Valour

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

CORBAN

Corban walked in a grey world. The ground was mist wreathed, the sky boiling with dark cloud. In the distance there were flashes, veins of red pulsing through the iron grey, fading, then brighter, like a distant storm. He walked towards it, the world about him ethereal, shifting from fields of grey rock to green woodland to barren plains of ash.

He drew near to the clouds, saw darker specks moving in them, swirling in tight formations. They were up above now. One fell, growing rapidly larger. Distantly he heard screaming, the clash of weapons. The shape crashed into the earth before him, a cloud of ash rising about it, settling slowly, like black snowflakes. He walked closer, peering cautiously.

A figure lay upon the ground, its skin alabaster, dark veins set in marble. Great wings were spread about it, like a cape of leather. It was wounded, a deep gash across its chest. Something that was not blood wept from the wound. Close by lay a spear, its shaft broken.

Then it opened its eyes.

They were black, no iris, no pupil, just a black soulless well. Corban took a step back.

It tried to move. Pain swept its face, its mouth twisting, revealing jagged teeth, a thick tongue, all as black as its eyes. It reached out an arm, steadied itself, its eyes fixing on Corban.

‘Who are you?’ it said.

A sound came from above, the wind whipped to a storm. Figures were approaching, great wings of white feather speeding towards Corban. The creature before him scrabbled for its broken spear, its wings jerking feebly, then the others landed with a thunder that made the ground tremble. One stamped a foot onto the wounded creature, knocking it flat, then buried a spear in its belly, twisting as he drove it in, through the writhing, hissing form, pinning it to the ground beneath. It drew a longsword from its back and hacked the creature’s head from its body.

Others of its kind gathered around Corban, dressed as warriors in mail and leather. The air moved from their gently twitching wings.

‘Who are you?’ they asked.

‘I. .’ Corban mumbled. He did not want to say his name, something batting at his memory like a moth against a shutter. Had he been here before? In a dream? A nightmare?

Hands reached out for him and he staggered backwards.

Corban woke with a start; his mam was standing over him. She looked worried. Gar hovered in the background.

He sat up and put his head in his hands.

‘What’s wrong?’ Gar asked him.

‘A bad dream,’ he mumbled.

‘Probably of that Coralen kicking him in the stones again,’ Dath said. ‘Come on, Ban, get up. We’re going to the feast-hall for a drink.’

‘For a meal,’ Gwenith corrected Dath.

Just then the door to their home creaked and footsteps echoed. Edana walked in, Halion and Vonn behind her. With a flap of feathers Fech flew in before the door was pushed to.

Edana sat at a long table and groaned.

‘What’s wrong?’ Brina asked her. Craf was perched on the edge of the table, pecking at a chunk of bread that Brina was feeding him. Fech landed close by, eyeing the bread.

‘Roisin,’ Edana said, shaking her head.

‘What’s she done now?’

‘She’s agreed terms for committing to the battle with Rhin,’ Halion said.

‘Terms?’ said Corban. ‘Rhin’s invading. There’s no need for terms.’

‘That’s what I said,’ Edana muttered.

She’s a sly one,’ Halion said. ‘She didn’t say it, of course, it came from my da’s mouth; but it had her influence behind it.’

‘What?’ several voices asked at the same time.

‘That the alternative to battle with Rhin was negotiation, and that Edana would make a good gift.’

‘Your da said that?’ Dath blurted.

‘Not in those words, but the meaning was clear. He offered an alternative, of course. And Edana took it. She had no choice.’

‘What alternative?’ Brina asked.

‘To agree to be handbound to Lorcan, Roisin’s son, Eremon’s heir. When the time comes and Rhin is defeated.’

But he’s only fifteen summers, thought Corban.

A silence settled over the room, then they all began talking at once.

‘You should have said no.’ Vonn’s voice rose through the crowd. ‘Rhin will attack them and then they will have no choice but to defend themselves.’

‘True enough,’ said Halion. ‘But by then Roisin would have handed Edana to Rhin on a plate. Rhin will hardly turn down that offer. After that Edana’s head would be on a spike, whatever happens in Domhain.’

More arguments rose up, but Edana slammed a hand on the table.

‘I’ve agreed,’ she said. ‘The deal is done. I’m not happy about it, but it is a sacrifice I must make. And it’s a smaller one than the many we’ve suffered already. Besides, it could have been worse. Eremon told me he’d marry me himself if it wasn’t for Roisin.’

‘That’s disgusting,’ said Vonn.

‘Roisin won’t like him saying things like that,’ Marrock said.

‘He’s said things like that all his life. It’s when she thinks he’ll act on it that you have to worry about Roisin. Edana’s safe from her now that Lorcan benefits,’ said Halion.

Corban sat in the feast-hall of Dun Taras. It was noisy, voices rising as they often did once the mead started to flow. Or the ale that he was drinking: it was dark, bitter stuff, but after a bit of getting used to it he was starting to like it. Dath at least certainly seemed to be liking it, judging by the jug in his hand and the smile on his face.

All of the company that had survived the journey from Dun Carreg were in here somewhere, most of them sitting together about a long table. Storm was curled underneath the table, though it moved every time she changed position. Corban suspected that even Craf and Fech were lurking somewhere up in the rafters of the vaulted ceiling. The rest of the room was full, pulsing with excitement and activity. Dun Taras had been like this ever since word had arrived of Owain’s death and Rhin’s march on Domhain, a ten-night ago. Warriors were drifting into the fortress, from ones and twos to warbands of a hundred or more. Halion said King Eremon’s barons would muster far greater numbers, but would most likely join the King’s warband somewhere along the journey to Domhain’s border. There was only one main route into Domhain from Cambren, and that was the giants’ road. All other routes were little more than trails through the mountains, and winter was coming, so they were unlikely to be used. Thus the plan was a simple one: stop Rhin at the giants’ road.

Corban was not yet sure what part his group would play in the coming conflict. Halion had told him that King Eremon would be staying at Dun Taras, too old for the journey, and that Rath would be leading the warbands of Domhain against Rhin. It was likely that Edana would have little choice other than to stay with Eremon. But Corban, along with many others in their small company, wanted to fight. Rhin had taken everything from them, and they all wished to play some part in taking it back.

The doors to the feast-hall opened and a figure came in from the dark, the wind hurling a spattering of rain in after him. Ventos, the trader. Corban had seen Ventos a handful of times since he had arrived in Dun Taras, and always enjoyed talking to the man. He felt like another part of home, somehow, a reminder of happier times. And he was a great teller of tales, the places he had been.

‘How long will you be staying here?’ Corban asked him as he settled next to him and took a drink of ale.

‘For a while.’ Ventos shrugged. He looked around the overflowing feast-hall. ‘Seems as if the whole of Domhain is coming to Dun Taras, so it would be stupid to walk away. It’s a good place to sell.’

‘Even though war is coming?’

‘War’s good for business. People get reminded that we’re not here forever — they like to enjoy life a little more, make the most of it.’

Nearby a man leaped onto a table and started dancing a jig to the applause of his friends.

‘See.’

‘I just thought that this is what they are like in Domhain,’ Corban said.

‘Oh, they are more inclined to a song, a good tale and a drink than many places I’ve been,’ Ventos said. ‘Maybe it’s the rain. It rains so much here, you have to balance it with something.’

‘Where is your hound?’ Corban asked.

‘He’s guarding my wain. It’s full of goods I’ve collected from all over the Banished Lands. Wouldn’t want them to be robbed in the night. Talar won’t let anyone take what’s not theirs.’

Corban nodded his agreement. It was a vicious-looking hound. I remember that from the first time I saw him. I fell on him and he looked at me like he wanted to eat me. ‘And what of your bird? The hawk you won from the Sirak in a game of dice?’

‘Ah, Kartala. She is around. She can leave me for days at a time, even moons, but she always finds me again.’

The doors opened again and in walked a large crowd. Leading them was Quinn, Eremon’s first-sword. He was tall and thick muscled. Corban had seen him training in Dun Taras’ Rowan Field. There seemed to be little finesse to him, but he had a strength and speed that he used to overwhelm his opponents — literally battering them to defeat. Beside him walked Lorcan, Eremon’s only recognized heir, Roisin’s son.

Edana’s betrothed, now.

He was slim, dark haired, fine featured like his mam, though Corban could see something of Halion about him — perhaps it was his eyes, sea grey like Eremon’s. Lorcan was fifteen summers, not yet sat his Long Night, but he trained in the Rowan Field and looked close enough to ready from what Corban had seen. He had expected there to be some animosity between Halion and Lorcan, but Corban had seen nothing to suggest that. If anything, the boy seemed to admire Halion, or at least his skill in the weapons court. Corban often noticed Lorcan watching Halion when he was sparring, and there was no malice that Corban could read in his face. A host of others walked in with Quinn and Lorcan. One of them pushed a hood back and Corban saw it was the serving-girl from Eremon’s chambers. Maeve. She looked at him and smiled. He’d seen her a few times about Dun Taras, and this was not the first time that she had favoured him with a smile. She walked over.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I heard your story — that you told to the King.’

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything, just nodded.

‘It’s quite the tale. Special,’ she said, bending lower. She put a hand on his and squeezed it. ‘I think you must be too.’

Corban didn’t know what to say to that either, so he blushed instead. Maeve smiled. She looked along their table and saw Halion.

‘Brother,’ she said to him.

Of course, another sister, thought Corban.

Halion dipped his head in response, then she walked away.

Corban looked up to see Dath with his mouth open, Farrell staring at him.

‘Why are they all smiling at you?’ Dath said.

It was true, Corban had been noticing a lot of attention of late. He put it down to Storm, remembering it was the same in Dun Carreg, at first. But it was different here — in Dun Carreg it had been children following and warriors frowning. There was still a fair share of that here in Dun Taras, but there were also a lot of smiles and waves, mostly from girls.

Corban shrugged at Dath.

‘You’ll need to get yourself a pet wolven,’ Farrell said to Dath.

She’s not a pet, thought Corban.

‘Like that’s going to happen. How about a crow?’ Dath said. ‘Brina — can I borrow Craf for a while?’

‘Ha,’ said Brina, who was sitting a little further along the table. ‘We all know Craf scares you witless.’ It was the largest number of words Corban had heard Brina put together for days, since Heb’s death.

‘He does not,’ Dath said.

Farrell squawked in Dath’s ear and he jumped, then scowled.

‘There’s still hope for us, Dath. Not all of the lasses smile at Corban, anyway,’ Farrell said. ‘Coralen doesn’t.’

‘Now, I am scared of her. I think she actually tried to kill you in the practice court today, Ban,’ Dath said.

Each day after Corban finished his training with Gar, Coralen challenged him to a sparring match. He had stopped losing to her, though the bouts were more often closer to draws than outright victories. She was vicious, and a cheat, with more tricks in her head than Corban thought possible.

‘She’s a fine lass,’ Farrell said. ‘Formidable. I’d like to marry her.’

Dath spat out a mouthful of ale.

‘I think she hates me,’ Corban said. ‘At least she hits me as if she does.’

‘There’s a knife’s edge between love and hate,’ Brina said. Farrell frowned.

What does she mean by that?

‘Like you and Heb, then,’ Dath said. His smile withered the instant the words were in the air.

Brina looked at him, pain radiating from her.

I thought she’d be angry, but she’s not. She’s heartbroken.

Brina stood with a scrape of chair legs and left. Dath spluttered something after her, but she ignored it.

Corban watched her for a few moments, then followed her. Storm crawled out after him, spilling drinks as she rocked the table. Last to follow was Gar.

They made their way through the rain, back to their temporary home on the outskirts of the town, a black shadow winging above them. Brina lit candles and Gar set to sparking flames in the fire-pit. As light flickered into life Corban saw a figure sitting in a chair. He jumped, but it was only Vonn.

‘What are you doing, sitting here in the dark?’ Brina asked him, not too kindly.

‘Nothing. Thinking,’ Vonn said, blinking in the sudden light.

Brina bustled about the fire that Gar had started, hanging a pot of water.

‘I’m making tea. Who wants some?’

Vonn stood. ‘Think I need some air.’ And he left.

‘Better keep an eye on him,’ Brina said.

‘Just what I was thinking,’ said Gar. ‘He is still Evnis’ son.’ He headed out the door after him.

‘I’m here to keep an eye on you,’ Corban said to Brina.

She raised an eyebrow at that.

‘I’ll make the tea,’ Corban said.

‘No. I will.’ Brina collected cups, sprinkling tea leaves into them and squatting by the pot, waiting for the water to boil.

‘Dath didn’t mean anything by what he said.’

‘I know,’ Brina snapped. ‘He’s an idiot. He can’t help that.’

She poured the hot water into two cups.

‘You miss Heb.’ It was more statement than question.

Brina scowled at him, a spark of anger in her eyes. She spooned some honey into Corban’s tea, knowing how he liked it, and stirred ferociously. She sighed. ‘Corban, I know you mean well, but I cannot talk about Heb. .’ She trailed off, blinked hard. ‘It is a raw wound. You understand?’

He nodded. She passed Corban his tea, then sat beside him.

‘During the battle in the glade,’ Corban said, unsure if he should speak of Heb. Brina remained silent so he continued. ‘The giant put Heb’s burning branch out, with the earth power.’

‘Aye, he did. But Heb relit the branch. Not that it did him much good.’

‘No, I lit the branch.’

‘Did you?’ There was a hint of genuine interest in Brina’s voice. ‘How did that happen, then?’

‘I don’t know. I saw the flame go out, was terrified for Heb, and just. . did it.’

‘Well, there you are then. Sometimes it’s better not to think — especially those of us that lean towards the cynical.’

‘Are we going to continue, with the book? Learning?’

‘I don’t know, Ban. Truth be told, I don’t want to do much of anything. Things were different when. .’ She trailed off again.

When Heb was here, he finished for her. Awkwardly, scared that she might shout at him, or hit him, he reached out and put a hand over hers, gently squeezed.

He felt a tremor pass through her as tears spilt down her cheeks.

They sat there like that for a long time. The only sounds were the crackle of flames in the fire-pit, the occasional slurp of tea.