John Gwynne - Valour

‘Your message was ambiguous,’ he said, ‘but I am intrigued. .’

‘Thank you for coming, my lord. I have made arrangements for you to speak with Queen Rhin.’

Nathair raised an eyebrow.

Evnis tried to keep his face calm, to disguise the anxiety he felt. You can do this , he told himself. He had seen it in the book, was confident that he could remember the pages, the incantation, word for word. He licked his lips and strode to the cauldron, lifting the cup from the table.

‘ Fuil glacad anios ag namhaid tor oscail an bealach , he said, filling the words with as much power as he could summon, and poured the cup of blood into the cauldron. Blood taken from a foe, to open the way. His prisoner, still shackled in a room beneath his feet, hadn’t given up his blood easily and his screams had brought a brief relief from these stressful times. The prisoner could scream as long and as loud as he liked — no one would hear him down there. Evnis had not even bothered placing a guard on his door; there was no point. He could not escape, and even if he did, there was nowhere for him to go.

Evnis reached inside his cloak and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment, the letter Rhin had sent to him, delivered by Braith’s outlaw so long ago, written in her spidery hand. He drew his knife, cut his hand and gripped the letter, soaking it in his blood. Then he dropped it into the cauldron.

‘ Croi ar an comchor tor stiur an ruthag. ’

The water bubbled pink and a vapour hissed out of the pot, swirled upwards, glistening, thick and shiny, like cords of mucus. A shape took form in it, silver-haired, a pale, deeply lined face. Rhin.

‘What is this?’ she said, her likeness turning in the vapour, the voice sounding submerged, muted. Then her sharp eyes focused on Evnis. ‘Oh, it is you. I see you have found the book-’

‘My Queen, I have someone with me who wishes to speak to you, urgently,’ Evnis cut in.

‘I’m sure you do,’ Rhin said, a smile ghosting her lips. ‘Who, exactly?’

‘Let me introduce you to Nathair, King of Tenebral.’

Rhin clapped her hands. ‘Excellent. No need for introductions — we have met before. A charming young man. Well, step forward, Nathair, I imagine we have much to talk about.’

CORBAN

Corban listened as Vonn and Farrell told of the ship they had seen land on the beach.

‘They are looking for us,’ Vonn said. ‘A dozen men, all well-armed.’

‘What of my boat?’ Mordwyr interrupted.

‘They were climbing aboard it,’ Farrell said. ‘We did not wait to see what they would do — thought you needed to know.’

‘You did right,’ Marrock said.

‘We need to get Edana out of sight,’ Halion said.

‘Agreed. Camlin — with me. The rest of you get back into the trees. We’ll see you there soon.’

With that, Corban was running back towards the treeline, his feet heavy in the sand and shingle. Halion drew them up within sight of the beach. Marrock and Camlin were dark shadows, crawling through a patch of spindly grass.

‘What are we going to do?’ Dath whispered. Corban just shook his head. His pulse was still racing from their ambush of the riders on the path. Dath was as pale as a corpse.

‘We need to get back on my boat,’ Mordwyr said to Halion, who nodded agreement. He was standing protectively beside Edana.

‘Agreed,’ Brina snapped. ‘It’s the how that is the problem.’

‘They’re coming,’ Gar said.

Marrock and Camlin sprinted across the beach. Halion stepped into view to guide them back to the group.

‘Fifteen warriors at least,’ Marrock panted. ‘They’ve torched our boat.’ Even as he said the words a thick plume of smoke broke above the ridge.

‘No!’ Mordwyr exclaimed and started back for the beach. Vonn grabbed his arm, stopping him.

‘What are we going to do?’ Dath said.

Marrock looked at Edana.

‘We’ll take their boat,’ Halion said.

Corban shifted the weight of his shield on his arm and gripped his sword hilt, trying to still the tremor in his hand. He peered over the ridge, eyes drawn immediately to their boat. It was a burned-out skeleton, flames still licking at the charred ribs. Thick smoke spread along the coast, snatched by a strong wind from the sea. Mordwyr let out a strangled cry, but the sound of the surf was loud, muffling his grief.

A handful of warriors was grouped a little further down the beach, standing beside a half-beached shallow-draughted fisher-boat. Figures moved on its deck — two at least that Corban could see.

Marrock slipped down the ridge and they all huddled close to him.

‘Any ideas?’ he asked, looking at Camlin.

‘There’s no chance of sneaking up on them, and the wind’s too strong to be accurate with a bow from here. Our best bet is to get from here to there quick as we can, ‘fore they have a chance to push off and sail away. An’ keep the charge quiet, no point announcing ourselves.’ With that, Camlin was scrambling over the ridge, Marrock close behind him. Corban took a deep breath, trying to control his rising fear, and followed.

They were spotted almost immediately as they charged, the warriors about the boat crying out, drawing swords, levelling spears. They were closely matched in numbers, but these were all warriors, no strangers to battle by the look of them. Still, judging from the expressions on their faces, something about the sight of Corban and his companions must have been unnerving. Corban glanced at Storm, the grey streaks in her white fur a blur as she gathered speed, spittle spraying from her bared fangs. He felt the urge to laugh; a full-grown wolven hurtling towards you would unsettle anyone.

Halion yelled a war cry, high pitched and keening; somewhere close Farrell bellowed, then the bands were upon each other, a bone-shaking collision.

Corban turned a warrior’s spear-point with his shield, slammed into the man, sending both of them crashing to the ground. They rolled together, the warrior somehow on top of Corban, grabbing his throat. Corban thrashed, felt a flood of panic as he tried to draw breath and couldn’t, then there was the sound of snarling, a ripping, tearing noise, high-pitched screaming, then a crunch, and the grip on Corban’s throat was gone. He staggered to his feet, Storm still shaking the dead warrior by his broken neck.

Corban snatched his sword from the ground, looked about him. Gar tugged his sword from a warrior’s chest. Farrell was standing knee-deep in the surf, swinging his war-hammer at a warrior who had slipped to one knee. There was an explosion of gore as the hammer smashed into the man’s head. Halion blocked an overhead blow, swept his sword round and chopped into the man’s ribs, kicked him back into the surf. Edana stood close behind him, holding her sword two-handed. She was staring at the man Halion had just slain. Vonn was trading furious blows nearby, Marrock running past, hamstringing Vonn’s opponent as he waded into the sea, making for the boat. Corban realized it was moving away, two men pushing desperately on the half-floating hull. An arrow sprouted in the back of one, sending him face down into the foaming sea, but the other carried on, another arrow skittering off the hull, then the boat was floating, hands reaching down to pull the man over the side. Before he was over, someone was grabbing him from behind, swinging a sword into the man’s ribs, clutching onto his ankle as the boat gained momentum. Mordwyr.

Spears stabbed down, one piercing Mordwyr between shoulder and neck. He gave a strangled cry and fell into the sea.

Behind Corban there was a scream: Dath. He dropped his bow and ran into the surf, slipped, fell, staggered on. He reached his da and began heaving him back towards the beach.