The Faithful and the Fallen: Ruin Part 79

'I'll try my very hardest t'do that.' He grinned.

'And I want you to take someone with you. Halion, Baird or Vonn, my most trusted s.h.i.+eldmen.'

'No need,' Camlin said with a shake of his head.

'I think there is. And even if there isn't it will help me sleep better at night. Please, do it for me.'

Camlin looked between them, at Baird's slightly wild grin a good man to have beside me in a fight, though I think he may pick a few that don't need fighting Vonn, as serious as a man standing at his mother's cairn, and Halion, calm, steadfast keeps his head in a sc.r.a.p, a strategic man, better with a blade than most, maybe better'n Braith, even.

'I'll take Vonn, then,' he said.

Don't like the thought of him left around Edana without me here to keep an eye on him.

Edana smiled and Vonn nodded, more to himself than Camlin.

'Right, I'd better be off, 'fore I lose any more light.'

Edana stretched onto her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. She turned to walk away and they heard footsteps rustling through the gra.s.s and reeds. Everybody's hand went to a sword hilt, including Edana's.

A shadow appeared amongst the reeds, a figure stepping out before them.

'Ah, I thought you were here somewhere,' Lorcan said. His eyes sought out Edana. 'I need to talk to you about something.'

Camlin lay on his belly upon a slight hillock, reeds a slatted screen before him, looking down upon a willow beside a twisting stream. Three arrows were stuck into the soft earth before him, his bow lying beside him. A figure sat leaning against the willow tree, wrapped tight in a cloak, head drooped forward onto his chest, seemingly asleep. Yellow hair stuck out from a pulled-up hood. A spear leaned against the willow tree, just a handspan from the figure's fingers.

'How long do we have to lie here?' Vonn whispered. 'I can't feel my feet.'

Camlin ignored him.

He does have a point.

It was cold, the sky above was overcast with clouds heavy and silver sheened, threatening snow, the marshlands were a grey, damp, mist-filled world of mosquitoes and croaking frogs. They'd been lying on this hillock since sunrise, and the sun was now melting into the western horizon.

'Camlin, I-'

'Shut up,' Camlin breathed, pointing.

Something was moving, off to the left, a s.h.i.+ver amongst the long gra.s.s and reeds a movement opposed to the wind. Steadily it kept creeping forwards, then stopped, within sight of the figure sitting against the tree. A hesitation, a hundred heartbeats, two hundred, then it was moving forwards again. Two men broke from cover, stooped low, moving swiftly and silently in a loop around the figure against the tree until they had the willow's trunk between them and the reclining warrior.

Stealthily they crept up, single file, the first drawing a knife from its sheath.

Camlin pushed himself onto his knees, tugged an arrow from the ground in front of him, slowly lifted his bow.

The first man was right behind the sleeping figure, by the spear. He raised his knife.

Camlin drew the arrow to his ear, held his breath, sighted, released. It struck the second man, piercing leather vest and linen s.h.i.+rt to sink deep into his back. At the same moment the first one buried his knife to the hilt in the sleeping man's chest.

There was an explosion of straw, the man with the knife tugging his blade free, looking at the shape against the tree, then at his collapsing companion, then straight up to the hillock where Camlin was drawing his second arrow.

It punched through the knife-wielding man's chest, hurling him onto his back. He thrashed in the gra.s.s a moment, movements weakening, then he was still.

Camlin and Vonn climbed to their feet, Camlin groaning from the stiffness in his limbs, and they hurried down the hillock.

'That's the third time this has worked,' Vonn said to him, shaking his head.

'Aye,' Camlin agreed. They'd been hunting these scouts for four nights now, each time using the straw man to lure their enemy in and then kill them. So far it had been remarkably successful. Six men dead in three nights.

Camlin checked the two dead but knew before he saw their faces that neither one was Braith.

Can live in hope, though.

He drew a knife, bent and cut his arrows free of the two dead men, checked them over for food and coin, then saw Vonn standing above him, frowning.

'Old habit,' he said with a shrug as he dragged and tipped one corpse into the stream. 'Check our friend, eh?'

'He's a straw man wrapped in a cloak,' Vonn said.

'Aye. Check the cloak's not ruined can't have a pile of straw leaking out of his belly, can we?'

'He's fine,' Vonn said.

'Good. Give me a hand with this one, then.'

Together they lifted the second dead man and carried him to the stream, slipping the corpse into the slow-moving water as quietly as they could. Camlin grabbed the spear and with the b.u.t.t-end pushed the body down into a snare of reed. Then they checked the area for any evidence of their having been there, Camlin emptying one of the dead men's water skins over a pool of blood, diluting and dispersing it. Vonn picked up the straw man and slung him over his shoulder, then they were moving off into the reeds, shadowing the stream.

Camlin froze suddenly, turned and looked back.

'What?' Vonn hissed, hand going to his sword hilt.

Camlin stood still as stone, head c.o.c.ked to one side, eyes scanning the twilight and mist that curled languorously amongst the shadows. All he could hear was the gentle flow of the stream. Then a splash, almost nothing.

More long moments listening, then he shrugged and walked on.

'Wish you wouldn't do that,' Vonn muttered.

Camlin ignored him.

'So what now?' Vonn asked him.

'Do it again,' Camlin said. 'They'll be strung out in a loose line, but we'll move faster than them. We'll set up again in half a league or so, snare us some more scouts.' With each trap Camlin had edged his way back towards the lake and Dun Crin's ruins, imagining that Braith and his huntsmen would be inching their way ever so carefully inwards. So far he'd been right.

'How many of them are there?'

'Don't know,' Camlin shrugged. 'At least ten, probably closer to a score.'

'What if they come in bigger groups?'

'Doubt it. Braith always sent us out in twos enough to watch each other's backs, not too many to make a racket or leave a trail.'

'How do you know where to put the straw man?'

'Don't know,' Camlin said. 'Just a feeling, mostly.'

'Most of this is guesswork, isn't it?' Vonn said.

'And a bit of luck.' Camlin grinned back at him.

Dawn came damp and grey. Camlin emptied his bladder, prodded Vonn awake and checked their straw man.

Just before full dark he'd found a spot that felt right. A cl.u.s.ter of alders beside a stream, a gentle rise in the land screened by a snarl of dogwood and briar.

'C'mon then,' Camlin grunted. He leaned the spear against an alder, adjusted the straw man so he appeared to be sleeping, then picked up his bow, slung his quiver over his shoulder and headed off towards the cover of the dogwood. He heard Vonn's footsteps padding behind him.

They settled behind the bushes, Camlin stabbing arrows into the spongy turf, and waited. Time was hard to measure, the clouds too thick and bloated for any sign of the sun. 'What do you think about that mad bird?' Vonn asked him as he strung his bow.

'Craf?'

It had been a shock to all of them when Craf had fluttered into their meeting. Camlin had felt a rush of excitement, thinking that the bird's arrival must precede that of its companions Corban, Dath and the others but the bird had quickly disabused him of that notion. It had been good to hear news of them, though. That they were still alive, most of them, at least.

The other things it had squawked at them all Camlin still did not know what to make of all that.

Going to Dra.s.sil. A fortress of faery tales, and talking about prophecies and bright stars and the Seven Treasures. I remember Gar saying things like that about Corban, as we fled across Cambren. But now he's leading a warband several hundred strong, Benothi giants amongst them. Can that really be true?

'I don't know,' Camlin said to Vonn.

He lay flat in the gra.s.s, wriggling to find a gap in the bushes to peer through. Snow was falling now, soft and steady. It was getting darker, the snow adding a faint glow to everything.

Have to end this, soon. Too dark to hunt, and my bowstring's going t'get wet.

'It makes me think,' Vonn said quietly beside him. 'My da used to say strange things, about a G.o.d-War. Never came out and said it straight, of course, that's not his way. But he would allude to things, choices, sides, using your head, not your heart.' He tapped fingers to his temple and his chest as he did it.

He can see Evnis saying it to him now.

'It's like he knew it was coming . . .'

'Maybe he did,' Camlin muttered darkly. Maybe he did. Maybe there's a reason we're on opposite sides.

A movement drew his eye, down by the stream. He squinted, seeing movement through the falling snow.

'Best concentrating on staying alive through this,' Camlin whispered, pointing. 'Plenty of time later to think about G.o.d-Wars. The trick right now is to keep breathing.'

He pushed himself to one knee and reached for his bow.

Two men broke from a cl.u.s.ter of trees, moving stealthily, flitting from one clump of cover to the next. Sound was muted, the snow beginning to settle on anything that wasn't water.

Camlin frowned. They're more cautious.

He reached for an arrow, nocked and drew, deciding not to wait for these men to reach the diversion.

'Vonn, be ready to move quick,' he whispered, voice strained with the tension of holding his drawn bow. His arrow-tip tracked both men below him, only thirty or forty paces away now, settling upon the first, feeling his vision close in upon the man's chest.

'I'd lower that bow, right slow if you want to keep breathing,' a voice hissed behind him.

It can't be . . .

Camlin released his arrow, dimly registering a scream from down below as it found his target. Beside him Vonn spun around, scrambling to get his feet under him. Camlin heard a solid crunch, Vonn falling back, eyes rolling back into his head, blood matting his hair.

'You don't want to be killing him,' Camlin said. 'He's Evnis' boy.' Slowly he laid his bow down in the gra.s.s.

'I told you to lower your bow, not shoot one of my men,' the voice snarled.

'Didn't think cooperating would change your mind about killing me.'

'You're right there, Cam,' the voice behind him said. 'Now, turn around slow.'

Two men were standing looking at him. One with a spear levelled at Camlin's face, a young lad, fair-haired. Camlin recognized him, though he couldn't remember his name.

Beside him stood Braith, naked sword in one hand, a smile on his face.

'Thought you'd catch me with my own trick?' Braith said. 'I'm hurt.'

'h.e.l.lo, Braith,' Camlin said.

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE.

CORALEN.

Coralen bent low in the saddle, kicked her horse on and kept her eyes on her target, her spear held tightly and level with the ground. Frozen by winter's arrival it was as hard as rock, the horse's hooves pounding a staccato rhythm. At the last moment Coralen nudged a knee, twitched the rein, and her mount veered to the left, at the same time Coralen lunging with her spear, piercing the straw target approximately where a warrior's heart would be. She grinned fiercely as she reined in and cantered back to collect her spear. As her excitement faded she became aware of a pain in her shoulder and shrugged, trying to adjust the weight of her new chainmail s.h.i.+rt. It was rubbing on the bone between her shoulder and neck. She wasn't used to wearing one, but Gar had given it to her last night, told her that everyone was getting one.

We'll all be wearing them when we face Nathair and his warband. You'll be grateful when it turns a blade and saves your life. She'd frowned and he'd pointed a finger at her. Wear it, practise in the weapons court in it, sleep in it. You'll need to be used to it when real battle arrives.

She knew he was right, although right now it felt heavy, uncomfortable and restrictive.

And that's why we're supposed to train in them now.