CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

CAMLIN

Camlin spluttered river-water, spinning in its grasp, the giant that was bobbing along beside him grabbed his head and shoved him beneath the surface.

He struggled, lungs burning, breathing in a mouthful of water and panicking. He struck out wildly, tearing free from her grasp momentarily, his head bursting through the surface and desperately sucking in a lungful of air.

Current’s taking me the right way, at least, back towards Edana and the warband. Might make it back alive, after all.

“Got you,” a voice said in his ear, a huge hand clamping down on his shoulder.

He tried to kick her underwater, but his legs weren’t as long as her reach, and even if he’d connected he doubted she’d have felt it, the river leaching any power from his blow.

The river swept them into a clearing, the moonlight abruptly bright. Camlin looked into dark eyes staring with murderous intent at him.

Then she crunched into the branch of a fallen tree, hitting it so hard that the branch snapped off with a loud crack. Her grip on Camlin’s shoulder was suddenly gone as she swirled away.

Is she dead?

Camlin grabbed the broken branch, instantly easing the strain of staying afloat. The giant came back into view, the current swirling her towards Camlin, a dark gash on her forehead, eyes dazed and vacant, a groan escaping her lips. As Camlin watched, she began to sink. For no reason that he could think of, he swam towards her and grabbed her, trying to lift her vast bulk above the surface. Using the broken branch, he managed to raise her a little higher, enough to keep her alive a while longer.

Something dark blotted the moonlight for a moment, a whisper of air above him, and he looked up to see the outline of Craf above him, wings spread.

I owe that bird.

Then he heard splashing, a rhythm to it. Meg appeared behind, paddling hard in the little canoe they’d made together over the last few days, too small to take any more weight than hers.

“What you doing?” she asked him as she paddled alongside him.

“Trying not t’drown,” he grunted.

“Why’re you carrying a giant, then?” she asked.

Fair question.

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Meg raised an eyebrow. “And now?” she asked.

“She’s getting heavy,” he admitted.

“Let go, then.”

Don’t want to do that, really. This giant walked out of Rhin’s tent, reckon she might know a thing or two.

“Paddle ahead, tell Halion I’ve caught me a big fish,” he grunted, catching a mouthful of water.

“Think I see me a river rat,” a voice called out.

Baird. Thank Elyon, I’ve had enough of this river.

Camlin paddled hard with his free arm and then felt a hook snag his jerkin and he was being dragged unceremoniously towards the riverbank.

“Welcome back,” Halion said, pulling Camlin onto dry land.

“You look more like a river rat than our Meg,” Baird said from behind Halion. “What’ve you brought us, then?”

“When Meg said you were carrying a giant,” Halion said, “I didn’t think that you were actually carrying a giant.”

“Might need some help, here,” Camlin said, trying to drag the unconscious giant onto the bank.

Figures splashed into the water to help—Halion and Baird, as well as Lorcan and his shieldman, Brogan.

Baird was checking her for weapons, pulling knives from her belt, as well as one more, as long as a sword, that was sheathed on her back. The other scabbard was empty.

Left it in the glade.

“Best bind her quick,” Camlin said, “she’s a strong ’un.”

“Quite the gift you’ve brought us,” Baird said.

“She’s here to answer questions for Edana,” Camlin told him firmly knowing of Baird’s hatred for the race.

“Fair enough,” Baird said. “She’s your fish, you can have the pleasure of filleting her. Doubt you’ll get anything out of her except lies, though.” He hawked and spat in the river, then, none too gently, set about wrapping thick rope around the giant’s wrists.

“She’s heavier than my mam with a barrel of mead in her belly,” Brogan No-Neck grunted as they dragged the giant ashore, with a lot of splashing and swearing.

As they were tying her securely to a tree the giant started to wake, jerking in shock, throwing herself feebly about, clearly still suffering from the blow to her head.

“It’s all right, lass,” Brogan said. “Stay still now, or you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Lass!” Baird said. “She’d as soon eat your still-beating-heart as speak to you. She’s a monster.”

“Looks more like a woman to me,” Brogan said. “On the big side, sure enough, but so’s my Aunt Berit.”

Baird shook his head, a disgusted look on his face.

The sun was rising when Camlin met with Edana. He felt a little better, dried and dressed in a new set of clothes, though he was bruised and aching after his fight in the glade and dip in the river, trying not to limp as he walked. To make matters worse he was dismally aware that his scabbard was empty and that he’d lost his bow.

What kind of leader am I? Organize an ambush, get myself beat up by a giant and a snot-nosed apprentice huntsman, and lose all my weapons.

The good news was that every single man on his crew had returned to their camp, and Rhin’s warband had been hit hard, most of her wains turned to fiery bonfires, tents ablaze, horses scattered and a fair few dead soldiers into the bargain.

He found Edana sitting on a log, scooping some hot porridge into a bowl. Vonn was squatting by the fire, digging at the ash and embers. He nodded a greeting to Camlin.

“Sit,” Edana said, blowing on her porridge, “and eat something. You look like you’re about to collapse.”

Camlin’s belly rumbled and he happily helped himself to a bowl of porridge, sitting down on the log beside Edana, though his throat hurt with each mouthful, a reminder of Rafe’s fingers around his neck.

“Well done,” Edana said. “A successful mission, by all accounts, and most importantly, everyone’s back and still breathing. Including you.” She looked pointedly at him and smiled.

Sometimes we just get lucky.

“Where’s your bow?” she asked him.

“Lost it,” he said glumly.

“You don’t look right without it.”

Don’t feel right, either.

“And you’ve brought me a prisoner?”

“Aye.” Between mouthfuls Camlin told Edana of the ambush.

“I saw Rhin, got a shot off at her, but hit a giant instead.”

“Shame,” Vonn said.

“Aye, it was.” Camlin carried on. As he was coming to an end there was a fluttering up above, then Craf was there.

“Look what Craf found,” the crow squawked.

Camlin’s bow fell into his lap. It was scratched, the gut string ruined, but after giving it a quick check-over, Camlin was sure the bow would be fine. He grinned at Craf, who was hopping about looking pleased with himself.

“Craf, I’m coming to realize that you are a fine bird indeed,” Camlin said, grinning.

“Camlin save Craf from the bad man,” the crow muttered.

“Rafe,” Camlin told Edana. “He tried to twist Craf’s neck.”

“Bastard,” muttered Craf.

“Rafe?” Edana said. “He just keeps coming back.”

Like a curse.

“Aye. Shame he’s still breathing, is my thought on it,” Camlin said, eyeing Vonn, who was making a good effort at looking the other way.

“He nearly put an end to me,” Camlin added, rubbing his neck. “He’s…changed, somehow.”

“Drank from starstone cup,” Craf said.

They all looked at the crow.

“Craf heard them,” Craf said. “Rafe found cup, drank from it. Rhin, giants, all want some now. Make you strong. Fast. Live long.”

They were still staring, speechless.

“Rhin told Calidus. Bad man. Very bad man.” The crow shivered from his talons to his beak, feathers ruffling.

“Calidus? Who’s he?” Edana asked.

“He is Kadoshim. He with Nathair. Kill Corban’s mam.”

“He killed Gwenith?” Edana asked.

“Craf told you, BAD MAN. Calidus told Rhin find necklace, come to Drassil,” Craf squawked, jumping up and down.

“Craf keep telling you, God-War, Seven Treasures, DANGER!”

“See,” Vonn hissed. “We are lurking in the woods while the world is ending! This war is much bigger than Ardan.”

“Craf keep telling you,” the bird said. “Nobody listen to Craf. Ask Camlin’s giant. She was there.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Edana said.

Baird threw a bucket of water into the giant’s face, making her head snap up, eyes open.

“Think we’ve got her attention,” Baird said to Edana.

The giant’s face was a mass of wounds, a large gash across her forehead, blood dried and crusted in a trail down her face, as well as cuts and bruises. She squinted up at them with her small black eyes, focusing finally upon Edana.

“I am Edana ap Brenin, Queen of Ardan,” Edana said. “Who are you?”

“Téigh go dtí ifreann,” the giant said. She sat up straighter against the tree she was bound to, jutted her jaw out defiantly.

Craf fluttered down to land on a branch above Edana’s head.

“Don’t be rude,” he squawked.

So Craf understands giantish.

The giant looked up at the crow, face creasing, eyes squinting.

“Fech?” she said, her expression changing from defiance to dismay.

Fech! I remember that bird—the raven that Edana nursed in Domhain. She sent it north to Corban with a message. Craf said Fech reached them, but was later killed.

“Yes, this is Fech,” Edana said. Craf hopped off of the branch and fluttered down to perch on Edana’s arm.

“Yes, me Fech,” Craf said. “Talk nicely,” he added.

The giant peered at him, blinked blood from one eye. “Ní féidir liom a thuiscint,” she whispered.

“In common tongue,” Craf said.

“I don’t understand,” the giant said. She looked scared, all of a sudden.

Perhaps Fech had an influence on the Benothi giants. He was a messenger of Nemain, their queen.

“You betrayed Nemain,” Craf said.

The giant recoiled at that, as if struck.

Think he’s got the same idea. That twisted a nerve.

“I, Nemain chose wrong—”

Craf flapped his wings, cawing and screeching. “Nemain was good, Nemain was murdered.”

“No, she fell. Uthas said she fell.”

“She was pushed,” Craf spat.

He’s really embraced Fech. Glad he can remember all this.

“No,” the giant said. “Who…?” She paused. “Uthas.”

“Uthas, Uthas, Uthas,” Craf cawed. “Bad giant.”

“I…Fech?” The giant looked at Craf, something pleading in her expression.

“Uthas, murderer,” Craf muttered.

“Rhin’s tent, last night,” Edana said. “What did you do?”

The giant looked away, lips clamping tight.

“Tell her, tell her,” Craf squawked. “About the cup, tell her all.”

“Why would I do that?” the giant said, quietly, to the ground.

“Make right your wrong,” Craf said. “For Nemain.”

The giant stared at Craf, back and shoulders rigid and straight, jaw jutting, emotions flickering across the flat planes of her face: pride, loyalty, betrayal, despair. Slowly she slumped.

“Rhin contacted Calidus in Drassil, by the old way of blood and bone, told him we’d found the starstone cup,” she said, a whisper.

“More,” Craf squawked. “Tell all.”

The giant sighed.

“Calidus ordered Rhin to muster her warbands, to find the necklace at Dun Carreg, and to march for Drassil.”

A silence settled upon them all, leaving only the ripple of the river and the sighing of wind in branches.

“Told you,” whispered Vonn.