‘We’ll talk again. Soon,’ said Brina.
Not long after they had stopped and made camp, Corban sat with his mam and Gar, sipping hot flavoursome stew as the small company sat in a ring around a small fire. Halion joined them.
‘Will we take Storm back again tonight,’ Corban asked him, ‘back to our hunters.’
‘Maybe,’ Halion said. ‘We’ll see what Camlin tells us when he returns. I suspect they will not be as close behind us. Last night would have taught them to move cautiously.’ He glanced at Storm, who was spread at Corban’s feet, making short work of the bones and leftovers from the game that had gone into the stew. Craf was sat on a branch nearby, still as stone, eyeing Storm jealously.
‘Besides, they will be on their guard tonight. It would be best to spread our attacks out, give them no pattern to plan against.’
Gar grunted approvingly.
‘And you must be tired; I know I am. Best to sleep tonight, restore our strength.’
Most of them were asleep when Camlin returned, though Marrock was quick to rise and greet the woodsman. Corban, though exhausted, had found sleep elusive. He sat up and nodded a greeting to Camlin.
‘What news?’ Marrock asked.
‘They are a long way behind, looks like the wolven’s put some fear in their bones,’ Camlin said, teeth glinting in the firelight. ‘No need to go after them again tonight, an’ if we did, I don’t think we’d make it to their camp and back before dawn.’
‘You’ve done well, Cam,’ Marrock said. ‘Get some sleep.’
Corban laid his head down and this time found sleep quickly.
Something prodded Corban. ‘Wake up,’ a voice whispered in his ear.
He wanted to tell Gar to leave him alone, but he knew the stablemaster would just prod him harder. Grumbling, he sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
Dawn was a suggestion in the air, a grey light invading, pushing back the darkness. Others were stirring: his mam, holding the spear Halion had given to him on his warrior trial, Marrock and Halion, Farrell and his da, Anwarth. Corban stretched and followed Gar to a space on the dew-soaked grass. The others began sparring, Halion talked to Gwenith about different grips for the spear and Corban and Gar began the sword dance. Soon they were sparring too, others rising from their beds to join in – Dath, Camlin and Vonn. Even Edana was there, setting her feet, practising drawing a sword at her hip, making the move smooth. Most times it stuck in the scabbard. Brina and Heb were lighting a fire, preparing some food for them all to break their fasts with.
Corban was sweating when Gar stepped away, signalling the end of their sparring.
Halion was waiting for them, Marrock with him.
‘It’s time we talked,’ Halion said to Gar. ‘About who you are. We’ve waited long enough.’
The bustle around the camp paused as Gar stood before Halion and Marrock.
‘Know that you are trusted, Gar,’ said Marrock. ‘We do not doubt your loyalty. But you have knowledge of our enemies – of Edana’s enemies. That is clear, and it is not right that you keep it from us. Someday soon Edana’s life, and ours, may depend on that knowledge.’
Gar looked to Corban.
The consequences of this conversation played through Corban’s mind. Refuse to talk and Gar would earn a measure of anger and distrust, probably from everyone in their small group. Or answer Halion and Marrock’s questions. Corban was as intrigued as any to find out more about Gar’s background but, sure as day followed night, Gar would repeat some of what he had told Corban, about Asroth and Elyon, about him being chosen. The thought of everyone knowing – his friends – made him cringe. He looked between his mam and Gar, pleadingly, and realized that Gar was waiting for him. The stablemaster would not say a word without Corban’s agreement; he would suffer the anger and suspicion of their companions and friends, all on Corban’s decision. Emotions swept him, love and respect for this man who had guarded him his whole life. Even if he was a mad man. He gritted his teeth and nodded.
‘I will answer your questions,’ Gar said to Halion and Marrock.
‘Good,’ Marrock said.
‘How do you know Sumur?’ asked Halion.
‘How do you fight the way you do?’ Marrock asked.
Others called out more questions. Gar held a hand up. ‘I’ll tell you who I am, something of myself and where I am from, then you can ask the questions I haven’t answered.’ He looked around, and no one disagreed, so he continued. ‘My name is Garisan ben Tukul, and I come from Telassar, a city in the land of Tarbesh, far to the east. Sumur, who served Nathair, is also from there. We are a warrior caste, a holy order, called the Jehar.’
A silence filled the glade. Corban looked around at the faces of his companions, all processing the information Gar had just given them. Brina stepped forward.
‘Then why are you here? A member of a holy order, so far from your home?’ she asked.