Veradis looked at her long and hard. ‘I’m going to trust you, against my better judgement, and leave you unbound. For now.’
‘My thanks. I will not cause any more trouble. Besides, if that friend of yours – Calidus?’
‘Aye.’
‘If he was right, then I am moving closer to my family – to Corban at least.’ She chewed her lip. ‘How could Calidus tell that Corban was across the water, in Cambren, just by touching Ban’s old smith’s apron?’ If you don’t ask, you don’t get.
‘I don’t know,’ Veradis said uncomfortably. ‘He is . . . gifted.’
The giant snorted. Veradis looked at him.
‘That was nothing compared to what he can do,’ the giant said. ‘If Calidus had a lock of hair, he could do much more.’
‘Like what?’ Veradis said.
The giant shook his head. ‘Better that you do not know,’ he muttered.
‘It’s all right,’ Veradis warned with a smile. ‘Best not let Calidus close with a knife, then, lest he take a lock of your hair.’
‘He already has some of mine,’ the giant said. Something crossed his face, sadness, anger? He slowed down and dropped behind Cywen and Veradis.
‘What does he mean by that?’ Cywen asked. Veradis didn’t answer; he was looking over at the giant, a troubled expression on his face.
Slowly the warband crept through the densely green and fertile countryside of Cambren. The landscape was beautiful: sweeping hills of meadows filled with wildflowers, sparkling streams and dark, still lakes. Much of the land was covered in swathes of dense woodland, the leaves turning to red and gold as the days passed.
Cywen’s guards were always close by, mainly Bos, although Veradis also spent much of his time riding alongside her. So there was never any opportunity for her to attempt an escape. Her two guards were far more vigilant than Conall had ever been. It was frustrating. When their duties took them elsewhere – such as each morning when Veradis would spar and drill his warband before the day’s marching began – Cywen would be bound hand and foot and left to watch them going about their training. She had seen Veradis spar against Conall, back in Dun Carreg, but he seemed different now: faster, more aggressive. She doubted that he would draw against Conall if they faced each other again.
Part of her resentfully enjoyed the journey. It was a joy to be upon Shield’s back. She could feel the power of him; he was quick to follow any command and he was a part of Corban, somehow, as Buddai was a part of her da. One night she was sitting in front of a crackling fire with Bos and a handful of eagle-guards, a thousand similar tiny beacons in the darkness clustered all around. Buddai was curled at her feet, gnawing on a bone that Bos had thrown him, when Veradis appeared out of the darkness and sat with them. Bos passed him a skin of mead.
‘What news?’ Bos asked.
‘A band of Rhin’s warriors joined us today,’ Veradis said, ‘come from the north. They brought a strange tale. It’s probably not worth the telling – just superstitious faery tales.’ He paused and drank from the skin of mead.
‘Just tell us,’ Bos said. ‘We’ll hear it anyway, soon enough.’
‘True enough,’ Veradis said. ‘All right then, they said they had chased a small group across these very hills, thought they were spies of Owain. Said they ran with wolven, that they were attacked at night with tooth and claw.’
There was a silence then, a twig popping in the fire making Cywen jump.
‘Wolven don’t run with men,’ someone said.
‘Changelings,’ another whispered.
‘What happened?’ Cywen said, feeling a shiver of excitement, of kindled hope.
‘They caught up with them in the mountains that border Domhain,’ Veradis said, waving his hand into the darkness. ‘They said they’d cornered them, were leading a final attack, and then they were set upon. By more wolven; a pack of them.’
‘How many of Rhin’s men were tracking these people?’ Bos asked.
‘Fifty of Rhin’s warriors, or thereabouts. Only three have returned.’
‘What about the ones they were chasing? How many of them survived?’ Cywen asked, trying to sound only mildly interested.
‘From the sound of it no one was counting – they were too busy running.’ Veradis shrugged. ‘I don’t believe the half of it,’ he continued, ‘we all know how tales grow in the telling. Perhaps there’s a stone of truth at the heart of it. When we reach the mountains we’ll have a look at the place where this is supposed to have happened. See what we see.’
‘It’s nothing to worry about, anyway,’ Bos said. ‘Not for us. We’ve faced worse than wolven. Draig-slayers and giant-killers, we are.’
‘That we are,’ Veradis said. His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword and absently stroked it. ‘I’ll drink to that.’
Cheers and laughter rang out, all of them lifting skins of mead.