Shouts and screams rang out behind Camlin, close to the ship. He turned to see Quinn surrounded by a knot of warriors pushing back along the quay, towards the beach. Quinn was carrying Lorcan over his shoulder, the lad flopping senseless. Roisin was screaming, trying to climb from the ship, hands pulling her back. Weapons were drawn, clashing. Camlin saw Baird chop one man down, then set upon another. He glimpsed Marrock leaping from the ship’s rails back onto the quay. Quinn was running now, away from the main huddle of bodies, four or five warriors with him, another score at least forming a crude barrier holding Marrock, Baird and his men at bay.
Camlin reached for an arrow, nocked it, let fly; one of the warriors with Quinn staggered and fell, rolling off the quay into the churning sea. He fired again, another man dropping to the ground.
Then Halion and the men with him were mixed with them, iron sparking. Quinn dropped Lorcan, drawing both sword and knife. Camlin saw him open a wound on a warrior’s bicep. Their weapons clashed again in a long flurry of blows, then the man was staggering away, legs unsteady, as if he were drunk.
Poison on Quinn’s blade.
Quinn stepped after him and with a slash of his sword opened the man’s guts.
Camlin shouldered his bow and ran, drawing his sword.
In slow motion he saw Halion step in front of Quinn. Camlin opened his mouth to scream, to warn Halion of the poisoned blades, but then they were at each other, the harsh ring of iron drowning out all other sound. There was a succession of blows, Halion shuffling forwards, then Quinn’s knife was spinning through the air, landing with a thunk in the wooden boards, just a few handspans from Lorcan’s prostrate body.
Camlin was closer now, twenty paces, fifteen. He hurdled over Lorcan, part of him noticing that the lad was still breathing. Ten paces. He saw Halion duck a sword swing, step in close and smash his sword hilt into Quinn’s mouth, blood and teeth spraying. Quinn staggered back, arms flailing, then the tip of Halion’s sword exploded through his back, blood showering Camlin as he reached them.
Halion ripped his blade free and Quinn sank to his knees, then toppled forwards onto his face.
Relief swept Camlin and he called to Halion. ‘Come on, time to leave.’
Then he saw the red gash across Halion’s shoulder.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN
CYWEN
Cywen dismounted from Shield and was almost dragged into the chamber behind Alcyon.
At first she could not understand what was going on; images were swarming her in a fragmented rush. The chamber was vast, at its centre a stepped dais – a cauldron hulking upon it. It seemed to pulse, somehow, a black halo radiating from it. And all around were giants, horses, men, all clashing, with blood streaming in great crimson arcs. But there was more, something else, another presence in the room. Huge coils rippled around the floor, grey skinned like a corpse, but scaled. Then Cywen saw one rear up, a massive flat-snouted face, small eyes, a flickering tongue. Teeth – huge, long, curved.
Wyrms.
Even as Cywen stared with a mixture of fascination and revulsion, the serpent lunged forwards, its jaws simply engulfing a warrior’s head and shoulders, with a contraction of its coiled muscles tearing him from his saddle and slamming him to the ground. Then in great muscular ripples it started to swallow him. She felt her stomach lurch and vomited.
The wyrms were everywhere, quartering the floor with their undulating movements. She saw three of them attacking Nathair’s draig – one the draig had managed to pin down with a taloned claw and was biting great chunks out of the snake’s head and torso. Two others were striking at it, though, one’s teeth fastened at the top of the draig’s rear leg, the other twisting about a foreleg, great loops of its body swirling under the draig’s neck, trying to get purchase. Nathair was hacking at that one with his longsword, cutting red gouges into its flesh. Somehow it managed to loop its tail around the draig’s neck, and with one fluid move contracted, pulling the neck and foreleg sharply together. The draig roared and toppled over, Nathair’s arms flailing.
The serpent’s head reared up now, pulling back to strike, then Calidus was there, his sword slashing in great two-handed blows. The snake’s head flopped, almost severed, only a fragment of flesh connecting it to its body. With a crash it fell to the ground, its grip about the draig loosening. The draig scrambled back up, turning to grip the body of the wyrm still latched to its back leg. The draig’s jaws dragged it from the ground and Nathair chopped into it, Calidus joining him, and together in a flurry of blows they cut the wyrm in two. The draig moved on, the decapitated wyrm’s teeth still sunk into its hindquarters, its neck dragging on the ground, leaving a red trail.