Malice (42 page)

‘And there is more to their worth,’ Nathair continued, talking more quietly now. ‘I set Lykos a task, asked him to gather information for me.’

‘About what?’

‘You remember the book Meical read from, at my father’s council.’

‘Of course. Many things were spoken of.’

‘Yes. I have talked of some of it with Lykos and Calidus. They are helping me to understand it.’

Veradis frowned, not sure he liked the sound of that. ‘What of your father and Meical? Why not ask them?’

‘I have tried. Meical will say nothing to me, and Father only says
soon
. . . But
soon
will be too late. So I must take help where I can find it. Lykos has built up quite a network of – what shall we call them . . .’

‘Spies?’ Veradis offered.

‘Informers. And Calidus seems to know much about everything. Do you recall w
hite-walled Telassar
that Meical’s book spoke of, and the
shadow warriors
?’

‘Aye. It all sounded like riddles, to me.’

‘And to me. But Lykos has told me of Telassar. It is a fabled city, hidden by a glamour, home to warriors fiercely devoted to Elyon: shadow warriors, the Jehar, they call themselves. They know of the coming God-War, have spent their lives preparing for it, preparing for the Bright Star.’ Nathair looked around him, lowering his voice. ‘
I
am the Bright Star, Elyon’s chosen, so they will fight for me.’

Veradis nodded. ‘That would all make sense,’ he said, ‘except for one thing. Where are they? Fabled cities are often just that – fabled. And if they are hidden by a glamour, how will you find them?’

‘Yes, good questions. As to where this fortress is, Lykos has heard word it is in Tarbesh.’

‘Ah.’

‘Exactly. So the time we are saving on our journey can be put to good use. I
will
find this Telassar, and talk to these shadow warriors.’

‘Before or after we have dealt with Rahim’s giants?’

‘After.’ Nathair flashed a smile. ‘We shall take council on that now. I have asked Lykos and Calidus to join us here, as soon as they are able.’

‘And the giant. Are you not troubled about taking aid from such as he?’

‘Troubled? No, Veradis. Never take your eye from our goal, my friend.’

‘The goal. And what is that, in the end?’

‘Victory,’ Nathair whispered. ‘I will use man, giant or beast to attain that goal. For the greater good I will do what is required.’

Veradis heard the creak of a door, turned to see the hulking shape of Alcyon emerge from the hold, Lykos and Calidus walking in the giant’s shadow.

There was something wolf-like about Lykos, Veradis thought, as the lord of the Vin Thalun approached them, iron rings clinking in his grey-streaked hair. His walk was graceful, confident, speaking of years on the deck of a ship. ‘My lord,’ the corsair chief said as he drew near. Many in the warband had been surprised to hear Lykos refer to Nathair so.

‘Greetings,’ said Nathair. ‘As you know, I go to the aid of King Rahim. He is plagued with giant raids. Can you tell me anything that will ease my task?’

‘Ever since we spoke of Telassar,’ said Lykos, ‘I have sent many men to Tarbesh, seeking to find your fortress. In the process my spies have travelled far and learned much.’

‘Tell me.’

‘They report to Calidus. He has been my ears for many years now, and has served me well.’ He waved a hand at the gaunt man.

‘A river marks the eastern border of Tarbesh,’ Calidus said, ‘marking the boundary between Rahim’s realm and the Shekam giants. The Shekam have been crossing the river of late, raiding Rahim’s lands. It is a familiar tale, I hear. The giant clans that are left are becoming bolder throughout the Banished Lands.’

‘Aye, I have heard that also,’ Nathair said. ‘Do you know anything of how these giants, these Shekam, make war?’

‘There is one more knowledgeable than I on that subject,’ Calidus said with a grin and nodded to Alcyon.

The giant took a step forward; Veradis felt a slight tremor in the deck.

‘You know of the Shekam?’ Nathair said, looking up at Alcyon’s broad, angular face.

‘Aye,’ the giant rumbled, his voice harsh and low pitched. ‘All the clans had many things in common: like most, their weapons of choice are the axe and hammer. There are differences as well, I remember. The Shekam often fought mounted.’

‘
Mounted
,’ Veradis said. ‘But a horse could not carry a giant.’

‘Aye, prince’s man,’ Alcyon said, turning small, dark eyes onto him. ‘They ride draigs.’

‘Draigs,’ Veradis spluttered, eyes widening.

‘Aye. Draigs,’ the giant repeated, the edges of a smile touching his mouth, making his drooping moustache twitch.

‘I did not think giants rode anything,’ Nathair said.

‘Most do not. We can match your horses, over distance.’ The giant shrugged. ‘But the clans are warlike by nature. We were fighting each other long before your kind ever came to these lands, and advantages of any kind were sought. The Jotun in the north rode bears. I do not know if they still do, since your kin drove them across the Bone Fells, but I suspect so. The Shekam ride draigs.’

Veradis nodded, his mind filled with the coming conflict. He knew that the giant clans had been defeated before, and that there were more of them then, far more, so the task they faced was surely achievable. But giants on
draigs
– now, that was an unsettling thought.

‘Is there any more you can tell us, Alcyon?’ Nathair asked.

‘Aye. Your greatest risk will be from Elementals. They are likely to be amongst their ranks.’

Veradis’ eyes grew wide again. ‘Sorcerers,’ he muttered.

‘Aye. Wielders of the earth power,’ Alcyon rumbled.

‘This task is becoming more than a campaign on which to “cut our teeth,” Nathair,’ Veradis muttered.

‘Indeed,’ replied the Prince. ‘How can we combat these Elementals?’

‘Do not be troubled,’ said Calidus, ‘Alcyon and I will accompany you. We are also familiar with these powers.’

‘You are sorcerers?’ said Veradis.

Alcyon said nothing and Calidus just smiled.

The rest of the journey passed quickly enough: the weather was hot, tempered by a constant wind that sped their progress, the sun filled cloudless blue skies, baking the skin of all that stood on the decks. After the passing of five more nights, Veradis found himself standing once again at the prow of the ship, looking at a dark smudge on the horizon.

‘Tarbesh,’ he muttered quietly, excitement building within him, a weightlessness dancing in the pit of his stomach.

As the day wore on, the land on the horizon grew until he could see the coast clearly. There were craggy cliffs of dark, reddish rock and sand with a covering of sun-blasted grass, here and there stunted olive trees with pale bark, looking like a twisted mass of tendon and sinew.

The small fleet turned north and followed the coastline until they came to a large bay where a river flowed into the sea. Here the land was greener, with groves of tall cedars flanking the river. By nightfall Nathair’s warband was ashore. They made camp beside the river, and in the morning Lykos bid them farewell.

‘I shall return on the last night of the Reaper’s Moon,’ he said. ‘If you are not here we shall wait for you, or until you send word. I shall see you back to Tenebral and Jerolin in good time for Midwinter’s Day.’

Nathair turned and swung into the saddle of his white stallion. Horns blasted, and with a great sound the warband moved out.

‘How long till we reach Rahim’s fortress?’ Nathair asked Calidus.

‘Four, five nights, no more.’

‘Good.’ The Prince turned in his saddle, looking at his warband. Veradis felt his spirits soar as he spotted Rauca in the mass of mounted warriors, holding Nathair’s standard aloft, the eagle of Tenebral snapping in the wind. He raised his hand to his friend, a broad grin splitting his face. He had never felt more alive.

Nathair grinned at him fiercely, and Veradis knew the Prince felt it too. Destiny leading them, just as Nathair had promised. They both faced forward and spurred their horses on.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CORBAN

Corban was sweating by the time he passed through Stonegate into the shadowed cold of Dun Carreg. He looked only at the ground before his feet, fearing accusing eyes were watching him.

What will Marrock say? Does everyone know already that I let the brigands escape?

Buddai loped at his heels, Storm tucked under his arm. He had been desperate to get back to the fortress and had run all of the way, although he was equally terrified of what he would discover upon his return.

His first reaction on hearing that Marrock lived had been a sharp joy, utter relief.

Braith had kept his word and released Marrock.

Or maybe Marrock had escaped.

So many questions.

Where should he go? Surely Marrock would have been taken straight to Brenin. But that would have been some time ago, by now. Time enough for word to have spread through the fortress of Marrock’s return, and also time enough for many to have heard Marrock’s account of all that had happened, including Corban’s part in it all.

He looked up and saw the grey stone of his home. So this was where his feet had taken him. The door was open, his mam standing there. A pressure began to build in his chest, as if his heart were expanding, becoming too large for his ribcage. He did not like the way his mam was looking at him – frowning, her mouth a straight edge, lines of worry around the corners of her eyes.

Storm wriggled under his arm. He put her down and she ran ahead with Buddai, both of them slipping past his mam’s legs.

She did not move when he reached the door. He stood still, his gaze slowly rising until their eyes met. Gwenith reached out and ran her long fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his forehead where it had stuck with sweat.

‘You have a visitor,’ she said.

‘Where?’ he stuttered, trying to peer past her into the kitchen.

Gwenith stepped out of his way, although he did not move. He felt as if he had stepped into one of the Baglun’s bogs.

‘Out back, in the garden,’ Gwenith said. With a wrench of will, he stepped into the kitchen, not even asking who was waiting for him, and strode to the back door. He pulled it open and walked through, passing under his da’s giant war-hammer that hung above the door. Storm squeezed through as he closed it behind him.

Marrock was sitting on a tree stump by the woodpile, looking his way, Cywen silent and still beside him. She had a knife in her hand, had probably been practising her throwing when Marrock arrived. Corban froze a moment, blinking in the sunshine, then walked towards the huntsman. Marrock rose as Corban drew close. He was pale, the scar on his face standing out pink and livid. A bandage was wound tight around his back and shoulder. They gazed at each other in silence, then Marrock gestured for Corban to sit.

‘He did his best for you, and for me,’ Cywen blurted. ‘You’d be dead if he’d done aught else.’

‘Hush, lass,’ said Marrock, raising a hand. He winced as he sat back down, facing them both.

Defending me still, even though she thinks me wrong
, thought Corban, glancing gratefully at his sister.

A heavy silence fell on them as they sat there, Marrock looking at them, Cywen frowning in return, Corban’s eyes flitting between them both.

‘I am in your debt,’ Marrock said, intense blue eyes boring into Corban. ‘You saved my life.’

Surprise. An instant relief of pressure somewhere between his shoulder blades and the base of his skull.
He does not blame me
. Then worry descended again.
Who else knows?
Corban tore his eyes away from the huntsman, looking at the thick grass by his feet. He did not know what to do, what to say, so he stayed silent and did nothing.

‘How did you come to be there? At the pool?’ Marrock asked.

Corban shrugged, eyes darting to Cywen. They had argued about this as well. Cywen had thought they should go straight to Brenin, tell all, including the whereabouts of the secret door and tunnels beneath the fortress. Corban had thought otherwise.

He could not even explain
why
he felt so strongly about keeping the tunnels secret; he only knew that he did, and swore he would only ever know Cywen as ‘oathbreaker’ if she told.

‘Happenstance,’ he muttered.

Marrock exhaled, leaning back, looking between Corban and his sister. ‘Happenstance? Well, Elyon must have some great task saved for me, to bring you along at such an opportune moment.’

Corban shrugged again. He took a deep breath.
Best to know, one way or the other
. ‘Have you told anyone. Of our involvement?’

‘Aye, lad. I have.’

Corban tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. Suddenly his throat seemed to constrict, tightening, his pulse ringing in his ears.
Well, so be it
, he thought, trying to remember Gar’s counsel, breathing slow and deep through his nose.

‘But only the King and my uncle know,’ Marrock continued. ‘In fact, Brenin had us swear that no one else should hear of your involvement.’