CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

RAFE

Rafe cantered across green meadows; to his right the river Tarin, wide and sluggish as it neared the sea, to his left the Baglun Forest, a sea of leaf and bark undulating into the horizon. Ahead of him in the distance he could just make out the grey-topped pinnacle that was Dun Carreg, behind it the shimmer of the sea, and he smiled.

Home.

Besides him Scratcher ran, Rafe was still not used to seeing her without Sniffer. He’d raised a cairn over the hound in the Baglun, in the glade by the river where Camlin had killed him.

I’ll kill that bastard. Nearly did then, if not for that cursed crow. I’ll kill him ’n” all, if I see him again.

He craned in his saddle to look back at the warband behind him. Five hundred men, Morcant at their head in his fine war gear, helm and chainmail gleaming, cloak of black and gold billowing behind him, looking like a hero out of the old tales.

How I hate him. Bloody fop, even if he can wield a sword.

Rafe had found Morcant burning a village to the east of the Baglun, obviously taking out his frustration at his failure to prevent Edana’s attacks.

She’s only got a few hundred men, and what can they do? They may cause some trouble, but in the end won’t do much worse than a boil on the arse. A pain, and annoying, but won’t kill you.

“How long until we see Dun Carreg?” Morcant asked him as he drew alongside Rafe.

“I can see it already,” Rafe said, pointing.

Morcant squinted. “You must have good eyes,” he muttered. Then, “Roisin—what has Rhin done with her?”

“In the dungeon beneath the keep, last I heard,” Rafe said.

“Dungeons! That’s no place for a lady, especially one as fine-looking as Roisin,” Morcant said.

A movement drew Rafe’s eye: within the murk of the Baglun, a figure was forming out of the shadows, tall and long-limbed.

A giant.

She stumbled out from the undergrowth and shadows, favouring one leg, head bowed.

“Eisa,” he called, touching his reins and kicking his horse towards her, glad to be getting away from Morcant.

She was battered and bruised, her lower leg swollen, lumps and cuts on her face, a long scabbed gash upon her forehead, only one of the scabbards criss-crossing her back containing a blade. She raised a hand in greeting to him.

Hooves clattered on stone as they crossed the bridge into Dun Carreg. It was strange to see giants standing on the wall above Stonegate.

He looked at Eisa stumbling beside him. She’d proudly refused any litter they’d offered to carry her in.

“Uthas ordered the forest searched, but we could not find you,” Rafe said, feeling a stab of guilt as he remembered he’d refused to join the search, choosing to bury Sniffer instead, and then to sit upon the cairn and grieve.

“I hit my head on a branch in the river,” Eisa said, touching the long cut on her forehead. “Woke up on the riverbank.”

“Taken you a long time to find your way here,” Rafe said.

“It’s a big forest,” Eisa shrugged.

“Aye, it is,” Rafe acknowledged.

“You can follow me to the keep,” Morcant said to Eisa. “You, huntsman, go and find Roisin. Have her released from the dungeons on my order and brought to me.”

Rafe bit back an angry retort and only nodded.

He found Roisin in a cold dungeon, a bucket in the corner for her bodily requirements.

“You’re to come with me,” Rafe said to her. She was lying upon her cot, black hair spread about her shoulders. She held out her hand to him.

“I feel a little weak,” she said in her warm accented voice, and Rafe found himself taking her hand without even thinking about it. Her skin was smooth and warm.

“This way, my lady,” he said, and led her up through the keep’s stairwells and corridors.

“Where are you taking me?” Roisin asked.

“You’ll see soon enough,” he grunted.

Soon they were in a deserted part of the keep, their footsteps echoing down a long corridor. Turning a corner, Rafe saw a dozen of Rhin’s elite shieldmen in their black and gold, as well as a handful of giants, lurking in the shadowed alcoves, as still as cobwebbed-statues. They were nearing the complex of rooms where Rafe had last seen Rhin. He came to the first door and knocked.

“Enter,” Morcant’s voice called out. He was sitting at a table, sipping from a cup of mead. When he saw Roisin he stood and took her hand, kissing it.

“I cannot believe that you have been kept in a dungeon, my lady,” Morcant said. “It has been some dreadful mistake, and one that I mean to make amends for.”

“I do not think I am high in Queen Rhin’s favour,” Roisin said, eyes dipping demurely.

“Well, you are her prisoner, granted,” Morcant said. “But a royal one. I can assure you that Rhin would not treat you like this, and once the culprit that chose to lock you in Dun Carreg’s dungeons is discovered, I will have him flayed. As soon as I heard, I sent my servant to release you.” Morcant glanced at Rafe.

Servant! He felt his face twist in anger.

“And if it was on Queen Rhin’s orders?” Roisin asked.

“Well, then I shall intercede with her on your behalf,” Morcant said. “Though for now, I am told that Rhin is not here and will not be for at least a ten-night.” He gave Roisin a conspiratorial smile. “I have ordered clothes for you, and a girl will be along shortly to attend to you. You may be a prisoner of war, but we are not animals, and you are noble and so you shall be treated as such. I will ensure it myself.”

“My thanks,” Roisin said, lifting her eyes. “I cannot tell you how grateful I am.” She held his gaze then, a silence settling over the room.

“You can go,” Morcant said to Rafe with a dismissive flick of his hand.

Hope Rhin catches you and turns you into a toad, Rafe thought as he closed the door behind him.