The Faithful and the Fallen: Ruin Part 89

How I despise him.

And behind Morcant the boats of their small fleet were filling; fifty vessels, bought, stolen, built, not all of them as big as the one he was sitting in, but they carried over five hundred men between them.

More than enough to crush this rebellion.

The sensible voice in his head told him to wait for the extra men to arrive from Dun Carreg, a few hundred at least. Enough to make the outcome of this conflict a foregone conclusion. He knew that this was riskier, but had justified it, claiming that they must strike hard and fast now, before Edana's rabble grew, and that if they did not strike now there would be a high risk of Edana's rebels just moving base, and then they would never find them.

So it has to be now, Evnis had argued.

Good arguments, and true, to a point. But they are not the reason I am ordering an immediate strike.

I need to see my son, and resolve this once and for all.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT.

CORBAN.

Corban woke to a knocking at his door. For a moment he did not know where he was. Then he remembered.

Dra.s.sil. And today we fight.

An enemy warband had been spied in the forest some moons ago, identified as Jael and the warriors of Isiltir. Kadoshim had also been seen amongst them. Since then Coralen and her scouts had kept track of it, and many night-time raids had issued from the tunnels in an attempt to whittle down the numbers and spread fear amongst the survivors. Yet still they had forged on, a few thousand swords, coming to Dra.s.sil to kill them.

And today they will be here. At the gates of Dra.s.sil.

The knocking sounded on the door again and he rose, shivered as his bare feet met the cold stone floor.

It was before dawn, grey light seeping through windows, the orange glow of embers in his fire seemingly the only colour in the room. He pulled his breeches on and padded to the door.

Brina was stood outside with a bowl in her hand, other faces behind her: Cywen, Dath, Farrell, Gar and Coralen. Buddai's tail thumped on the floor at the sight of him. Without waiting for Corban to say anything Brina pushed past him, the others following. They were all dressed in their war gear, gleaming with iron and leather and wood.

'Eat this,' Brina said, pushing him into a chair and pa.s.sing him the bowl filled to the brim with steaming porridge.

'Has it got honey in it?' He frowned. 'I don't like porridge without honey.'

'Told you,' Cywen said as she picked up one of Corban's boots and began hunting for the other.

'Yes, it has,' said Brina, unusually patient.

He tasted some suspiciously, then smiled and ate.

'Almost as good as Mam's,' he said as he finished, sc.r.a.ping the bowl. 'Now, what's this all about?'

'We just wanted to see you, before . . .' Cywen said, who had collected a pile of clothes together and laid them upon his bed.

'Before people start stabbing each other,' Brina finished for her.

They all came and sat around him.

'We've come a long way, eh?' he said.

'Aye, we have,' Gar nodded gravely.

He looked at all of their faces, so many memories rushing up with each of them, warming his heart. Too many memories to begin to mention. 'I don't know what to say,' he said.

'Neither do I,' said Brina, her eyes shining.

'That's a first,' Dath whispered, too loudly, as always.

Brina glared at him.

'Apart from one thing,' Corban said. 'And it is that I love you all. Would give my life gladly for any one of you.'

Gar stood and leaned forward, put his hands on Corban's cheeks and kissed his forehead. 'We love you too, Ban,' he said, the others murmuring agreement. 'And we are proud of you. And your mam and da would burst with that pride if they could see you now.'

'Well,' Corban said, sniffing, 'I did not think I would start the day with tears.' He smiled as he rubbed at his eyes.

'Me neither,' Brina said, wiping her own eyes. 'Now come on, best get you dressed; we haven't got all day.'

'Dressed?'

'Aye. Farrell's brought you a nice shiny new shirt, Coralen's sharpened and polished your wolven claws, I even got my st.i.tching needle out.'

They helped him dress for war.

Farrell smiled when Corban put his arms and head into the shirt of mail.

'It's lighter than the one I've been training in,' Corban said as he rolled his shoulders, 'and it fits better. Much better.'

'Laith helped me,' Farrell confessed. 'She's an amazing smith.' He patted Corban on the back, staggering him as Brina slipped his arm-ring over the shirt-sleeve, Farrell squeezing it tight around Corban's upper arm. A leather bracer was buckled around his right forearm, sewn with strips of iron, then Gar unfolded a black surcoat, an emblem upon its front. A white star with four points, like the north star.

'Brina made this for you,' Gar said.

'In case you forget you're the Bright Star, which I wouldn't put past you,' Brina muttered.

How can she manage to call me the Bright Star of prophecy and insult me with the same breath?

Corban just looked at them as Gar slipped it over his head and Cywen buckled his belt around it, adjusting his sheathed sword. 'I remember me and Mam making that scabbard, and we wound the leather on your sword hilt,' she said.

'Aye, you did.' Corban felt a lump in his throat stopping any more words coming out.

'Da made your sword,' Cywen continued, 'and your torc.' Brina slipped that around Corban's neck, the two wolven-head ends a comforting weight.

Coralen lifted his left hand, slipped the wolven-claw gauntlet on and buckled it tight. 'Don't try and scratch your chin with this hand,' she said as she adjusted the buckles over the mail shirt-sleeve, 'I've sharpened your claws. Think they'd cut iron right now.'

She slipped his wolven cloak about his shoulders, fastening the brooch and pausing to look in his eyes, smiling at him.

'We made you this, as well,' Dath said, slipping out of the doorway and grunting as he lifted something in the hall. He came back in carrying a shield, iron-rimmed, painted with black pitch, the same white star upon its centre as was upon his surcoat.

'I know you rarely use a shield,' Gar said, 'but you've trained hard with one in the weapons court, and it's better to have one and not need it, than to need one and not have it.'

'That sounds like something Brina would say,' Dath commented.

'And you can always use it like I showed you,' Gar said, strapping it onto Corban's back. 'So that your back is shielded in a melee. Which may happen today.' He shook it, made sure the strap was tight.

They all stepped back and looked at him.

'Thank you, all of you,' Corban said.

'You look almost like a hero, if I don't say so myself,' said Cywen.

Brina looked up at the window, sunlight streaming in now.

'Time to go,' she said.

They filed out of the room, Corban walking last, Buddai rising in the corridor to greet them. As he reached the doorway Coralen turned back to him, stopped him with a hand on his chest. She gripped a fistful of his surcoat and pulled him hard towards her and before he knew what was happening her lips were against his, warm and fierce. The world shrank to the two of them, for a few heartbeats all else fading as he kissed her back, then she was pushing away from him, turning her back, taking long strides to catch up with the others.

He stood there a moment, breathless, blinking, the faint taste of apples from her lips lingering, then he shook his head and followed after her.

Stairs wound about Dra.s.sil's trunk and they walked in silence down to the great chamber's stone floor, boots echoing. Gar and the rest of them paused, letting Corban walk ahead, and they followed close behind him.

Balur One-Eye was standing before the throne of Skald, the ancient King's skeleton transfixed by the spear a constant reminder of the centuries of war that had spiralled from that one moment. Balur's tattoo of thorns wound dark about both of his bare forearms, disappearing beneath the sleeves of a chainmail shirt; the starstone axe lay black and brooding upon his back. Ethlinn and the might of the Benothi stood behind him, grim and dour in leather, fur and iron. War-hammers and axes glinted. Even the giantlings were there, all ready for war. Corban saw Laith amongst them, her belts criss-crossing her torso, like Cywen, bristling with knives. Balur nodded to Corban and they followed silently behind him.

The great doors opened before Corban, light streaming in. A handful of the Jehar waited for him there, led by Hamil, dressed in black shirts of mail, swords strapped to their backs, each one wearing a black surcoat with a white star upon their chests. They parted for Corban and, as he strode through their midst, closed up behind him. He saw children standing in the shadows, running along with them. Haelan was one of them, his white ratter at his heels, and Corban beckoned him over, not breaking his stride.

'I have a task for you, if you would help me,' Corban said to the lad.

'Of course,' Haelan breathed, his face shining with pride, 'I'll do anything to help.'

'Good. Follow me, then.'

Corban led them through the streets of Dra.s.sil, not straight to the gates, but eastward, through a less-inhabited part of the fortress, finally stopping in a courtyard where the ground was ruptured by thick roots.

'Storm,' Corban called out as a silence fell in the square. His voice echoed back from the stone walls all about, and before it had faded Storm leaped out from the hole beneath the tree root and padded up to Corban, nuzzling his chest with her scarred muzzle. He buried his face in the fur of her neck.

More shapes emerged from the darkness of the hole: six cubs, running and bouncing to their mother's legs, standing in the shadow beneath her bulk. They were close to three moons old now, more b.a.l.l.s of fur with teeth than anything else.

'Storm, I need you with me today. So I'll leave some friends to guard your cubs.' Corban looked at Haelan. 'Think you can do that for me?'

'Aye,' Haelan beamed, scooping one of the cubs up in his arms.

'I thought so, as I've seen you visiting these cubs every day and luring them out with sc.r.a.ps of food. Thought they might be happiest with you.'

Haelan's smile grew, if that was possible. 'Think I might need some help, though,' he added as he tried to scoop another cub up and missed.

'Wulf's bairns will help you,' Corban said, then turned to leave.

'Not you, Tahir,' Haelan said. 'I give you permission to go and fight today, not stand around in here watching me.'

Tahir smiled and ruffled Haelan's hair.

'Storm, with me,' Corban said and strode from the courtyard. Storm hesitated a moment, looking between Corban and her cubs, then padded after Corban.

'And, Tahir,' Haelan called out after them, 'bring me Jael's head.'

'I'll do my best,' Tahir muttered behind Corban.

The rest of the warband were waiting for Corban before Dra.s.sil's great gates, the converted bear pens edging the courtyard. Although the plan was to remain inside the walls, horses were saddled and harnessed, prepared for any eventuality. Corban heard Shield whinny when he entered the courtyard, calling out to him.

A great host stood before the gates, every last man and woman who could wield a sword, and standing in front of them was Meical. Today he looked like one of the Ben-Elim from the tales of the Scourging, tall and commanding in a coat of gleaming mail, his dark hair tied back in a severe knot. He half-bowed to Corban as he led his followers to the gate.

'The Bright Star,' Meical called out, his voice ringing from the stone walls, drowned by a great roar from the warband.

Corban climbed a dozen steps on the wall, then stopped and looked about at them all, hundreds of faces staring back at him. A mixture of fear, of pride, of determination. Brave men and women, all touched, scarred in some way by Asroth and his servants.

I am dreaming. How has life come to this?

He took a deep breath.

'We have been hunted, hounded, our kin slain, our friends murdered. We have travelled hundreds of leagues, fled the dark tide that is sweeping this land. But no more. Today we stand. Today we fight. Now that's a tale our kin will be proud to tell.'

The courtyard rang with cheering. It slowly faded to an echo.

'Win or lose, live or die, I am proud to stand beside you.'

A great roar rose up from the courtyard then, feet stamping, spears banging on shields, swords on bucklers. As it died a new sound rang out. Horns blasted from the walls above.

They are here.

Corban felt a jolt of fear, his guts turning to water for a few heartbeats. He ground his jaw, refusing to let it rule him.

He drew his sword and held it high over his head. 'Truth and courage!' he yelled, punching the sky, then turned and strode up the steps to Dra.s.sil's wall. The courtyard rang with the echo of a thousand voices yelling the same battle-cry as they all went to find their places.

'That's a lot of men,' Dath commented in Corban's ear.