Valour

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CORBAN

‘Just believe it, Corban,’ Heb said.

That’s easier said than done.

Corban was sitting with Heb and Brina in a copse of trees, the murmur of voices from their camp filtering through to them.

‘Just a spark, Ban,’ Brina said. ‘See it in your mind, how you want it to be, then speak it.’

He was holding a stick, staring at it. In his mind he saw a wisp of smoke curl from it, a spark, then a flame.

‘Lasair,’ he said, the word feeling alien on his tongue. He held his breath. Just for a moment he thought he caught the faint smell of woodsmoke, then it was gone. He waited.

‘Nothing’s happened,’ he said eventually.

‘You have a talent for stating the obvious,’ Brina said.

‘Nothing,’ Craf agreed from a branch above them.

‘It’s early days,’ Heb said, patting Corban’s shoulder. ‘This is only your first attempt.’

It was the fourth night since Marrock had had his hand amputated, every night following the same routine. Make camp. Tend Marrock’s wound, then retreat somewhere with Brina and Heb. For the first three nights Corban had been given some rudimentary lessons in giantish. Just a handful of words, but the important ones, Brina had said. The elements that he would seek to command — fire, water, earth and air. Each day he had silently recited them in time to the pounding of his horse’s hooves. And now tonight he had attempted to make something happen.

Nothing. Is it really possible, or just another mad faery tale, like Gar imagining me to be Elyon’s chosen one.

Heb took the stick from his hand.

‘Lasair,’ the old man said. There was a popping sound, a wisp of smoke and then a flame flickered into life.

‘Fire,’ Craf squawked.

‘That’s amazing,’ Corban whispered.

Heb smiled and dropped the stick, stamping the flame out.

‘You just have to believe. But,’ he added, ‘I could attempt the same thing another time and, if I had a seed of doubt, I would fail. It is all about believing, utterly, at that moment.’

‘Drink this,’ Brina said, handing Marrock a skin of something.

‘What’s in it?’ Marrock asked.

‘Something to dull the pain. This is going to hurt. Go on, Corban.’

Marrock frowned but took a long gulp.

It was the sixth night now since Marrock’s hand had been removed. He had been gripped by a fever for the first two days and part of the third, then awoke before highsun, weak but complaining he was starving hungry. Brina had said that was a good sign. Corban had tended to his wound, under Brina’s constant supervision.

‘Stitch over an infection and we’ll kill him, sure as a blade through his heart,’ Brina had said, so while the skin and flesh was red and inflamed the wound had been left open, allowing for any pus to drain, a compress of leaves and clean bandages bound about it twice a day. Now, though, the redness had gone, and it had stopped smelling bad, so Brina had ordered the wound stitched closed.

‘Just start, Ban,’ she said.

‘Have you done this before?’ Marrock asked, his words slurred from the poppy milk Brina had given him.

‘Not exactly,’ Corban said, holding a bone needle close to the stump that was Marrock’s wrist.

‘It’s no different from darning a sock,’ Brina said.

‘My arm’s no sock,’ Marrock blurted.

‘Shut up and drink your milk,’ Brina ordered.

Corban pressed hard, piercing the skin with a pop, then proceeded methodically.

‘This bit will feel strange,’ Corban warned, then pulled the thread tight, stretching Marrock’s skin across the open wound, closing it off. He tied a knot in the thread and Brina cut it with a knife.

‘It will feel uncomfortable, and it will itch,’ Brina said. ‘Any pain — tell me immediately.’

Marrock inspected Corban’s stitching and nodded at him.

‘You’re doing well,’ Brina said to Marrock as Corban applied a salve to the skin and bandaged it off. ‘You haven’t died, which I expected a few days ago.’

‘No, but I’ll not be drawing a bow again.’

‘There’s more to life than shooting pointy things into people,’ Brina said.

Marrock snorted. ‘What use is a huntsman who can’t draw a bow?’ He looked straight at Corban, bitterness twisting his features.

‘There’s plenty of other new and exciting ways to get yourself killed,’ Brina said. ‘No doubt you’ll discover some of them soon enough.’ She walked away.

‘I can still feel it, you know. My hand, my fingers,’ Marrock said. ‘I would still have it if we’d sailed to the marshes and Dun Crin.’ He glanced at Halion, who was at the edge of their camp, looking back the way they’d travelled.

There’s been a tension between them since we fled Dun Carreg, and now Marrock blames Halion for the loss of his hand. This bothered Corban, particularly as he had great respect for both men. Halion he knew better, though, from the countless days of toil and hard work in the Rowan Field. He knew that, whatever Halion did, whatever choices he made, he was not acting out of self-interest.

‘He chose what he thought was best for Edana,’ Corban said quietly, gathering his tools.

‘Did he? Maybe he just wants to go home.’

‘I’ve never known him to choose something he thought to be wrong. Even his own brother.’

Marrock stared at him, the hardness fading from his eyes. ‘Aye, lad. Don’t listen to me, I’m just. .’ he trailed off, his gaze dropping back to the stump where his hand used to be.

Corban squeezed his arm and followed after Brina.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ Brina asked him. ‘Your face looks like its been squashed.’

‘That was harsh, what you said to Marrock.’

‘Sympathy will feed his self-pity,’ Brina said, a softness edging her voice, ‘and he has some dark days ahead.’

Corban lay on his belly, staring down a steep slope into a valley. A river wound through it, marking the border of Cambren. A stone bridge arched across the fast-flowing water, houses clustered upon either bank. The road on the far side climbed upwards, twisting into the mountains. They were in a no-man’s-land between the two realms of Cambren and Domhain.

On the far side of those mountains is Domhain and safety.

That was the hope, anyway. Halion had said that when he had travelled the other way, coming from Domhain into Cambren, there had only been a handful of guards, a token force.

Not now, though.

Warriors were everywhere: standing guard on the bridge, walking the few streets, their tents spilling onto a coarse stretch of grass alongside the river. Corban had tried counting and lost track when he reached ninety.

‘Rhin is no fool,’ Camlin whispered beside him.

‘Unfortunately for us,’ said Halion.

The rest of their group were a few hundred paces behind them, huddled about a stand of gorse. The land had turned bleaker, more barren the higher they had climbed. They had broken camp before sunrise and set out as soon as dawn had lit their way. The sun had been up a while now, though it was still well before highsun. The sky was full of thick low cloud, the air humid.

Corban felt his eyelids drooping. They had been travelling hard, but still their pursuers had drawn closer each day, until now they were almost constantly within sight.

‘We can’t stay here,’ Camlin said, echoing Corban’s thoughts.

‘No, but there’s no way across that bridge. We couldn’t fight our way through; there’s too many of them.’ Halion glanced over his shoulder back along the track. ‘We’ll have to try another way.’

They all looked up at the mountains, grim and forbidding. In the distance a wolven howled; Storm tensed, ears twitching.

‘Best be moving,’ Camlin said. ‘P’raps we can shadow the giants’ road, join up to it once we’re deeper into the mountains, and away from Rhin’s eyes an’ ears.’

‘That’s a plan I like,’ Halion said.

They scrambled back down the slope to their companions, shared the bad news and set off into the mountains. Camlin rode ahead, scouting their path.

Craf fluttered down out of the cloudy sky to land on Brina’s saddle. The crow had been keeping track of their hunters.

‘Fast,’ the crow squawked.

‘Faster than us?’ Brina asked.

The crow bobbed its head.

‘Something will have to be done, soon,’ said Heb, who was riding close by. He and Brina shared a look.

They’re talking about the earth power, Corban thought.

Dogs barked somewhere behind and Corban twisted in his saddle. Dark shapes were visible in the distance, near to where they had stopped to view the pass into the mountains. Shapes broke away from the main party and disappeared down the slope as they moved towards the river ford. And towards the warriors camped there. Will probably get them hunting for us, too. Things are not looking good.

They travelled as fast as they could, dismounting at sunset and leading their horses, for fear of twisted or broken legs. A cold night was followed by a grey morning. They were back in the saddle before the sun had risen, winding ever deeper into the mountains.

The path they were following was little more than a fox’s trail running more or less parallel to the giants’ road. A sheer rock face rose up ahead and the path veered around it, moving deeper into the mountain wilderness. Corban hoped that at some point it would veer back, but it didn’t look likely.

Just before highsun Camlin came cantering back from scouting ahead. He was frowning. He rode to Edana and Halion, pulling up before them, but spoke loud enough for all to hear.

‘The path dips ahead, follows a stream and broadens out. It’s good land to travel on for a while, but then it rises an’ turns narrow right quick. Won’t be easy going.’

‘Easier than turning back,’ said Halion.

‘Aye, true enough. There’s something else: I think we’re heading into a wolven pack’s territory. Found some spoor and a carcass of something — looks like a horse.’

‘We have a wolven of our own,’ Edana said.

‘Aye. One. This is a pack. In my experience that means anywhere between four and ten of them and they won’t like us in their territory. We’ll need t’be careful.’

Brina spoke quietly to Craf. Corban thought he heard the word wolven, then the bird was flapping away, this time ahead of them.

Brina and Corban checked on Marrock as they let their horses drink and refilled water skins.

‘I’m fine,’ he said to them, though his eyes were pinched with pain. They reached the end of the vale that Camlin had told them of as the sun was hovering above the mountain tops. The valley sides had narrowed, with great black boulders dotting the land. A narrow ravine closed in, leading sharply up, causing them to ride in single file. Corban looked back over his shoulder and saw tiny figures spill into the valley behind them. No way back now.

The terrain changed as they climbed higher, the ground turning stony, patches of shingle appearing underfoot. It became too dangerous to ride so they dismounted and led their horses. Corban saw a nimble-footed goat standing on a narrow rim above them, watching their passage.

Dusk was closing in when they stumbled into a rocky bowl rimmed by pine trees, their scent thick in the air. Corban was sweating from the climb, though there was a cold wind biting at him. He drank thirstily from his water skin. Halion had gone to look back down the way they had travelled and Corban joined him.

To his horror he could see a long line of figures climbing the ravine, not more than half a league behind them.

‘They’ll not be stopping to make camp tonight,’ Halion said. ‘They know they can’t miss our trail in the dark, because there’s nowhere to go except straight ahead. They’ll just keep coming.’

‘Then we must move on, and not stop either.’

‘Aye.’

Footsteps crunched behind them — Camlin returning from scouting ahead.

‘How is the path?’ Edana asked.

‘We’re going t’have to leave the horses. Gets too steep; they’ll not make it.’

They all looked at him and he shrugged.

‘How far behind are they?’ Camlin asked Halion.

‘Not far. Less than half a league, and they’re moving faster than us.’

Best be moving, then,’ Camlin said.

Marrock stepped forward. ‘I’ll stay, hold them back a little, buy you some time.’ He looked around at the shocked faces. ‘My life’s over now. Might as well do something of worth before the end. I know I can’t shoot a bow.’ He raised his left arm, the wrist bandaged tight. ‘But I can still swing a sword. And one of you can strap my shield tight to my arm.’

‘I’ll do better than strap your shield tight,’ Anwarth said. ‘I’ll be your shield. Two will hold them longer than one.’

‘And three longer than two,’ Farrell said, stepping close to his da.

‘Someone that can shoot a bow would hold them longer,’ Camlin said, reaching for his bowstring.

‘I. . I’ll stay with you,’ Dath said, looking at Camlin.

Heb stood up from where he had been sitting by a boulder. ‘I think I might be of some help. I will stay too.’

‘What?’ Brina said. ‘Don’t be an idiot, you ridiculous man.’ Corban was unsure if she was angry or worried. Probably both.

‘Stop,’ a voice rang out. Edana strode forward, shaking her head. ‘We’ll either all stay, or all go. I’ll not lose you so that I can run a little longer.’ A tremor shook her voice. ‘And I would be proud to stand with you all — more loyal and brave than I deserve.’ She took a deep breath, steadying herself, then looked to Camlin. ‘Is this a good spot to face them?’

‘Depends if you want to hold them back, or try an’ kill them all,’ he said. ‘If you want to hold them off it would be better up ahead, where the trail narrows. If we’re going t’have a crack at sending every last one o’ them across the bridge of swords, then this is better. Me an’ Dath can pick the first ones off with our bows as they come out of the ravine. Once they’re in this bowl you’ll have room t’swing a sword.’ He looked about. ‘This is a good spot.’

To make a last stand, Corban finished for him.

Corban crouched behind a boulder, holding his shield tight, Storm pressed close against him. The sun was just a glow silhouetting the mountain peaks now. Gar was close to him and his mam, her face pale, her knuckles white where they gripped her spear. Dath was just a shadow higher up, amongst a handful of pine. None of the others was visible. He kept his eyes on Dath, knew that when he started firing his bow then the battle was upon them.

Corban heard the arrows before he saw them. The thrum of bowstrings as they were released was followed closely by a scream and a high-pitched whine. Corban risked a glance around the boulder, saw figures strewn at the entrance to the bowl, a hound pawing the ground, but no others. They must have pulled back.

Then there were battle-cries and men were spilling out of the narrow ravine, climbing over the dead. Two arrows struck the first man and he was hurled back, knocking another off his feet, but others rushed past them, quickly spreading out.

‘Now!’ yelled Camlin.

Corban drew his sword as he rushed forwards, Storm and Gar a heartbeat behind him. He saw Halion swinging his sword, then a head was spinning through the air, a dark spurt of blood. Storm leaped forwards, smashing a man from his feet. Corban followed her, took a blow on his shield, pushed it away, parried with his own sword, chopping an arm. He wrenched his blade free, swung again, silencing his screaming opponent. Someone else took the warrior’s place, came rushing at him. He stepped in quickly to meet the man, felt all the years of drill and practice with Gar and Halion take hold of him, his body moving before he had time to think, falling into the rhythms and responses of the sword dance. Before he realized what he was doing, his opponent was falling back, blood jetting from his throat, and he was facing someone else. He blocked a combination of blows, twisted his wrist and slid to the side, chopped neatly at an exposed neck, then he was moving on to another opponent. A calm filled him as he let his body move, not thinking, just doing, and his enemy kept falling before him.

At his side his mam was desperately defending herself, her spear only just holding off a flurry of blows. Corban swung his sword, severed a hand from his mam’s opponent, his mam took the opening and buried her spear-point in the man’s throat.

He heard Storm snarl, turned to see hounds circling her. One stepped too close and she knocked it aside, claws opening red streaks on the dog’s body, but another leaped, landed on her back, jaws snapping, seeking Storm’s spine. She writhed beneath him, rolled over and then the other hounds were jumping in, biting at her exposed belly. Storm regained her feet, shook the hound from her back and snapped the spine of another of her attackers. The rest of the pack cowered back, whining.

It was close to dark now; shapes were blurring, merging as they clashed. He saw Gar, recognizing him by the way he moved, spinning and slashing, in constant motion. Figures fell away in the wake of his passing. Corban backed away as the fighting grew closer, turning to make sure that Heb, Brina and Edana were still safe.

He heard a flapping, saw Craf circling the bowl, squawking frantically. The crow landed on a boulder, close to Brina. It hopped from foot to foot, still squawking. Corban ran to them.

‘Who’s winning?’ Brina said, squinting at him in the dark.

‘It’s too dark to tell.’

‘Let’s see if we can do something about that,’ Heb said. He held a branch in his hand, splintered from one of the pine trees close by. He spoke strange words under his breath.

Craf squawked again.

‘I think Craf wants your attention,’ Corban said.

‘He will have to wait, impatient bird,’ Brina snapped, adding her voice to Heb’s.

At first nothing happened. Then Corban felt a pressure on his ears, the air seeming to push in at him, like when a storm is about to burst, but more extreme. Then he saw a wisp of smoke curl up from the branch, quickly followed by a tiny flame.

Craf jumped onto his shoulder and pecked his head.

‘Get off,’ Corban cried, trying to wave the bird away. Then he finally heard what the crow was saying.

‘Wolven, wolven, wolven, wolven,’ the bird was repeating. ‘WOLVEN.’

The branch burst into flame and Heb dropped it. The fire flared bright, illuminating the bowl, showing figures locked in combat all about, but Corban’s eyes were drawn higher up, to the ring of pine trees that circled them. Suddenly eyes glowed green in the firelight. Lots of eyes.

Then the first wolven leaped at them.