‘What, so you can attack our Craf again?’ Edana said. ‘No, I will not. But I will wring your scrawny neck if you keep trying to peck me.’ The raven was twisting in her arms, but at Edana’s words it went limp.
‘That’s better. It’s clear that you can’t go anywhere – look at your wing. And it must hurt. I would help you, but only if you behave. I’ll not have you attacking me or my companions, and that includes Craf.’ The bird looked at her resentfully.
‘So, what will it be? Shall I tend your wing. Or do you want to try attacking us again, and I twist your neck.’
‘Is she reasoning with a crow?’ Dath whispered to Corban.
‘It’s a raven,’ he said. ‘And yes.’
‘It’s up to you,’ Edana continued, and with that she put the raven back on the ground.
The raven stood still, looking up at Edana, then it hung its head.
‘Sorry,’ it muttered.
‘All right then,’ Edana said, and bent to look at the bird’s wing.
The sound of hooves grew and riders appeared from amongst the trees: Rath and his warriors who had given chase to the surviving giants.
‘Did you catch them?’ Halion asked.
‘No. They’re well into Cambren by now. We’d have followed further, but saw patrols of Rhin’s warriors in the mountains, as well as filling the giants’ road. Something’s stirred them up.’
‘That’d be us,’ Camlin said.
‘Well then, think it’s time we had that talk now,’ Rath said, sliding from his saddle and striding over to Halion. Rath’s band followed him, and soon the two companies were standing close together, all listening to the two men speak.
Halion told Rath of the fall of Dun Carreg and their escape by sea, of their landing in Cambren and a brief outline of the flight that had led them here. Edana rose and stood beside Halion as he spoke. When Halion had finished, a silence filled the glade.
‘I thought I recognized you, under all that dirt,’ Rath said to Edana. ‘My lady.’ He dipped his head and lifted her hand to his lips.
He doesn’t look used to doing things like that, Corban thought. It looked as if Edana agreed, as she had a faint smile on her lips.
‘I shall escort you to Dun Taras and Eremon,’ Rath said. ‘You can rest easy now – you are out of danger.’
For the time being, thought Corban.
‘You hear that, lads? We’ve a queen amongst us. Show some respect.’ Rath bowed lower to Edana. His rugged band did the same, some cheering, all except the girl, Coralen. She remained upright, a frown creasing her face.
‘And welcome home, Halion,’ Rath said. ‘Your da’ll be pleased to see you.’
‘Will he?’
‘Well, we’ll find out soon enough,’ Rath said. ‘I for one am.’
‘And so am I.’ Coralen grinned at Halion.
They gathered around Heb and Anwarth’s cairn, then. Edana spoke kind words over the stones, tears running freely down her cheeks. Farrell stood beside her, head bowed.
He has just lost his da.
He remembered that pain, a distant echo of it twisting inside him, and his sympathy went out to his friend. Are they the last to die? Are we safe now? He wished it were true – so many had died since that night in Dun Carreg, he had lost count. And here, now, looking at Heb and Anwarth’s cairn he felt . . . numb. He had liked Heb always – his stories had felt magical to Corban as far back as he could remember, but over the course of the journey he had come to care for the old man, to think of him as a mentor, and as a friend. And yet no tears came.
Am I becoming numb to all this murder and death? The thought bothered him. He remembered Dylan, his friend – murdered, his body burned – remembered the ocean of tears he had cried for him. And then the overwhelming grief at the death of his da, and so many others when Dun Carreg fell. Life was so frail, and he had not just seen men die, an impartial observer; he had taken lives himself. More than I can remember. That thought shocked him. What am I becoming? He looked about the faces of his companions, all lost in their own thoughts, Edana’s voice a wordless blur now.
His eyes settled on Brina, appearing suddenly older, frailer than he had ever noticed. Devastation was scribed upon her face. Finally he felt grief stir in his gut, an empathy for this harsh, sharp-tongued old lady whom he had come to love; he felt the urge to go and stand next to her, to squeeze her hand, or something, but the silence felt almost like a physical thing, a purity to it, so he did not move. Instead a tear rolled down his cheek.
When Edana had finished speaking, Rath’s men brought up their horses. Rath and two other men – one the warrior with the scar where his eye should have been, Baird, Corban heard him called – gave their mounts up for Edana, Brina and Gwenith. Craf perched on Brina’s saddle, the black raven on Edana’s, its wing now with a makeshift bandage about it.
Coralen turned her horse and spurred it over to Halion. ‘Where’s Conall? Why did he stay in Ardan? You haven’t quarrelled again?’
‘He fell,’ Halion said.
He was a traitor; he killed Cywen, thought Corban.