Valour (24 page)

‘I don’t trust anyone beyond this room,’ Nathair answered. ‘And, yes, it would make her powerful. But I would rather deal with one person that I know the measure of than
four petty kings in her place.’ Nathair shrugged. ‘In the east, Carnutan is ruled by Gundul, who relies on my support. Isiltir is likely to have Jael as its new king, though Calidus
tells me he may need some help in claiming his throne.’ Nathair looked at Lykos. ‘I think you may be of some help there, Lykos. It would give you an opportunity to do more than sail
your ships.’

‘He needs something to do, before he drinks himself to death,’ Calidus murmured.

‘I must confess, since I conquered the Three Islands, life has become quieter. Boring, even. I could do with some action in my life.’ Lykos grinned and held his cup up.

‘If it’s action you want, I have just the task for you,’ Nathair said. ‘We shall speak more on that later. So then Isiltir would be in Jael’s control, and Helveth
looks soon to be ruled by Lothar, another man in my debt. If the west came under the dominion of Rhin, and she answered to me, then most of the Banished Lands would be under our control.’

‘And my Three Islands are yours,’ Lykos added.

‘Yes,’ Nathair answered. ‘So Asroth’s Black Sun is running out of possible realms to support him.’

‘And what of Owain? Is he not already indebted to you? Would he not make a more suitable ally than Rhin, at least a less ambitious one?’ Veradis pressed.

‘Less ambitious, definitely. But he is small minded, stiff necked and weak – a bad combination. He does not have the strength to weather the coming storm. And in his heart he does
not embrace me or the alliance. I am sure of that.’

‘Then we should support Rhin,’ Calidus said.

‘Yes,’ Nathair said. ‘How to do that is what we must decide while we are gathered here.’

They discussed long into the night, making plans, Evnis proving every bit as useful and knowledgeable as Nathair had said. Also to Veradis’ pleasure he discovered that over five hundred
eagle-warriors of Tenebral were stationed on ships only a handful of leagues away, part of the new wave of shield wall trained men that had been implemented in Tenebral only the year before. They
were to be put under his command, to bolster his depleted warband.

The eagle-guard put him in mind of home, and a thought leaped into his head.

‘Where is Rauca?’ he asked.

All looked at him.

Nathair shook his head. ‘Rauca is dead. He was slain on the night the fortress was taken by Owain.’

‘What . . . ?’

Nathair continued to speak, but Veradis did not hear the words. He felt as if he had been plunged into murky water, everything about him becoming vague, unfocused. Rauca, dead. He knew it could
happen, but somehow he had never considered it a possibility for his friend. Veradis looked up, saw Nathair’s lips were still moving.

‘Who?’ he asked, the word snapping the world back into sharp focus for him. ‘Who killed him?’

Nathair looked at Sumur.

‘His name was Gar,’ Sumur said with a shrug.

‘The same man killed near all of my eagle-guard, single handed,’ Nathair added grimly. ‘Sumur, tell Veradis of this Gar.’

Sumur looked down at his lap and took a deep breath. It was as much emotion as Veradis had seen pass across his face since the day Calidus had revealed himself as one of the Ben-Elim.

‘He is Jehar,’ Sumur began.

‘What?’ said Calidus, leaning forward.

‘He is Jehar,’ Sumur repeated. ‘Do you remember when you first came to Telassar that I told you another had come, that some of my sword-brothers had been deceived by this man
and had left Telassar on some fool’s errand.’

Veradis nodded.

‘Gar was one of them. He was young then, only just become a man, a warrior, but his father led the deceived, and Gar would cross a world on fire to stay close to him.’

‘His father? Then where is he now? How many Jehar were there with him?’

‘One hundred men and women left Telassar. Where they are now I know not, only that they went in search of the Seren Disglair.’

‘They did not find me,’ Nathair said.

‘Of course not. That I know. They must be dead, their quest long since failed. I cannot imagine Gar leaving his father for any other reason.’

This Gar – I will see him dead,
vowed Veradis, only half listening to the other talk, his mind too full of Rauca’s memory. He felt a frustrated rage welling up, the desire to
draw his sword and strike something.

‘Was this Gar with anyone?’ Calidus spoke now, his voice quiet, but his tone caused Veradis to focus again. There was something, an underlying emotion, that he had never heard in the
old man before.

It was a battle,’ Sumur said. ‘All was chaos, but he looked to a boy, with a wolven.’

‘I have thought along the same lines as you,’ Nathair said to Calidus. ‘Evnis has told me something of the boy – this Gar was friendly with his family.’

‘A wolven?’ asked Calidus.

‘Yes,’ Evnis said. ‘The boy had a pet wolven, though it was far from tame. Storm, he called it.’

‘Storm,’ echoed Calidus. He closed his eyes.
‘Before one, storm and shield shall stand . . .’
he intoned. Nathair drew in a sharp breath.

‘What is that? What do you speak of?’ Evnis asked.

‘Calidus is reciting a line from Halvor’s prophecy,’ Nathair whispered. ‘It speaks of Asroth’s champion, the Black Sun.’

Uthas strode through the heather, starlight silvering the moorland that stretched for leagues ahead of him. He was close to the southern border of Benoth now, would soon be
moving into the realm of Domhain. The pain in his knee was a dull throb. He paused, resting his weight on his spear, and looked back. The fortress of Murias was long faded from view, the cauldron
within it still drawing his mind, as dead meat draws a crow.

Salach, his shieldman, loomed large behind him, the other giants accompanying them mere shadows strung out into the night. Five he had chosen at Queen Nemain’s bidding, five warriors to
journey into Domhain, to spy on their enemy, Eremon, upstart king of an upstart race that had driven him and his clan from their homeland. He felt a wave of sadness, looking back at the kin he had
chosen. They were young by giant standards, and he had hard choices to force upon them.
But we must have our vengeance, and no path is easy in this grim life. If the Benothi are to return to the
south once again, then hard choices must be made. I will make it worth their while.

If they live long enough
, another voice whispered in his mind. He felt the hairs on his neck stand up.

‘What is it?’ Salach said as he drew near.

‘Nothing. Just thinking.’

‘You’ve had years for that. It is time for doing now,’ Salach said.

There was a fluttering from above; a dark shape swooped out of the night. A bird landed on a boulder close by, dark eyes glinting in the moonlight. Nemain had sent the raven with them to act as
scout, but Uthas new that when they returned to Murias the bird would report back to Nemain on every word and deed.

More spy than scout.

‘What news, Fech?’ Uthas asked.

‘Men,’
the raven croaked.
‘Fire, horses, sharp iron.’

The border between Benoth and Domhain was mostly a natural one made of black-sloped mountains. There was a strip of land between the mountains, though, thirty or forty leagues wide, which
provided much easier passage between the two realms. That was the route Uthas had taken them. While it was always patrolled by the warriors of Domhain, Uthas had hoped that the cover of night would
cloak them, and they could avoid any patrols.

‘Warriors, then,’ Fray said as he loomed out of the dark, the shadow of his axe-blade across his back looking as if another bird was perched on his shoulder. ‘How
many?’

‘Eight,’
the raven said.

‘Eight?’ Struan echoed as he reached them. ‘A good number to whet our weapons on, eh? And to earn our thorns. Where are they?’

‘Wait,’ Uthas said. ‘Nemain has sent us to spy, not to kill.’

‘I cannot walk the length of Domhain just to sneak a look at those maggots lording it in our lands,’ Fray said. ‘What do you say?’ the giant asked as their other
companions drew close – Aric, Kai and Eisa.

Uthas smiled to himself, though the darkness hid it from the others.
As I hoped.
Raised on tales of war and glory, but having played no part in those tales themselves, they wanted to make
their own stories.
Killing will bind them tighter to me. Blood offers many qualities.

He could almost see the bloodlust come upon them, the desire to ink the first thorn of their
sgeul
into their flesh. He glanced at the thorns and vine tattooed upon his own arm, most from
the war with the Exiles. That was no small thing, to take a life. To see existence snuffed out before your eyes. It had humbled him the first time, sending another’s spirit across the bridge
of swords. It also gave him pride, whenever he glanced at it, and much honour amongst his Benothi kin. Among those who had been birthed after the wars, anyway. There were those in the clan who had
survived the Sundering and the Scourging. Their
sgeuls
were a sight to behold.

‘We should attack, teach them who this land belongs to,’ Eisa said, her fingers stroking the bone hilt of her knife as she spoke. Her eyes searched out Uthas, pleading. Others
grunted agreement.

‘I command here,’ Uthas said. ‘And we are here to discover, not to slay.’

‘Why can we not do both?’ Kai asked.

‘If we did, we would discover first, and slay on the return journey,’ Uthas said. ‘That is wisdom. But Nemain has bid us to be swift and secret, to leave no sign of our
passing. To gather information. We will not kill
tonight
.’ He said the last sentence louder, looking straight at Nemain’s raven.
If you would report something to Nemain,
report that.

There was some muted grumbling, but Salach snapped a curse at them and rested his hand on his axe hilt, and the complaints faded.

‘We will take a closer look,’ Uthas said, ‘and see what there is to see.’

‘And if it is Rath?’ Fray said, the challenge still sitting behind his eyes.

‘If it is Rath we will kill him,’ Uthas said. ‘I know Nemain would forgive us that.’

Rath had been Eremon’s battlechief. Decades ago a warband of the Benothi had raided into Domhain and razed Rath’s hold to the ground. He had not been there, but his wife and bairns
had been. Ever since then the warrior had hated the Benothi. Rath had gathered about himself a band of warriors and together they had mercilessly tracked and hunted any Benothi giants that dared
enter Domhain’s borders.

‘Fech, lead us,’ Uthas said, and turned, using his spear as a staff, following the raven’s shadow.

Soon they saw the light, a fire’s orange glow, and Uthas caught the scent of meat cooking. He held his spear up and the warriors behind him fanned out, spreading like a cloak tugged by the
wind. Slowly he moved forwards.

Fech had been right – they were warriors. A handful were grouped around a guttering fire, huddled against the wind. Two more stood guard a little further out; one to the east, one looking
north, into Benoth. This one was the only danger, though it was unlikely he would see anything on this moonless night. Aric was closest to the northerly guard, crouched low to the heather, moving
like a slow mist. The guard saw nothing.

I must change that.

Uthas dug his fingers into the ground, felt the moist earth flow about him, under his fingernails, then he began to whisper, hardly more than a breath on his lips. He knew that Salach would hear
him; that was fine, he trusted Salach with his life. But no one else would hear. Fech was nowhere to be seen. A slight tremor ran through the earth about Uthas’ hand, rippling away towards
Aric.

Uthas heard the sound, a popping, as a patch of ground burst close to Aric, sounding much like a wet branch breaking. Uthas could not tell who was more surprised: Aric or the guard. Certainly
the guard heard it.

‘Who’s there?’ the warrior called, half drawing his sword, taking a step towards the sound. The men around the fire stirred, one of them standing. Aric froze for a heartbeat,
then exploded forward, swinging his hammer as he did. It smashed into the guard’s chest, sending him hurtling through the air. He rolled and fell still.

There was a moment’s silence, then the men about the fire were rushing Aric. Giants burst from the darkness about them. Blood sprayed black in the starlight.

Salach made to join the battle but Uthas put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

‘Let them earn their thorns.’

The fight was almost done, anyway, the men surprised and outmatched by Uthas’ company. Even as Uthas watched, Fray sent a man’s head spinning through the night. It fell into the
fire, sending up an explosion of sparks.

Uthas strode over, surveying the battleground. Fray was looking around, axe held across his chest, looking for someone else to kill. The battle-madness slowly faded from his eyes. Eisa was
bloodied, a hand clasped over her shoulder, blood welling black between her fingers. She grinned at Uthas.