Valour

by John Gwynne

  The other giants bellowed war cries and came rushing forward. Then there was a crashing from behind Corban, the sound of bodies speeding through the undergrowth, and he remembered the wolven.

  They burst into the glade, one leaping at the first form it saw, a giant. It sank its teeth into the giant’s shoulder. Another skidded to a halt, colliding with a bunch of figures – Corban saw Edana spinning through the air, then he heard his mam scream. She was tumbling across the ground, entwined with the wolven.

  He yelled wordlessly and ran after them.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  UTHAS

  Uthas stared in disbelief at the people who poured out of the trees. At first he thought it was Rath, that the warrior had somehow managed to lead his band of giant-killers around them in a flanking manoeuvre, but these were on foot. And a wolven was with them, white with dark streaks across its torso, like great claw marks.

  Fray and Struan were the first to move. The wolven leaped at Fray, the giant and beast tumbling to the ground. Struan waded in with his hammer, but one of the newcomers who looked like a giantling stepped forwards, complete with his own war-hammer. He ducked and swung, landing a blow on Struan’s hip; there was a sound of bones snapping.

  Uthas gripped his spear, unsure whether to attack or retreat, the knowledge that Rath was still behind gnawing at him. How close? He took a step forwards then paused as more wolven charged out of the trees, attacking indiscriminately.

  If we stay here we will die; we must fight free. He strode forwards, Salach defending him on his left. Giants and men and wolven were everywhere, a heaving mass. Kai’s mangled body lay on the ground, throat torn out. Nearby, Struan was surrounded, swinging his axe at half a dozen human attackers. I must help him. I have spent so long grooming them, preparing them. An arrow flew out of nowhere and sank into his shoulder, the impact rocking him. He looked about, saw two figures crouched amongst the trees, both with bows in their hands. He moved, feeling another arrow whistle past his face.

  ‘It is too late; this battle is already lost,’ Salach said, gripping his arm. ‘You cannot save them. We must leave.’

  Struan had fallen to one knee, warriors about him stabbing and slashing.

  Uthas bellowed in frustration, then saw Eisa locked in combat with a wolven. He said her name and charged, Salach following, sending his axe whistling into the spine of the wolven Eisa was fighting. Uthas grabbed her arm, pulling her. Then they were running for the trees.

  Something made him pause – an invisible change in the air about him, a pressure emanating from the glade behind.

  The earth power. Someone uses it.

  He turned and scanned the glade, his eyes drawn to two of the humans. They were standing together, a man and woman, both gripping a broken branch. As Uthas watched, he heard them speak a word in his tongue, and the branch burst into flames.

  He felt the great anger stir within him, looking at these men, these upstarts, destroyers of his people, stealers of his land and the life he had lived.

  And now they were thieving the giants’ greatest treasure. The earth power. He had taught Rhin something of it, but she was different, was his key to the future, to changing the fate of his clan. And she had saved him. These two before him were just vermin, scavengers of a noble order laid low by time and misfortune. Unlike many of his kin he was not ruled by his emotions, was proud of his control amongst a people who were dominated by the great tides of their passion. But as he looked back he felt his walls of self-control crumbling, a rage building until he was consumed with only one thought. Kill these usurpers.

  With a snarl, he strode back into the glade.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CORBAN

  Corban stood over the body of his mam, too scared to check whether she was alive or dead. Storm was locked in battle with the wolven that had attacked Gwenith; Corban and Gar were searching for an opening to finish the beast. Gar darted forward, stabbing, his blade coming back dark with blood. Then Storm had the wolven by the throat and was shaking it. The other animal’s legs kicked, weakened, then went limp.

  Corban caught a glimpse of Halion, Marrock and Farrell circling a giant, the hulking warrior bleeding from many wounds. Vonn stood before Edana, slashing at a pair of crouched wolven.

  There was a crackling sound, a wave of heat and Corban saw Heb holding a burning branch. The old man ran at the wolven stalking Vonn and Edana, brandishing the branch. They crouched low and retreated, snarling. Arrows suddenly sprouted from one.

  Camlin and Dath.

  A voice rang out in the glade, discordant. It took a moment for Corban to realize the words were being spoken in giantish.

  ‘Sglamhair, thu rach do fada, truailleadair,’ a giant yelled, taking long strides, rage pulsing from each word.

  Heb turned, saw the giant coming for him, stood frozen a moment.

  ‘Mi riar gun ruith,’ Heb called out and raised the burning branch.

  The giant barked a command and the flames snuffed out, smoke curling upwards.

  No. He cannot face a spear-wielding giant with a stick. Corban thought. ‘Lasair,’ he cried out as he launched into motion, fear for Heb’s life overwhelming all other thoughts.

  The stick in Heb’s hand burst back into flames, fiercer and brighter than before. Heb looked stunned, and the giant’s gaze snapped onto Corban. For a moment he faltered in his charge, the hatred in his gaze a palpable thing. Then Heb smashed the branch into the giant’s face with an explosion of sparks.

  The giant howled and snarled, then thrust with his spear. Heb moved, swinging the branch again. Their weapons connected at the same moment, Heb’s burning branch crashing into the giant’s chest, the giant’s spear-blade piercing Heb’s shoulder. He cried out, sinking to his knees as the giant pulled the blade free.

  ‘No!’ Corban screamed, leaping forwards.

  Brina was there before him, lunging at the giant, sinking a knife into his thigh. He bellowed and hurled Brina to the ground. She screamed as the giant buried his spear in Heb’s belly. Blood sprayed as he wrenched it free, Heb toppling sideways. The giant stood over Brina, spear raised high, then a bundle of feathers fell from above, squawking, claws raking at the giant’s face.

  Craf.

  Then Corban was there, Storm a step behind him. He swung his sword, the giant stumbled back, Storm bunched to leap. Other giants appeared, one stepping before Corban, another grabbing the one that had stabbed Heb, dragging him away. At the same time there was a crashing from the far end of the glade as mounted warriors poured out of the trees.

  Corban exchanged a flurry of blows with the giant before him. They parted and there was a whistling sound, an arrow skittering off the giant’s chainmail coat.

  Dath?

  The huge warrior snarled once at Corban and then he was fleeing, following his two companions as they disappeared amongst the trees.

  The riders had paused. Corban saw expressions of confusion and shock, then one spurred their mount on, sword raised, others following, spreading through the glade. Many of them chased after the fleeing giants. One speared a wolven as they galloped past.

  ‘Storm, to me,’ Corban yelled, fearing she would be attacked by these newcomers. Gar lowered his sword and ran to Gwenith’s body, fingers touching her neck. Corban felt a wave of fear and nausea. She is so pale. Elyon above, please let her live.

  Gar looked up at him. ‘She still breathes.’

  Corban bent and stroked her face, felt a shallow pulse. Her eyes fluttered open, then closed again. Corban gave Gar a weak smile, relief flooding him. Gar had tears in his eyes, running down his face. He must have thought she was dead. He felt tears of his own and brushed them away.

  There was one giant remaining, fallen to his knees. Farrell, Marrock and Vonn were circling him. The riders pulled close, weapons flashing. With a roar the giant stood, lashing out, sending Farrell and Marrock and Halion flying in different directions. Farrell rolled to a rest at Corban’s feet, and with a groan pushed himself u
p.

  One of the riders spurred their horse forward, skewering the giant with a spear as they passed, then leaped from the horse’s back, one hand clinging to the giant’s cloak, the other pulling a knife across its throat. Blood fountained and the giant toppled to the ground, its killer rolling and rising in one graceful move, almost right in front of Corban. The warrior’s helm had fallen in the roll and Corban blinked. It was a girl, red hair tied tight, wisps of it come loose.

  Halion shouted and he ran towards the girl. She stared at him, body tensed, then grinned as Halion reached her. They embraced.

  ‘Who’s she?’ Dath said as he emerged from the trees.

  ‘Don’t know, but I think I’m in love,’ Farrell said.

  Still grinning at each other, Halion and the girl parted, then Halion looked about and saw Corban and Farrell staring at him.

  ‘Corban, this is Coralen. My sister.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  EVNIS

  Evnis stared at the scene unfolding before him, with Conall stepping into the ring about the fire-pit.

  When he had returned, Evnis had heard a whispered report that Conall had had some quarrel with Veradis, something to do with Cywen. What he was doing now was clear, though. He is taking an opportunity, making his mark. What was it he said to me, back in Dun Carreg? Risk much to gain much. Evnis smiled – if he had been Conall, in his position and with his skill, he most likely would be doing the same thing. It is a shame to lose him, though. For, win or lose against Morcant, Evnis would lose Conall from his service, now; either to death or to Rhin.

  Conall walked towards Morcant, stopping a dozen paces from him.

  ‘My first-sword is injured. He has a knife wound in his shoulder. I do not think it would be fair to do this now,’ Rhin said.

  ‘I have a knife wound of my own,’ Conall said, holding his left arm up so that all could see the bloodstained bandage. ‘And given by the same person,’ he added, glancing at Cywen.

  ‘Really?’ Rhin frowned at Cywen. Rhin looked at Morcant, and Evnis saw the warrior nod. ‘Very well,’ Rhin said. Noise erupted as men started swapping bets on the two warriors. Evnis saw Rhin pause as she was returning to her chair, cocking her head as if listening to something. He saw her lips move, as if she were talking to someone, then people were pushing in front of him and he jostled through them to keep his view. When he could see Rhin again she was seated in her chair.

  ‘Begin,’ she said.

  Both warriors held only a sword, no shield or second weapon. Evnis remembered seeing Morcant duel with Tull, and he knew that Morcant was fast, deadly, even though he had lost that duel. But he had also seen Conall spar many times, often against four or five of his own men. He had never lost.

  The two men touched blades, then Conall was lunging forwards, his sword moving quickly, a combination of four, five, six strikes, all blurred into one long move. Morcant retreated, blocking with a touch, a sidestep, until his heels were almost touching the fire-pit. He sidestepped again, swung overhead, pivoted, chopped at Conall’s ribs, but Conall was not there; the man was in constant motion, spinning away, striking as he moved. And he was smiling.

  Morcant followed, parrying, pressing Conall, restricting his space. Evnis nodded approvingly; he had never seen anyone take the fight to Conall like that – most tried to weather the storm, defend until Conall raged himself out, but not Morcant. He blocked, struck, parried, stepped forwards, struck again, mixing stabs, slashes, lunges.

  This cannot last long.

  Conall was no longer smiling.

  The two men moved apart, both breathing heavily. Morcant rested a hand on his thigh, leaning on his blade, sword-tip digging into the earth. Conall took a step forwards and Morcant flicked his wrist, sending earth straight at Conall’s face.

  Conall stepped away, the smile returning.

  ‘I saw you fight Tull,’ he said.

  ‘Worth a try,’ Morcant said, then he was moving forward, sending Conall backwards with long sweeping cuts. Conall retreated to the edge of the ring, almost leaning against the men who made it. Then he was attacking again, Morcant retreating. For a while they just stood, feet planted, trading a flurry of blows, sparks flying. Then Conall’s speed increased, and Evnis could see that finally Morcant was struggling to block the torrent. Conall concentrated his attacks on Morcant’s injured side, striking harder and harder, faster and faster, the blows repeating down Morcant’s arm, into his wounded shoulder.

  Morcant lunged inside Conall’s blows and wrapped his sword arm around Conall, pulling him close, punched him in the face, then hammered his wounded arm. Conall staggered, screamed, tried to pull away, but Morcant would not let go and continued punching Conall’s wound, blood spraying with each punch.

  It is over, thought Evnis, surprised to feel a pang of sadness for Conall.

  Then Evnis saw Conall’s face twist in a snarl, and he barrelled forwards, headbutting Morcant full on the bridge of the nose. Now it was Morcant’s blood that spurted, his turn to stagger backwards. Conall followed, swaying, punched his sword hilt into Morcant’s shoulder. Then Morcant was on his back, Conall’s sword at his throat.

  ‘You’ve been here before,’ Conall said through ragged breaths, then he looked to Rhin.

  ‘Morcant has served me well, and today especially. It would be poor treatment if I were to take his life as payment. Let him live, just blood him a little.’

  Conall sliced his cheek, opposite to where Tull had done the same.

  ‘And it would seem that I have a new first-sword.’ She held her hand out. Conall crossed to her and helped her rise, then they performed the ceremony, cutting their hands and mingling their blood, Conall swearing the oath of loyalty.

  He is moving up in the world, then. I wonder if he realizes what he has let himself in for. Evnis smiled grimly, knowing of Rhin’s appetites.

  Evnis rose early, his body aching and stiff from the previous day’s battle. Groaning, he pulled his boots on, splashed water in his face and left his tent to relieve himself in the fresh morning air. He nodded to Glyn, his warrior standing on watch at the tent’s entrance. As he was fastening his belt, a messenger ran up to his tent.

  ‘Queen Rhin wishes to see you,’ the lad said.

  Conall opened the tent flap for Evnis, beckoning him to enter.

  ‘Risk much to gain much,’ Evnis said to him as he brushed by.

  ‘Just so,’ Conall said.

  ‘You look tired. A long night?’ Evnis said.

  Conall raised his eyebrows and smiled.

  Rhin was seated in one of a handful of chairs around a wide table, maps and parchments strewn across it. When she saw him she rose and took both his hands in hers.

  ‘It has been a long time, since that night in the Darkwood.’

  ‘It has, my Queen,’ Evnis said, surprised to find his voice choked with emotion. ‘We are close, now, so close.’

  Conall poured them some mead.

  ‘So,’ Rhin said to Evnis. ‘I find myself in a wonderful position. Cambren, Narvon and Ardan are mine. And soon I will add Domhain to that list.’

  ‘The dream has become reality,’ Evnis said and they raised their cups and drank.

  ‘Ardan I will leave to you,’ Rhin said.

  ‘Thank you, my Queen.’

  ‘It is only what we agreed, all those years ago. I must turn my attention to Domhain, and I will need someone that I trust to oversee things here. I understand that Owain left some cleaning-up to do?’

  ‘There are rumours of resistance in the south,’ Evnis said.

  ‘I have heard that. You will put an end to it.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘I shall give you men, gold, resources. And I will leave Morcant with you. He has served me well. Even if he has been bested he still has a reputation. He slew Tull, after all, and brought me Owain.’

  ‘As you wish,’ Evnis said. I do not like Morcant – we all need a little pride and arrogance to see us through these times, but he is too proud
, too arrogant. And he had some help in bringing Owain to heel. It was Braith who found him. ‘And shall you stay a while in Ardan, before you leave for Domhain?’

  ‘I think I must leave soon. I have received some strange news this morning – troubling. A messenger arrived from Cambren, and also I have heard from Uthas.’

  Evnis remembered the Benothi giant, the comrade who had been present in the Darkwood all those years ago when Evnis had made his pact with Asroth. He remembered the giant with some fondness, because he had tried to help Fain, had told Evnis of the book beneath Dun Carreg and had urged him to take Fain to the cauldron. ‘Is he well?’ Evnis asked.

  ‘No. He tried to contact me last night, but I was busy and the connection faded before it had begun. Then, this morning, I have spoken a little longer with him. He gave me much to think on.’

  Evnis was silent, waiting for Rhin to continue. He knew it was better not to rush her.

  Then there was a noise at the tent flap, voices. Conall went to see.

  ‘It is Nathair, my Queen.’

  ‘Ah, earlier than I expected. Show him in. And, please, next time announce his full title. He is a king, after all.’

  Evnis smiled, seeing Conall’s discomfort. Even as first-sword there are things you will not like to do.

  The usual group of people attended Nathair: Sumur, Calidus, Veradis and Alcyon, his bulk overshadowing them all. Quickly they were all seated and sipping at their cups, except the giant.

  ‘My thanks for your help, yesterday,’ Rhin began.

  ‘You’re welcome. Though I think the result would have been the same, just a little delayed,’ Nathair said. He was reclining in his chair, looking relaxed, happy even.

  ‘Perhaps.’ Rhin shrugged. ‘But I shall not forget your aid. What would you ask of me? If I can give it, I will.’

  ‘Straight to the point,’ Nathair said.

  ‘When you get to my age, you learn not to waste time. It is too precious. So, what would you ask of me?’