Valour

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

VERADIS

Veradis paused in his climb up the mountain path. He was sweating beneath his clothes, but as soon as he stopped he felt the bite of the wind. It was cold in these mountains, colder than Veradis had ever felt. He had traded his leather kilt and iron-shod sandals over a moon ago for woollen breeches and boots, and his cloak was lined with fur, but still he was cold.

‘Stop shivering. Keep walking,’ Alcyon said to him as the giant reached him.

That’s helpful.

They were part of a scouting party sent into the mountains that separated Cambren from Domhain. The bulk of the warband was camped a few leagues east, where a road cut a deep crevice through the mountains. Scouts had confirmed that King Eremon had massed a sizeable force further along the road, where it spilt into Domhain. The battle for Domhain would most likely take place there.

The giant Uthas led their group, he was showing a handful of Rhin’s scouts the route he had taken through the mountains. Veradis had asked to come along because he wanted to see the site of this battle that had become almost legend, between Rhin’s warriors, those they had been tracking and a wolven pack. For some unknown reason Alcyon had decided to come too, even though it was clear to Veradis that he did not like the company of Uthas or the other two giants that had joined them.

They had stopped up ahead, Uthas and his giant companions outlined at the ravine’s head. Veradis pulled his cloak tight and marched on.

Snow sprinkled a wide dell that the narrow path opened up into. Tiered cliffs curled around it, wind-beaten trees growing on ledges. Veradis could only stare and wonder at what had occurred here.

There were bodies everywhere, or what was left of them. A mound of half-eaten corpses was piled close to the dell’s entrance, arrows and broken bones evidencing the violence that had sent them across the bridge of swords. They weren’t just human. Wolven scattered the ground, wide rib-cages picked clean of flesh, as well as other animal carcasses — horses, Veradis realized. Parts of the dell bore the signs of a great fire, even trees and boulders blackened and charred.

Some at least survived, were victorious even. The ones that Uthas and his band met further along the road.

Alcyon was inspecting the twisted trunk of a burned-out tree. He rubbed his fingers against the blackened bark, sniffed them, touched them to his tongue.

‘What is it?’ Veradis asked him.

‘The fire.’ Alcyon frowned. ‘It was not natural.’

‘You mean, sorcery?’

‘Elementals.’

‘But how? Who?’

Alcyon shrugged. ‘Your enemies are resourceful.’

‘Our enemies,’ Veradis corrected.

Alcyon showed him his teeth, what passed for a humourless smile.

They searched a while longer, but the scene yielded little more information.

Veradis had brought the lad from Ardan, Rafe, thinking that he might be useful, but the bodies were too decomposed or gnawed upon to be recognizable. Uthas and his two giant companions — one with a great axe, the other female — stood to one side, watching.

‘This is not where I met these people. That place is further on,’ Uthas said to Veradis.

‘Then lead on.’

They spent a night on the mountain; Veradis shivered through most of it. It was Hunter’s Moon, the seasons passing from autumn to winter, but back in Tenebral the chill would be easily banished by a good cloak. Not here. Veradis woke with frost in his beard and a dusting of snow over the ground. Back at the main campsite it had been cold, the morning training taking place in frost-stiffened grass, but nothing like this.

Uthas grinned at him as they shared strips of salted meat and washed it down with cold water.

‘This is warm,’ Uthas said. ‘Never come north to Murias. On a cold day your urine will be frozen before it hits the ground.’ His companions chuckled at that, but Veradis didn’t find it funny.

‘We will enter Domhain today,’ Uthas said. ‘We may have to stop before we reach the site you wish to see. Eremon will have scouts up here.’

‘We will see,’ Veradis said.

They walked for half a day, following a winding path little more than a fox’s trail. They crested a ridge, all of them hurrying across its peak so as to give no easily seen silhouette, and then stopped a little way down the other side. Hills carpeted in thick pine rolled into the distance, the hint of green land beyond them.

Domhain.

They set off along a quickly widening trail, the ground sloping ever downwards now. Veradis saw a humped mound on the path, saw it was a dead wolven, again its carcass mostly stripped. They passed into light woodland, the ground thick with pine needles, and soon came to a clearing. It was full of bodies. Veradis whispered an order and Rhin’s scouts moved through the glade and then faded into the surrounding trees.

The female giant gave out a fractured wail and crouched by a corpse — a giant.

Veradis tried to make sense of it — wolven and giants ranked highest amongst the dead this time, and this time there was a cairn, so the victors had lingered to pay respect to their fallen. The wolven corpses drew his eye, though. Something about them. It took Veradis a few moments to realize what was different.

They’ve been skinned. Though I’m not surprised, a wolven pelt would be a handy thing in this cold.

‘Tell me again what you saw, Uthas,’ Veradis said.

‘A company burst upon us — they were a mixed company — warriors, women, carrying injured.’

Those that had survived the previous battle, Veradis thought.

‘And there were wolven with them?’

‘Aye. One to begin with. Then others came soon after. Four, five, I am not sure.’

‘The wolven fought each other,’ the giant with the axe said. Salach.

‘That is true,’ Uthas said. ‘I remember now. A black one fought a white one. Over there.’

They all moved to where Uthas pointed. Close by were the remains of a wolven, little flesh left on the bones, the skull picked clean. The ground was littered with torn fragments of skin, sinew. No fur.

‘A white wolven, you say?’

‘Aye.’

That must have been Corban’s wolven. It was them, then, fled all this way from Ardan. So Edana was here as well. And Rauca’s killer, most likely: Gar.

And Corban. The Black Sun. Cywen’s brother. His thoughts turned to her. She had proved pleasant company, once she had left Ardan and stopped trying to murder people. Over the last part of their march through Cambren he had found himself seeking her out, enjoying the conversations they had. She made him laugh, even if her tongue was often as sharp as the knives she liked to use. He liked her.

He shook his head. Concentrate on what’s in front of you.

‘Let’s have a look inside that cairn.’

There were two corpses inside, a warrior, sword placed across his chest, and an old man, white hair whipping across the stones. His body looked deflated, creased, like a sail with no wind in it.

‘One’s Anwarth, Farrell’s da,’ Rafe said, pointing to the warrior. ‘Word was he was a coward.’

‘He died fighting, not running away,’ Veradis said, noting the puncture wounds in the warrior’s torso.

‘The other one’s old Heb,’ Rafe looked sad. ‘He told a good story.’

‘Well his story’s over,’ said Veradis. ‘Cover him up.’

Footsteps thumped on pine needles and Rhin’s scouts burst into the glade.

‘Run! They saw us,’ one snapped.

Veradis turned and ran, Alcyon keeping pace with him; the other giants soon drew ahead, their long loping strides eating up the ground. It felt like a longer journey, running back up the hill to the ridge they had recently passed over, the woods silent apart from their heavy breathing, the thud of feet. He heard footsteps behind, voices calling in the woods. As they broke from the woodland onto open ground and sprinted for the ridge Veradis heard men shouting behind him, the whistle of a spear cast high. He ran faster. The spear skittered off a stone a few strides away. He slid over the crest of the ridge and down the other side. They kept running, long after his lungs and legs were begging him to stop, and eventually paused when they were sure their pursuers had given up. They rested a while, then began the journey back to Cambren and Rhin’s warband. Veradis was pleased; he had learned much. Much to share with Nathair.

Most importantly, that the Black Sun is probably in Domhain. And there is nowhere further west that he can run to.

The camp was a sprawling mess, spreading along the giants’ road and for leagues about it, great clusters of tents and campfires huddled in the rain. The setting sun was just a faint glow beyond the mountains’ rim.

At least it is warmer here, though wetter.

The journey back through the mountains had been uneventful, just cold. He was glad to be back; he singled out Nathair’s tents and aimed for them. As he reached the outskirts of the camp he changed his course, weaving between tents and ropes until he reached the eagle-guard’s section — a more organized area, he was pleased to note. He passed through it, staying within shadows, not wanting to be seen, until he reached the paddocks. His eyes searched, then he saw her, grooming her horse as she always did around this time. Her brindle hound lay almost invisible at her feet.

‘You’re back, then,’ Cywen said as he approached. She smiled to see him.

‘Aye.’ He stood there hesitantly, returning her smile. Unsure. Why have I searched her out. ‘He has recovered well,’ he said, moving to stroke the chest of her stallion. He was a beautiful animal, proud and strong. A good warhorse.

‘Yes, he has.’ Pride filled Cywen’s voice. ‘Where have you been, then?’

‘Scouting. Through the mountains.’

‘I didn’t know first-swords and battlechiefs went scouting. They must do things differently in Tenebral.’ She smiled faintly.

‘I wanted to see if there was any sign of these wolven packs. I went in search of changelings and shape-shifters.’

‘Did you find any?’

‘No. Dead wolven. Dead people.’

She just looked at him now, eagerly and with some fear, waiting for him to tell her more.

‘There was a cairn in the mountains, two bodies in it. Rafe said it was two men named Heb and Anwarth.’ He stared at her in turn now, studying her reaction.

Tears filled her eyes, a tremor in her lip.

‘You knew them, then?’

She nodded, not trusting her voice. He felt the urge to wipe her tears from her face. They traced streaks through the grime on her cheeks.

‘I have to go,’ he said instead and walked away.

‘Were there any others that Rafe recognized?’ she called after him.

He paused, looking back. ‘Your mam and Corban were not amongst them,’ he said, then walked into the darkness.

Veradis leaned back in his chair, enjoying the heat from the fire in Nathair’s tent.

‘You are sure?’ Nathair asked him again.

‘I am sure that there were men from Ardan amongst the dead up there, in the mountains. I am sure that they came from Dun Carreg. Evnis’ lad, Rafe — he didn’t just recognize them. He knew their names. All of them warriors or men loyal to Brenin and his daughter, Edana.’

‘I see.’ Nathair looked to Calidus. ‘So Edana is in Domhain, likely under Eremon’s protection.’

‘It would seem so,’ Calidus said.

‘Which means that this Corban is probably with her. He was definitely not amongst the dead?’

‘Not that we saw — there were many dead, and most unrecognizable, just bones and gristle. But Edana’s group appears to have won both battles; at least, enough of them survived the first battle to carry on and then kill a number of wolven and giants. And they buried their dead in a cairn, which would suggest they did better than those they were fighting. Corban’s body was not there.’

‘So the Black Sun is in Domhain. Possibly camped with Eremon’s army on the other side of those mountains.’ Nathair drank from a cup. ‘It seems almost unbelievable. I have chased this Black Sun in my dreams and in my waking imaginings for so long. I am torn. I was to leave soon for Murias. I must find the cauldron. My dreams. .’ He trailed off. ‘Elyon commands me. I cannot fail him. And yet the Black Sun — if we could defeat him here — kill him. The danger would be over, surely.’ He looked to Calidus. ‘What should I do?’

‘A dilemma, indeed,’ Calidus said. He was silent a while, his expression pensive, unsure. Eventually he sighed. ‘My advice is that you should go to Murias. We need the cauldron. Elyon has come to you in your dreams, I know this. And he has not asked you to defeat the Black Sun. No, he has asked you to get the cauldron.’

‘But why, Calidus?’ Nathair shook his head. ‘I don’t understand. Defeating the Black Sun is the goal. That is my task.’

‘Yes, ultimately. I do not know Elyon’s mind, but I know that the cauldron is a weapon. Perhaps it is impossible to defeat Asroth and his Black Sun without it. Maybe that is why finding it is so important in Elyon’s plans.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But I do know that Elyon has asked you to find the cauldron and claim it. So that is what you should do.’

‘To be so close to my enemy,’ Nathair growled, anger sweeping his face, ‘only to walk away from him.’

‘You were closer still in Dun Carreg, and watched him walk away,’ Calidus said quietly.

Veradis shifted uncomfortably. He is Ben-Elim, but still, to rebuke my King. He felt his own anger stirring.

‘I have punished myself a thousand times for that,’ Nathair snapped, slamming his cup on the table.

‘Asroth is the enemy,’ Calidus said calmly, ignoring Nathair’s flash of temper. ‘To defeat him and thwart his plans we must have the cauldron. We must focus on that. Of course, if your faithful first-sword has an opportunity to kill this Corban over the coming days, well then. .’ He smiled at Veradis.

Nathair drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. ‘All right. You are my counsellor, so I should listen when you give counsel.’ He smiled, the anger of moments before evaporating. ‘And you are well suited for advising on this subject.’

Yes, he is, thought Veradis. If one of Elyon’s Ben-Elim cannot advise on this, then no one can.

‘Indeed,’ said Calidus. He grinned. ‘Commit yourself to your task, Nathair. Focus on that. It will be difficult enough. The Benothi giants will not just hand the cauldron over to you.’

‘Well then, Veradis,’ Nathair said. ‘I shall leave you this task. Help Rhin to destroy Eremon, this King that would harbour my enemy.’

‘I will do all that I can,’ Veradis said. ‘But I would rather be travelling north with you. I am your first-sword; I would keep you safe.’ He traced the scar on his palm where he and Nathair had sworn a blood-oath. It seemed a very long time ago.

Nathair saw the movement, turned his own palm over to look at his scar. ‘We are brothers, you and I. That is why I want you to stay. Rhin must be watched — I do not trust her. I would like her to see what your shield wall can do. It may temper her ambitions.’

‘I will do as you ask, then join you when it is done.’

‘Good. And in doing so, hunt down this Corban. Perhaps he is the Black Sun, perhaps he is not. But if you have the opportunity, kill him. Just in case.’ He smiled at Veradis and raised his drink.

They all touched cups, Veradis trying to smile back at Nathair. All he could think of was Cywen’s face, her tear-stained, dirty, grimy face, framed with black curls. Nathair had just ordered him to kill her brother. He felt a wave of sympathy for her.

So be it, a voice said in his head.