He saw Orgull’s bald head in the crowd, looking as if he was acting as a rearguard now, his back to the exit, facing into the arena. Every time he swung his axe blood followed, limbs and heads spinning. A few others stood alongside him, holding back the tide of Vin Thalun, but it was not long before the numbers were overwhelming and the corsairs flowed over them like a great wave.
It took some time to restore order, the crowds dispersed by Vin Thalun with clubs and swords and spears. The dead in the ring were dragged into two heaps; Vin Thalun and the others. The pile of Vin Thalun was much bigger.
Maquin watched with a sense of dread, waiting to see Orgull’s corpse dragged to the pile of the dead. Eventually he did see Orgull, but he was carried away from the others and laid out on the ground. Another was put beside him, one of the two prisoners who had been chained to the post.
Lykos appeared then. He marched up to them, without a word drawing his sword and hacking at the neck of the man beside Orgull. It took three blows to sever his head. He raised his arm to do the same to Orgull, then Deinon was there, speaking quickly. Lykos listened, then he lowered his sword and wiped it clean on the dead man’s body. Two men came forward and carried Orgull from the ring, his boots dragging in the mud.
CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN
CYWEN
Cywen dipped her head against the wind. It carried with it an edge of ice that set her skin prickling. Over the last few days they had travelled through a mountain pass, tall peaks so high they blotted the sky, and now they were moving into a rolling featureless moorland with patches of heather peeking through the snow. A hundred glittering streams dissected the land.
As always, Alcyon accompanied her. Not far ahead Nathair rode his draig, Calidus and Sumur riding with him. The Jehar warriors stretched in a wide column behind, trailing into the mountain pass. The sound of wolven howling floated on the wind, a noise Cywen had become accustomed to. The further north they travelled, so the wolven population seemed to grow, although she never saw one. Obviously two thousand Jehar were too big a meal for even a wolven pack to chew on.
Buddai padded the other side of her, nose low to the ground. The wolven didn’t seem to bother him, either. At least, not since the first time they had heard them, howling like a mournful farewell the day she had left Dun Vaner. Buddai had been restless all that day, often pausing to look back at the mountains. For long heartbeats Cywen had harboured the hope that it had been Storm, come with her kin to rescue her.
Idiot, she scolded herself. No one’s going to rescue me, except me. I should have gone south with Pendathran when I had the chance.
No point fretting over that, now. She would just have to bide her time and wait for an opportunity.
I wish I had my knives.
They camped in a dip in the land that night. It did little to ease the constant cut of the wind; icy fingers crept through layers of fur and leather. Cywen shivered and tried to shuffle closer to Alcyon’s small fire. She had already finished the porridge he had made, its warm glow spreading through her like a hot coal thawing the frost. But that small heat had long since evaporated.
‘I can’t feel my toes,’ she said.
‘Try wiggling them,’ Alcyon said. He was full of helpful advice like that.
A figure came striding out of the darkness, a great hawk perched on his arm. Calidus. He saw them and came over.
Calidus gave the bird a piece of meat from a pouch at his belt, then raised his arm. With a flap of its wings the bird flew away, the sound of its passing little more than a whisper in the night.
Calidus held a thin strip of parchment in his hand.
‘This is the last night that we can risk a fire,’ he said as he held the parchment over the flames, reading silently.
Wonderful, thought Cywen. I’m going to freeze to death.
‘What news?’ Alcyon said.
‘There you are,’ a voice called out. It was Nathair, with Sumur and the giant, Uthas, behind him.
‘I’ll tell you after,’ Calidus said quietly.
Nathair, Sumur and Uthas joined them about the fire.
Cywen drew back from the flames, shuffling into the shadows so that she wouldn’t be forced to talk to them. Alcyon had changed, sitting straighter, a stiffness in his shoulders that spoke of his discomfort.
‘I must leave soon,’ Uthas said. ‘Murias is little more than a ten-night away for you, at your pace.’
‘All is set. You know what to do?’ Calidus said.
‘Of course. The gates of Murias will be open to you. I can do little more than that. You will have to defeat the Benothi that stand against you.’ He looked at Calidus. ‘And you will honour our agreement. You will spare the Benothi that stand with me. They shall not be harmed.’
‘Of course,’ Calidus said. ‘You have given great aid. It will not be forgotten, and it will be rewarded.’
‘Good.’ Uthas bowed his head.
‘Can you do this, Uthas? Can you see it through?’
‘Yes. I will open the gates to you and I will split the Benothi defence. That is all I can do. Nemain and those loyal to her you will have to deal with yourself. I will not shed their blood. And the brood of wyrms. I cannot raise my hand against them.’