Farrell, you need to stop, before she stabs you.
‘I’m not mocking you,’ Farrell said, face twisting in shock. ‘I would never mock you.’
Please stop.
‘I love you.’
Oh no.
Dath laughed and staggered.
‘You’re drunk,’ Coralen said.
‘A little,’ Farrell muttered.
‘You must scare these lads,’ a voice said behind Coralen, ‘if they need a drink to muster the courage to talk to you.’ It was Baird, grinning from ear to ear.
‘Shut up,’ Coralen said over her shoulder.
‘I don’t need a drink to find my courage,’ Farrell said, scowling at Baird. He looked back to Coralen. ‘You haven’t answered my question. Do you like bears?’
‘What? Yes, I suppose. If they’re not trying to eat me. I’ve heard they make a good meal, and a good bearskin will always keep you warm.’
‘I think he’d like to keep you warm,’ Baird said, nodding at Farrell.
‘You see,’ said Farrell to Corban and Dath. ‘She does like bears.’ He grinned.
‘Well, if we’ve exhausted your conversation, perhaps we can get on,’ Coralen said. ‘We’re in the middle of something.’
‘Who are they?’ Dath said, pointing to the line of figures bound behind Coralen and her companions.
‘The enemy,’ Coralen said. ‘Found most of them up in the hills. Might be deserters, might be spies.’
Corban stared at them, a huddled mass in the darkness, firelight from the camp flickering across shapes and faces. There were warriors amongst them, but also women, even children.
‘I think the raid the other night sent a lot of them running to the hills,’ Baird said. ‘And for all the ones we’ve caught, there’ll be a score more still out there.’
Corban frowned, staring hard. There was something familiar about one of the figures. Standing hunched over, head down, but still . . .
He stepped forwards.
‘Careful,’ Baird said. ‘They’ve been checked for weapons, but you never know.’
Corban ignored him, shouldering his way through the huddle of figures if they didn’t move quickly enough.
‘You,’ he said. ‘Look at me.’
The figure ignored him.
‘Look at me,’ Corban said, then drew his sword, a slow rasp.
A face appeared, fair haired, dirt stained and gaunt, but still one Corban would never forget.
It was Rafe.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
LYKOS
Lykos leaped from the boat into the foaming surf and waded to shore. He stood upon a long strip of beach, a wide river flowing out into the sea behind him. On the horizon he could see a dark strip of forest.
Tenebral, it is good to see you again.
He had been away from here far too long. This place was too important to his plans.
Can a god read my mind? Even a fallen one? I hope not, even though he can speak into it.
His hand reached inside his cloak, fingertips touching his gift from Calidus.
Calidus had given it to him at Dun Carreg. ‘Help Jael take the realm of Isiltir for his own, then you must return to Tenebral. Fidele cannot be left unwatched. She is changeable, and Tenebral is important. She will need to be steered. Use diplomacy if you can, but if all else fails, use this.’ Calidus had given him a box, in it something wrapped in linen, no bigger than his thumb.
It had been good to return to the Three Islands, to Panos, Nerin and Pelset, and see that old oaths were renewed, but he had taken too long in his visiting, he knew. It was the eve of winter now. He should have been back sooner.
On the beach still reared the bones of ships, hulls half-fitted with long strakes of oak supported by timber scaffolding.
He frowned. They should be finished, ready for the ocean.
He looked about, saw Alazon the old shipwright striding towards him with his rolling gait. He didn’t look happy. Behind him, at the beach’s edge, stood a knot of warriors. Men of Tenebral, dressed in leather kilts and black cuirasses embossed with a white eagle. They started making their way towards him.
Something’s wrong. Deinon and his other shieldmen splashed ashore behind him. He heard Deinon draw his sword.
‘Put it away,’ Lykos said.
Alazon drew close. ‘They have found the fighting pits, have slain men, taken prisoners, freed our slaves,’ Alazon blurted. That was all he had a chance to say before the warriors of Tenebral reached them.
‘Lykos of the Vin Thalun,’ one of them said.
‘Aye, you know I am.’
‘You will come with us. The Lady Fidele orders your presence.’
‘Of course. I’d like that.’ He grinned. ‘We’ve got a lot to talk about.’
CHAPTER SEVENTY EIGHT
CORBAN
Rafe lunged at him, but, surprised as Corban was, he managed to step to the side and club Rafe with the pommel of his sword.
Dath and Farrell dragged Rafe to his feet.
‘What’s going on?’ Baird said as he rode close.
‘We know him,’ Corban said. ‘From home.’
It felt strange to say those words, to hear them spoken aloud.