‘It’s no different from darning a sock,’ Brina said.
‘My arm’s no sock,’ Marrock blurted.
‘Shut up and drink your milk,’ Brina ordered.
Corban pressed hard, piercing the skin with a pop, then proceeded methodically.
‘This bit will feel strange,’ Corban warned, then pulled the thread tight, stretching Marrock’s skin across the open wound, closing it off. He tied a knot in the thread and Brina cut it with a knife.
‘It will feel uncomfortable, and it will itch,’ Brina said. ‘Any pain – tell me immediately.’
Marrock inspected Corban’s stitching and nodded at him.
‘You’re doing well,’ Brina said to Marrock as Corban applied a salve to the skin and bandaged it off. ‘You haven’t died, which I expected a few days ago.’
‘No, but I’ll not be drawing a bow again.’
‘There’s more to life than shooting pointy things into people,’ Brina said.
Marrock snorted. ‘What use is a huntsman who can’t draw a bow?’ He looked straight at Corban, bitterness twisting his features.
‘There’s plenty of other new and exciting ways to get yourself killed,’ Brina said. ‘No doubt you’ll discover some of them soon enough.’ She walked away.
‘I can still feel it, you know. My hand, my fingers,’ Marrock said. ‘I would still have it if we’d sailed to the marshes and Dun Crin.’ He glanced at Halion, who was at the edge of their camp, looking back the way they’d travelled.
There’s been a tension between them since we fled Dun Carreg, and now Marrock blames Halion for the loss of his hand. This bothered Corban, particularly as he had great respect for both men. Halion he knew better, though, from the countless days of toil and hard work in the Rowan Field. He knew that, whatever Halion did, whatever choices he made, he was not acting out of self-interest.
‘He chose what he thought was best for Edana,’ Corban said quietly, gathering his tools.
‘Did he? Maybe he just wants to go home.’
‘I’ve never known him to choose something he thought to be wrong. Even his own brother.’
Marrock stared at him, the hardness fading from his eyes. ‘Aye, lad. Don’t listen to me, I’m just . . .’ he trailed off, his gaze dropping back to the stump where his hand used to be.
Corban squeezed his arm and followed after Brina.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Brina asked him. ‘Your face looks like its been squashed.’
‘That was harsh, what you said to Marrock.’
‘Sympathy will feed his self-pity,’ Brina said, a softness edging her voice, ‘and he has some dark days ahead.’
Corban lay on his belly, staring down a steep slope into a valley. A river wound through it, marking the border of Cambren. A stone bridge arched across the fast-flowing water, houses clustered upon either bank. The road on the far side climbed upwards, twisting into the mountains. They were in a no-man’s-land between the two realms of Cambren and Domhain.
On the far side of those mountains is Domhain and safety.
That was the hope, anyway. Halion had said that when he had travelled the other way, coming from Domhain into Cambren, there had only been a handful of guards, a token force.
Not now, though.
Warriors were everywhere: standing guard on the bridge, walking the few streets, their tents spilling onto a coarse stretch of grass alongside the river. Corban had tried counting and lost track when he reached ninety.
‘Rhin is no fool,’ Camlin whispered beside him.
‘Unfortunately for us,’ said Halion.
The rest of their group were a few hundred paces behind them, huddled about a stand of gorse. The land had turned bleaker, more barren the higher they had climbed. They had broken camp before sunrise and set out as soon as dawn had lit their way. The sun had been up a while now, though it was still well before highsun. The sky was full of thick low cloud, the air humid.
Corban felt his eyelids drooping. They had been travelling hard, but still their pursuers had drawn closer each day, until now they were almost constantly within sight.
‘We can’t stay here,’ Camlin said, echoing Corban’s thoughts.
‘No, but there’s no way across that bridge. We couldn’t fight our way through; there’s too many of them.’ Halion glanced over his shoulder back along the track. ‘We’ll have to try another way.’
They all looked up at the mountains, grim and forbidding. In the distance a wolven howled; Storm tensed, ears twitching.
‘Best be moving,’ Camlin said. ‘P’raps we can shadow the giants’ road, join up to it once we’re deeper into the mountains, and away from Rhin’s eyes an’ ears.’
‘That’s a plan I like,’ Halion said.
They scrambled back down the slope to their companions, shared the bad news and set off into the mountains. Camlin rode ahead, scouting their path.
Craf fluttered down out of the cloudy sky to land on Brina’s saddle. The crow had been keeping track of their hunters.
‘Fast,’ the crow squawked.
‘Faster than us?’ Brina asked.