CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SIX

CAMLIN

Camlin shivered and pulled his cloak tighter as he walked through the streets of Drassil. Meg strutted beside him, still wearing her too-big helmet. She also had a long dagger hanging from a belt at her waist, which looked about the size and scale of a sword upon her.

“Not sure you need that, now,” Camlin said, nodding at the dagger.

“Course I do!” Meg said. “Kulla says there’s Kadoshim about, still roaming the land. Can’t just be good with a bow or a sling, you know.” She patted a bag of stones and a leather sling hanging from her belt. “Kulla says most people end up needing to use a sword at least once in their lives. It’s the ones that actually know how to use a sword that live to tell the tale.”

Kulla said this, Kulla said that.

Mind you, to be honest, the lass is probably right. But Meg’s only nine summers old.

Camlin was walking with one arm curled up to his waist, and upon it a big black crow was perched, leaning into the fur of his cloak.

“Craf cold,” the crow muttered and, without thinking, Camlin tucked his cloak over the bird’s splinted wing.

What am I doing!

“How did I even get roped into this?” he muttered to himself. “Taking a crow for a walk.”

“Camlin kind,” Craf cawed.

He shook his head.

I’m a fool, nursemaiding a crow. Two days I’ve been doing this. If the lads from the Darkwood saw me now.

He realized he was stroking Craf’s head as he thought that.

“I’ve been thinking,” Meg said as they strolled into a courtyard with a huge half-fallen oak tree at its centre, its roots torn from the ground and dangling in the air like great hanging vines.

“Uh-oh,” Camlin replied. “Thought I smelt something burning.”

Meg kicked him in the shin, good-naturedly.

“Let’s sit,” Meg said and they walked to the shattered tree, Camlin eyeing the outline of a filled hole. Balur and a handful of giants had shovelled earth and rock into it, but Camlin was still suspicious of it.

This is where Haelan led the draigs into Drassil, and where two of them left with their egg.

They sat on the stump, Meg’s feet dangling, and Camlin set Craf down carefully on the trunk of the tree.

“When are we going home?” Meg asked him once they were settled.

“Ahh, now there’s a question, and a good one it is, too. I’m waiting on Edana for that one. She’s a queen, and a good, strong one at that, and she’s got work to do here before she goes.”

“What work, though? I don’t understand. I thought we’d won and could just go home, but the battle is near a ten-night gone, now. What’s she waiting for?”

“She has to make sure that all that fighting, and all the lives given—well, that they weren’t given in vain. She’s doing what she can to make sure that the peace we’ve fought for lasts.”

Meg nodded at that, thoughtful.

“That’s what I thought,” she said eventually.

She was quiet a while longer. Camlin watched Craf sharpen his talons on bark and groom his feathers with his beak. One of his wings was bound with a splint and bandage.

Poor thing, Camlin thought. And he’s been down about Brina and Corban.

Camlin saw a worm wriggling in the earth and pulled it out, tossing it in the air to Craf, who swallowed it with a snap of his beak.

“Thank you,” the bird muttered.

“And when we get home,” Meg continued, “what happens then?”

Camlin rubbed his chin. He’d been thinking a lot about that one, himself.

The honest answer was that he didn’t really know.

Not sure what use an old brigand like me would be, now.

He looked down at Meg, saw a little wrinkle of worry in her brow.

“Whatever happens, I’ve been thinking I’m going to need me an apprentice. Someone that can track, that’s good with a bow, a spear, a sword…”

Meg started to smile, a mischievous twist of her lips.

“So I’m thinking of putting the word out, seeing if anyone wants a trial…Ouch,” he said, as Meg kicked him in the shin again, with a lot more conviction this time.

“You want the job, then?” Camlin said, laughing and rubbing his leg.

“I do,” Meg replied. “Think I’m just the one for it. The only one.”

“Well, I’ll give you a trial run, then.”

She pulled a face at him.

Footsteps sounded and Camlin looked up to see Edana striding towards him, wrapped in a grey cloak, fur-trimmed in ermine. She still wore her shirt of mail, but it had been cleaned of blood and grime and polished with sand. It gleamed as she walked. Brogan No-Neck walked one side of her, Vonn the other, though he was pale, still, a pinched look to his face.

Pain will do that, and he has lost a hand.

Bandages were wrapped around the stump of Vonn’s wrist. His hand had been mangled during the battle, fingers lost, bones shattered, an irreparable wound. Cywen and the others at the hospice had tried to save the hand but rot had set in and the only way to save his arm, and maybe his life, was to take his hand.

“There you are,” Edana said to Camlin. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Camlin felt a knife-twist of grief in his gut as they approached. It still seemed strange to see Edana without Halion at her side—her first-sword, a constant guardian.

Most likely won’t ever get used to it.

Conall, on the other hand, had survived. Rafe’s blow had wounded but not killed, and Halion’s sacrifice had saved Conall’s life. He had spent most of the last ten-night in the hospice, but had shuffled out yesterday. Camlin had seen him only briefly, but he looked like a different man, broken-hearted.

Camlin rose and bowed as Edana drew near. Not a perfect bow, but for a Darkwood brigand Camlin thought it wasn’t too bad.

“Two things,” Edana said. “Firstly, I have a message for you, Craf. Cywen says that she wants to see you at the hospice. Apparently she has been telling you for the last two days that your wing should be good for you to fly, now, and so she needs to take off your splint.”

“What?” Camlin blurted.

Craf looked about as guilty as it was possible for a crow to look.

“So I’ve been carrying you around for two days when you could have been flying,” Camlin said.

Craf looked the other way, as if he’d heard something more interesting elsewhere.

“Why, Craf?” Camlin asked him sternly. “Why have you done this to me?”

“Because then it will be, Craf fly here, Craf fly there. Craf tired.”

“You are more cunning than a weasel,” Camlin said, shaking his head.

“Sorry,” Craf muttered, though he didn’t look sorry.

Camlin looked up to see everyone laughing, even Vonn.

“If any one of you ever tells another soul about this…”

More laughter. Even Craf started laughing, a croaking stutter.

I’m never going to live this down.

“You said two things, my Queen?” Camlin said to Edana, trying to change the subject.

“Yes. I almost forgot. I need you with me. We’ve a meeting to attend, and I’m almost late.”

“And you want me to come with you?”

“Well, of course. Since when does a queen not attend a council with her counsellor?”

“Counsellor? Me? Sure you’d not be better off with Craf in that role?”

“He’s got a point,” Vonn and No-Neck said together. More laughter.

“Craf is more than welcome to come, but, yes, I am quite content that you are my counsellor, though you are much more than that.” Edana laughed at the face he pulled. Not embarrassed this time, just surprised.

Counsellor. Well, there’s a turn-up.

“Well, I don’t really know what to think of that, my Queen.”

Edana frowned a little, then, staring harder at him. “You’re not thinking of leaving me, are you, Camlin?”

Camlin opened his mouth to answer, but wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“He thought you didn’t need him no more,” Meg said. “Didn’t think you’d have much use for the likes of him.”

Camlin scowled at Meg.

Thanks, you little traitor, you.

“Camlin, are you mad?” Edana gasped. “I will always have need of you. You’re not just a talented bowman, Camlin. You’ve guided me across realms, through mountain and forest, hill and vale, saved my life more times than I can remember.”

“Aye, but you’re not on the run any more, and I doubt you ever will be again.”

“Well, I hope not, but who knows what the future holds? Regardless, I will always want you by my side, or close enough to call, at least. Your talents are many. You are a gem, Camlin.” She smiled at him. “Just in need of a little polishing, that is all. And above and beyond all that, you are my friend, whom I trust, and that is rarer than gold.”

Never in all my long life has anyone said such a thing to me. Just goes to show—sometimes it takes someone else to bring out the best in a man.

“So will you accompany me to the great chamber, to discuss the future of the Banished Lands with Ben-Elim, giants, other kings, queens, lords and ladies?”

“I will,” Camlin said, a broad smile upon his face. “My Queen.”