He gripped Camlin’s arm before he could stride away. ‘Pendathran told me what you were – a brigand from the Darkwood. Edana may be convinced of your worth, but I’m not. I’ve bitten too many rotten apples in my time. I’ll be watching you.’

  ‘Didn’t expect anything different,’ Camlin said. He pulled his arm free and walked away.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  HAELAN

  Haelan gripped the boulder and heaved, wobbling as he stood upright, almost toppling back into the stream that the boulder had been hauled from. He looked into the meadow, at the piles of rock spaced around it at regular intervals. He took a deep breath and started into the meadow, Pots running circles around him, enjoying the game.