Valor (The Faithful and the Fallen, #2)

by John Gwynne

‘That wolven nearly ripped Rafe’s arm off, and it killed Helfach,’ Evnis hissed. ‘It should have been put to death.’ Anger swelled in Cywen. ‘You’re the one that should be put to death,’ she snarled at Evnis.

‘I can’t stay here,’ Cywen said, ‘the smell is making me sick.’ She gave Evnis a withering look, then turned for the door.

Being here was different. The friends he’d made were not like that. He’d finally found a sense of belonging, of doing something right. It probably won’t last, he thought, but while it did, he would not be leaving. Not today.

So many dead. Just warriors obeying their lords. He shook his head, surveying the corpses sprawled all about them. All for the ambitions of kings and queens.

A calm filled him as he let his body move, not thinking, just doing, and his enemy kept falling before him.

Come then, Death, take me across your bridge of swords, but know this: I won’t be coming alone.

‘That doesn’t matter. I don’t believe in luck,’ Corban said. ‘Do you not? What do you believe in, lad.’ Corban thought about that. ‘This.’ He touched the hilt of his sword. ‘Him,’ pointing to Dath. ‘Her,’ a hand ruffling Storm’s fur. ‘Us,’ a gesture taking them all in. ‘Good answer,’ Camlin said.

I suppose I’m still here, with you all, because I want to be,’ he said, only realizing at that moment that it was the truth. He looked about, at Dath and Corban and the others. ‘I like being here–not here as in Domhain, but here.’ He waved a hand and flushed. ‘With you all.’

‘For an ex-thief and murderer you talk a lot of sense sometimes,’ Marrock said. ‘You get a lot of time to think, living in the Darkwood. All that waiting around for people to rob.’

There was something about this group of people, similar to the camaraderie she had felt amongst Rath and his giant-killers, but more, somehow. Something deeper. She just knew that each and every one of them would die for the other, and Corban was somehow at the centre of that. She felt his absence keenly, as she knew they all did.

‘Am I hearing correctly?’ she said. ‘Did he just call himself the Bright Star, avatar of Elyon?’ ‘He did,’ Uthas confirmed. ‘Is he mad, or deluded?’ she said.

One thought circled in his head like the black birds swirling about the mountain peaks. They must be stopped.