Malice (93 page)
Halion called them all together, and soon they had a rough plan and were crossing the water towards the beach, trying not to splash. The tide was ebbing, the water cold enough to snatch Corban’s breath. Then they were picking their way over the beach, Dath and Mordwyr taking the lead, until they came to their own fisher-boat, leaning on its keel in the shingle.
With great effort the entire party, near enough a score of them, pushed the small boat down the beach towards the water’s edge. Corban’s heart thundered with every crunch of shingle beneath feet or the boat’s sliding keel. He almost cheered when he felt waves lap across his feet, then felt the boat shift as it was gripped and tugged by the sea’s gentle sway.
Dath and Mordwyr clambered aboard, the rest of them pushing the boat out further, then they all ran for the wooden quay a little further along the beach. Boots thudded on wood as they hurried along its length and waited for Dath and Mordwyr to bring their skiff around. Corban saw the sails unfurl and ripple as the wind caressed them, then suddenly they filled out, waves foaming white about the prow as it cut a curving line across to them.
Of all of the moments Corban had experienced this night, right now he felt the most scared, as they waited almost defenceless at the end of the wooden quay. He glanced up at Dun Carreg, now a hulking shadow in the first grey of dawn, and saw an orange glow as the fortress burned still within its great stone walls.
Suddenly Mordwyr’s fisher-boat loomed close, and he threw a coil of rope across. Halion caught it and others helped pull the boat in tight, then people were clambering aboard. Soon they were pushing away, most of them finding somewhere to slump exhausted on the boat’s deck, though it was a tight squeeze in a three-man craft.
To reach the open sea they had to pass by Nathair’s black ship, as it clogged the mouth of the bay. There were lanterns lit, but again no sign of people. As they reached the closest point, when the black hull was no more than a score of paces away, Corban heard a snuffling or growling and remembered teasing Dath about so-called noises on this ship. Had it only been last night?
Storm snarled, her ears flat to her head. Then, suddenly, a
roar
erupted from somewhere deep within the ship’s belly, all on the fisher-boat staring wide-eyed as they slipped past the larger vessel. Corban gazed back the whole time they were exiting the bay, expecting something to happen, but there were no further alarms. And then, suddenly, they were out in the open water just as the first rim of the sun clawed its way over the edge of the world. Corban felt his eyes roll, his eyelids suddenly heavy.
‘Here,’ a voice said beside him. ‘You should have this back.’ Farrell was offering him his da’s war-hammer, still caked in dried blood.
‘Keep it,’ Corban said. ‘It is too heavy for me. And you looked like it was made for you.’
Farrell looked at the hammer, clearly tempted. ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It is your da’s. It would not be right for me to have it.’
Corban lifted his arm, winced as pain lanced out from his shoulder blade. He pushed the hammer back towards Farrell. ‘I mean it. I could not wield it as it was meant to be wielded. Please, I would be glad if you kept it.’
‘Truly?’
‘Aye. Only use it to avenge my da. That is all I ask.’
Farrell considered, then managed a smile. ‘I am honoured,’ he said.
‘Aye. You are,’ Corban mumbled.
‘So,’ a voice called out from further up the boat. ‘Where is this fisher-boat taking us?’
All were suddenly listening, heads swivelling to look at Halion and Marrock, sitting together in the prow of the boat, Edana between them. Marrock shrugged, and looked at Halion.
‘In truth, my only thought has been to get away, from there,’ Halion said, nodding towards the fortress. ‘Which we have done.’ He dipped his head to Corban, then looked at Edana. The Princess was sitting with knees drawn up to her chest, tear tracks clear on her dirty face. She gave no sign as to whether she was listening or not.
‘My oath, and Brenin’s last charge to me, was to protect Edana,’ Halion said. ‘But how may I best do that? Dun Carreg is overrun, Ardan’s other fortresses fallen.’ He looked weary. ‘Narvon is obviously out of the question, as is Cambren. Where else is left?’
It sounded to Corban that Halion was voicing an internal logic that had already been minutely examined, and he remembered Gar telling him that Halion was a strategist. But Marrock must have taken it as a question, as he spoke up.
‘We could make for Dun Crin, the old giant ruins,’ the warrior said, others near him nodding.
‘I know of it,’ Halion said. ‘A ruin in the heart of a great marsh, to the far west of Ardan.’
Marrock nodded a confirmation. ‘A good place to lie low. If word were to spread of Edana’s presence there, maybe more would rally to her, and give us a chance to strike back.’
‘Strike back, aye,’ Halion muttered, thinking. ‘That would be my first inclination also. But that would not be putting Edana’s safety first. If word of her presence did get out it wouldn’t only reach friendly ears. Owain would hear of it.’ He shrugged. ‘Edana needs her kingdom back, no doubt, and I mean to help her, or die in the trying. But we must decide how best to achieve that aim.’
He looked at the small party in the boat. ‘If what we discovered in the Darkwood is true, then Rhin will soon strike at Owain. When her forces are in motion, when Owain has more to consider than securing Ardan –
that
would be the time for Edana to rally a warband about her. But until then she must be hidden.
‘I shall take Edana to my father,’ he said finally. ‘He is her kin, though more distant than those we have been speaking of.’
‘Who?’ said Marrock. ‘Who is your father?’
Halion looked at him, his face unreadable. ‘I am the bastard-born son of Eremon ben Parloth, the King of Domhain,’ he said, then turned away, resuming his staring out to sea.
Muttering rippled through the company, but no one objected to Halion’s decision. And Corban felt many things suddenly made sense about his old weaponsmaster. He shuffled to the back of the skiff and his mam came and stood beside him. She wrapped an arm around his waist, and together they looked back at Dun Carreg.
The first rays of the sun were gleaming on its stone walls, and here and there dark plumes of smoke rose up into the pale blue sky.
My da is in there, and Cywen
. He swallowed, a lump in his throat, and tears came at last. He gripped the fisher-boat’s rail to stop his hands from shaking.
‘Ban, there are things we must talk about. Things I must tell you,’ his mam whispered beside him. He looked down at her, and she seemed older somehow, more careworn at this moment.
‘Aye, mam,’ he said, a tremor in his voice. ‘But not now. Soon, but not now.’
‘All right,’ she nodded, seeming relieved. ‘Soon.’
And so they stood there, arms linked about each other, watching Dun Carreg shrink into nothing. Corban knew, beyond all measure of doubt, that from this moment things would never be the same again. His life had just changed irrevocably and forever.
First published 2012 by Tor
This electronic edition published 2012 by Tor
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Copyright © John Gwynne 2012
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