John Gwynne - Malice

‘Excellent,’ Heb said. ‘Here all these years, and we never knew.’

‘We are close to the beach,’ Halion said. ‘We need to be clear on what happens next once we are out of here. We are not safe yet.’

While they were discussing options, Corban heard something, in the water.

‘Did you hear that?’ he muttered, prodding Gar.

‘I did,’ said Gar, squinting into the gloom.

A shape reared from the water, a solid mass in the darkness, just beyond their torchlight. Then it exploded towards them: a wyrm, grey-white scales dripping wet, fangs bared. It was bigger than the carcass in the cavern — much bigger — and lunged straight at Corban. He tried to dodge, but the beast was moving too fast. Then Storm barrelled into its neck, claws ripping into the creature’s flesh. Her momentum knocked the wyrm off-balance as her weight dragged it down. Storm’s own prodigious fangs sank deep into the wyrm and it let out a hideous noise, and spasmed on the ground. Its muscles rippled furiously, and Storm was sent hurtling through the air. She crashed into a wall, whimpered, and sagged to the ground.

‘No!’ Corban screamed. He would not lose another this night. He drew his sword and charged for the wyrm.

Everyone about him seemed released from a spell by his movement, most following him to attack. The wyrm reared above them, confused by so many attackers and blows. It dispatched one fighter with a vicious bite to his neck. Then Farrell surged forwards, swinging Thannon’s hammer into the beast’s head. There was a sickening crunch ; the wyrm flopped bonelessly to the ground and lay still.

Tarben stepped forward and drove his sword into its eye. ‘You can never be too sure,’ he said to those staring at him.

Corban rushed over to Storm. She rose unsteadily, and whimpered when Brina examined her shoulder, but apart from that she seemed uninjured.

‘She’ll live,’ Brina pronounced and Corban breathed a sigh of relief.

They tended their wounds, then gathered before the glamoured wall. Halion stepped through first, leading Edana by the hand. She had said nothing since the feast-hall, and walked forwards passively now, with eyes downcast. Corban blinked as both of them disappeared into the rock. Then more were moving forwards, Marrock, Camlin and others, until he was one of only a few that remained.

‘Come along,’ Heb called out to him. Only Gar and his mam were left with him now, and Storm. Gar motioned for him to go first. He closed his eyes instinctively as he stepped into the rock, and almost staggered when he met no resistance, or almost no resistance. There was a building pressure, all about him, in his ears, his skin tingling, then he was through, the small company gathered on a narrow rock shelf before him.

He heard Storm whine, looked down, saw she hadn’t come with him. For a moment he just stood there, unsure, then stepped back through.

Storm was standing before the rock wall, ears flat to her head. She saw him and turned in a circle, whining.

‘She refused to go through,’ Heb said. ‘I tried to give her some assistance, but she gave me a look that left me in no doubt that she did not want my help.’

Corban spent a while trying to coax her through, Gar and Gwenith pushing her from behind, but with no success.

‘Come — on,’ Corban muttered, trying to pull her through. ‘You’re — embarrassing me. Even Craf didn’t make this fuss.’

Eventually, on Gar’s suggestion, Gwenith tore a strip of cloth from her bag, and Corban tied it around Storm’s eyes, stuffing more in the wolven’s ears.

‘Works with horses,’ Gar said with a shrug.

Then they tried again.

This time was more successful, and when Storm’s head and fore-quarters passed through the glamour Corban removed her blindfold. She saw the path in front of her and suddenly bounded across. Heb came last of all.

They were in a high cave, clinging to a narrow, slippery shelf of rock that skirted the slow-churning swell of sea water. It foamed white where it battered upon jagged, crusted rocks. The sound of surf beating against the shore filled the cave, echoing about them.

Hesitantly the small company moved off, Marrock and Camlin slipping ahead to scout. The path twisted and turned, the cave growing wider as they moved along it. Soon Camlin returned, hissing for them to douse their torches. When they turned another twist in the path Corban saw moonlight pouring through the cave’s mouth and gleaming on the lapping water.

Slowly they crept out of the cave’s entrance, and saw Havan’s beach not far away beyond a short expanse of shallow water. The storm had broken, thin rags of cloud scudding across the moon.

All seemed quiet, although the dark clumps that were fisher-boats beached on the shore could have hidden many watchers. Out in the bay Corban could just make out the dark bulk of Nathair’s ship, rising and falling gently on the swell of waves.

Halion called them all together, and soon they had a rough plan and were crossing the water towards the beach, trying not to splash. The tide was ebbing, the water cold enough to snatch Corban’s breath. Then they were picking their way over the beach, Dath and Mordwyr taking the lead, until they came to their own fisher-boat, leaning on its keel in the shingle.

With great effort the entire party, near enough a score of them, pushed the small boat down the beach towards the water’s edge. Corban’s heart thundered with every crunch of shingle beneath feet or the boat’s sliding keel. He almost cheered when he felt waves lap across his feet, then felt the boat shift as it was gripped and tugged by the sea’s gentle sway.

Dath and Mordwyr clambered aboard, the rest of them pushing the boat out further, then they all ran for the wooden quay a little further along the beach. Boots thudded on wood as they hurried along its length and waited for Dath and Mordwyr to bring their skiff around. Corban saw the sails unfurl and ripple as the wind caressed them, then suddenly they filled out, waves foaming white about the prow as it cut a curving line across to them.

Of all of the moments Corban had experienced this night, right now he felt the most scared, as they waited almost defenceless at the end of the wooden quay. He glanced up at Dun Carreg, now a hulking shadow in the first grey of dawn, and saw an orange glow as the fortress burned still within its great stone walls.

Suddenly Mordwyr’s fisher-boat loomed close, and he threw a coil of rope across. Halion caught it and others helped pull the boat in tight, then people were clambering aboard. Soon they were pushing away, most of them finding somewhere to slump exhausted on the boat’s deck, though it was a tight squeeze in a three-man craft.

To reach the open sea they had to pass by Nathair’s black ship, as it clogged the mouth of the bay. There were lanterns lit, but again no sign of people. As they reached the closest point, when the black hull was no more than a score of paces away, Corban heard a snuffling or growling and remembered teasing Dath about so-called noises on this ship. Had it only been last night?

Storm snarled, her ears flat to her head. Then, suddenly, a roar erupted from somewhere deep within the ship’s belly, all on the fisher-boat staring wide-eyed as they slipped past the larger vessel. Corban gazed back the whole time they were exiting the bay, expecting something to happen, but there were no further alarms. And then, suddenly, they were out in the open water just as the first rim of the sun clawed its way over the edge of the world. Corban felt his eyes roll, his eyelids suddenly heavy.

‘Here,’ a voice said beside him. ‘You should have this back.’ Farrell was offering him his da’s war-hammer, still caked in dried blood.