The Faithful and the Fallen: Ruin Part 65

'Bring them,' Meical said. 'Dra.s.sil is colossal. There are no stables, but there are bear pens the size of this hold that could be easily converted. And meadows have been cleared for a league all about the fortress your da did not rest idle at Dra.s.sil for sixteen years,' Meical said to Gar.

Coralen approached them, the first that Cywen had seen of her. She'd been sent to oversee the sinking of their s.h.i.+ps, Corban determined that nothing be left for their enemy's use. Her red hair was dark with sweat, her face was soot stained and tight with grief. She was carrying an axe in her hands that she offered to Gar.

'It is your da's. I found it in the skull of a dead bear, beyond the wall,' Coralen said.

Gar took it. 'His sword I leave with him,' he said, voice hoa.r.s.e. 'But I would be glad to carry one of his weapons. It feels . . . right. Especially one that he was so fond of.' He frowned, looking down at it. 'But I have never used an axe before . . .'

'I will teach you,' Wulf said, then his mouth twisted as he looked at his bandaged hands. 'If I can.'

'He spoke highly of you,' Gar said. 'And of your da.'

Grief swept Wulf's face. 'He tried to save my da pulled him down from . . .' His eyes flickered to the column, to his bandaged hands. 'He stood over us, before that bear . . .'

A warrior ran up, one from Gramm's hold.

'Has the half-breed been found?' Wulf said to the man, a cold rage in his voice.

'She is not amongst the dead,' the warrior replied.

'Fled, then,' Wulf snarled.

'Who?' Meical asked him.

'A half-breed traitor. We gave her a home, raised her, yet she chose to betray Haelan to the enemy. It was only thanks to the boy's quick wits that he'd fled his hiding place before Trigg revealed it to our enemies.'

'Sometimes it feels that this world is full of traitors,' Meical said.

'Aye.' Wulf nodded. 'But I vow, if I ever see this one again, it will be one less amongst the living.'

'We should raise cairns-' Corban said, looking at the blood-stained hold.

'Too long,' Meical said. 'We would still be here when Jael came riding up with a thousand men.'

'Burn them,' Wulf said grimly, 'burn the entire hold, leave nothing for our enemy.'

Cywen stood beside her brother, facing the feast-hall, a host gathered behind them. Beyond the gates a long column of wains and horses loaded with provisions was waiting for them.

A silence fell over the courtyard and Brina sang the first lines of the lament, the melody stark and pure, Gar and Wulf adding their voices first, then more joining until the whole host sang the song for the dead, their voices rising to deafening crescendo, filling Cywen's heart with a tide of emotion. As the last notes died, Wulf and Gar stepped forward and threw burning torches at the feast-hall steps.

The steps and hall had been doused with oil, and flames roared skywards, hungry and crackling. In short moments the hall was ablaze, heat rolling at them in great waves.

Wulf turned and left the courtyard, followed by Corban and then all of the others. As Cywen mounted her horse she saw Gar standing before the gates, outlined by flames, still staring at the hall.

Cywen glanced sidelong at Brina.

Should I talk to her, about last night, about the book? After all that's happened it seems almost unimportant . . . Still the memory of the giant words she'd seen had haunted and swirled about her mind throughout the whole long day. She'd wanted to talk to Corban about it, but there had been no opportunity thus far.

'You might as well come out and say it,' Brina said acerbically. 'Holding your tongue suits you just about as much as it does your brother.'

They'd ridden leagues across rolling meadows, their convoy now close to a thousand souls, heading steadily towards what looked like an ocean of trees that filled the horizon in every direction. Behind them the hold still burned, a flickering beacon upon its hill.

'The book,' Cywen said, talking quietly, even though they were riding between two wains full of the injured and semi-conscious.

Brina sighed, lips pursing, but she said nothing.

She's not going to make this easy.

'It scared me,' Cywen said.

Brina was silent, again. Cywen thought she would not answer. Then Brina spoke softly.

'It scares me, too.'

'It is a book of spells, isn't it?'

'Aye, some of it is.'

'I don't understand. I thought the book is about faith, that being an Elemental is simply believing it and speaking it. That's what you told me that's what the book says. I read it myself.'

'Aye, that's right,' Brina said. Her wrinkled face twitched.

'So why the need for spells, when faith is all?'

'Faith is not all,' Brina snapped. 'That is the point. Faith can be strong, then weak, then gone, all in the same person, all in the s.p.a.ce of a hundred heartbeats. That's why Heb died. His faith wavered.' She was silent a moment, abruptly her breathing laboured. 'So the book explains the alternative. The other way. Spells give the wielder more control, more consistency.'

'So they're easier?'

'Not exactly. With faith, there is no cost, no price to pay. But spells are . . . different. Firstly they are harder to perform, in one sense there is the gathering of ingredients, how to prepare them, knowing the words of power and so on.'

'Like a poultice, or medicinal potion?'

'Exactly.'

I knew she wanted to talk about this, would not be able to stop once she started.

'Although from what I can see, the ingredients are not so easy to come by as meadowsweet or foxglove, or as pleasant.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean, the ingredients for these spells are often hard to come by, and by and large unwholesome.'

'Unwholesome?'

'Yes. For example, blood is often an ingredient.'

Cywen was silent. She didn't like the sound of this, just talking about it was making the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end.

'But there is also another cost.' Brina stopped there, looking around to check that no one was listening.

'What other cost?' Cywen prompted.

'I'm not sure,' Brina said. 'The book hints and alludes, but ' she shrugged 'I need more time to work it out. It is appealing could be useful in this G.o.d-War. To go into battle knowing what you are capable of, having confidence in what you can do. Not like my poor Heb . . .'

'I don't like it,' Cywen muttered.

'I don't like it either,' Brina retorted. 'But that doesn't mean you don't use it. I don't like swords or spears, or fire when it's used to burn a person. There is much in life I don't like. But should I throw away or choose not to use a weapon that could help us win?'

'I don't know,' Cywen said begrudgingly.

'I know you wish to speak of this with Corban,' Brina said. 'I am asking you to wait. There is more I have seen hints and riddles about the cauldron, about the Seven Treasures. I am trying to understand it.'

'We could ask Balur, or Meical,' Cywen said.

'No,' snapped Brina. Then, calmer: 'Please. Let me try. Just a little longer.'

I guess I owe her that much. If spells can help us then we should probably take every opportunity. Still, I don't like it . . . and if she doesn't tell Corban soon then I will.

Having reached a resolution with herself, Cywen slipped into silence again until she saw a group of riders cantering towards them from the east, a score, maybe a few more.

Brina kicked her horse on.

'Where are you going?' Cywen asked her.

'One of the benefits of being a counsellor,' Brina said over her shoulder, 'I get to be nosy.' She cantered down the column towards Corban.

Cywen thought about that a moment.

Well, I am Brina's apprentice, or a.s.sistant, or whatever she likes to call me. So I should a.s.sist her. She kicked her horse after Brina.

Corban raised an arm and Dath blew on his horn, the whole column rippling to a halt. The riders approaching them were mostly warriors, dressed in leather and fur, with iron helms, straight spears and strong s.h.i.+elds, their war gear looking similar to that of the surviving warriors from Gramm's hold. Then Cywen saw the bairns two riding together on one horse, a lad and la.s.s, and another sitting before a thickset warrior with long arms and no neck. A small white dog ran along beside them.

They are from Gramm's hold.

It was a good guess because Hild, sobbing and smiling, jumped down from the wain she was driving and ran to meet them, the lad and la.s.s slipping from their horse to run into her arms.

Wulf and Hild's children, then. The ones Jael had been holding hostage. But who is the other child?

Corban stopped before the warrior with the child sitting in front of him. The white dog ran around s.h.i.+eld, barking excitedly, then he saw Storm, tucked his tail between his legs and hid behind the horse. He stuck his head out from behind a leg and growled.

Storm looked disdainfully at him, then looked away.

'Wulf tells me that you are Haelan,' Corban said to the lad, who was dirt stained, and looked exhausted and scared witless, but he managed to sit straighter in his saddle, and when he spoke he looked Corban in the eye and his voice had conviction.

'I am Haelan ben Romar, rightful King of Isiltir,' the lad said.

'Well met, Haelan,' Corban said, speaking solemnly. 'I am Corban ben Thannon, and I am prince of nowhere and king of nothing, but I do lead these people, and we are sworn to fight the man who has usurped your throne, because he serves Asroth and the Black Sun. So you would be welcome amongst us and, I suppose, as safe as it is possible to be in these times of war.'

Haelan looked up at Corban, then down at Storm, and finally along the column that stretched back almost out of sight, full of Jehar, Benothi giants, pit-fighters and so many others.

'You are going to fight Jael? Going to defeat him?'

Corban smiled. 'I cannot promise you a victory, only that I'll fight him and win, or die in the trying.'

Haelan nodded, not looking like his eleven or twelve summers at all.

'That is good enough for me,' Haelan said. 'I will gladly join your warband, Corban ben Thannon.'

Corban held out his hand and took Haelan's arm in the warrior grip. The lad looked momentarily taken aback, then pleased. And then Corban was riding back to the head of the column, Dath blowing on his horn again, and the warband stuttered into movement, the newcomers joining them. Buddai left Cywen's side and loped over to the small terrier, who jumped all over him as if they had been friends forever. Buddai slapped the dog gently with a paw, then rolled in the gra.s.s.

Cywen smiled at the sight, seeming so natural and ordinary in these most unnatural of times. She took one last look behind her, the sun sinking into the horizon, the fires on Gramm's hill guttering low. Then she turned her head to the east and rode on, towards the endless green that was Forn Forest.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN.

EVNIS.

Evnis sat by the tower gates with his head in his hands. He felt a lot of things right now. Foolish, most of all. I cannot believe that I just stood up in the middle of a field and called Vonn's name.

The emotion of seeing his son after so long had been over-whelming. Clearly. But it was fading now, a distant blend of joy and fear. In its wake was the realization that he had ruined an exceptional plan. It didn't help that Braith was pointing that out to him, repeatedly.

And Morcant was furious about his silver. It's not his silver. It was given to him by Rhin, and she will expect to see it used wisely or returned to her. Perhaps that is why he is so angry. Or scared.

The sun was setting, and Evnis' hundred s.h.i.+eldmen had arrived. Morcant had ridden in with two hundred swords, so the tower and hill was suddenly a very busy place with horses being put out to pasture, tents going up and food being cooked.

Before him the marshlands s.h.i.+mmered, glittering like a many-faceted jewel in the fading rays of the sun. With a deep sigh he stood and walked down the hill to where Braith and Morcant were standing, close to where the enemy had escaped. Glyn followed a few paces behind.

I cannot believe that I stood in the open and allowed an enemy to aim his bow at me.

Evnis had never been an impulsive man emotional, yes, deeply so, but he never acted on that emotion. Not immediately, anyway, certainly not impulsively. Except today.

And there had been one high spot, one good moment in the midst of all of the irrational behaviour and shame.

Vonn saved me.

Evnis had played that moment over and over in his mind; Camlin with an arrow aimed at his heart, and then Vonn's hand resting on the archer's arm, stalling him.