Valour (93 page)

Third time lucky
, thought Camlin, nocking another arrow and taking aim.

I’ve got you now
.

A force slammed into Camlin’s left shoulder, spinning him, sending his arrow skittering away. He staggered, almost fell, looked at his shoulder.

An arrow shaft protruded from it. As if brought on by the sight of it, pain suddenly bloomed, radiating outwards in great waves. He looked up, working out the direction of the arrow’s
flight. Up the slope before the quay, onto the hill. A figure stood at its top, part sliding down the slope, a bow in one hand.

Braith.

‘Good t’see you, Cam, you traitorous runt.’

‘Always knew you couldn’t shoot an arrow worth a damn,’ Camlin shouted.

‘Be fair now – I’m sliding down a mountain.’

Camlin lifted an arrow and tried to draw his bow but pain spiked in his shoulder, black dots dancing before his eyes. He dropped his bow and drew his sword instead. Dimly he was aware of combat
below him, on the sand. He shot a quick glance, saw Conall trading blows with one of Halion’s men, Halion himself standing before the steps, hacking someone down.

Braith was halfway down now. Camlin was already moving forwards; he knew better than to let Braith get his balance, the best swordsman he’d seen in the Darkwood in a score of years, the
man who’d bested Rhagor, battlechief of Ardan.

And now I’m crossing swords with him, and me with an arrow in my shoulder. Not the best odds
.

Their swords met in a harsh percussion of blows, Braith pressing forwards, an overwhelming force, six blows, ten, twelve, his attack not faltering. Camlin retreated, pain shooting in spasms from
his injured shoulder as he twisted and turned, using everything he knew to keep himself alive a few heartbeats longer. He tried to push forwards, get inside Braith’s guard, but Braith just
smiled at him – that knowing smile – stepped in to meet him and grabbed the arrow shaft in Camlin’s shoulder, twisting it.

Camlin screamed, almost fainted, lost the grip on his sword and heard it clatter to the ground. Braith gave him a scornful shove, sending him stumbling backwards. A handspan from him was Lorcan,
Roisin’s lad. He groaned and stirred, his eyelids fluttering. Something else was between them, a knife, stuck in the timber.

Quinn’s knife. Poisoned
.

‘Get up, Cam. At least die on your feet, not grovelling on your arse.’

With an act of will more than muscle Camlin lunged for the knife, grabbed its hilt, wrenched it from the timber and threw it at Braith, aimed straight at his heart.

The woodsman was quick, his sword moving on a reflex. Camlin heard the sound of metal connecting, the knife deflected.

It’s over
. He closed his eyes a moment, tried to struggle to his feet, but only got one knee under him.

Braith strode towards him, then Camlin saw the knife hilt sticking from the woodsman’s shoulder.

‘Take more’n that t’stop me,’ Braith said. He gripped the knife and pulled it out, threw it into the sea, then levelled his sword at Camlin.

‘Any last words?’ Braith said.

‘Rot in hell.’

‘Told you to stick with me, didn’t I, Cam?’

‘You did. Told me a lot of other things, too, most of ’em lies.’

Braith paused, a ripple passing through his body.

It’s affecting him already, quicker than Halion – because the wound was so deep? Halion’s wound was only a scratch
. Camlin climbed to his feet and took a step
backwards.

‘Not feeling so good?’ he asked Braith.

‘What?’ Braith blinked and shook his head, his eyes becoming unfocused.

Camlin darted forwards, stooping to pick up his sword. Braith lunged at him, the blow going wide. Camlin struck at Braith then, but the woodsman seemed to rally, his eyes sharpening, and they
traded blows, Camlin steadily retreating towards the steps. Even poisoned, Braith was a better swordsman than he was. They slammed in close, Braith scoring a gash along Camlin’s ribs that
burned like a line of fire. Camlin managed to punch Braith in the gut and step away, then Braith swayed again, his sword-point wavering. Camlin smashed his own sword down, knocking Braith’s
blade from his grip. The woodsman just stared at him, confused. Camlin swung hard, with all his strength, his blade biting into Braith’s neck. There was a spray of blood and Braith toppled
backwards, off the quay into the lapping waves below.

For a moment Camlin just stood there, not quite believing he was still alive.
Halion
.

He turned to see Halion on his knees, leaning on his sword.

How is he still conscious?

He was circled by a ring of the dead, beyond them a crowd of warriors. Conall stood before them.

‘Give it up, Hal. You’ve lost.’

With an effort that set his limbs quivering, Halion climbed to his feet. Camlin could hear his laboured breathing.

‘Come back to me, Con. Be the man you were – my brother. Not this oathbreaker, obsessed with what? Yourself? Revenge?’

Conall sneered. ‘I was pathetic – your puppet. No longer. I’ve risen far without your help. Evnis was right: it was you who has always kept me down. Now get out of my way.
I’m wanting a chat with young Lorcan.’

‘Con, listen to yourself. I know you – you’re better than this. Please . . .’

Conall hesitated, staring at Halion, a softness creeping into his eyes. He blinked, then a cold expression passed across his face. He took a step forwards and Halion raised his sword, the tip
hovering in front of Conall’s chest. Conall laughed.

‘If you’ll not see reason, Con, I’ll have to stop you another way.’

‘Don’t be a fool, Hal. Look at you, you can hardly stand.’

‘I’d rather stand and die than see you become the thing we’ve both hated.’

‘Careful what you wish for, brother.’

Halion swung his blade; Conall, parrying, swept it away and down, Halion’s sword-point digging into the sand. Halion staggered forwards a pace, then punched Conall in the face.

The warrior stumbled back, wiped blood from his mouth.

‘I’ll not warn you again, Hal. Get out of my way.’

Footsteps drummed behind Camlin, a handful of warriors running along the quay, Marrock at their head.
Quinn’s men are all dead, then
.

Conall saw them too.

Halion staggered back against the steps, one hand reaching out to grip them, holding him upright.

‘You’ll not be climbing these stairs while I draw breath,’ Halion said. ‘I swore an oath.’

‘This is madness. Out of my
way
.’ Conall strode forwards and Halion swung his blade again. Conall blocked and lunged, punching his sword hilt into Halion’s face.

Conall froze, looked shocked, surprised at what he had done.

Halion slumped to the ground, motionless before the steps.

‘Get him out of my way,’ Conall said.

Warriors rushed forwards and dragged Halion’s body away, laying him out in the sand. Conall climbed the steps, others following.

‘Help me.’ Camlin heard a voice – Lorcan, trying to stand.

Camlin retrieved his bow and put an arm under Lorcan, helped him upright and together they staggered along the quay. Men reached them – Marrock and Baird.

‘Halion?’ Marrock hissed.

‘Back there. Conall has him.’ He saw the look in Marrock’s eye. ‘It’s too late – there’s no saving him. Too many of Conall’s men.’

‘Drop the boy,’ a voice cried – Conall, powering along the quay.

‘Get him out of here,’ Marrock snarled, shoving Camlin into Baird’s arms.

The scar-faced warrior grabbed Camlin and Lorcan and half dragged them back along the quay.

Boots thudded behind, warriors sprinting after them. Camlin heard the clash of weapons as he reached the ship; the boarding ramp was already pulled up. Baird hoisted the still-groggy Lorcan onto
his shoulder and jumped across, then Camlin was being heaved over, Vonn grasping his arm and pulling him aboard.

A deep voice was shouting orders, poles pushing the ship away from the quay, oars splashing into the water and pulling.

‘Halion? Where is Halion?’ It was Edana, holding his face in her hands, almost yelling.

‘Conall has him,’ Camlin breathed.

Horror swept Edana’s face. ‘And Marrock? Where is Marrock?’

Camlin didn’t answer, just stared back down the quay as the ship moved away. A crush of men was gathered a way back, shouts drifting across to the ship. A man screamed and toppled into the
water.

Marrock held them off. Gave us time
.

Then Conall was marching clear, dragging a man with him: Marrock, battered and bleeding.

‘Give me Lorcan,’ Conall yelled across the waves.

‘Never,’ Roisin screeched at him.

Conall pulled Marrock close, putting a knife blade to his throat.

‘Edana, is that you, with your pretty fair hair? Bring me Lorcan. I’ll trade you.’

Edana did not answer, but Camlin saw her eyes darting about the ship, weighing the odds.

Only me ’n’ Vonn with you for sure, probably Baird and a few others loyal to Eremon. The rest by far are Roisin’s men. Nearly two score of them
. He saw by Edana’s
face that she’d come to the same conclusion.

‘Last chance,’ Conall yelled, his voice fainter. ‘Marrock’s your only kin. And I like him. Don’t make me kill him.’

‘Camlin, put an arrow in Conall’s eye,’ Edana hissed fiercely.

Camlin looked at the arrow shaft sprouting from his shoulder.

‘I’ve a hole in my shoulder, can’t draw a bow worth a damn.’ He grimaced.
I’m sorry, Marrock. You’ve been a good friend to me. The first
. He glared
balefully at Conall.

‘This is on your head,’ Conall cried. He drew his knife across Marrock’s throat and let him topple into the waves.

Edana screamed.

Corban ran through the corridors of Murias, Fech and Craf fluttering ahead, staying just within sight.

They had encountered no one, the halls seemingly abandoned.

Everyone that lives in this place is fighting for it now
.

The stairwell they were climbing spilt out into a chamber, a single fire-pit flickering near its centre. Fech led them unerringly towards an archway on the far side. They were almost there when
shouting broke out from behind. Corban spun around, saw giants appearing from another opening – a dozen, perhaps more. At their head stood a white-haired giant, blood caking his face. He held
a war-hammer, the entirety of his muscled arms a swirl of tattooed thorns. He saw Corban and his companions and bellowed a battle-cry, his comrades echoing him. They began running towards them.

The Jehar drew their swords, Tukul taking the lead, moving to meet the attack, holding his sword in one hand, axe in the other.

Brina stepped into Corban’s vision, holding a sword in her hand, long and thin.

Where did she get that?

Corban heard her muttering, the words sounding strange and guttural, then the blade of her sword burst into flame. She winked at Corban.

The giants eyed her warily.

Then Meical was in front of him, standing between the two groups.

‘I know you, Balur One-Eye,’ Meical said.

Balur One-Eye. Even I have heard of him
, thought Corban.

‘Balur One-Eye,’ Dath whispered. ‘He’s ancient. Even older than Brina.’

‘I heard that,’ Brina snapped.

The giant’s strides faltered as he stared at Meical. He took another few hesitant steps.

‘That was a long time ago,’ the giant said.

‘It was. The time of fire and water.’

‘Aye. And why are you here now? Fighting alongside the Dark Sun. Have you Fallen?’

‘No. I made my choice. The Dark Sun has a captive, someone dear to us. Dear to the Bright Star.’ Meical pointed at Corban.

I wish he wouldn’t do that
.

Balur and the other giants peered at him.

‘He has my sister. I mean to take her back,’ Corban heard himself say.

‘We are not your enemy,’ Meical said.

‘
Hurry, hurry, hurry
,’ Fech squawked. Balur stared at the bird.

‘Fech?’ He shook his head.

‘He is taking us to the cauldron. That is where Nathair will be, the Black Sun,’ Meical said.

‘And these others?’ Balur asked, looking suspiciously at the Jehar. ‘We have just fought their kin in the great hall.’

‘It’s complicated,’ Tukul said, ‘and time does not allow its full telling. The short version is that the ones you have fought have been deceived.’

‘Join us,’ Meical said. ‘If we wanted you dead we would be killing you now.’

The giants bristled at that.

True, but not very tactful
.

Slowly Balur nodded. ‘We shall join you. But you go first.’ He smiled.

‘Agreed. Lead on, Fech.’

Then they were running through corridors again. Slowly Corban became aware of a sound, a deep humming, more a feeling than a sound, vibrating up through his feet, out of the rock walls about
him. It grew until it was all he could hear, filling his senses.

‘
We are here
,’ Fech said.

The doorway was wide, like everything in this underground stronghold, room for a score of them to stand across.