CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

HAELAN

Haelan slipped along the street, clinging to the deeper shadows, despite it being full dark. Pots ran in front, and he heard Cywen and Buddai behind.

Cywen had news for them all, so they were making their way back to Haelan’s den together. He’d accompanied Pots on more midnight missions in search of food and provisions since that first reunion with Cywen.

I’ve changed since Buddai broke loose and took me to Cywen, he thought. I don’t feel quite as afraid all the time.

It was good to have a proper grown-up around, someone who could make the decisions and take responsibility. He had been so scared for so long, and even though Swain was older than him and a lot more capable, Haelan had somehow felt that the final decisions on their life in the den had fallen on him. Once he would have loved that, especially when Tahir was ordering him around, but now that he’d had a good taste of it, he’d decided he didn’t like it so much.

Not all it’s rumoured to be.

“Haelan, stop,” Cywen hissed behind him.

He slipped into a deep-shadowed doorway and Cywen paused, catching her breath. Buddai stared at her, big tongue lolling from his jaws.

“What?” Haelan asked.

“I thought I heard something,” she breathed. “Behind us.”

Haelan stared back down the coal-black street, no light except that of a cloud-swept moon and stars pale and distant as home. A dozen heartbeats passed, fifty, a hundred.

“There’s nothi—” he started, then Pots growled, Buddai joining him shortly after.

Not a good sign.

Haelan shared a look with Cywen; she looked as terrified as he felt, and they both bolted, running hard down the street, Pots and Buddai following them.

Who is it back there? Have we been followed, or is it a random patrol? A drunken Vin Thalun who’s stumbled the wrong way and got lost?

Whoever it was, Haelan knew he and Cywen could not afford to be seen. He ran as fast as he could, heart thumping in his mouth, twisting and skidding to turn down side streets that led deeper into the fortress.

And then they were in the courtyard, sprinting across the uneven flagstones, Pots leaping into the dark hole beneath the oak as if it was a race that he was set on winning, Haelan tumbling after him into the darkness. Cywen fell on top of him, both of them scrambling out of the way as Buddai’s bulk jumped in.

Haelan started heading down the winding tunnel to his den, but Cywen’s grip on his arm stopped him.

“Wait,” she hissed. “We have to know.”

He understood. Quietly they positioned themselves below the entrance, Buddai with Cywen, Pots with Haelan. They settled into the darkness and waited.

Time passed, marked by the beating of Haelan’s heart, the panting of Pots. His eyes adjusted to the gloom. The smell from the other tunnel crawled up his nose, grew to the point of being unbearable. Then he heard something, from up beyond the entrance, which was just a grey patch against the darkness of the tunnel. A figure passed in front of it, blocking the moonlight, crouching, sniffing, a head moving in. Cywen leaped, grabbing whoever it was, then they were both falling back into the hole. Buddai snarled and jumped, his growl deepening and teeth snapping; there was a muffled curse of pain.

“No, stop. Haelan, help me,” a panicked voice shouted. Not Cywen’s.

I know that voice.

They all froze, the newcomer’s face becoming recognizable as a patch of moonlight filtered through the hole.

Trigg.

Haelan laughed and threw his arms around her neck.

“Welcome to our home,” Haelan said, standing in his den with the cubs surrounding him, Swain and Sif behind him.

Haelan was overjoyed to see the half-breed girl. Back at Gramm’s hold he had started a fragile friendship with Trigg, and she had helped him escape the hold when Jael’s warband had come for him. To his great shame he had not thought of her since, but now he felt happy to see her familiar face, one that he linked to a happier time.

“Look who it is,” Haelan said to Swain and Sif as Trigg fell into the small chamber, a tangle of limbs on the ground. As she unravelled herself, Swain’s expression changed from confusion to horror, then anger.

“It’s the half-breed traitor,” he snarled, reaching for a knife at his belt as Haelan jumped to stop him.

“What’s this all about?” Cywen said. “What’s going on?”

“Back at Gramm’s hold, that filthy half-breed betrayed you, Haelan,” Swain said, “gave you up to Jael’s man. Told him you were hidden in the basement.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Haelan said. “It was Trigg who got me out of the basement, she helped me escape the hold.”

Trigg was sitting in a corner, knees pulled up to her chest, looking just about as miserable as it was possible to be.

“Then why did you betray Haelan and show Jael’s lot where he was hidden?” Swain said, frowning at Trigg.

“To stop them torturing your da, and Gramm,” Trigg said, shrugging her massive shoulders. “I knew Haelan wasn’t down there, because I’d already pulled him out.”

“Then after, why did you run?” Swain asked, some of the anger missing from his voice now.

“Because Wulf was going to gut me,” Trigg said venomously. “He wouldn’t believe me; I tried to tell him. And of course no one thought to defend me, the filthy half-breed.” She looked down at the floor, a tremor in her voice, tears in her eyes. “Wulf’s men chased me, tried to kill me. I ran until my feet bled.” She shook her head, lip curling in a snarl. “Wulf, all of you, believed I would betray you like that. No doubt in your mind.” She cuffed snot from her nose. “Gramm took me in, gave me a home.” She was almost shouting now, “I would never have betrayed him.”

“Shh,” Cywen said, “or you’ll bring the Kadoshim down upon us.”

“Why didn’t you come and find me?” Haelan said, guilt creeping through him now, and making him react as it often did; defensively. “Just showed yourself to us. I would have spoken for you, explained to Wulf.”

I never gave her a second thought, after I was safe.

“I tried,” Trigg said, quieter now. “I followed you all into Forn, tried to get close enough, but there were scouts all the time—good ones, a girl with red hair—”

“Coralen,” Cywen said.

“And Wulf’s men. I knew if I revealed myself they would strike me down before I got close to you.” Trigg looked at Haelan, a hidden accusation in her eyes.

“Well, you’ve found me now,” Haelan said, trying to make his voice sound lighter than he felt. “When we are back with Corban and the others, I will explain to them—to Corban, to Wulf. Everything will be all right.”

“Corban, the Bright Star?”

“That’s right,” Haelan said.

“He’s my brother,” Cywen added, eyes narrowing as she studied Trigg. “How did you get into Drassil?” she asked Trigg.

“I followed you.”

“We’ve been here over half a year,” Cywen said. “You’ve been living amongst us all that time? Hiding?”

“No,” Trigg grunted. “In Forn, waiting, hoping to see Haelan.” She was talking to her knees now. “I never did,” she added.

“That must have been hard, through the winter, with the creatures of the forest,” Haelan said. Trigg nodded dejectedly and Haelan shuffled forwards and took her hand, though she pulled away at first.

“I am so sorry, Trigg. Truth be told I forgot about you, and I am ashamed. I was so scared when Gramm’s hold was attacked, terrified. And you helped me, pulled me from the cellar. I would have died without you. And then it was safe, Corban came to our rescue—”

He looked at Trigg, feeling a great wave of sympathy. “But I won’t forget you again.”

Trigg squeezed his hand, returned his gaze a moment, then looked away.

“You think much of this Corban?” she said.

“I do,” Haelan replied. “He is our leader. Brave. I trust him, would follow him…anywhere.” He shrugged.

Trigg eyed him thoughtfully.

“How have you not been caught in Drassil?” Cywen asked her.

“I am careful,” Trigg said with a shifting of her shoulders.

“Well, you can stay with us now,” Haelan said, “you need not fear being caught. No one will ever find us down here.”

Trigg looked at him through her heavy-lidded eyes.

“My thanks,” she said.