The Faithful and the Fallen: Ruin Part 93

'Mercy?' growled Farrell.

'Yes, mercy,' Haelan said, holding his chin high. He looked at Corban. 'Some of them, many of them, were just following the orders of their King, yet still they cheered you . . .'

Corban looked back at him, dark eyes thoughtful, and behind that Haelan saw a well of exhaustion that Corban held in check.

'You're right,' he said. 'No need to go on killing. It's just how exactly we're going to do this.'

Haelan dangled in the air, Balur One-Eye holding him up high over his head, like a human banner. On one side of him rode Tahir, on the other Corban. Balur was calling out in a booming voice, proclaiming Haelan King of Isiltir and p.r.o.nouncing mercy upon all those who would lay down their arms.

Over seven hundred men surrendered.

'Well,' Farrell said to Corban and Haelan when they were gathered before the gates of Dra.s.sil, 'I would imagine that it's rare to end a battle with more men than you started with.'

'Aye. I think it's safe to say we can call this a victory, then,' Corban said.

'That we can, Ban, that we can,' Gar said with a weary smile.

Just then a group of men and women approached from the northern end of the battlefield Dath and his archers, as well as Wulf with his axe-throwers and Javed and his pit-fighters. Wulf held up a severed head as he drew near, and threw it at Corban's feet.

'Ulfilas,' he said. 'Jael's high captain, and the man that killed my da.'

'I am glad for you,' Corban said wearily. 'A day where much justice has been done, and injustices set right.'

'Aye,' murmured many voices around them.

Haelan noticed that Dath was looking up at Corban, the widest smile upon his face. One of the Jehar stood close to him, a small, pretty young woman, or so Haelan thought. She was smiling too.

'What are you smiling about?' Corban asked Dath.

'I'm getting married,' Dath said, his grin growing even wider.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE.

CAMLIN.

Camlin sat and waited.

Feels as if I've spent half my life waiting for men to kill. Not sure which part is the worst. The waiting, or the killing.

Depends on who I'm waiting around to kill, I suppose.

He was sitting upon a raised knoll amidst a thick bank of reeds, a s.p.a.ce flattened at its centre for him. From here he could peer out through the reeds and have a commanding view of the surrounding area, watching over a dozen streams and rivers that fed from the lake, flowing in the direction that he reckoned Evnis and his warband would come. Looking the other way he saw the lake, the village that had grown up along its banks deserted now, still and silent apart from the odd chicken. A moorhen pecked about in what had once been a fire-pit, claiming it for her own. At the heart of the lake Dun Crin reared from its still, black waters. If Camlin stared hard enough he could make out warriors along its ancient walls, standing in the shadows of its crumbling towers.

The sky above was a pale blue a fresh wind welcome in this stagnant place, and bringing with it the scent of spring.

Least the bad weather's broken. Waiting's always better without the rain and snow.

He heard footsteps close by, peered through the reeds to see Edana's fair hair, Roisin, Lorcan and Pendathran with her, their shieldmen as well Halion and Vonn, Cian and Brogan. He pushed through the reeds to join them.

'All's ready, then?'

'Ready as we'll ever be,' Pendathran said. 'You up to this?' the big general asked Camlin.

'Course,' Camlin grunted.

'Of course he is,' Edana snapped.

'Aye, you've proved yourself, that's for sure,' Pendathran growled. 'Don't mind me, I just get nervous before a fight, that's all.'

'Surely not you,' Roisin said, a purr in her voice that Camlin didn't like.

'So do I,' Edana said, eyes scanning the marshes with its countless streams and rivers and hidden approaches.

Don't we all? Camlin thought. I've been in a hundred sc.r.a.pes, more, probably, and my mouth still goes dry and my palms sweaty 'fore a fight.

'It's the prospect of death,' he said matter-of-factly. 'No matter how many battles you live through, doesn't mean you'll see the end of the next one.'

They were all silent at that.

'Indeed, well, on that cheerful note,' Roisin said.

There was a flapping from above and a black speck dropped out of the sky.

'Men, boats, spears,' the crow squawked, alighting in the branches of a willow. They all stared at him.

I'm glad Edana talked him into sticking around, now.

'CLOSE,' Craf squawked, giving his wings an extra flap to emphasize his point, making them all jump, even Pendathran, who swore.

'This is it, then,' Edana said, looking at them all. 'You all know what to do.'

'Aye,' Pendathran said. He looked in their eyes, then grinned.

'For Ardan and Domhain, for kin and friends, for our Queens.'

They parted, Camlin walking back to his bank of reeds.

'Camlin,' a voice called after him, Halion striding after him. 'I'll see you again,' the warrior said. He held his arm out and Camlin took it in the warrior grip.

'Aye, brother,' Camlin said. 'This side or the other.'

Again, the waiting.

Camlin checked his bow, his string, lifted his blade in its scabbard to check it wasn't sticking, let it slide back with a click. Checked his arrows, the tips wrapped with foul-smelling linen. Flint and a pile of tinder and kindling set neatly to one side, not damp, not spoiled.

Good.

The reeds rustled and a head poked through them, scruffy red hair and a dirty face.

'h.e.l.lo, Meg,' Camlin said. 'You shouldn't be wandering around at a time like this.' There was no force in his reprimand, though he'd learned by now that the girl would d.a.m.n well do as she pleased, no matter what he said about it.

'Don't need to worry about me,' she said.

He frowned. 'You happy with what you've got to do?'

Camlin had adopted a new strategy with Meg. He'd learned that if he kept her out of things in an effort to keep her safe she'd just follow him and get involved anyway. So now he was finding tasks for her to do, even in the most dangerous of situations. That was what he had done with the hunt for Braith.

And thank the stars it turned out about as well as it could.

Every night he put his head on his pillow he felt a sense of relief that Braith was no longer out there, hunting him.

'I am,' she said. 'I just came to see that you were all right.' She looked at him intently, then smiled. 'And you are.' With that she spun around and disappeared into the reeds.

Strange child. P'raps that's why she fits in so well around us. Around me.

Then he heard the creak of wooden boats, weight shifting within them, the sound of oars and paddles in water, quite but not silent.

Here we go, then.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR.

EVNIS.

Evnis sat at the head of his boat and blinked as the lake opened up before him. Beside him Glyn swore.

Whoever would have thought that such a place existed?

The lake was vast, its waters dark and still, and at its centre stone walls and towers reared, as if the lake were a black field about a broken fortress. Except that green algae and creeping vines grew upon this fortress, silent, sinuous things swirling in the waters about the walls. Birds cl.u.s.tered upon crumbling towers, taking flight and squawking their protests at the arrival of Evnis and his warband.

Rafe was in the first boat leading the way, his two grey hounds sitting in it as still as stone, like figureheads. Warriors behind Evnis rowed them deeper into the lake, more boats following, others filtering from a series of streams and rivers along the north-eastern bank of the lake. Before half of them had emerged from the marshland streams a boat appeared from between two towers that loomed out of the lake. It rowed towards them.

'Hold,' Evnis said, raising a hand, his men backing water, the motion continuing through the boats behind him.

The lone boat rowed closer, four or five figures within it, the first with long fair hair.

Surely not . . .

Oars backed water and the boat stopped, drifting for a moment until it was side-on to Evnis' boat, maybe fifty paces away. Half of Evnis' fleet were spread behind him, the other half still backed up in the streams and rivers.

Edana stood in her boat. Evnis smiled to see her. She was dressed plainly, looking more like a woodsman than a queen, in woollen breeches, a linen shirt and black leather vest, though she wore the grey cloak of Ardan around her shoulders, something that Evnis hadn't seen for a while. And she wore a sword at her hip.

He almost laughed at that.

'There does not need to be bloodshed here today,' she called out, her voice carrying across the still waters of the lake.

It's unlikely to be our blood, Evnis thought. Perhaps you mean your own.

Edana looked at the warriors in their boats, taking her time to meet their eyes. Men behind Evnis fidgeted.

'There are men of Ardan amongst you, true-born warriors of Ardan who fought for my father.'

Aye, there are, and now they fight for me. Most of them have always fought for me.

'Men of Narvon, maybe, Owain's men. And warriors from Domhain, perhaps, who once served Eremon.'

Tw o figures stood in Edana's boat, one dressed as a warrior, dark-haired, though Evnis could see he was little more than a lad, beside him a woman, tall and dark-haired, her chin lifted proudly.

A rare beauty, Evnis thought.

'This is Roisin of Domhain, wife of Eremon, and her son Lorcan, rightful King of Domhain.'

Excellent. This is most helpful of you, Edana, gathering all of the rats into one boat. You are making my life so much easier.

'You are fighting as p.a.w.ns for a woman with a black heart, a manipulator, deceiver, a betrayer. Rhin is not a queen; she is a tyrant, a disease that must be cut out.'

Much to his surprise Evnis found himself listening, as if Edana actually had something to say. He pulled his eyes away from her, looked at the others in her boat, sitting at the oars. One of them was Halion, the warrior sitting calmly, his eyes scanning the boats behind Evnis. He looked to the other rower and started.

It was Vonn.

His son was staring straight at him.