Valour (58 page)

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.

Coralen slid and moved, spinning around Corban as he swung his practice sword at her head.
He doesn’t hold back any more
. She liked that, knew that when she had
first challenged him in the weapons court he had not tried his hardest, had held back because she was not a man.

A few falls on his arse had soon served to disabuse him of that notion. And now he sparred against her with the same intensity that she saw in him when he fought against Gar.

Corban’s sword glanced off her shoulder, knocking her off balance.

Focus, you idiot
, she scolded herself, but before she was able to she was on her back, staring up at a cold sky, Corban’s sword-tip hovering against her chest.

Did he just use my move against me?

He held out a hand for her, grinning, but she slapped it away and rolled fluidly to her feet. She saw men staring, various expressions of shock and surprise on their faces. It was not often that
she was knocked on her backside in the weapons court.

‘Again,’ she said, wiping the smile from his face.

When she left the weapons court later with Baird, they encountered her half-sister Maeve hovering near the entrance, casting cow eyes in Corban’s direction, her face
painted up like her mam’s. Coralen glared as she walked past.

Gods, she hated Dun Taras. It was the bedrock of all of her earliest memories, of her mam and da, King Eremon, when she thought the world revolved around them both, when her mam was the most
beautiful woman in the world. Or so she thought. Eremon seemed to think so as well, if only for a little while. Then the spurning had come, the constant tears and wailing from her mam as Eremon had
tired and moved on to different fields to sow. At the time Coralen had felt as if her world was collapsing, imploding in upon itself, a constant of destruction and misery.

Never shall I be like my mam. Reliant on a man’s good will. Giving myself up for a few smiles and some time under a dry roof. A man’s plaything to be tossed away when he gets
bored
. She felt herself scowling as the memories bubbled up inside her.

She saw the wolven come stalking out of the weapons court, all muscle, teeth and power. She had to admit, it was quite something, seeing a full-grown wolven prowling around the fortress. Corban
and his friends followed behind. Well, at least Corban was good with a blade, she had to concede. Better than her, perhaps, if you took out the dirty moves she specialized in: a score of tricks
that Conall had taught her, for when a fight got up close and personal.

Maeve dropped something on the road, a piece of linen, and Corban bent to pick it up.

Maeve said something and touched Corban’s arm, smiling at him. Coralen couldn’t hear the words but she saw Corban’s face flush red, then saw Maeve lean forwards and kiss his
cheek.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ Baird asked her.