'We can do that,' Lamar said. 'We have the supplies.' He looked to Ektor for confirmation, his son nodding.

'Part of me says we should march out and show these Vin Thalun what the men of Ripa can do,' Krelis growled. 'We don't need Marcellin to come and save us.'

'We must wait,' Peritus said to Krelis. 'You have eight hundred swords under your command here. The Vin Thalun ranks have swelled, more ships arriving. They must have at least two thousand men out there. With Marcellin's reinforcements we will crush them, give them the lesson they deserve. Unless, of course, our King Nathair returns to us unbidden.' He turned his eyes to Fidele.

Nathair. Once, not so long ago I yearned for his return, thought that he would set me free of Lykos' spell, give me justice. Now I am not so sure . . . Her gaze flitted to Ektor, who was watching her. Ever since he had told her of the prophecy, read to her from the giant scrolls in his chambers, a gnawing seed of doubt had taken root in her belly. What if Calidus is not Ben-Elim? What if he is Kadoshim? If that were true, then Nathair was in great danger. And the things Lykos had said, insinuated about Nathair. That he had troubles of his own. She did not hold out for Nathair's return any time soon, and part of her did not want him to come back, for fear that her foreboding might turn out to be more than just the paranoid fears of a mother long parted from her child.

'I fear that Nathair's quest will keep him from our sh.o.r.es for a good few moons yet,' Fidele said. 'You must be patient, Krelis.'

Krelis lifted a cup and drained it. 'Patience,' he growled as he slammed the cup down. He sighed. 'I know, you're right. I've had enough of sitting on my a.r.s.e, though. It wasn't so bad when Lykos kept sending sorties against the walls. Kept me busy . . .'

'Perhaps there is something we can do,' Peritus said. 'I spoke to your scouts earlier.'

'The ones returned from Sarva?'

'Aye. They said they saw Vin Thalun in the old ruins of Balara.'

'Perhaps they are setting up a base of command there,' Krelis offered.

'That would make sense,' Fidele said. 'That is where we discovered the fighting-pits, is it not?'

'Aye, my lady,' Krelis and Peritus said together.

Fidele could remember it still the stench of death, the haunted looks in the eyes of the pit-fighters they had saved. What they must have been through. Her thoughts returned to Maquin. How has he survived such a thing? She knew, though. You just do. You dig deep into your soul. Endure. But not without cost.

'You said we could do something?' Krelis said to Peritus.

'I think it is time that we took the initiative, instead of sitting in here, drinking wine all day long.' He looked pointedly at Krelis.

'Sounds good to me,' Krelis said, sitting up straighter. 'What exactly are you suggesting?'

'Night raids. Nothing big plans easily go awry in the dark. Kill some Vin Thalun on the night watch, break some axles in their baggage trains, maybe burn a ship. And perhaps we should take a closer look at Balara, see what mischief we can perform there.'

'Is this wise?' Ektor asked. 'As you said, plans in the dark easily come undone. We cannot afford to lose more warriors. And who would lead these raids?' He raised an eyebrow, looking at Krelis.

Krelis raised his cup and grinned.

'That is a bad idea,' Ektor said. 'As much as I know that you are just the brawn in Ripa, your death would devastate our warriors. You cannot go.'

'Ahh, brother, I didn't know you cared.'

'I don't, really. But I care about Ripa falling, and you are the cornerstone that our warband's morale rests upon. Cut you out and it would come toppling down.'

'I'm going,' Krelis said.

'That would be foolish the rewards do not outweigh the risks.'

'Ektor's correct, Krelis. You cannot go,' Lamar said.

Krelis' mouth twisted but he held any retort in.

'Help us plan the raids,' Fidele said. 'Whatever Ektor says, I know that you have a gift for strategy.'

'Aye, and you have a gift for diplomacy, my lady.' Krelis smiled at her.

Fidele pa.s.sed through torchlit corridors, her footsteps taking her to Maquin's door. She paused outside, a flutter of excitement in her belly, then opened the door.

Maquin was standing gazing out of the open window, his back to her. A ten-night of recovery had put a little meat back on his bones, his frame not quite as gaunt and skeletal as it had been. He wore a plain linen tunic, belted with rope at the waist.

She walked up behind him and he turned, a smile softening the sharp lines of his face. They embraced silently, melting into each other. Footsteps sounded in the corridor and they parted. The footsteps pa.s.sed by.

I feel like a guilty maiden. Maquin smiled ruefully at her, a twist of his lips.

'There is not much to see out there,' Fidele said, looking out into the night. Far below lights flickered on the bay, pinp.r.i.c.ks marking the Vin Thalun ships. She knew what he'd been watching.

He pulled an oar on a galley like those down there. Perhaps even one of them.

They had talked much during the ten-night since he'd woken. He'd told her of his youth in Isiltir, of his kin and friends, of Kastell, the Gadrai, of Jael and Lykos and everything in between. He had wept when he spoke of Kastell and she had held him, felt his sobs rack his body. And she had spoken of her life, growing up in Jerolin, of Aquilus, how he had lived and died, a man of principle. Of the council, the proposed alliance. She had spoken of Nathair, of her hopes and fears for her son, and of Lykos. How he had controlled her, eventually marrying her, on the day that Maquin had fought Orgull, the crowning celebration.

'How did the council go?' he asked her.

'Well enough.' She told him of the news that Marcellin was marching to their aid, and of the plan to begin raids against the Vin Thalun. He seemed more interested in that.

'When?' he asked her.

'Soon,' she shrugged. 'A few days, maybe a ten-night. Peritus suggested that a number of raids be carried out on the same night three, four groups with different targets. He said if they did one at a time that the Vin Thalun would be alerted after the first raid, and their security would tighten.'

'Makes sense,' Maquin muttered. He stretched as he spoke, rolled his neck and shoulders. 'It is time for me to start doing some sparring, maybe. My body is aching more from lying in this room doing nothing than it did from running through the forests of Tenebral with you.' He smiled at her, both of them remembering.

It had been often terrifying, always hard, physically and mentally, but now Fidele could not help but look back at their journey from Jerolin to Ripa with a sense of . . . nostalgia. It had been simple, then, just the two of them. She was happy now, more so than she could remember, but something was growing in her, a sense of foreboding.

There was a tap at the door, a pause, then the door opened.

Alben stepped in, the old warrior looking tired, but graceful as always. He dipped his head at them both.

'And how is my miracle patient?' he asked, moving to check Maquin as he always did his temperature and pulse, then the wound in his belly, just a slight b.u.mp and the silver knotting of a scar upon the skin now.

'Restless,' Maquin said.

'I am not surprised,' Alben said. 'Men such as us, a lifetime of routine and training, it does not just go away. And it is a good sign, your mind and body telling you that they are ready. We best get you into the weapons court.'

'Will you spar with me?' Maquin asked him.

'You will have to go easy on me.'

'Ha, I think it will be the other way round,' laughed Maquin.

Alben smiled at him. 'In the morning, then.'

He walked back to the door, hesitated before he opened it.

'You should know, people are talking of you both,' he said.

Fidele felt her breath catch in her chest.

Alben turned and looked at them. His expression was sadness mingled with concern.

'Go on,' Maquin said.

'War does things to people. Our mortality becomes clear. Will we die today, or on the morrow? These questions become foremost in the mind.'

'I have lived in that state for more years than I can remember,' Maquin growled. 'This is no pa.s.sing fancy.'

Alben shrugged. 'I am not your judge. But you should know, talk is spreading, of the Queen and the pit-fighter. You have scarcely left this room, Fidele.'

'I am not a queen,' Fidele breathed.

'You are to them,' Alben said, gesturing vaguely about him. 'The people of Ripa, the survivors, they see you as their queen, at least in Nathair's absence.'

Fidele drew in a deep breath, standing taller. 'I have lived in misery, thought that my life was ended a living h.e.l.l. And yet, here I am.' She felt her hand searching for Maquin, just wanted to touch him. 'I will not deny myself this. It came to me unsought, but I cannot deny it.'

'You do not have to explain or defend yourself to me, my lady. I am both warrior and healer; I exist in a place where life and death cohabit; where they are bedfellows, only a breath apart. Life should be lived, and what is life without heart and pa.s.sion?' He shrugged. 'I thought you should be aware, that is all.'

'Thank you,' Maquin said.

The swordsmaster left the room. Maquin just stared at Fidele.

'I'll not give you up,' she said fiercely.

'I returned from death to life for you. Rumours aren't going to scare me,' Maquin grinned.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX.

CORBAN.

Corban hoisted his saddle onto Shield's back and buckled the girth. Shield looked round at him and nudged him as he went through his routine.

When he had finished he put his arm under the stallion's neck and laid his head against Shield's shoulder. He stayed like that a while, listening to the rhythm of Shield's heart, the steady flow of air expelled from nostrils. Eventually he stepped back, began picking a knot from Shield's mane.

'Big day today,' he said, 'and I'd rather be here seeing to you than over there.'

He glanced towards a group that had gathered at the head of the warband, waiting for him. Meical was at their head.

Shield regarded him with his dark liquid eyes and whickered. He stamped a hoof.

'I know truth and courage,' Corban whispered as he swung into his saddle and trotted towards Meical.

The sun was rising, a finger's width over the rim of the world, the sky clear of cloud. There had been no sword dance or sparring this morning. Meical had suggested that at this point speed was more valuable than training, and Corban was inclined to agree.

I want to be out of Narvon.

He saw a dark speck circling high above them and frowned. Kartala we need to do something about that bird. He glanced at his fingers, the tips sore and throbbing from all the st.i.tching he had done last night.

He pulled up before Meical, Tukul and Balur One-Eye, the rest of the warband gathered behind them. All were ready to travel, watching him.

'Balur, will you lead us to Ardan?' Corban said. He waited as the meaning of his words settled upon them. Meical sat tall and straight in his saddle. He gave nothing away except for a tightening around his lips, perhaps a rigidity in his shoulders. They locked gazes for what felt like a hundred heartbeats.

Meical nodded, a sharp, controlled movement, and Corban let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

'To Ardan,' Balur said, striding off on his trunk-like legs. Like a creature rousing from sleep the warband followed him.

'Dun Cadlas lies to the east,' Balur said to Corban as they travelled through a green-sloped valley. 'It was Owain's fortress, his seat of power. Rhin will likely have a strong garrison there.'

'I thought the same,' Corban said. So we need to avoid them. Coralen had already gone ahead with a score of scouts, Dath amongst them. Corban had asked her to search for a specific location for their evening campsite. She had scowled at him as she'd ridden away.

Did she want to go to Dra.s.sil?

'We will loop wide around the fortress, then rejoin the old road it is the fastest route to the border,' Balur continued. He didn't usually offer information, speaking only when Corban asked questions of him.

Hooves drummed and Meical rode up beside them. He nodded at Corban but didn't say a word.

Thank Elyon for that.

The leagues pa.s.sed quickly and soon after highsun Balur led them back to the giants' road that they had followed virtually all the way from Murias.

'Dun Cadlas is ten leagues behind us, the bridge into the Darkwood forty leagues ahead,' Balur said. The road was in better repair now, and there were more travelling upon it. Ahead of them Corban saw shapes fleeing down the embankments and heading for cover as they thundered down the road. No one stayed on the road to challenge them. Frequently Corban looked up at the sky. Every time he found the winged shadow trailing them. He swore under his breath.

Amazingly they encountered no opposition throughout the entire day. As the sun began to merge with the horizon they crested a ridge and Corban saw to the south an ocean of green boughs spreading across the landscape.

The Darkwood. It was still some distance away, most of a day's ride, the land between dotted with woodland and undulating meadow. To the west Corban saw hills rolling into mountain peaks. We will not make it today.

A black dot appeared on the road ahead, quickly growing larger. Soon individual riders were visible three of them, and a wolven loping beside them.

Coralen.