In the distance a sound drifted on the air, a wolven howling, as if heralding the coming of night. Buddai whined, and Shield slowed, his head pulling around.
‘Walk on,’ Cywen ordered, digging her heels into Shield’s sides. Buddai was standing stock still, his head cocked to one side. Then he bolted away, back the way they had come, quickly disappearing into the gloom. Cywen called him, reining Shield in.
‘We can’t stop,’ Alcyon said, tugging on the rope about her waist.
‘But Buddai . . .’
‘He doesn’t like the look of Murias,’ Alcyon said. ‘Sensible animal. He’ll be out here when we’re done, waiting for you.’
‘But . . .’
‘Keep moving.’ It was Calidus who spoke now. After a last look back Cywen urged Shield onwards.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SIX
CORALEN
‘Murias,’ Coralen said, pointing into the distance. A tall peak reared before them, the first mountain of a range that faded into the distance.
They had ridden hard since the ambush in the woods, two nights gone. At first she’d thought they would catch the giant, but he had not stopped running for two days and nights solid, each morning the gap between them widening a little.
It had been a shock, seeing the other Jehar in the woods, a lesson of what awaited them once they caught up with Nathair and his warband. Tukul had been grim faced ever since, something unspoken passing between them all.
Blood was going to be shed.
But I knew that, anyway.
She saw Corban gazing at Nathair’s host, a dark line winding its way towards the mountains. They were standing beneath a handful of wind-blasted trees, gnarled and twisted branches grasping at the sky. Everyone had taken the opportunity to dismount and stretch their legs, drink some water, chew on some meat, tend their horses.
‘Nathair,’ she heard Corban whisper.
‘He’s there,’ Meical said, standing close beside them.
‘He killed my da. Put a sword in his chest; right here.’ Corban tapped a finger against his leather jerkin.
Meical gave him a searching look. ‘This is about rescue, not revenge,’ he said. ‘Or is it?’
She saw Corban close his eyes, screwing them shut. After a while he blew out a long breath.
‘Cywen is what matters here,’ he said.
‘Good. There are too many of them for us to take on. Another time. Of course, if there is an opportunity to take Nathair’s head from his shoulders . . .’
‘And Sumur’s,’ added Tukul.
Storm was standing nearby, sniffing the air. Suddenly she lifted her head and howled. Dath jumped. Coralen froze, half expecting to see the line of Nathair’s warband stop and look at them.
‘Is she trying to tell everyone within a day’s travel where we are?’ Tukul said.
‘I don’t know why she did that.’ Corban frowned.
‘If we ride hard we’ll catch them by nightfall,’ Tukul said.
‘And then what?’ Dath this time.
‘We find Cywen and get her out of there.’ Gwenith’s lips twitched into a half-smile as she said Cywen’s name.
Coralen looked back to Nathair’s warband crawling like ants towards the mountains. Sheer cliffs rose into the sky before them, peaks wreathed in cloud.
I don’t like this. Murias’ walls are thick, its gates strong. How are they planning on getting in there?
Craf started squawking, hopping about on Brina’s saddle. The bird was looking up at the sky. A black dot was circling above them, spiralling downwards. They all watched the dot grow into a bird, big and black.
‘It’s Fech,’ Brina said.
The raven seemed to study them, eyes scanning the crowd of seventy or so people, then it saw Corban and sailed down to him, alighting on a branch close by.
‘Corban,’ it said, then began preening its feathers.
‘Fech, is that you?’ Brina said. Craf cawed.
‘Fech, yes,’ the bird said. ‘Message from Edana, for Corban.’
What is it?’ Corban asked.
‘Eremon is dead. Domhain fallen. Edana sails for Dun Crin.’
The blood in Coralen’s veins turned to ice. ‘What?’ she hissed. She felt dizzy, unsteady on her feet.
‘Edana and the others, are they all alive?’ Corban asked.
‘When I left them,’ Fech croaked.
‘You are sure about Eremon?’ Coralen said.
‘Yes. Saw him die. Girl killed him. Maeve.’
Maeve. My half-sister, murderer of my da. It was all coming too quickly, the bird’s words taking on a dreamlike quality, like some herald from the Otherworld.
‘Is there anything else? Any more you can tell us?’ Meical asked.
‘Rhin there. Made Conall ruler of Domhain.’
With a groan Coralen turned and walked deeper into the stand of trees.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN
MAQUIN
Maquin sat in a chamber, staring at his hands. He had been waiting all day; they all had, the last of his comrades, Herak’s elite, their final contest upon them. In the distance he heard the roar of the crowd, knew that blood was being spilt in the arena.