Valour

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CYWEN

Cywen sat in her saddle looking out over the battlefield, Buddai sitting at her horse’s feet. Why she was here she did not know. Obviously it was to do with Corban, somehow. He was why everyone seemed so interested in her — Evnis, Nathair, his counsellor, Calidus — all their questions coming back to the constant that was her brother. What is it about Corban? And now she was about to view a battle. Her main pleasure was that she considered virtually everyone who would be fighting here as her enemy, at one level or another, so, whoever died, there would be some degree of satisfaction.

She was situated amongst Evnis’ warriors, about three score of them mounted around their lord. Conall was close to her, his attention rarely leaving her for more than a few moments. She swore under her breath. ‘Don’t you have anything better to do than babysit me?’ she asked him.

‘Shut up,’ he said, glancing at her irritably. He’d searched her before they’d left and removed four knives that she had secreted in various parts of her clothing. She resisted a smile; he had missed two, and with them she planned to kill Evnis.

‘Weren’t you Edana’s babysitter, too? You’re going down in the world.’

He glared at her, but did not answer, his eyes scanning the battleground before them.

The giantsway ran through the centre of it all, through a wide, flat-bottomed vale where Rhin’s warband was spread to meet them. Her banners rippled everywhere — Cambren’s broken branch on a black field — a host of black and gold, thousands of them. Yet it was obvious, even to Cywen’s untrained eye, that Owain had more men — significantly more.

There was a tension in the air, so strong that she could almost see it, like a heavy mist, and it was contagious. Horses neighed, her own mount dancing skittishly. She searched for Shield again. She had tried to take him as her own mount, but the red-haired warrior Drust had been having none of that and had taken Shield as his warhorse.

She muttered a prayer to Elyon under her breath, begging for the horse to survive the coming battle. Not that you’ve ever listened to me before.

She nudged her horse closer to Conall.

‘Why is Rhin down in the valley?’ she asked him. ‘She was here first, but she’s given Owain the high ground.’

‘I was wondering that myself,’ Conall said.

Twisting in her saddle, she looked behind and saw Nathair on his great draig. She wrinkled her nose, smelling it from here. It smelt of death, of rotting things, and its dung — its smell got into your skin, so badly you could almost taste it. Nathair’s Jehar warriors were spread in a thick line behind him, near the hill’s ridge. Further along were more of Nathair’s warriors, these all on foot in orderly lines, holding great round shields. She recognized at their forefront the man who had sparred with Conall: Veradis. Behind them all was Owain’s rearguard, men held in reserve for the coming battle, she presumed.

Cywen saw a handful of riders canter out from the rearguard ranks, Owain at their head. Nathair’s warriors parted for him and he rode to the King of Tenebral, spoke to him a while. Then Owain led his shieldmen towards Evnis and his warriors. Cywen’s heart jumped as she recognized Shield, Drust upon his back. He must be shieldman to Owain.

Owain rode to Evnis, speaking loud enough for Cywen to hear.

‘I have chosen to give you great honour, as reward for your service at Dun Carreg,’ Owain said. ‘You will lead my warriors into the battle.’

‘Sneaky piece of dung,’ Conall muttered.

Evnis was silent a moment, then bowed his head. ‘As you wish.’ He looked about, his eyes finding Conall, and signalled for Cywen to be taken to Nathair.

As they rode up the hill, Buddai following her, Calidus raised a hand, beckoning Conall.

‘Keep a close eye on her,’ Calidus said. Conall nodded curtly. They settled to the rear of the Jehar warriors, Cywen marvelling at the black-clothed warriors’ mounts. They were beautiful to the last one, all fine boned and sleekly muscled.

They watched as Evnis and his warriors rode down the slope towards the main host of Owain’s warband, the ranks parting to allow Evnis and his men passage.

‘Not going to do much fighting back here,’ Cywen said to Conall, watching him keenly. At the very least she could see how far she could push his famous temper.

‘You never know,’ he replied.

‘At least you won’t get to die as quickly as Evnis and your other friends, standing here at the back.’

‘This is a battle; death can come swift enough wherever we stand. And they’re not my friends.’

Then horns blasted out, causing Cywen to snap her head around.

Rhin’s warband was moving.

First the front lines, then all those behind, appearing to ripple like a great beast rousing from sleep. Slowly at first, they moved across the flat plain of the valley, then gathering speed. The bulk of the host was on foot; Cywen could spy lines of mounted warriors gathered at the rear of the field, thickest around a great banner that was planted in the ground. Rhin must be there.

Owain raised a hand and horns blew out. His war-host moved to meet Rhin.

Evnis led the charge. The front ranks of Rhin’s warband picked up their own speed, many running now, yelling battle-cries, the thud of feet setting the earth to trembling.

Cywen held her breath as Evnis hurtled towards Rhin’s front lines, knew that she was about to watch him die. She grinned fiercely.