Corban walked in a grey world. The ground was mist wreathed, the sky boiling with dark cloud. In the distance there were flashes, veins of red pulsing through the iron grey, fading, then brighter, like a distant storm. He walked towards it, the world about him ethereal, shifting from fields of grey rock to green woodland to barren plains of ash.
He drew near to the clouds, saw darker specks moving in them, swirling in tight formations. They were up above now. One fell, growing rapidly larger. Distantly he heard screaming, the clash of weapons. The shape crashed into the earth before him, a cloud of ash rising about it, settling slowly, like black snowflakes. He walked closer, peering cautiously.
A figure lay upon the ground, its skin alabaster, dark veins set in marble. Great wings were spread about it, like a cape of leather. It was wounded, a deep gash across its chest. Something that was not blood wept from the wound. Close by lay a spear, its shaft broken.
Then it opened its eyes.
They were black, no iris, no pupil, just a black soulless well. Corban took a step back.
It tried to move. Pain swept its face, its mouth twisting, revealing jagged teeth, a thick tongue, all as black as its eyes. It reached out an arm, steadied itself, its eyes fixing on Corban.
‘Who are you?’ it said.
A sound came from above, the wind whipped to a storm. Figures were approaching, great wings of white feather speeding towards Corban. The creature before him scrabbled for its broken spear, its wings jerking feebly, then the others landed with a thunder that made the ground tremble. One stamped a foot onto the wounded creature, knocking it flat, then buried a spear in its belly, twisting as he drove it in, through the writhing, hissing form, pinning it to the ground beneath. It drew a longsword from its back and hacked the creature’s head from its body.
Others of its kind gathered around Corban, dressed as warriors in mail and leather. The air moved from their gently twitching wings.
‘Who are you?’ they asked.
‘I . . .’ Corban mumbled. He did not want to say his name, something batting at his memory like a moth against a shutter. Had he been here before? In a dream? A nightmare?
Hands reached out for him and he staggered backwards.
Corban woke with a start; his mam was standing over him. She looked worried. Gar hovered in the background.
He sat up and put his head in his hands.
‘What’s wrong?’ Gar asked him.
‘A bad dream,’ he mumbled.
‘Probably of that Coralen kicking him in the stones again,’ Dath said. ‘Come on, Ban, get up. We’re going to the feast-hall for a drink.’
‘For a meal,’ Gwenith corrected Dath.
Just then the door to their home creaked and footsteps echoed. Edana walked in, Halion and Vonn behind her. With a flap of feathers Fech flew in before the door was pushed to.
Edana sat at a long table and groaned.
‘What’s wrong?’ Brina asked her. Craf was perched on the edge of the table, pecking at a chunk of bread that Brina was feeding him. Fech landed close by, eyeing the bread.
‘Roisin,’ Edana said, shaking her head.
‘What’s she done now?’
‘She’s agreed terms for committing to the battle with Rhin,’ Halion said.
‘Terms?’ said Corban. ‘Rhin’s invading. There’s no need for terms.’
‘That’s what I said,’ Edana muttered.
She’s a sly one,’ Halion said. ‘She didn’t say it, of course, it came from my da’s mouth; but it had her influence behind it.’
‘What?’ several voices asked at the same time.
‘That the alternative to battle with Rhin was negotiation, and that Edana would make a good gift.’
‘Your da said that?’ Dath blurted.
‘Not in those words, but the meaning was clear. He offered an alternative, of course. And Edana took it. She had no choice.’
‘What alternative?’ Brina asked.
‘To agree to be handbound to Lorcan, Roisin’s son, Eremon’s heir. When the time comes and Rhin is defeated.’
But he’s only fifteen summers, thought Corban.
A silence settled over the room, then they all began talking at once.
‘You should have said no.’ Vonn’s voice rose through the crowd. ‘Rhin will attack them and then they will have no choice but to defend themselves.’
‘True enough,’ said Halion. ‘But by then Roisin would have handed Edana to Rhin on a plate. Rhin will hardly turn down that offer. After that Edana’s head would be on a spike, whatever happens in Domhain.’
More arguments rose up, but Edana slammed a hand on the table.
‘I’ve agreed,’ she said. ‘The deal is done. I’m not happy about it, but it is a sacrifice I must make. And it’s a smaller one than the many we’ve suffered already. Besides, it could have been worse. Eremon told me he’d marry me himself if it wasn’t for Roisin.’
‘That’s disgusting,’ said Vonn.