Calidus pulled up alongside him, the warband slowing to a halt behind.
‘Nathair is there?’ Veradis asked, staring at the fortress in the distance.
‘Yes, he is there, as is Lykos,’ Calidus said.
They spurred their mounts on, the warband rippling into motion behind.
The Jehar had split into two groups, riding on their flanks like two black wings stretching across the green countryside. Further to the south, dense forest rolled away into the distance, carpeting the land as far as Veradis could see and reminding him of Forn. Since finding Maquin, Veradis had been troubled. He’d kept his word, led Alcyon, Jael and the rest of the hunting party away from Maquin and his companions, given them a chance at life, though they still had to survive Forn. He felt he owed it to Maquin, maybe as a blood-price for Kastell. Alcyon had looked at him strangely that day, and Veradis wondered if the giant knew, somehow, what he’d done. But that was not what troubled him. It was the last words Maquin had spoken to him. Be careful of what side you choose. He had been careful, had made the right choices. Haven’t I? Nathair was his friend, but more than that, he was the Bright Star that prophecy spoke of, and Calidus was one of the Ben-Elim, a warrior-angel, come to help them, to guide them through the dark times ahead: the war against Asroth and his Black Sun. Yet if he had chosen right, why did he feel wrong, somehow, somewhere deep down, and why, when he closed his eyes at night, did he see Kastell’s face, his dead eyes accusing him.
We are at war, a voice whispered in his mind. Hard choices must be made, hard deeds undertaken. Yes, that was true. He was just glad that Calidus was with them, to guide them, and help them make the difficult choices. For the greater good, the voice in his head said.
‘Yes. For the greater good,’ he echoed.
‘What was that?’ someone said nearby. It was Bos, cantering close beside him.
‘Nothing,’ Veradis said, shaking his head.
‘It’s the first sign of madness, you know. Talking to yourself.’
‘Is that so? Then I must have lost my mind a long time ago.’
‘I could have told you that,’ Bos said with a smile.
Dun Carreg was much closer now, a small village spread at the foot of the hill it sat upon.
‘Blow that horn of yours, Bos. Let them know we’re coming.’
Veradis was ushered by Jehar warriors into a room, Nathair’s chambers. A table stood at one end with seven chairs around it. The Vin Thalun, Lykos, already occupied one. Veradis had seen a fleet anchored in the bay below Dun Carreg, sleek-hulled Vin Thalun war-galleys and fat-bellied transporters. Lykos had a cup in his hand, a smile on his face at the sight of Veradis.
‘Have a drink,’ the pirate said, pouring something and handing it to Veradis.
Veradis smiled as he took it. It was good even to see this pirate – at least Lykos was someone that he associated with home. He took a sip of the drink and winced. ‘What is this?’
‘Mead. It gets better the more you drink of it,’ Lykos said, grinning.
‘I would hope so.’ Veradis grimaced. ‘Have you seen Rauca?’ he asked, looking at the empty chairs. It had been such a whirlwind since he had ridden up to Dun Carreg that he had not had a chance to seek out his friend. Nathair had met him before the gates of the fortress, pulling Veradis from his knees into an embrace.
‘I have missed you, my friend,’ Nathair had said.
‘And I you,’ Veradis had responded, feeling an immense sense of relief – that Nathair was alive and well, and that he was at his King’s side to protect him again. But there had been no time for talking. A man had stridden across the bridge to them, tall and thin-featured, wearing a gold torc about his neck.
‘Owain, King of Narvon and Ardan,’ Nathair had introduced him. Veradis did not think he looked very kingly – more like a man weighed by great pressures, a man bent almost to snapping by those pressures. He was grey skinned, eyes sunken. He hardly acknowledged Veradis and looked past him, down at Veradis’ warband, who were making camp in the meadow beyond the fishing village, then out into the bay, at the fleet of black-sailed ships.
‘So many men,’ he had said to Nathair. ‘You look like a man making ready for war.’
‘That is exactly what I am doing,’ Nathair had replied calmly. ‘War against Asroth and his Black Sun. As you know, I will be travelling north soon, into Benoth, which is ruled by giants. I would be a fool to march into their realm with only a handful of warriors about me.’
Owain had looked at him. ‘We must talk soon, but first I must find out where Rhin is, what she plans . . .’ he had said briefly before heading down to the village.