So, now they were gone, most likely leagues from Dun Carreg by now, and with them the book.
And his son. With a growl he dismissed his trailing warriors and trod wearily up the steps of his tower to his room. There was a message awaiting him – a reminder of Nathair’s request to meet with Rhin. How am I going to do this – Rhin in the Darkwood, Nathair here, Owain and his warbands in between? Evnis reached for the half-filled jug of usque and took a large gulp, slumping into a chair. Almost impossible, but there must be a way. Think. Slowly the glimmer of an idea came to him, but his mind felt slow, could not quite focus on it. I must sleep. A ripple of dread coursed through him. Sleep, and with it the dreams. He chuckled to himself and drank another cup of usque. What did he expect, after selling his soul to Asroth, Lord of the Fallen . . . ?
A knock at his door. Evnis looked about the room, checking that all was ready: a cauldron hung over the fire-pit, water bubbling, a cup of dark liquid standing on a table beside it. He checked his cloak, reassured himself that the letter was still there, then he opened the door.
Nathair was there, the dark shadow of his guardian, Sumur, hovering behind him.
‘My lord, please,’ Evnis said, ushering Nathair in. He held a hand up to Sumur. ‘Only Nathair may enter.’
‘That is not acceptable,’ Sumur said.
‘It is fine, Sumur, I am sure Evnis has good reason. And I am sure I shall be safe. Only a door stands between us.’
Sumur peered into the room, weighing the situation. He nodded. ‘I consider you responsible for my lord’s life, while this door remains shut,’ he said to Evnis.
‘Of course,’ said Evnis and closed the door.
Nathair looked about the room, eyes settling upon the cauldron. He unclasped his sable cloak and draped it across the table.
‘Your message was ambiguous,’ he said, ‘but I am intrigued . . .’
‘Thank you for coming, my lord. I have made arrangements for you to speak with Queen Rhin.’
Nathair raised an eyebrow.
Evnis tried to keep his face calm, to disguise the anxiety he felt. You can do this, he told himself. He had seen it in the book, was confident that he could remember the pages, the incantation, word for word. He licked his lips and strode to the cauldron, lifting the cup from the table.
‘Fuil glacad anios ag namhaid tor oscail an bealach, he said, filling the words with as much power as he could summon, and poured the cup of blood into the cauldron. Blood taken from a foe, to open the way. His prisoner, still shackled in a room beneath his feet, hadn’t given up his blood easily and his screams had brought a brief relief from these stressful times. The prisoner could scream as long and as loud as he liked – no one would hear him down there. Evnis had not even bothered placing a guard on his door; there was no point. He could not escape, and even if he did, there was nowhere for him to go.
Evnis reached inside his cloak and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment, the letter Rhin had sent to him, delivered by Braith’s outlaw so long ago, written in her spidery hand. He drew his knife, cut his hand and gripped the letter, soaking it in his blood. Then he dropped it into the cauldron.
‘Croi ar an comchor tor stiur an ruthag.’
The water bubbled pink and a vapour hissed out of the pot, swirled upwards, glistening, thick and shiny, like cords of mucus. A shape took form in it, silver-haired, a pale, deeply lined face. Rhin.
‘What is this?’ she said, her likeness turning in the vapour, the voice sounding submerged, muted. Then her sharp eyes focused on Evnis. ‘Oh, it is you. I see you have found the book—’
‘My Queen, I have someone with me who wishes to speak to you, urgently,’ Evnis cut in.
‘I’m sure you do,’ Rhin said, a smile ghosting her lips. ‘Who, exactly?’
‘Let me introduce you to Nathair, King of Tenebral.’
Rhin clapped her hands. ‘Excellent. No need for introductions – we have met before. A charming young man. Well, step forward, Nathair, I imagine we have much to talk about.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CORBAN
Corban listened as Vonn and Farrell told of the ship they had seen land on the beach.
‘They are looking for us,’ Vonn said. ‘A dozen men, all well-armed.’
‘What of my boat?’ Mordwyr interrupted.
‘They were climbing aboard it,’ Farrell said. ‘We did not wait to see what they would do – thought you needed to know.’
‘You did right,’ Marrock said.
‘We need to get Edana out of sight,’ Halion said.
‘Agreed. Camlin – with me. The rest of you get back into the trees. We’ll see you there soon.’
With that, Corban was running back towards the treeline, his feet heavy in the sand and shingle. Halion drew them up within sight of the beach. Marrock and Camlin were dark shadows, crawling through a patch of spindly grass.