Valour

CHAPTER FORTY

CORALEN

‘I see them,’ Coralen said, turning in her saddle and gesturing to Rath.

‘Where?’ asked Rath, squinting into the distance.

‘There,’ Coralen said, pointing. ‘Not on the giants’ road. To the south, moving into the foothills before the mountains.’

They were riding through grassland, skirting the giants’ road. Up ahead loomed the range of mountains that separated Domhain from Cambren, the giants’ road cutting a deep gully through them.

‘Damn my old eyes,’ Rath said, then was silent a while. ‘I see them,’ he said finally. ‘Well done, Cora; you’re the best tracker I’ve known, and I’ve known a few.’

Coralen snapped a glance at him, surprised. ‘You going soft in your old age?’ she said.

‘Maybe I am. How long till we catch them?’

‘Depends. One day, if things stay as they are.’

‘Good. My arse is sore — too much riding. I must be getting old — I’d rather be having a drink back in Dun Taras.’

Coralen snorted.

‘Still don’t like visiting your home?’

‘Dun Taras? That’s not my home. Here’s my home.’ She slapped her saddle. ‘Anywhere you are is my home.’

‘Now who’s going soft?’

Coralen smiled at that. Truth be told, she’d rather be just about anywhere than back in Dun Taras.

They had tracked the giants all the way from the border of Benoth, pausing briefly at Dun Taras for Rath to warn King Eremon that giants were loose in Domhain and — worse than that — they had been within half a day’s travel from Dun Taras.

She didn’t like the fortress, it held too many bad memories, too many reminders, so she was much happier to be back in her saddle, even if it did mean a sore backside. Better that than all the bubbling emotions that rose up every time she was in sight of Dun Taras. It made her think too much, made her head ache. And she always just ended up feeling angry, usually fighting someone.

‘Let’s keep moving. Soon enough it’ll be time to spill some giant blood,’ Rath said, kicking his horse on.

That’ll do, Coralen thought. They rode hard for a while, a score of warriors in a long column. It was cold and the clouds were low and bloated. As the sun was sinking, Coralen caught glimpses of individual figures ahead, flitting through patches of woodland on the hills.

They’re heading for the pass. I know exactly where they’re going. She grinned to herself, then looked up and saw a bird high above, circling them; it looked like a solitary crow.

Baird rode up beside her. ‘Strange behaviour for a bird,’ the warrior said, staring up at it.

‘That’s what I was thinking.’ She reined in her horse and reached for her bow, pulling it from its case, laying it across her saddle. Then she opened a pouch on her belt and pulled out a bowstring. Deftly she strung the bow and nocked an arrow.

‘Too late,’ Baird said as she raised the bow.

The bird was winging its way into the foothills, squawking, flying in a straight line now.

‘Think you scared it,’ Baird said with a grin, the scars on his face creasing. ‘Don’t look so disappointed; there’ll be plenty more killing soon enough.’

That there will.

She unstrung her bow and led them into the foothills.