‘A fine meal,’ Farrell said as he swallowed his last mouthful. ‘Even if it was as tough as the leather on my boots.’
Corban chuckled, while Dath sat gazing into the fire. Corban watched his friend. He had been like this since his da had been killed on the beach. Corban wanted to help, to do something, but he understood: there was nothing that he could do, nothing that would make things better. You can’t bring back the dead. All he could do was let Dath know he wasn’t alone.
Storm growled behind Corban. She was half crouched in the darkness, staring into the trees, ears pricked forward. She sniffed, then visibly relaxed and sank back to the ground. Corban looked where she’d been staring. He thought he saw movement, then a figure solidified in the gloom, treading softly into the firelight.
Camlin.
He walked purposefully to Marrock and Halion, who were sat with Edana. They rose when they saw him and fell into deep conversation. Corban watched them intently. Eventually Marrock nodded decisively and stepped away, closer to the fire. ‘Our followers are close. Camlin has scouted back along our path.’
‘They have gained on us,’ Camlin told them. ‘They are no more than two leagues behind us.’
‘How many?’ Anwarth asked.
‘Two score, at least.’
Corban looked around his companions’ faces, could see fear wrapping its fingers about them.
Halion walked to the edge of the glade. ‘Corban – with me,’ he said. ‘And bring your wolven.’
‘Why?’ Gwenith said, her hand reaching out towards Corban.
‘We are going to teach them to fear us,’ Halion said.
‘Will she attack on your command?’ Halion asked Corban as they picked their way through dark woods.
Camlin was leading the way, Gar and Vonn following closely behind Corban. He had not even tried to dissuade the stablemaster when he had followed Corban silently from their camp; he knew there was no point.
‘Yes,’ Corban answered. ‘You remember? Friend and foe?’
Halion looked at him, then chuckled, clearly remembering a time in the Rowan Field when a wolven pup had attacked his leg. ‘That seems so long ago,’ he murmured.
Camlin stopped in front, looking up, then changed their direction, leading them down a slope.
‘What exactly are we doing?’ Corban asked.
‘We are going to even the odds a little, and spread some fear amongst them. They will have seen the dead back at the beach and in the woods, will see that some of them have not been killed by a blade.’ He looked at Storm, loping almost silently beside Corban. ‘They will not know that we have a wolven with us – how would you react upon seeing warriors ripped, torn apart?’
Corban thought about that. ‘I’d be scared,’ he said.
‘Aye,’ Halion said, ‘and the dark breeds fear.’
Corban crouched in the undergrowth, one hand wrapped in the thick fur around Storm’s neck. Gar was close by, a darker shadow in the gloom. Both of them were staring into the darkness.
Camlin had led them in a great loop, so that they could approach downwind of the camp. ‘They have hounds,’ Camlin had whispered.
Halion and Camlin had whispered the plan to Corban, Gar and Vonn, then drawn their knives, rubbed dark earth over the iron and disappeared amongst the trees, Vonn following them.
‘Why did they do that?’ Corban whispered to Gar. ‘Wipe dirt on their blades.’
‘So they will not reflect light – firelight, moonlight,’ Gar said.
‘Oh,’ said Corban, thinking of his companions creeping closer to their enemies’ camp. There would be guards standing in the woods, men on watch, warriors sent to catch them, to kill them. With every moment Corban expected to hear voices, horns, the baying of hounds catching their scent, but none of it happened. For long heartbeats there was only silence, just his and Storm’s breathing, branches scratching in a slight breeze, in the distance the call of a fox.
Then he felt Storm tense, a vibration deep in her belly, the beginnings of a growl.
‘Be ready,’ Gar’s voice whispered from the darkness.
It was Vonn. He lurched towards them, then snagged his foot on something and staggered forwards, something falling from his cloak and hitting the ground with a thud. Vonn dropped to the floor, hands scrabbling to retrieve the object as behind him the sound of pursuit grew louder, a figure appearing, moving furtively through the undergrowth.
The plan had worked, then. Halion and Camlin were to kill the camp’s guards, all except one, who was to be lured into the woods by Vonn. Lured to this point. To Storm.
The figure moved up behind Vonn, stood over him, sword raised.
Get out of the way! Corban’s mind yelled, one hand clasping Storm’s fur tight. She was growling low and deep, her body quivering.