CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-THREE

CORALEN

Coralen opened her eyes.

She found she was lying on her back, a thumping pain at the base of her skull, another in her jaw, staring up at the domed roof of Drassil’s great hall. Kadoshim and Ben-Elim wheeled and circled, though the Kadoshim were few.

“It’s all right,” a voice was saying. “Just lie still a while.”

She shifted her head and saw Cywen looking at her with an expression of great concern, and standing with one leg over her was Storm, her chainmail coat hanging in tatters, her belly vibrating with a deep rumbling growl as she tracked Kadoshim in the air above them. The wolven looked down at Coralen, her muzzle thick with crusted blood. She bent her neck and licked Coralen’s face, then went back to growling at the sky.

Coralen looked from side to side, saw Cywen kneeling above her, Dath one side of her, unconscious, Farrell the other, groaning and trying to sit up. Cywen pushed none too gently on his chest.

“Slowly,” Cywen said.

“Where’s Ban?” Coralen asked as she pushed herself upright so that she was sitting. The world spun, and she fought the urge to vomit. She put a hand tentatively to the back of her head and found a lump the size of an egg.

Storm looked towards the chamber’s doors and started whining. Coralen looked, too, and saw high up on the tiered steps two figures silhouetted by the pale light of the open doorway. They were fighting, the most ferocious sword-crossing Coralen had ever seen.

She felt her breath catch in her chest.

One of them was Ban, she knew without doubt by the way he moved, elegance and strength merged.

Who is he fighting?

Then Storm was leaping away, a growl rippling from her belly.

Coralen pushed herself to her feet, felt a wave of dizziness, let it pass and stumbled after Storm. Behind her she heard Farrell grunting as he tried to rise again, Cywen swearing at him.

Coralen stumbled up the first steps that led to the doorway, swayed and nearly fell, had to pause and close her eyes.

Behind her she heard Cywen scream and her eyes snapped open, vision blurred, squinting, trying to focus on Corban.

For a moment what she saw made no sense. The two men, warriors in leather and mail, were standing close together. One was Corban, she knew, and the other one had no head.

Black mist poured from the headless man’s neck, forming into the now-familiar wings and red eyes of a Kadoshim.

Calidus. It must be him. And Ban’s killed him.

She felt a fierce pride in Corban, respect and love mingled.

But Cywen was still screaming, and she heard Farrell rise and call out, heard him come staggering behind her.

Why is Cywen screaming?

And where’s Gar?

She started to move, a stumbling walk, breaking into a stumbling run.

The cloud of the mist-wraith was shredding now, disappearing, and the two figures fell to the ground.

Fear snatched at Coralen’s heart.

No, not Ban, no, no, no.

Storm reached the two fallen figures. She started nudging Corban with her muzzle, whining, nudged him again, licking his face and hands.

Then she stood, raised her head to the heavens and howled.

Coralen ran to Corban, saw that a figure splayed a few steps below him was Gar. He lay in a pool of dark blood, face pale as milk, blood crusting on his lips and chin. His eyes tracked her, though.

Corban was sprawled upon a wide step, Calidus’ headless corpse beside him, and a sword was sticking from Corban’s body, low, between his ribcage and right hip.

Coralen threw herself down to him. His eyes were closed. Desperately she felt for a pulse, two fingers at his neck.

Nothing.

No.

His wrist.

Please, dear Elyon, let him live, let him live, let him live.

Nothing. No pulse. No breath from his mouth or nose.

Please.

She lifted his head, stroking him, willing breath into his body, hoping, praying, begging that his chest would rise and fall, but nothing happened.

He’s gone.

She lay across his body and wept, behind her the sound of Storm’s howl filling the chamber.

There was a thud close by, Farrell dropping to his knees beside her. He was weeping, too.

“I’m your shieldman, supposed to guard your back, supposed to keep you safe…” He was sobbing, his whole body shaking.

Coralen sat up, cuffed her tears and crawled to Gar, only a few paces away.

Gar tried to lift his head. He had a wound high in his chest, Coralen suspected a blade had pierced him through, as blood was pooling out from beneath his back. His mouth moved, bubbles of blood on his lips, and she knew that was never a good sign.

“Ban?” he said, his voice a wet croak.

Coralen sat beside him, wiped the blood and grime from his face and lips. She shook her head.

Gar groaned, squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking from them. He flopped over, managed to get one elbow under him, attempting to drag himself to Corban. Coralen tried to help him. Farrell came and between them they lifted Gar and carried him to Corban’s side.

“Ah, my Ban,” Gar breathed, lying beside Corban, looking at him. He took Corban’s hand, and Coralen put her hand upon both of theirs. She could hardly see them for her tears.

She sat there a while, stroking Corban’s face.

His beautiful, beautiful face.

She looked up, not knowing how much time had passed, but it couldn’t have been long, for the sun still filtered through the open doorway behind her. Storm was lying beside Corban, her muzzle pressed in tight to his head. She was whining quietly.

She thought Gar was dead, he was so still and pale, but when she lifted her head his eyes fluttered open. More blood was upon his lips.

Coralen saw Cywen and Dath climbing the steps to them, Dath with an arm around Cywen’s shoulder.

Behind her there was a squawk, a frail flapping.

“Help Craf,” the crow cawed.

Farrell did, hurrying to find Craf on the stairs. He brought the crow back to them, one of the bird’s wings was hanging at the wrong angle. He broke out into mournful squawking when he saw Corban and Gar, and demanded to be placed upon Corban’s chest, where he immediately lay down and started cawing softly.

Coralen looked about the chamber, saw Asroth frozen in black iron, many Ben-Elim still within the chamber, but only dead Kadoshim.

The battle’s won, Coralen realized. In here, at least. Asroth defeated, Rhin and Calidus slain, vengeance had. But I’d trade it all to have Ban back. Why did we not run, after Gramm’s hold? Just leave, as Ban suggested, and make a new home, a new life? She looked for Cywen and Dath, knew they must be close, now, but she couldn’t see them for the tears in her eyes.