Part 19 (1/2)

'Aye.'

He walked to Coralen, who was on her feet but still groggy.

'Thank you,' she said. He squeezed her arm.

Cywen put her foot on the Kados.h.i.+m's severed head and pulled her knife from its eye. Brina was crouching over the woman it had attacked, staunching the blood from her injury. Corban looked around and saw the combat was over. But for how long? Pockets of Jehar and giants spread out amongst the woods, searching for any survivors. Meical is right: there is no running away from this G.o.d-War. I ran from Dun Carreg all the way to Domhain, and it followed me. I travelled to the far north and walked into the middle of it. And now it finds me again. It cannot be escaped. At best I can choose where and how I fight. He took a deep breath.

'We need to get out of here,' he said to no one in particular. 'Gather the Kados.h.i.+m heads,' Tukul yelled beside him.

They formed up on the meadow beyond the woods, gathering up any who had survived the Kados.h.i.+m attack in the woods, of which there were at least a score. Corban searched out Brina. She and Cywen were tending the wounded. Three Jehar and a young giant had died and were laid out on the gra.s.s, having cairns piled around them. Brina was applying a salve to the shoulder of the woman whom Coralen had saved. She was grimacing with pain; her child, a girl of seven or eight summers sat silently in the gra.s.s beside her. She was plucking meadow flowers, twirling them between dirty fingers.

Corban knelt beside the woman.

'What is your name?'

'Teca,' the woman said.

'Where are you from, Teca?' Corban asked her.

She stared at him. 'You helped me. You and the girl, red hair.'

'You had a lot more help than just us two,' he said. 'I need to know, where are you from?'

She told him of her village, of a host of the Kados.h.i.+m arriving, led by a warrior riding upon a great draig.

'Some stayed and fought. I ran,' she said. Tears welled in her eyes.

'You were wise to.' Corban gripped her hand. 'There is no standing against them yet. Did they all chase after you, are they close behind?'

'I don't know,' she breathed through clenched lips as Brina bound a strip of linen about her shoulder.

'Would you come with me, please?' Corban asked Brina when she was done.

'What for?'

'I wanted to talk to you about something. And I'm about to make a decision: I'd value your advice.'

She blinked at him. 'Do you have a fever?' she asked him.

'Sarcasm isn't an attractive quality, and it's also not very helpful.'

She shrugged and followed him, the sound of flapping wings accompanying them.

Corban gathered up what was becoming his war council: Meical, Balur and Ethlinn, Tukul, Gar and Brina. He noticed Cywen had also joined them. Craf and Fech were nearby.

He felt the familiar tingle of fear. I am making plans, changing plans, and people's lives will depend on my choices. The weight of that was huge. He closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts.

'The plan has to change,' he said to them. 'Calidus, Nathair and a host of the Kados.h.i.+m are behind us, to the north. At best they are a day's ride away, at worst . . .' He shrugged, looking at the dark wall of trees behind them.

'And what about Rhin's warband?' Meical asked him.

He paused. When I speak it, there's no going back. Took a deep breath. 'Can't go around, so we'll have to go through them.'

'Is that wise?' Brina said. 'You risk being ensnared with one foe while another gets to stab you in the back.'

I asked her for advice, not criticism. Though the two are often entwined where Brina is concerned.

'My da used to tell me, don't hit if you can help it, but if you have to, hit fast, and hit hard.' Corban saw a grin split Gar's face and he heard Cywen grunt. They remember him saying that, too.

'That makes sense,' Meical agreed. 'But how? Ride straight at them? Many will likely be lost.'

'I've had a few thoughts about that.' Corban said. 'I think I have an idea.'

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

CAMLIN.

Camlin peered through a crack in the roundhouse's shutters, loosely holding his bow and a nocked arrow. The sound of hooves was growing louder. He swore quietly.

I wanted them to ride around. Why the h.e.l.l do they want to come back to this stinking hole? And he didn't mean that metaphorically. The roundhouse stank of death, flies buzzing in lazy circles around half a dozen corpses of villagers who had obviously sought refuge there. He'd had a superficial look around, wondering why Rhin's warriors had been in here, but a quick glance had revealed little, and the sound of hooves bearing down upon them outside hadn't helped his concentration. When the news of riders approaching had reached them, Edana had looked to Camlin. He'd been frozen for a moment, conflicting interests warring in his brain, then ordered them all into the roundhouse, pausing a few moments to unclasp a few of the black and gold cloaks from Rhin's fallen warriors.

Once upon a time it would have been a simple decision prepare for an ambush, use the buildings around the town square. Spread our swords. If it came to it, kill and run. Regroup at an appointed spot.

Now, though, he had twenty-six lives other than his own to think of. That included a deposed king and queen and an eight-year-old girl. Meg, the bairn they'd found hiding in the stables, was sitting by his leg. She didn't talk much, but every time he moved she moved with him, straying no further from him than his shadow.

He frowned as he glanced down at her now.

The shutters started to shake, the drumming of hooves becoming deafening.

There's a lot of them. Just gets better.

So his plan had been to stick together and hide. Hide and hope they pa.s.sed through.

He looked over his shoulder, saw pale, serious faces staring back at him. Roisin stood at the back of the hall, a dozen of her s.h.i.+eldmen tight about her. Lorcan was close to them, sitting on a blanket-covered chest, his feet dangling. He glimpsed Vonn and Baird, backs bent, digging at the wattle and daub wall with spear and sword. Always need an escape route. If they find us . . .

We'll deal with that if it happens.

He peered through the crack in the shutter again. It was sunset, the sky was a wash of pink and orange clouds, shadows long and wide. That's in our favour, at least.

He felt a presence behind him: Edana, trying to peer over his shoulder.

'You should get back,' Camlin whispered.