Chapters (103)
- Title page
- Dedication page
- Cast of Characters
- Map
- Epigraph page
- CONTENTS
- ULFILAS
- CORBAN
- UTHAS
- MAQUIN
- CAMLIN
- RAFE
- TUKUL
- CYWEN
- FIDELE
- UTHAS
- MAQUIN
- CYWEN
- CAMLIN
- VERADIS
- CORALEN
- CORBAN
- UTHAS
- CORBAN
- CAMLIN
- FIDELE
- LYKOS
- HAELAN
- ULFILAS
- TUKUL
- CAMLIN
- RAFE
- MAQUIN
- LYKOS
- FIDELE
- CAMLIN
- HAELAN
- MAQUIN
- RAFE
- CYWEN
- FIDELE
- CORBAN
- VERADIS
- TUKUL
- UTHAS
- VERADIS
- RAFE
- CAMLIN
- EVNIS
- MAQUIN
- CORALEN
- CORBAN
- FIDELE
- ULFILAS
- CAMLIN
- CYWEN
- HAELAN
- ULFILAS
- TUKUL
- CORBAN
- VERADIS
- CYWEN
- EVNIS
- VERADIS
- LYKOS
- ULFILAS
- CORALEN
- ULFILAS
- UTHAS
- CORBAN
- MAQUIN
- CYWEN
- ULFILAS
- CAMLIN
- CORALEN
- CAMLIN
- HAELAN
- FIDELE
- VERADIS
- MAQUIN
- ULFILAS
- VERADIS
- EVNIS
- CORBAN
- ULFILAS
- CORBAN
- ULFILAS
- HAELAN
- CAMLIN
- EVNIS
- CAMLIN
- EVNIS
- CYWEN
- CORBAN
- RAFE
- CORBAN
- CORALEN
- CYWEN
- CORBAN
- By John Gwynne
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- About the Author
- Copyright page
‘Go slowly, then,’ Marcellin said. ‘My lads are fond of this old man.’
Veradis pulled out a rolled scroll, sealed with red wax.
‘From Nathair,’ Veradis said.
Marcellin took it, frowning bad-temperedly at it.
‘Read it, and if it is to your liking, join me for a rowan-meet with Lamar and Lykos in that tent.’ Without waiting for an answer, he rode away.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CYWEN
Cywen wrapped bandages around Gar’s chest; it had started to bruise already but he didn’t so much as wince as she pulled the cloth straps tightly to bind his ribs. He sat upon a bench in the feast-hall of Gramm’s hold, eyes downcast. Once she’d tied off the bandage she squeezed his hand and he looked at her, eyes red-rimmed and hollow.
I remember that pain, can feel it still, though it is buried deeper now than it was. Da, Mam, Heb, Tukul – how many more people we care about will we lose before this is over? She wished she could do something to ease his pain.
‘You’ve some cracked ribs,’ she said. ‘The bandages will give some support, help them heal, but the fact is anything you do is going to hurt, and that includes breathing.’ He nodded and she helped him back into his coat of dark mail. ‘Take this with you,’ she said, offering him a vial.
‘What is it?’
‘Poppy milk, it will dull the pain.’
‘I do not want it dulled. I deserve it,’ he muttered. He picked up his scabbarded sword and walked away.
The feast-hall had been turned into an impromptu hospice, and bodies were everywhere, filling long tables, the metallic tang of blood thick in the air. Cywen had stayed on the ship during the battle, ordered by Corban to help in the organization of unloading the provisions they’d need from ship to shore. She’d been annoyed at first but had seen the sense of it. She was not Corban with a blade, or Gar, or even Farrell for that matter. And the ships needed unloading by someone with more than half a brain, so she’d set to it, with Brina snapping orders at her and Cywen delegating the heavy lifting to Laith and a dozen other giantlings – who had also been forbidden by Balur and Ethlinn to join in the fight.