The Faithful and the Fallen: Ruin Part 39

'Stay a while, Coralen, if you would.'

She hesitated a moment, then muttered, 'I can spare a few moments, I suppose.'

'You'll kill the poor fish doing that,' Brina said to Corban as she sat beside him, pointing at his bare feet in the stream. Craf appeared beside Brina and hopped up onto her leg.

'Ahh, Brina, I've missed you.'

'Missed me? I've been no more than a hundred paces away from you for the last two years.'

'You know what I mean,' he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and squeezing her tightly. He kissed her on the cheek. Cywen thought she saw the edges of Brina's mouth twitch.

I'd be too scared to do that to her. Dark shapes appeared on the far side of the stream, Storm taking form first, her bone-coloured fur seeming to glow in the last rays of dusk. Buddai ran beside her, a brindle shadow. Cywen was shocked at how much bigger than him Storm had grown. Buddai was tall, his back as high as Cywen's waist, but Storm was a head taller than that, and broader and longer besides. They tumbled in meadow gra.s.s together, nipping at each other's fur.

'You wouldn't think we were knee-deep in a G.o.d-War, looking at them,' Corban said.

'Ignorance is bliss,' Brina agreed.

Coralen snorted.

Storm leaped the stream in a single bound, circling then pus.h.i.+ng in tight against Corban. She folded her legs beneath her and laid her big head across his lap. He grunted with her weight but didn't push her off, instead tugging absently at one of her fangs. It was about as long as one of Cywen's knives. Buddai followed, not quite clearing the stream and splas.h.i.+ng them in ice-cold water. He curled up against Cywen.

'Dun Cadlas, the capital of Narvon, is only a half-day's ride ahead. Balur One-Eye tells me the border of Narvon and Ardan is close, Uthandun and the giantsway only two days' ride from Dun Cadlas,' Corban said. 'Coralen saw the fringes of a great forest during her scouting. It can only be the Darkwood.' He turned and reached a hand out to Cywen, squeezing her hand.

He remembers Ronan, too. They were friends.

'In many ways it feels like the place this all started. When Rhin sprung her trap, ambus.h.i.+ng Queen Alona, kidnapping you and Edana. Uthan being murdered, Brenin blamed for it.'

'And Craf found you, lost in the trees,' Craf muttered.

'That you did, Craf. You saved us,' Corban agreed.

'Yes, Craf did. Clever Craf.'

Corban stared at Craf a while. 'I miss Fech,' he said.

'Craf miss Fech too.'

'That bird,' Corban said. 'It was Kartala, Ventos' hawk.'

Of course, Cywen thought.

'You're right,' she said. 'It brought a message to Calidus about you.'

'It's been following us, ever since Fech,' Corban said. 'We need to do something about that. Calidus and Nathair cannot know our every move.'

'Unless you can fly I don't know what you're going to do about it,' Brina said.

'How's your needlework?' he asked her.

'I st.i.tch my clothes,' Brina shrugged. 'How's yours?'

'The same. Mam and Da taught us both to sew Mam our clothes, Da leather boots and the like.'

'Why?'

'I'll talk to you about it after. First, though . . . It's time for me to choose which way we're going to go. Dun Crin or Dra.s.sil.'

'Well, what's it to be?' Brina asked him.

'That's what I was hoping to ask you,' Corban said.

'Oh no you don't,' Brina said. ' Usually I'd be more than happy to tell you what to do it's often safer that way. And of course I don't mind advising you until all our skin wrinkles and turns to dust. But it's your decision that counts here.'

'I know,' Corban said flatly. 'I'm still struggling with why.'

'Me too,' Brina and Cywen said together.

'I've thought a long time over why I have been chosen for this,' he waved his hand vaguely towards the warband. 'Why me a blacksmith's son, no particular ability or influence in our world.' He shook his head.

'I'm still confused about that,' Brina said. 'But Meical is convinced, and he is one of the Ben-Elim. You should probably listen to him.'

'I know. And I do. I've asked him why me, but that is the only thing he doesn't want to tell me. He usually likes telling me what to do he reminds me of you like that.'

'I've always liked him,' Brina said.

'I wish it wasn't me. Not that I don't want to fight. Back in Murias I saw evil enter our world, and there's no running from it. We tried that, eh?'

'We did,' Brina sighed.

'No, I understand that, and I will fight Calidus and Nathair until my last breath. But what I don't want to do is lead. So many consequences from every decision. So many lives at stake. I wish it wasn't me.'

Cywen felt a wave of guilt. Poor Ban. And most of the time I've been sulking that he isn't spending every moment with me.

Brina nodded. 'But it is you. There are times when we cannot understand something, don't know the reason for a thing and have to leave it at that I know that that goes against every fibre in your very being . . .'

Cywen and Coralen both snorted laughter at that.

'But on these occasions we just have to accept that they just are.'

'That's the conclusion I've reached,' Corban said glumly. 'When Gar started saying similar things to me, when we were fleeing Ardan, I just thought him mad. But I can't really argue against it now. Things have happened.'

'You mean apart from seeing Kados.h.i.+m boil out of a cauldron?' Brina said.

'Aye. Other things.'

'What things?' Cywen asked.

He took a deep sigh. 'When I was held captive by Rhin in Dun Vaner something happened. She did something. Witchcraft. I woke up with her . . . somewhere else. It was the Otherworld. She brought me before the throne of Asroth.' He paused here, staring at the stream a long time. Eventually he s.h.i.+vered and carried on. 'He told me he'd been hunting for me. And that he was going to cut my heart out.'

And I thought my time with Nathair was hard. What kind of a world are we living in?

'If it was true, not a dream, or a hallucination, I mean, how did you escape from him?' Cywen asked.

'Meical and a host of the Ben-Elim smashed their way in and saved me. I saw Meical as he truly is. He's got wings.'

'Strange and terrifying times we live in,' Brina said. She reached out and squeezed Corban's hand. He smiled at her.

'Yes, they are,' Corban agreed.

'But you still have a decision to make,' Brina said.

'I know, but I was hoping for some advice. There are times when I feel I am going mad with it all.' He rubbed his temples. 'So. Advise me. Please.'

'That I'll happily do,' Brina said. 'The way I see it, there are good reasons to go to both places. Ardan because, we hope, Edana is there, with warriors about her. Combine them with this warband that is gathered behind you, we could make a considerable force. And Rhin must be stretched thin, ruling four realms so suddenly. It could be a good opportunity to take Ardan back.'

She paused, running a bony finger through Craf's feathers. 'And Ardan is our home it would be nice to be back there. Familiar and comforting.'

'Aye, it would,' Corban murmured.

'And it's closer. Much closer than Dra.s.sil.'

'Aye, it is.'

'As for going to Dra.s.sil. Meical says you should go there. He is Ben-Elim, he should be listened to. Also, this prophecy says you should go. I am usually suspicious of fate and divine control, but in this case, you should listen. And one of the Seven Treasures is there. We will need them all if victory against Asroth is to become vaguely possible, so we should go and get it.'

That's a better a.s.sessment than I could have made. When Brina says it like that, it seems that we should go to Dra.s.sil.

'So there you have it, Corban, the fors and againsts of both choices. The question is, which one will you choose?'

'My head tells me to choose Dra.s.sil,' Corban said. 'For all of the reasons that you state. Mostly because Meical tells me to, and, as you say, he is Ben-Elim, so he should know. But my heart whispers to me of my oath to Edana. I can't get her out of my mind.'

There was a loud crack. Coralen was sitting with two halves of a stick in her hands. She was glaring at it. They all stared at her. After a few heartbeats she must have felt their eyes, for she looked at them. With a snort of disgust she threw the two halves of the stick into the stream, then rose and stalked away.

'What's wrong with her?' Corban asked.

Brina laughed.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE.

FIDELE.

Fidele stood in Lamar's chambers situated at the very top of the high tower of Ripa, gazing out of the window onto the landscape beyond limestone cliffs, the horseshoe of the bay and the wide sea beyond. Black sails studded the waters, settled about the bay like a murder of crows.

The Vin Thalun. Will we ever be rid of them?

Over a moon now she had been here, surrounded by the enemy. Lykos was out there somewhere, she knew that. Once, not so long ago, that thought would have filled her with rage, and with fear. Now, though, something else consumed her thoughts.

Someone. Maquin.

I feel . . . happy. A ten-night had pa.s.sed since Maquin had awoken, since she'd found him awake and kissed him.

He did tell me that he'd returned from death for me. Truth be told, though, he hadn't needed to say anything. When she'd seen him collapse in the feast-hall she thought she'd lost him and something in her had died. The feelings of relief when he had awoken had overwhelmed her like some dark, powerful wave. It's ridiculous. And yet, she felt happy, for the first time since . . .

Since before Aquilus died. I should feel guilty about that. My dead husband. And yet a lifetime has pa.s.sed since then.

'My lady?' a voice said behind her.

She turned. Peritus was standing beside their council table, maps strewn across it, platters of food and jugs of wine.

'Yes?' she said.

'We have much to speak on; are you ready to begin?' Peritus said.

'Of course.' She turned and sat at the table. Lamar was there, flanked by his sons Krelis and Ektor, as well as Peritus, once battle-chief of Tenebral, until Nathair had replaced him with Veradis.

'The messenger told me you had news?' Fidele said.

'That is true,' Lamar said. He looked older than the last time she had seen him, his skin sagging like melted wax upon the frame of his skull. His eyes were sharp, though. And hard.

'Marcellin marches,' Peritus said. 'He has gathered his warband, and the eagle-guard that had been sent on fool's errands when . . .' He paused, looking into his cup. 'Sent to the kingdom's borders by Lykos.'

Fidele took a deep breath at that. When Lykos had controlled her through his witchcraft he had governed Tenebral through her. She had signed letters, orders written by him that sent the most loyal of her eagle-guard to the fringes of the realm, on the pretext of giant raids or supposed sightings of lawless men. All untrue, part of Lykos' scheming to ensure that the balance of power in Jerolin remained in favour of the Vin Thalun. She knew that she had had no control of the matter, but that didn't stop her feeling shame for it.

'That is good news,' she said.

'Your letter to him must have convinced him, my lady,' Peritus said.

Marcellin, Baron of Ultas, had barred his gates to Lykos and the Vin Thalun, but equally he had seemed unmoved to take any action in defence of Tenebral. He lived to the north-east of the realm, on the edge of the Agullas Mountains, a long way from Jerolin and the events and politics of Tenebral.

'I am glad to have contributed something of use,' Fidele said. 'How many men march with him? And how long before Marcellin reaches us?'

'We don't know the numbers for sure. Marcellin can raise a warband at least two thousand strong, and if he has gathered all those who were sent on postings from Jerolin ' Peritus shrugged 'three and a half thousand swords at least, most likely more. As for time, it will take them a moon at least to reach us.'

'Another moon for us to hold out here.'