The moon slipped behind ragged clouds and all was in darkness.
Maquin set to pulling the others out of the tunnel and, as quietly as hunting wolves, the three warriors slipped into the forest, the last surviving remnant of the Gadrai. Maquin looked back once and then followed his sword-brothers into the trees.
CHAPTER FIVE
CORBAN
Corban gripped the boat’s rail as he stared back into the distance. Dun Carreg had long since disappeared and in all directions a grey, foam-flecked sea stretched as far as he could see.
It was late in the day now, well past highsun, and Corban’s stomach was rumbling. He had not eaten since the evening before – nor had anyone else on this boat. No one had given food much thought in their desperate bid to escape.
Dun Carreg, he thought, wishing that he could still see the fortress, still see Ardan, still see his home. Home no more. Everything had changed so quickly. And Thannon and Cywen were both still in Dun Carreg. His da and sister, both dead, both needing a cairn to be raised over them. It wasn’t right. Tears filled his eyes.
His mam lay sleeping upon a heaped pile of nets. She looked older, the lines in her face deeper, dark hollows about her eyes. Gar sat beside her, chin resting on his chest, sleeping too. Most of this band of runaways were in the same state. It had been a long, hard night, in more ways than one.
Footsteps drew Corban’s eyes up to Halion, his weapons-master from the Rowan Field, making his way along the fisher-boat towards him. The warrior nodded grimly as he walked to where Mordwyr, Dath’s da, stood guiding the boat’s steering oar.
‘We need to find land. Somewhere to get food and water.’
‘Uh,’ Mordwyr acknowledged. His eyes were red rimmed, his face lined with grief. He had left Bethan, his daughter, amongst the dead in Dun Carreg.
I was not the only one that lost kin last night, Corban thought.
Mordwyr pointed into the distance, northwards, and Corban saw a dark line on the horizon. Land.
‘We’ll have to risk it,’ Halion said. He patted Mordwyr’s shoulder and made his way back along the boat, to where Edana sat with her head bowed.
The Princess of Ardan, now heir to its throne, had said nothing since they had climbed aboard the fisher-boat. The last sound Corban had heard from her was screaming as she witnessed the death of her father.
She’ lost both her mam and da, now. At least I still have my mam, someone to share my grief with.
Storm’s muzzle touched his hand. Corban tugged on one of her ears, grimacing as the movement sent a ripple of pain through his shoulder. Brina had tended the wound where he had been stabbed during the battle in the feast-hall. Helfach had done it. The man’s life-blood still stained the fur around the wolven’s protruding canines. Brina had assured him the wound was not deep and was clean, but it still hurt.
He looked for the healer and she caught his eye, beckoning him over. Craf, the healer’s unkempt crow, clung to the boat’s rail above Brina’s head.
‘Cor-ban,’ it squawked as he squatted down before Brina.
‘What was that about?’ she asked. ‘Between Halion and Mordwyr?’
‘Time to find some land. For food and water.’
‘Ah. Out of the cook-pot and into the flames,’ Brina muttered.
‘What do you mean?’
She looked over the boat’s side at the growing line of land. ‘That’s not Ardan. Not that Ardan’s the safest place to be right now. Still, that’s Cambren. Rhin rules there.’
‘Oh.’ Corban frowned, remembering the kidnapping of Edana’s mother, Queen Alona, back in the Darkwood, where Alona and so many others had died. All because of Rhin. ‘But what choice do we have?’
‘None, I suppose.’ Brina sighed, wiping rain from the tip of her pointed nose.
‘Wet,’ muttered Craf.
‘Why should you care?’ Brina snapped at the bedraggled bird. ‘You’re a crow.’
‘Cold,’ it grumbled. ‘Fire.’
‘I’ve spoilt you,’ Brina said.
The rain was falling heavier now, a cold wind throwing it stinging into Corban’s face. In the distance the black smudge of land had grown closer, blurred by rain. The sea was an impenetrable iron grey, the waves about the boat higher, white-flecked with foam, whipped by the wind. Corban grabbed the rail and steadied himself as the fisher-boat rode a huge swell then sped down the other side. The boat’s only sail was straining, thick ropes creaking. Corban felt a flutter of panic in his gut, then he saw Dath climbing amidst the ropes and sailcloth. His friend flashed him a weak smile.
He doesn’t look so worried, thought Corban.
The sun was sinking, only a diffuse glow behind thick cloud, when they reached the coastline. Mordwyr steered the small skiff into a narrow steep-cliffed cove sheltering a strip of empty beach. Craf exploded into the air with a noisy squawk. Everyone disembarked – Storm needing a little encouragement from Corban – and the skiff was beached safely.