'How did you end up . . .' Dath said, glancing back at the ships moored along the river's edge.

Always tactful, Dath.

The two men exchanged a glance, a look of fear flitting across the younger one's face.

'Prisoners of war,' Atilius said with a shrug.

'War against who?' This time it was Farrell asking the question.

'The Vin Thalun,' Atilius said. 'The pirates you stole those ships from.'

'd.a.m.n them to h.e.l.l,' Pax murmured. 'd.a.m.n them to h.e.l.l.' He had a furtive, jumpy look to him.

Atilius patted his son's leg, pain washing his features.

'You're warriors, then,' Cywen said.

'He is,' Kulla said, nodding at Atilius.

'We both were,' Atilius said. His son looked away.

'The warriors of Tenebral are our enemy,' Farrell said, frowning. 'Nathair is your king?'

'Aye,' Atilius said slowly, looking about at them. Cywen and Dath were sitting straighter, and Coralen was remembering the warriors she had fought and killed during the night raid on Rhin's forces back in Domhain Pa.s.s. They had been men of Tenebral.

'Eagle-guard,' Cywen said.

'Aye. That is what they called the best of us,' Atilius said. His son was looking nervously between them.

'Veradis. Do you know him?' Cywen asked.

'He is Nathair's first-sword. A good man, or so I hear.'

'Yes, I thought that, too,' Cywen said, a distant look in her eye.

'Are we your enemy, then?' Atilius asked them.

A straight talker, at least. I like that.

'To my mind, no,' Cywen said. 'But it is for Corban to decide. Should I consider you my enemy?'

'No,' snorted Atilius. 'Nathair gave Tenebral's rule to a madman Lykos of the Vin Thalun and then walked away on some mad quest. He abandoned his people to a lunatic. I want no part of such a king. If I were to fight, it would be against the Vin Thalun, whether they are allied to Nathair or not.' He looked at his son. 'But I don't want to fight.' He said it almost rea.s.suringly. 'I just want to find us some peace.'

Good luck with that. We're marching knee-deep into the G.o.d-War.

Just then Javed walked past their group. He saw Coralen, his steps faltering for a moment as she met his gaze, then he walked on.

'Heard about earlier,' Atilius said.

'Do you know him?' Farrell asked, his voice dangerous.

'Aye. He was a pit-fighter.'

'What's that?'

'A form of entertainment for the Vin Thalun. Slaves they capture they break them in on the oars; if they survive that then they throw them in the pit, a dozen, more. Last one alive gets to come out. Gets to fight another day. Some fight all the way to their freedom. He was one of them almost.' He looked at Coralen. 'Heard you held your own with him. You'd have won a fortune in silver if you'd have done that back in Tenebral.'

'He's fast,' Coralen said wryly, touching her lip.

'He's an animal,' Pax said. 'And touched.' He tapped a finger against his temple. 'They all are.'

'Are there more like him on the oars pit-fighters?'

'Pit-fighters, aye,' Atilius grunted. 'Many. Like him, though? None. Not here, anyway.'

Coralen noticed a change around them, the murmur of conversation dying down. She looked up to see Corban vault onto a wide, low branch of an old elm. Storm lay at his feet, Meical, Gar, Tukul and Brina arrayed about him.

'Looks like your brother has something to say,' Dath said, slapping Cywen's arm.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX.

CORBAN.

Corban stood on the branch of an old elm, looking out at the sea of faces staring back at him.

For a moment his mind went absolutely blank. He took a breath. 'I'm not much for speech-making,' he said, his voice falling into the silence like a stone in a deep pool. 'But there are some things that need saying.' He looked around again, his mouth dry, feeling a little overwhelmed.

'Get on with it,' Brina muttered under her breath. Corban scowled at her. Speech-making was all well and good for those used to it but he wasn't one for rhetoric and flowery talk. All he could do was speak from the heart and hope it was enough.

'When I took these ships I promised you freedom,' Corban shouted. 'I also asked you to row us all to safety. Well, you have. Narvon lies behind us, Isiltir ahead, so I say to you again, you are free.'

Someone cheered, more voices adding to it, rippling through the crowd, surprising him, and also making him feel less self-conscious.

Maybe I'm not making a huge fool out of myself after all.

When it quietened he carried on.

'But where is safe in this land of ours now? I'd like you to think on that. Of Rhin's armies conquering nation after nation. Of the Vin Thalun enslaving our people.' There were hisses at the mention of the hated pirates. 'And of the Kadoshim, slaughtering men, women, bairns innocents.' A ma.s.s of faces gazed at him in silence. Corban sighed wearily, for a moment lost in a blur of memories the Kadoshim in Murias, afterwards in the woodland of Narvon, one of them biting into the flesh of a terrified captive. He shook his head, forced himself to concentrate on those in front of him. 'Tonight is for feasting, for celebrating our escape.' He gestured to the fire-pits and the spitted meat. 'And tonight is for making a choice. To join us or go your own way.'

'Where are you going?' someone shouted.

Corban frowned. How many will flee at the mere mention of our destination? They will think us mad. But I'll not start our journey with a lie.

'We are going to Dra.s.sil in Forn Forest.'

More silence.

Corban rubbed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. 'Some of you will believe. Others will think we talk of myth and legend. But we have seen things things that can leave us in no doubt. The G.o.d-War has begun. Sides are being chosen . . .' He paused.

'You must tell them,' Meical had said to him earlier. Corban had looked pleadingly at Brina.

'Might as well.' She had shrugged. 'Get it all over with in one go. Besides,' she added. 'It's true.'

He sighed now and searched the faces in front of him. 'I am the Bright Star spoken of in prophecy. I fight for Elyon, against Asroth and his Black Sun.' He paused, the words sounding strange even to him.

Fighting a G.o.d how can I do that?

'I don't want to fight,' he said. 'But what choice do I have? What choice do any of us have? I will fight to protect those I love. My kin. My friends I fight for my realm. For our people. And for myself. Rhin, Nathair, the Vin Thalun they will not stop until every one of us is dead or enslaved.'

Another silence, somehow deeper and denser than any that had preceded it.

'So we get to fight the Vin Thalun if we stay with you?'

'Definitely,' Meical said quietly beside him.

'Yes,' Corban said loudly.

'Good enough for me,' someone yelled. There was a smattering of quiet laughter at that.

'I cannot guarantee victory.' Corban's voice was rising now, echoing back from the ships moored along the river. 'We may lose. We may all die.'

How can I ask this of them? Is this what leaders do ask their followers for everything and offer them nothing in return?

He looked at the gathering spread before him and knew that if they had any chance against the armies that were coming they needed to unite. And it was on his shoulders to make them see that.

'I have seen the evil that comes against us, and it is terrifying. If we do not stand against it, who will? There is only one promise that I can make to you . . .' He felt a lump in his throat as he saw familiar faces staring back at him Cywen, Dath, Farrell, Coralen, Balur One-Eye, Gar people he cared for. People he may lose.

What choice do we have?

He put his hand upon his sword hilt.

'I will be beside you every step of the way and I will fight until my last breath.'

He shouted those last words, feeling pa.s.sion swell in him like a dark wave. As he stepped down from the branch he was battered by a deafening roar from the crowd. Jehar and giants were brandishing their weapons in the air, cheering at the top of their lungs. And so were most of the others. The faces of oarsmen that had looked close to death only a few days ago, empty and listless, were now alive with pa.s.sion.

And so it begins.

The marshlands were a flat, stinking, mosquito-infested wasteland. The river curled through it like a lethargic serpent, taking their eleven ships slowly eastwards. The oarsmen that remained all set to their shifts, and the ships moved ever closer to Dra.s.sil. Tukul and Meical had spoken to him, warned that such broken men could not be trusted and would need watching. But Corban disagreed.

They were men warriors once. It was not their fault that they were enslaved. I believe there must be honour left among them. And while I may only offer an uncertain future it's at least better than the certain death they faced before. Besides, I know what a driving force hatred and revenge can be . . .

Corban stood upon the raised rear deck of the lead ship, Dath at his side with one arm hooked around the steering oar. Kulla his shadow was loitering nearby.

'We couldn't have done this without you,' Corban said to his friend.

'I know.' Dath grinned. 'And I may remind you of those words.'

'Dath is gifted in many ways,' Kulla said. Dath blushed at that; Corban suppressed a smile.

'But what would you expect,' Kulla continued, 'from one of the Bright Star's closest friends?'

Corban blushed this time, and Kulla beamed with pride at Dath.

'We will have to leave this river soon,' Meical said. 'It flows through the south of Isiltir, almost to the doors of Mikil, Isiltir's seat of power. Jael holds Isiltir, now, and Mikil is his. We cannot go that way. To reach Gramm's hold we need to join one of the rivers that flows north, to the sea.'

'And how exactly are we going to do that?' Corban asked. 'Pick up the ships and carry them across land?'

Meical and Dath just smiled at him.

With a huge splash and a spray of water that soaked him and a few hundred others, the first ship slid into the river. Corban didn't mind; he was already soaked through with sweat. He stood on the bank, bent over with his hands on his knees and sucking in deep breaths. And he was grinning. They had managed to haul the first four ships out of the river and into the marshes. The horses had been unloaded from the three transporters and roped into teams, used to help pull the ships onto land. Then they'd begun the long portage across the spongy ground towards another river, rolling the ships across three or four masts like giant rollers, running them from back to front. The oarsmen taught them the most efficient technique for this, as they had been forced to do it many times by their Vin Thalun masters. Every man had helped, taking it in turns, a bizarre convoy of four ships rolling across the flat landscape. Benothi muscle had added considerably to their teams and the ships rolled across land surprisingly well.

It was a journey of about two leagues.

Not so far to walk, normally, but when you're pulling a ship . . .

They made their way back to the remaining ships and began the process all over again.

'We've got a problem,' Dath said to Corban. 'Those transporters aren't coming out of the river.'

'Why not?'

'Their hulls are too deep. These galleys like the one we've been sailing upon, they're shallow draughted not much sits below the water. Those transporters, well, a third of the ship sits below the water. That's fine in a wide, deep river, but we'll never get them out. And even if we do, we won't be able to roll them two leagues across land.'

Corban put his head in his hands.

They were sitting in a big circle, Corban surrounded by his growing council: Meical, Tukul, Brina and Gar, Balur One-Eye and Ethlinn, Dath, Cywen and Coralen who seemed to be in each other's company whenever Corban saw them and two others had joined them, representatives of their new recruits. Javed and Atilius. Storm and Buddai were lying in the shade of a willow. Corban watched Javed, remembering the way he had fought Coralen. That had set a rage burning in Corban and it had taken all his will not to draw his sword and cut him down.

Can I trust him? Someone so close to rage and violence?

The honest answer was that he didn't know, but the oarsmen had chosen Javed and Atilius as their representatives, so for now Corban chose to trust their choice.

And I shall keep a close eye upon Javed.

They had been discussing options. Corban was listening to Gar as he suggested dismantling the transporters and rebuilding them beside the new river.