She felt a swell of rage, hated Rafe at that moment as much as she’d hated anyone. She reached for her knives again, cursed silently when she remembered they were all gone. ‘Traitor,’ she hissed at him.
‘Depends where you’re looking from,’ Rafe said, but frowned nevertheless. ‘Way I see it, Evnis is my lord. I do as I’m bid. And it seems to me he’s on the winning side, at least.’
‘For now,’ Cywen muttered.
‘Things have changed around here.’ Rafe wagged a finger at her. ‘And if you don’t realize that quick, you’ll end up sorry. You’d best be minding your manners from now on. All your protectors have left you. Not so special are you, eh? Why’d they leave you?’ He grinned. ‘Think about that.’
Cywen wanted to hit him. His words were sharp, cutting deep like one of her knives. She clenched her fists, knowing attacking anyone right now was not a good idea.
Rafe looked over her shoulder and she followed his gaze. Evnis was beckoning to the huntsman’s son, Conall still beside him. ‘I’ll be seeing you,’ Rafe said. ‘And don’t worry, we’ll find your kin for you.’ He grinned, an unpleasant twist of his mouth, and drew a finger slowly across his throat, from ear to ear. Before she knew it, Cywen was stepping forwards, ramming her knee into Rafe’s groin.
He crumpled forwards, folding in upon himself and curled up into a ball on the ground, whimpering.
‘Best you keep away from me and my kin,’ she snarled at him, then heard a chuckling behind her. The red-bearded warrior was watching her, along with a handful of others.
‘You’n that hound, you’re a good match,’ the warrior said. He grinned and she flushed red, biting back angry words, thought she’d best be making herself scarce. Lowering her gaze, she headed for the feast-hall’s open doors, Buddai following. She glanced back as she stepped out into the daylight to see Rafe pushing himself up from the ground. Sumur was still staring at her.
Consumed with an urge to go home, she ran through the streets, Buddai limping along beside her.
When she opened the door and stepped into the kitchen she almost expected to see her mam standing there, bustling about by the ovens, her da sitting at the table, eating something. She even called out, hoping to hear someone. She searched every room until she found herself back in the kitchen. Her home was empty, as cold and lifeless as her da’s gaze.
Where are they?
‘Gone,’ she whispered. A sob bubbled out of her and she swayed, steadying herself against the kitchen table.
All gone. And they’ve left me behind. Rafe’s words rang loud in her memory. How could they just leave me? She looked at Buddai and the hound stared trustingly back at her. An image of her da flooded her mind, crusted blood all over him, those terrible, empty eyes. She wished her mam was there to hold her, comfort her. And Ban, her brother, her best friend. Why had he abandoned her? Another sob burst out of her and she sank to the floor, wrapped her arms about Buddai and began to cry in great, racking waves. The brindle hound licked Cywen’s tear-stained cheek and curled himself protectively about her.
CHAPTER THREE
VERADIS
Veradis drank from a water skin, pouring some over his head and neck. He and his men were spread in a half-circle before the great gates of Haldis, last bastion of the Hunen giants. Only a short while ago Calidus and Alcyon had disappeared inside, with over two hundred warriors at their back.
Survivors of the clash against the giants were trickling into the clearing and Veradis sent half a dozen scouts out to help guide the stragglers in.
‘It’s thirsty work, eh?’ Bos, his comrade-in-arms said, grinning. ‘This giant-killing.’
The big warrior was bleeding from a cut to his ear, blood matting his hair. As Veradis stared he realized it was more than a cut; a large chunk of his friend’s ear missing.
‘Where’s your helmet?’ he asked.
‘Lost it.’ Bos shrugged. He touched his ear and looked at his bloodied fingertips. ‘Better’n losing my head.’
‘That’s debatable,’ Veradis said as he passed his friend the water skin.
Bos drank deep. ‘We have a fine tale to tell Rauca, eh?’
‘For sure,’ Veradis said. ‘If we make it out of here.’ He gazed at the surrounding cairns, each one at least twice as tall as a man and grave to a giant. The sounds of battle still drifted on a cold wind, faint and echoing. Beyond the cairns the trees of Forn Forest rose all about. At Veradis’ back a sheer cliff face reared, covered in huge carvings; an open gateway at its foot led into darkness.
The blood-rush of battle was slowly fading, replaced now by aching muscles, tiredness and a throbbing in Veradis’ face. He reached up and pulled a splinter from his cheek, from where a giant’s axe had carved into his shield, chopped through its iron rim and spat splinters of wood into his face.