A look of horror swept Coralen’s face. ‘I thought he was indestructible, that he would live forever.’
‘I did not,’ Rath said, who was nearby.
‘How did he . . . ? Did he die well?’ Coralen asked, a tremor in her voice.
‘No’, another voice said. His mam.
‘Not now,’ Halion said. ‘Please.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Coralen snapped.
‘It’s complicated. I’ll explain another time,’ Halion said.
‘No. She’ll explain now.’ Coralen rode closer to Gwenith. ‘Won’t you?’
Gar stepped between them. ‘Let her be, girl.’
‘Don’t be telling me what to do,’ Coralen said. ‘And who are you, anyway?’
She has her brother’s temper, thought Corban, seeing the colour rise in her cheeks.
Storm growled.
Coralen glanced at Storm. ‘Hal, who are these people you ride with? Bird-lovers and wolven-tamers.’
‘She’s not tame,’ Corban said.
‘She’d make a good cloak, keep me warm in the winter.’
Corban felt his own anger stir at that.
‘That’s enough, girl,’ Rath said, riding closer.
‘But—’
‘Enough, Cora. Ride on.’ He stared her down, waiting until the fire went out of her eyes. She yanked on her reins and rode ahead.
‘You’ll tell me about Conall soon,’ Rath said to Halion. It was not a question.
‘I will.’
‘She had a good point, though. It is strange company you keep,’ Rath observed, looking between Storm and the two black birds perched on saddles. ‘Lad, your wolven’s not going to eat any of my men, is it?’
‘She, not it,’ said Corban, feeling his anger still lurking, with no obvious target for it now that Coralen had ridden off. He took a long breath. ‘Her name is Storm. And the answer’s no, she’ll not hurt any of your men, unless they try to harm us. We are her pack, you see, and she’s protective.’
‘I’ll remember that,’ Rath said.
With a click of his tongue Corban called Storm closer. A good cloak, indeed. He looked back at the glade, the cairn of stones in its middle, the corpses of wolven and giants scattered around. His eyes came to rest on the body of a wolven, dark furred and sharp clawed, and he remembered the night attack that he and Storm had been part of. A good cloak. The seeds of an idea stirred in his mind.
‘Move out,’ Rath called.
‘Hold a moment,’ Corban said, marching across the glade.
‘What is it?’ Camlin said to him, bloodied but still vigilant.
‘Just an idea – one that I may need some help with.’ Corban pulled his knife from his belt as he crouched beside the dead wolven.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
VERADIS
Veradis focused on his opponents’ blades, all three of them, his body automatically moving to defend and attack. He combined a long sweep to block two different blows, pivoting suddenly and cracking his practice blade into one opponent’s ribs, then striking another on the wrist, sending his weapon spinning. Then there was only Bos left and Veradis pressed forwards against the taller man, one blow turning into another – neat, economical, and deadly until Bos stumbled and fell, Veradis’ blade at his throat.
‘All right, you win,’ Bos said good-naturedly. He held his hand out and Veradis pulled him up.
‘I think you’re getting faster,’ Bos said, wiping sweat from his bald head. He waved a hand at the other eagle-guard that Veradis had called out to spar with, both nursing bruises on ribs or wrist.
‘Feel like I need to,’ Veradis said. He knew that the recent battles were won, but something about this whole situation felt unsafe to him, and a voice in the back of his mind was telling him to sharpen up, to be ready, prepared. What for, he did not know, but he had learned to listen to that voice before. Maybe it was just the politicking of the last few days, which always made him feel uncomfortable, or the sword-crossing between Conall and Morcant. Both masters with a blade – that was obvious. Things were so fluid in these lands, it was not a great stretch of the imagination that one day soon it could be him facing either one of them, or someone equally skilled in the Court of Swords. He would not be found wanting.