Valour

CHAPTER FIFTY

CORBAN

Corban stood over the body of his mam, too scared to check whether she was alive or dead. Storm was locked in battle with the wolven that had attacked Gwenith; Corban and Gar were searching for an opening to finish the beast. Gar darted forward, stabbing, his blade coming back dark with blood. Then Storm had the wolven by the throat and was shaking it. The other animal’s legs kicked, weakened, then went limp.

Corban caught a glimpse of Halion, Marrock and Farrell circling a giant, the hulking warrior bleeding from many wounds. Vonn stood before Edana, slashing at a pair of crouched wolven.

There was a crackling sound, a wave of heat and Corban saw Heb holding a burning branch. The old man ran at the wolven stalking Vonn and Edana, brandishing the branch. They crouched low and retreated, snarling. Arrows suddenly sprouted from one.

Camlin and Dath.

A voice rang out in the glade, discordant. It took a moment for Corban to realize the words were being spoken in giantish.

‘Sglamhair, thu rach do fada, truailleadair,’ a giant yelled, taking long strides, rage pulsing from each word.

Heb turned, saw the giant coming for him, stood frozen a moment.

‘Mi riar gun ruith,’ Heb called out and raised the burning branch.

The giant barked a command and the flames snuffed out, smoke curling upwards.

No. He cannot face a spear-wielding giant with a stick. Corban thought. ‘Lasair,’ he cried out as he launched into motion, fear for Heb’s life overwhelming all other thoughts.

The stick in Heb’s hand burst back into flames, fiercer and brighter than before. Heb looked stunned, and the giant’s gaze snapped onto Corban. For a moment he faltered in his charge, the hatred in his gaze a palpable thing. Then Heb smashed the branch into the giant’s face with an explosion of sparks.

The giant howled and snarled, then thrust with his spear. Heb moved, swinging the branch again. Their weapons connected at the same moment, Heb’s burning branch crashing into the giant’s chest, the giant’s spear-blade piercing Heb’s shoulder. He cried out, sinking to his knees as the giant pulled the blade free.

‘No!’ Corban screamed, leaping forwards.

Brina was there before him, lunging at the giant, sinking a knife into his thigh. He bellowed and hurled Brina to the ground. She screamed as the giant buried his spear in Heb’s belly. Blood sprayed as he wrenched it free, Heb toppling sideways. The giant stood over Brina, spear raised high, then a bundle of feathers fell from above, squawking, claws raking at the giant’s face.

Craf.

Then Corban was there, Storm a step behind him. He swung his sword, the giant stumbled back, Storm bunched to leap. Other giants appeared, one stepping before Corban, another grabbing the one that had stabbed Heb, dragging him away. At the same time there was a crashing from the far end of the glade as mounted warriors poured out of the trees.

Corban exchanged a flurry of blows with the giant before him. They parted and there was a whistling sound, an arrow skittering off the giant’s chainmail coat.

Dath?

The huge warrior snarled once at Corban and then he was fleeing, following his two companions as they disappeared amongst the trees.

The riders had paused. Corban saw expressions of confusion and shock, then one spurred their mount on, sword raised, others following, spreading through the glade. Many of them chased after the fleeing giants. One speared a wolven as they galloped past.

‘Storm, to me,’ Corban yelled, fearing she would be attacked by these newcomers. Gar lowered his sword and ran to Gwenith’s body, fingers touching her neck. Corban felt a wave of fear and nausea. She is so pale. Elyon above, please let her live.

Gar looked up at him. ‘She still breathes.’

Corban bent and stroked her face, felt a shallow pulse. Her eyes fluttered open, then closed again. Corban gave Gar a weak smile, relief flooding him. Gar had tears in his eyes, running down his face. He must have thought she was dead. He felt tears of his own and brushed them away.

There was one giant remaining, fallen to his knees. Farrell, Marrock and Vonn were circling him. The riders pulled close, weapons flashing. With a roar the giant stood, lashing out, sending Farrell and Marrock and Halion flying in different directions. Farrell rolled to a rest at Corban’s feet, and with a groan pushed himself up.

One of the riders spurred their horse forward, skewering the giant with a spear as they passed, then leaped from the horse’s back, one hand clinging to the giant’s cloak, the other pulling a knife across its throat. Blood fountained and the giant toppled to the ground, its killer rolling and rising in one graceful move, almost right in front of Corban. The warrior’s helm had fallen in the roll and Corban blinked. It was a girl, red hair tied tight, wisps of it come loose.

Halion shouted and he ran towards the girl. She stared at him, body tensed, then grinned as Halion reached her. They embraced.

‘Who’s she?’ Dath said as he emerged from the trees.

‘Don’t know, but I think I’m in love,’ Farrell said.

Still grinning at each other, Halion and the girl parted, then Halion looked about and saw Corban and Farrell staring at him.

‘Corban, this is Coralen. My sister.’