CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

HAELAN

Haelan stared at Cywen as moonlight silvered her face. He was terrified, being out, as he had grown so accustomed to hiding, but Buddai had been uncontrollable after he’d got a sniff of Pots, snapping his leash and heading off into the darkness, and Pots had run with him. For one elongated moment Haelan had watched them go, then he’d been scrambling after them, cursing them both the entire time it had taken him to catch up with Buddai and wrap the remains of the torn leash about his arm.

Buddai had calmed for a while when they reached this courtyard; maybe the sounds of guardsmen and the crackling fire reminded him that death lurked around every corner in this place. That was until the figure had appeared at the window. Buddai had taken a few deep sniffs through his broad muzzle, whined and then he was off again, Haelan standing no chance of even slowing him, let alone stopping him.

“Haelan, what are you doing here?” Cywen whispered.

“Chasing the dogs,” he whispered back, eyes flitting between Cywen and the firelight flickering at the building’s corner.

Cywen smiled, ruffling Buddai’s fur.

“I mean, how are you still alive? Where are you hiding? Are you alone? How do you have Buddai with you?” She took a breath, clearly framing more questions.

“It’s not safe here,” Haelan said. “Come with me.” He went to move away but Cywen gripped his wrist.

“I’ll tell you everything, I promise,” he said. He looked up, the open sky, moon and stars feeling like it went on for ever. He shuddered.

Cywen stared at him, then nodded.

“Follow me,” he whispered and ran.

They passed through wide streets, always keeping to the edges, to the shadows. Soon they were entering a courtyard with an old oak at its centre, its trunk wide and thick, roots churning up the flagstoned floor. Haelan headed to a deeper shadow in its midst, and then he was scrambling into it, climbing into the hole that led to his den—his sense of safety grew palpably with each step deeper into his underground hiding place.

“This way,” Haelan whispered as they slithered down a slope about the length of a man and reached the spot where you could turn left or right. The familiar stench from the left drifted up to him, but by now Haelan hardly noticed. Cywen clearly did, though, wrinkling her nose and then putting a hand over her mouth.

“That’s disgusting,” she whispered.

Haelan grunted and turned right. They shuffled along a dark narrowing space, forced onto hands and knees as the tunnel they were in followed a twisting root, then Haelan heard a welcoming whine and saw a flicker of light. He smiled.

A space opened up before him, wide enough for about six men to stand abreast, and about a dozen paces long. Beyond that the tunnel narrowed again, twisting off about the root it followed. The small chamber was lit by a bowl of oil on a knot in the thick root, flame dancing upon its surface.

Two faces greeted him, Swain and Sif—Wulf’s son and daughter—and six bundles of fur, Buddai’s and Storm’s cubs bouncing and leaping in their excitement at his return. Seeing them like this, he realized how they’d grown. They were only five or six moons old, but already they were all taller than Pots, their necks and broad chests thickening with muscle.

Like Buddai. They’ll not grow as big as Storm, but big enough, and they’ll be wide and strong, I don’t doubt.

“Calm down,” Sif scolded the cubs as they bounced into her. She was on her hands and knees, playing with her bag of stones and nuts, rolling them into each other. Some of them Sif had chalked white.

I still don’t understand that game, but it’s kept Sif quiet for over a moon.

Buddai and Pots burst into the chamber, making the cubs even more excited. One of them froze, black-faced and brindle-coated, and stared at the darkness of the tunnel. It growled, revealing a row of razor-sharp puppy teeth.

“Shadow,” Haelan said, reaching out a hand to the cub, but she didn’t stop growling.

The other cubs stopped their frolicking and stared too, cocking heads, and then they were all growling as Cywen emerged from the darkness.

Shadow, the black-faced cub, took a snarling step forwards, legs bunching, about to leap, the others moving tight about her, all growling, hackles up. Haelan felt a real moment of panic, snapping a command at them that was completely ignored. Then Buddai was standing between the cubs and Cywen, baring his teeth, daring them. The cubs stopped, tails dropping, submitting. Shadow gave a last little growl of protest, and then she too was quiet.

Thank Elyon.

“I thought they were going to attack me,” Cywen said, looking relieved as she stroked Buddai’s broad head. Then she threw her head back and laughed, long and sounding slightly mad.

“I can’t believe you are all here,” Cywen said, sitting down and cuddling Buddai. Pots put his forelegs on Cywen’s shoulder and licked one of her ears; the cubs tentatively approached her, sniffing. Cywen held her arms out and beckoned to Sif, who walked over and hesitantly allowed Cywen to hug her. After about a count of ten Sif was sitting in Cywen’s lap, hugging her tightly in return.

“How has this happened?” Cywen asked.

“The battle,” Swain started, “when it happened, we were here, with the cubs—”

“Because Corban had asked us to look after them,” Sif said with big, serious eyes.

“He did, I remember,” Cywen agreed.

“We didn’t know what to do,” Swain continued.

I was terrified, Haelan thought, remembering the distant din of battle, the screams and battle-cries, flames, smoke. He’d been in the courtyard above, playing tug with Shadow. She’d heard it first, stopping and staring, ears going flat to her head.

“Buddai was here, with the cubs,” Swain continued, but he ran off when the fighting started, and then all the cubs were off as well, following him. We chased them, and then, a man appeared in front of us—”

“He had rings in his beard,” Sif said.

“Aye,” Swain said, eyes distant, remembering. “He was going to kill us, tried to, but Buddai killed him.”

“Ripped his throat out,” Sif added matter-of-factly.

“We picked up all the cubs between us and tricked Buddai into following us back here.”

“How did you manage that?” Cywen asked.

They were silent a few moments.

“I pinched one of the cubs—twisted her ear and made her cry,” Haelan said. He still felt guilty about that. “Buddai followed us back here, and then we tied him up.”

“We were scared he’d get killed,” Sif said.

“You were right to do it,” Cywen said, stroking Sif’s hair. “Buddai would have been killed. I think you saved his life.”

Sif smiled at that, nodding. By now all six cubs were rubbing up against Cywen, sniffing, nibbling her clothing; one was tugging at her hair and she absently pushed it off.

“And since then,” Swain went on, “we’ve just…stayed hidden. Every now and then me or Haelan sneak out for food and water. Pots is good at foraging for the cubs—he’s always disappearing and coming back with something for them.”

Sif screwed her face up at that, and Haelan remembered some of the things Pots had returned with—an arm once.

The cubs hadn’t complained.

“What’s happening, up there?” Swain asked Cywen.

“I’m a prisoner,” Cywen said. “I tend to the sick—wounded from the battle. Most have recovered, or died, but there are still a few to tend to.”

“I meant Corban,” Swain said. “And Da?”

“Wulf? I think he escaped,” Cywen said, and Swain and Sif physically drooped with relief.

Tahir? What of my shieldman? And my friend. Tahir had driven Haelan mad, with his strict rules about where Haelan could and couldn’t go, what he could and couldn’t do.

And his mam’s old sayings. I wish I could see him and hear one of those sayings now.

“Tahir?” he asked.

“Your shieldman? I don’t know,” Cywen shrugged. “There was a lot of confusion. Many escaped,” she said hopefully, “and they’re in Forn, still fighting.”

“How do you know, if you’re a prisoner?” Haelan asked suspiciously. He wanted good news, but he didn’t want to be lied to, treated like a child.

“A patrol of Vin Thalun came back this morning. I saw them. There were more dead and wounded than the living amongst them.”

“Ha,” Swain barked a laugh. “My da’s work, for sure.”

“No doubt,” Cywen said.

“So, what now?” Haelan asked.

“You could stay with us,” Sif said.

“I wish I could,” Cywen replied, “but I can’t. I tend the sick and cannot abandon them. Besides, if Calidus found me gone, he’d tear Drassil apart looking for me. He might find you…”

“Why would he do that?” Sif asked.

“Because I am Corban’s kin, and he thinks Corban will come for me. I am bait in a trap.”

“Will Corban come?” Haelan, Swain and Sif asked together.

“I don’t know.” Cywen shook her head. “He did the last time, when I was Calidus’ prisoner.”

“But if it’s a trap…” Haelan said.

Then Corban cannot come. He is our hope. Haelan loved Corban, admired him as the greatest warrior and leader the world had ever seen.

“Then you have to escape, get out of here, before Corban comes for you.”

A smile twitched Cywen’s mouth, not light-hearted, but serious and determined. “My thoughts exactly,” she said. “It’s just the how that I’m struggling with. And now that I know you’re here.” She smiled. “You’ll have to come with me, else Calidus may find you in his search for me.”

That thought both excited and scared Haelan.

To be away from this danger, the daily fear of being discovered and caught. But being away from our den, which has kept us safe and hidden a whole moon.

“And, talking of being discovered, I should go back to the hospice, else the sun will be rising.”

Sif squeezed her harder and Cywen squeezed her in return.

“I cannot tell you how happy I am to know that you are alive and here,” Cywen said. “And my Buddai…” She hugged the hound’s neck, kissing him.

“I’ll return soon,” she said, then made her goodbyes, ruffling the cubs’ heads and hugging Sif again. She gave Buddai a stern order to stay and then backed into the darkness of the tunnel. Buddai whined but he did not follow her. Haelan did, though, and soon they were at the slope that led up to the courtyard. Moonlight showed them the way.

“That smell,” Cywen said, wrinkling her nose as they stood in the darkness at the base of the slope. She was staring into the darkness of the tunnel where the smell was drifting from. “I recognize it,” she said quietly, her expression changing. She looked scared. “Is that another tunnel?” she asked him.

“It is,” he said, remembering the first time he’d found this place, how he’d crawled that way first, eventually stopping and coming back. “It gets too narrow.” Strangely, the cubs never went that way.

“Good,” Cywen said, her expression relaxing.

“Why?”

“Because I know that smell, and I think there are draigs down there.”