Malice

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

CORBAN

‘How long?’ Corban asked. ‘Before we reach Uthandun?’

‘We should see its walls before sunset.’

‘Oh.’

Corban felt a pang of worry at the thought of their journey coming to an end. When Brina had told him of Storm following them he had felt both worried and excited. The worry had faded as they travelled through the forest with no sign or sound of Storm. Corban found it comforting knowing that she was close, whilst becoming more confident that she would keep her distance, not give her whereabouts away. What she would do when they reached their destination, though, was another matter entirely. He was starting to feel an anxiousness settle upon him again.

The long column crossed a bridge, Uthandun on a hill before them. Corban began to twist and turn in his saddle, constantly looking back at the forest.

‘For goodness sake,’ Brina hissed, ‘try and be more discreet. Else you’ll have Brenin’s entire host looking over their shoulders.’

Corban grimaced and tried to sit straight.

‘Craf,’ Brina said. She leaned close to the bird and whispered something. With a croak and a noisy flapping the crow took off and swung back along their path, towards the trees of the Darkwood.

‘There you are,’ Brina said. ‘Now stop fretting.’

‘Thank you,’ Corban said quietly.

Brina snorted.

Uthandun was a sparse, precise town, everything laid out in its place, high wooden walls neatly enclosing every building, every space, including its acres of paddocks.

Beyond the northern edge of the fortress, the hill it was built upon dipped gently towards a flat-bottomed dell, and it was in this dell that King Brenin and his company had to camp, as the walls did not have the room for them all. Brenin refused to leave his people and chose the dell over a chamber.

That night Corban sat with his family around a campfire — Gar and Brina as well. Craf fluttered around her, feeding noisily on strips of mutton she occasionally threw him. Unlike Dath, whose da had kept him at home, Farrell was there too. He had come to see Corban, the day after Storm had mauled Rafe. He found Corban in his garden, just sitting, lacking the will to do anything other.

‘I. . wanted to speak to you,’ the lumbering blacksmith’s apprentice had said. Corban just looked up at him, at his bruised face, his cuts cleaned and bandaged.

‘Aye. Well?’ Corban had said.

‘I wanted to thank you,’ he said. ‘For what you did.’

Corban shrugged.

‘It would have turned out bad. If you had not helped.’

Corban had not known what to say, so Farrell had just stood there a few moments, then turned and walked away.

Since then, though, he had seen quite a lot of Farrell — not so much to speak to, but just, around, hovering.

A figure loomed out of the darkness, wrapped tight in one of their company’s grey cloaks.

‘May I join you?’ Heb the loremaster said, looking between Gwenith and Brina.

‘Of course,’ said Gwenith. ‘Make space, everyone.’

‘Pfah,’ snorted Brina, but shuffled over to make more room at the fireside. ‘Why are we so honoured?’ she said. ‘To choose our fireside over Brenin’s?’

Heb scowled at her. ‘As abrasive as your company may be, my dear lady,’ he said, smiling falsely, ‘it is more preferable by far to those seeking to ingratiate themselves with Brenin.’

‘Oh?’ prompted Brina. ‘Uthan not to your liking?’

‘I am not speaking of Uthan,’ Heb grumbled. ‘Oh, he is quite dull, but the poor boy can’t help that, with a father like Owain. No, it is Gethin’s crowing and Evnis’ fawning that I object to. He thinks us all halfwits, blind to his clumsy attempts at manoeuvring Vonn as a candidate for Edana. Not that I even care much about that. Brenin can marry her off to whomever he wishes, though I am certain it will not be to any son of Evnis. I just resent being treated as a fool.’

‘Perhaps you’ve come to the wrong fireside, then,’ Brina said, causing a ripple of laughter.

‘Being called a fool and being treated as a fool are two entirely different things, my dear,’ Heb replied, smiling faintly. ‘At least the conversation here may keep me awake.’

Corban grinned now. Brina and Heb were almost a match, he thought, in terms of wits and sharp tongues. It would be an entertaining evening.

Thannon leaned close to Corban and patted his son’s knee with a big, calloused hand. ‘Not long till your nameday, Ban,’ he said quietly. Corban shivered with excitement.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ Thannon said. ‘Once we get back, we should start work on your sword.’

Corban grinned. ‘That would be fine,’ he said. Finally, a real sword, hard iron instead of a wooden stick. ‘Mighty fine.’

Thannon smiled back at him.