‘What?’ Brina said. ‘Don’t be an idiot, you ridiculous man.’ Corban was unsure if she was angry or worried. Probably both.
‘Stop,’ a voice rang out. Edana strode forward, shaking her head. ‘We’ll either all stay, or all go. I’ll not lose you so that I can run a little longer.’ A tremor shook her voice. ‘And I would be proud to stand with you all – more loyal and brave than I deserve.’ She took a deep breath, steadying herself, then looked to Camlin. ‘Is this a good spot to face them?’
‘Depends if you want to hold them back, or try an’ kill them all,’ he said. ‘If you want to hold them off it would be better up ahead, where the trail narrows. If we’re going t’have a crack at sending every last one o’ them across the bridge of swords, then this is better. Me an’ Dath can pick the first ones off with our bows as they come out of the ravine. Once they’re in this bowl you’ll have room t’swing a sword.’ He looked about. ‘This is a good spot.’
To make a last stand, Corban finished for him.
Corban crouched behind a boulder, holding his shield tight, Storm pressed close against him. The sun was just a glow silhouetting the mountain peaks now. Gar was close to him and his mam, her face pale, her knuckles white where they gripped her spear. Dath was just a shadow higher up, amongst a handful of pine. None of the others was visible. He kept his eyes on Dath, knew that when he started firing his bow then the battle was upon them.
Corban heard the arrows before he saw them. The thrum of bowstrings as they were released was followed closely by a scream and a high-pitched whine. Corban risked a glance around the boulder, saw figures strewn at the entrance to the bowl, a hound pawing the ground, but no others. They must have pulled back.
Then there were battle-cries and men were spilling out of the narrow ravine, climbing over the dead. Two arrows struck the first man and he was hurled back, knocking another off his feet, but others rushed past them, quickly spreading out.
‘Now!’ yelled Camlin.
Corban drew his sword as he rushed forwards, Storm and Gar a heartbeat behind him. He saw Halion swinging his sword, then a head was spinning through the air, a dark spurt of blood. Storm leaped forwards, smashing a man from his feet. Corban followed her, took a blow on his shield, pushed it away, parried with his own sword, chopping an arm. He wrenched his blade free, swung again, silencing his screaming opponent. Someone else took the warrior’s place, came rushing at him. He stepped in quickly to meet the man, felt all the years of drill and practice with Gar and Halion take hold of him, his body moving before he had time to think, falling into the rhythms and responses of the sword dance. Before he realized what he was doing, his opponent was falling back, blood jetting from his throat, and he was facing someone else. He blocked a combination of blows, twisted his wrist and slid to the side, chopped neatly at an exposed neck, then he was moving on to another opponent. A calm filled him as he let his body move, not thinking, just doing, and his enemy kept falling before him.
At his side his mam was desperately defending herself, her spear only just holding off a flurry of blows. Corban swung his sword, severed a hand from his mam’s opponent, his mam took the opening and buried her spear-point in the man’s throat.
He heard Storm snarl, turned to see hounds circling her. One stepped too close and she knocked it aside, claws opening red streaks on the dog’s body, but another leaped, landed on her back, jaws snapping, seeking Storm’s spine. She writhed beneath him, rolled over and then the other hounds were jumping in, biting at her exposed belly. Storm regained her feet, shook the hound from her back and snapped the spine of another of her attackers. The rest of the pack cowered back, whining.
It was close to dark now; shapes were blurring, merging as they clashed. He saw Gar, recognizing him by the way he moved, spinning and slashing, in constant motion. Figures fell away in the wake of his passing. Corban backed away as the fighting grew closer, turning to make sure that Heb, Brina and Edana were still safe.
He heard a flapping, saw Craf circling the bowl, squawking frantically. The crow landed on a boulder, close to Brina. It hopped from foot to foot, still squawking. Corban ran to them.
‘Who’s winning?’ Brina said, squinting at him in the dark.
‘It’s too dark to tell.’
‘Let’s see if we can do something about that,’ Heb said. He held a branch in his hand, splintered from one of the pine trees close by. He spoke strange words under his breath.
Craf squawked again.
‘I think Craf wants your attention,’ Corban said.
‘He will have to wait, impatient bird,’ Brina snapped, adding her voice to Heb’s.
At first nothing happened. Then Corban felt a pressure on his ears, the air seeming to push in at him, like when a storm is about to burst, but more extreme. Then he saw a wisp of smoke curl up from the branch, quickly followed by a tiny flame.