And now he was looking at his dead warriors, wondering what he could do to save lives in the next battle. And there will be many more, as we walk ever deeper into this God-War.
He went in search of Nathair, found him seated in a wide ring of warriors, hidden in shadow and watching Rhin as she rewarded her chieftains with plunder. A fire-pit had been dug; the carcass of a great boar was turning above it, fat crackling as it dripped into the flames. Veradis’ gaze was drawn to Rhin where she was sitting upon an ornate chair, thick with furs, clothed in black sable, a cloak of the same material edged with gold about her shoulders, her silver hair spilling across it. A gold torc wrapped her neck, and the firelight flickering across her face cast it one moment in shadow, the other in light. Her hand was extended, draped with gold and silver that she was offering to a warrior who stood before her. It was an older man, with streaks of white in his red hair and silver torcs curled around broad arms.
‘Who’s that?’ Veradis asked Nathair.
‘That’s her battlechief, Geraint.’
‘You should be seated with her,’ Veradis whispered to Nathair. ‘You won this battle for her and, besides, you are high king.’
‘Let her enjoy her moment,’ Nathair said with a smile. ‘She might well have won this battle without our help, even outnumbered. She’s a sly one.’
‘Yes,’ said Veradis. He remembered her well from Aquilus’ council. Clever, cunning and with a clear predilection for younger men, if the way she had looked at her first-sword had been anything to go by.
Bos pushed through the crowd, heading towards them, grasping Cywen’s wrist. She had washed the blood from her face, but it was still patched with bruises.
‘I hear you have taken on a new ward,’ Nathair said, looking at the girl.
‘Thought you’d be upset if she was found with her throat slit. I don’t think that Conall has the temperament for guard duty.’
‘You are right. And Calidus would most likely explode if she was killed. He is convinced the girl is important, perhaps a route to finding her brother.’ Nathair’s expression turned serious. ‘The Black Sun. He is out there . . .’ He looked out across the marshes, just a glimmer now as darkness fell, the sea beyond a murmur.
‘So what now,’ Veradis said.
‘Tomorrow we shall meet with Rhin, make more plans and continue the serious business before us. But tonight. Tonight we shall celebrate our victory and the fact that we are still alive.’ He raised a jug, poured from it and offered Veradis a cup. Veradis took a sip. Mead. He winced at the sweet taste of honey, but still managed a twisted grin.
Bos led Cywen over, freeing her when they reached Veradis. She scowled at the big warrior, rubbing her wrist.
‘How is your horse?’ Veradis asked her.
A smile touched her face, hesitant, for an instant transforming her. There’s actually a pretty girl beneath all those bruises and scowling.
‘I think he will be fine,’ she said. ‘Your friend, he is an amazing horseman.’
For a moment Veradis did not know what, or who, she meant, then realized she was talking about Akar. ‘The Jehar are skilled horsemen. I have never seen their like on horseback . . .’ He blew out a long breath. ‘I think they care more for their horses than people.’
She smiled again at that. ‘I know how that feels.’
Veradis heard a blowing of horns, looked in the direction of the sound and saw men spilling from the woods, many holding torches aloft, a constellation of firelight in the growing darkness. At their front three men marched. One walked – a woodsman by the look of the long bow slung across his back. Beside him a warrior rode a fine horse, sitting tall, teeth glinting in the torchlight. Before them both stumbled another man, his hands bound behind his back.
Owain.
Veradis saw Evnis further back amongst the warriors emerging from the woods, his shieldmen riding close about him.
Owain’s captors marched him up the hill and pushed him stumbling before Rhin. The rider with them raised a hand in greeting to Rhin, gave a wide smile and dismounted, handing his reins to a warrior.
Cywen was still standing beside Veradis, and he heard her hiss, saw that her eyes were fixed venomously on the warrior.
‘Morcant, Rhin’s first-sword and paid killer,’ Cywen said bitterly.
Veradis blinked. Of course.
Owain was cut and bruised, his lips and one eye swollen, but somehow he managed to stand straight.
‘Welcome, cousin.’ Rhin smiled. ‘You have arrived just in time. We were about to eat.’ She gestured to the boar turning above the fire. ‘I am celebrating, you see.’
Owain stared at her, rage surfacing through the ruin of his face. ‘Cambren not enough for you?’ he said.
‘Not when I am surrounded by realms ruled by idiots,’ Rhin replied.
‘You are a tyrant, a liar, a thief. I hope you rot in hell for what you have done.’ He spat on the ground. Angry murmurs rippled the crowd, but Rhin merely laughed.