She paused, looking deep into his face, searching for something. He just felt confused.
‘Chosen? Mam, what’s this all about? By who? For what?’
‘By Elyon. You have a part to play in the God-War. Because of this you have also been hunted, since the day you were born.’
‘Hunted? Who by?’
Gwenith looked about, as if to check that no one was creeping up on them. ‘Asroth,’ she whispered.
‘Chosen, hunted?’ A smile died on Corban’s lips as he saw her expression. She really believes this. Grief and exhaustion have confused her, he thought.
His mam shook her head. ‘It should be Thannon doing the telling. I do not know how to say this,’ she muttered, eyes flickering to Gar. A tear rolled down her cheek.
The warrior frowned, eyebrows bunching. ‘Your mother speaks the truth. The important thing for you to know, Ban, is that you are part of this. Part of the God-War. What happened at Dun Carreg is only the beginning. The Banished Lands are falling into chaos.’
Questions were erupting in Corban’s mind, one after another. One fought clear of the rest. ‘How do you know this?’
Gar waved a hand. ‘There is a lot to tell you, too much for now, for here. But I will answer all your questions during our journey, if I can.’
‘Journey? You mean to Domhain?’
‘No, Ban. We must go to Drassil.’
‘What? Drassil?’ The fabled city in the heart of Forn Forest? Corban shook his head. None of this was making sense. He remembered overhearing his mam and Gar talking, back in Dun Carreg. About the arrival of Nathair and his guard, Sumur. They had mentioned leaving then, spoken of Drassil. But it had felt different. Everything had felt different. Cywen and his da had been alive, then.
‘Yes, the giant stronghold. It is vital that you – we – go to Drassil.’ Something flashed across Gar’s face. Longing? ‘You will be safe there.’
‘But . . . what about the others?’ He looked over his shoulder, saw the flicker of their campfire, dark figures around it.
‘We must leave them.’
Corban rocked back, recoiling as if slapped. Leave them. The thought seemed ridiculous to him, unimaginable. This group was all that was left of Dun Carreg, all that was left of home. And his mam and Gar were asking him just to walk away from them. Abandon them, abandon Edana. Suddenly he could see the Rowan Field, smell the sea air. A crowd was gathered about him as he took his warrior trials. He glanced at the palm of his hand, the scar where he had sworn his blood-oath in the Field a silver line. He had pledged his life to king and kin. His king was dead, but Edana was Brenin’s heir. Walking away would make him an oathbreaker.
‘No,’ he heard himself say.
‘Ban,’ his mam said.
‘We must,’ Gar said.
‘No. Everything, everyone has been broken, killed, destroyed.’ He kneaded his temples. ‘Da, Cywen . . .’ He looked up and locked eyes with his mam. Tears streaked her cheeks. ‘They are all that’s left of home,’ he said, waving his arm towards the campfire. ‘They are our family now.’
‘Ban, this is beyond all kin, beyond all friendship,’ Gar said, an inflection in his voice hinting at some hidden emotion, a lake of it, buried deep beneath the surface. ‘This is about doing what is right, doing what must be done, despite the cost. Please, trust us. We must leave.’
‘I have sworn an oath to Edana. I’ll not become an oathbreaker.’ He stood, feeling dizzy, not wanting to hear any more, not another word; not this madness about Elyon and Asroth, not about Forn, and Drassil, and not about leaving. He felt as if he was a dam full to bursting. His mam reached for his hand, but he snatched it away and stumbled into the darkness.
CHAPTER SIX
MAQUIN
Maquin followed Tahir into the forest, almost colliding with the young warrior when he stopped abruptly behind Orgull.
‘What’s wrong?’ Maquin hissed, looking about for any hint of danger.
Orgull was muttering unintelligibly, only the odd curse recognizable. He was looking back at the campfires that flickered distantly behind them.
‘What’s wrong, chief?’ Tahir said.
‘Can’t go yet,’ the big man said, looking as if he’d rather not be saying the words.
‘Why not?’ the other two chimed.
Orgull grimaced. ‘I have to speak to King Braster.’
‘Why?’ Tahir asked. ‘We don’t even know if he’s still alive.’
Orgull sucked in a deep breath. ‘I have been part of the Gadrai near half my life, but I am also bound to another brotherhood.’ He gave them a long, measuring look. ‘Braster is part of that brotherhood. If there is a chance he still lives, I must tell him what has happened. We all know there are no guarantees that we’re going to make it out of Forn. Got a long walk ahead of us with enemies right behind, most likely. If we don’t get word back to Isiltir and Romar’s kin, that’ll be the end of it. Jael will have won. Don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sit too well with me.’