"Caddoran" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Roger)

Chapter 13

Though it was not possible to hear what was being shouted, the harshness in the distant voice told Hyrald and the others about the nature of the men following them more vividly than any amount of speculation.

‘It doesn’t sound as if they’ve come to bring us good news,’ Adren said to Nordath, who nodded unhappily.

Endryk looked round quickly then dismounted and ran across to a tall tree, signalling Rhavvan to follow.

‘Help me,’ he said, pointing to the lowest branch. It was well above his head but with his foot supported in Rhavvan’s cupped hands he managed to swing up and catch it. The others stared after him as he began clambering upwards. They remained thus even when he had disappeared. More shouting drifted to them as they waited.

He was not gone for long. ‘Wardens, I think – uniformed anyway,’ he said as he dropped back down. His face was flushed. ‘I never did like climbing trees,’ he grumbled, wiping his hands irritably. ‘They’re mounted and riding fast. Too fast for this country, I’d judge. And I have to agree with Adren – they look more like a hunting party than a rescue team.’

‘How many of them are there?’ Hyrald asked fearfully.

‘About ten.’

‘Ten?’ Hyrald echoed in disbelief.

‘That I could see,’ Endryk confirmed. ‘The view wasn’t ideal and they were milling about our camp site.’

‘How would they know we’ve come this way?’ Rhavvan asked.

‘Maybe they met Oudrence and he told them. He knew we were going to go west,’ Nordath offered.

‘More likely it was the same way as those who found you on the shore,’ Endryk said. ‘I told you, you must have left a trail across the country like a haycart – I’m sure you could’ve followed it in their position.’

Rhavvan was more injured than indignant at this reminder of their wild northward dash. ‘But we’ve been careful since we left your cottage.’

‘True. But, as I said, people are out of place here. Our passage makes a disturbance that’s virtually impossible to disguise.’

‘It’s irrelevant anyway,’ Hyrald said, ending the debate. ‘They might just have worked it out for themselves that the only way we could go was west.’ He swore under his breath and put his hand to his head. ‘The point is, they’re here. We can’t risk meeting them until we know for sure whether they’re friend or enemy, though how we’re going to find that out I don’t know. It seems to me the only alternatives we have are to hide or outrun them.’ He looked at Endryk. ‘I know it’s a long time since you’ve been here, but you still know this country better than any of us. Have you any suggestions?’

‘We’ll have to do a little of both,’ Endryk replied. ‘Just hiding a group this size around here is problematical to say the least, and if we run for it, that’ll tell them exactly where we are. Also we’ve no idea about the condition of their horses. I can only imagine that to be riding the way they are, they’ve got reserve mounts somewhere. They could be very fresh.’

‘And with a larger party behind them,’ Rhavvan added.

‘Quite possibly.’

‘I’d like to see who it is,’ Rhavvan said menacingly.

‘So would we all,’ Hyrald agreed. ‘But we can’t afford the luxury of getting close to them. What do you mean we’ll have to do a little of both?’ he asked Endryk.

‘We’ll keep on towards the river, find a good place to change direction, then leave signs to keep them heading north while we turn west and move slowly and quietly.’

Hyrald looked doubtful. The faint shouting reached them again.

‘Do it,’ he said.

Endryk spoke softly. ‘You know now how sound can travel out here so make sure all your tackle is well muffled,’ he said. ‘And no talking unless it’s essential – and I mean essential. And then confine yourselves to whispers. Keep strict single file. Keep your eyes and ears wide open – particularly your ears. I know it’s not easy, but stay as relaxed as you can. Rhavvan, you listen well – take the rearguard.’

Rich forest scents pervaded the procession as it moved silently through the trees. Dancing sunlight dappled over and around them, endlessly shifting and changing, and the air was filled with birdsong and the gentle discourse of the leaves as they swayed to the touch of a scarcely felt breeze. To less troubled minds, the scene would have been idyllic, but the riders were prey and could know no tranquillity until they were free from the fear of their predator.

Thyrn, in his new secret role as protector of his protector and conspirator with Endryk, seemed to be the most at ease, though perhaps more by virtue of his youth than any deeper wisdom. The three Wardens were noticeably on edge. It was against their nature and training to retreat from threat and they were filled with too many questions. Further, having instincts that were tuned to the sights, scents and dangers of the city, everything about this place served to distract and disturb them so that the heightened awareness that circumstances had given them served not to clarify but to add only fretful confusion. Rhavvan, whose hearing had saved him more than once in Arvenshelm’s darker places, found the constant noise particularly troubling and he kept stopping, his head cocked on one side and his eyes half closed as he sought amid it for sounds of pursuit. Nals came and went to needs of his own, frequently bolting off into the undergrowth.

After a while Endryk halted them. He dismounted and gently moved some hanging branches to one side. He studied the area beyond them then pointed. ‘Wait over there,’ he said. ‘I’ll lay a trail towards the river. I won’t be long.’ Nor was he, though to the waiting group his absence seemed much longer than it was. It made Hyrald, in particular, feel acutely aware of his inadequacy as their leader in their present position and he was openly relieved when Endryk returned. He then spent some time carefully removing all signs of their change of direction, finally adjusting the hanging branches. Rhavvan watched him with an expression that gradually changed from impatience to grudging respect. Then Endryk was silently directing them to move off again.

Their uneasy journey continued. At their head, though he gave no further orders, Endryk’s presence continued to forbid all sound, and cautioned them against the distracting lure of the sunlit calm of the woods despite the absence of any sign of pursuit. Even Nals was quieter now, spending most of the time loping soberly alongside Endryk.

Eventually they came to a break in the trees. Endryk halted some way from the edge. ‘Stay in single file,’ he whispered. Ahead of them was an expanse of open ground filled with tall ferns. It sloped downwards to the right. Beyond it lay more trees. They were darker and less inviting than those they were presently sheltering under, but still more welcome than the ground they would have to pass over. Endryk dismounted and moved forward a little way. The river could be seen at the bottom of the slope.

He was frowning when he returned. Everyone leaned forward as he spoke, very softly. ‘We’ve no choice but to cross this and to cross it slowly. There’s no saying what the ground’s like under these ferns, but there’ll certainly be streams and wet rocks. We can’t risk hurting the horses by hurrying. We also can’t do anything about the tracks we’ll leave. We’ll just have to hope the false trail was good enough and that they don’t come this way.’

As they emerged into the clearing, each of them in turn looked upwards at the bright blue sky and the still passing army of white clouds. After the comforting shelter of the trees, they felt very exposed. For Rhavvan, the troublesome noise of the trees was replaced by the equally troublesome noise of the distant river.

It needed no sensitive hearing however, to hear the cry that rang out when they were about halfway across. It tore through their studied silence, jolting them with its harshness. Thyrn let out a brief cry. Rhavvan swore. A group of riders was moving along the river bank. One of them was pointing and, after the briefest of pauses, they were drawing swords and urging their horses up the slope.

Rhavvan’s lip curled. ‘Well, that’s clear enough, drawing on us, like the others. Without even a word of challenge.’

Then his eyes blazed and his hand went to his own sword. However, even as he did so, the reality of his position came to him: there were at least seven riders in the charging group. He released his sword and began to urge his horse forward towards shelter. The others were doing the same but Endryk held out a restraining hand. ‘No! Keep walking, slowly!’ he said powerfully. ‘Let them charge uphill and take their chance in this terrain. We’re nearly across. We can run when the horses can see where they’re going.’

As he spoke, one of the advancing horses went down, throwing its rider. Some of the others stopped to help their comrade but three of them continued their headlong dash.

Still observing Endryk’s injunction to walk quietly Rhavvan took his long staff and held it discreetly on the far side of his horse. He nearly collided with Hyrald, who had stopped suddenly.

‘Carry on,’ Hyrald said urgently, motioning him to move past.

‘But…’

‘Don’t argue. Go! I’ll be with you in a moment.’

As soon as Rhavvan had passed him, Hyrald stood in his stirrups and pointed at the approaching riders.

‘You there, halt!’ he bellowed. ‘What the devil do you think you’re playing at?’

The command and the rebuke were forceful enough to make two of the riders falter. The third, however, continued. Very leisurely, and indicating extreme irritation, Hyrald turned his horse as though to descend to meet them. ‘Are you deaf, you oaf?’ he bellowed again. ‘I said, halt!’ The third rider, realizing suddenly that he was alone now, faltered in his turn. Hyrald pressed his advantage. ‘You’ve got a man down! You know your duty – what kind of Wardens are you? Go and see if he’s all right. Then all of you get back up here. I’ll need to hear a damned good explanation of your disgraceful conduct if you’re not to end up on charges.’ He turned his horse away again and with a final, ‘Now! Move!’ that actually made the lone rider swing his horse about, he resumed his easy walk across the clearing. Rhavvan had stopped at the edge of the trees and was turning to meet him. Hyrald discreetly urged him back.

‘I can’t believe you did that,’ the big man said when Hyrald reached him.

‘I’ve been wanting to do it since this began,’ Hyrald snarled. ‘At least we know we’re not dealing with the brightest. Let’s move, it’s only gained us seconds.’

It took them a little while to catch up with Endryk and the others who were already riding as fast as the ground and their ability would allow. It was soon apparent that it was the latter that was the greatest problem. The three Wardens were not particularly good riders and Nordath and Thyrn, riding on one horse, were severely handicapped. Endryk assessed the situation with a single backward glance. Slowing down, but without stopping, he moved alongside Nordath and Thyrn and with a combination of encouragement and cajoling managed to transfer the older man to his own horse. Then he swung over to sit behind Thyrn and with a cry to Nordath of, ‘Just hang on,’ he took both sets of reins and spurred his horse to a fast canter.

Though Endryk did not seem to be suffering, it was a difficult, bone-jarring ride for the rest of them. Hyrald managed to pull alongside him. ‘We can’t go on for long like this,’ he gasped. ‘Nordath can’t take much more and Thyrn doesn’t look…’

He stopped. Endryk’s expression was frightening.

The sound of their pursuers could now be clearly heard, harsh and triumphant.

‘The intention of these people is murderous?’ Endryk asked starkly.

Hyrald’s reply was pained. ‘They look like Wardens but they’ve drawn on us without any form of challenge like those on the shore. It’s not done. The Death Cry’s still in place. Yes, they’re murderous.’

‘Bad odds, Warden,’ Endryk said. ‘But no choice.’ He shouted to the others. ‘We’re going to have to stand. On my command, dismount and prepare to deal with whoever comes first.’

‘Dismount?’ Hyrald exclaimed.

‘Horses are no advantage in this space. Especially for you. Do as I say.’

Even as he was speaking he was reaching round Thyrn and drawing the youth’s knife from his belt. He pushed it into his startled hand. ‘Keep this out of sight but if anyone gets too close and you can’t run, lunge.’ He thrust Thyrn’s hand out by way of demonstration. ‘To whatever part of them’s nearest – throat, face, anything. Don’t look into their eyes, you’ll hesitate and get yourself killed. Keep stabbing until you’re safe.’

Thyrn stiffened. ‘I can’t do that.’

‘You can, you will! You’ll have no choice if it happens. And you must protect your uncle as well as yourself. When we stop, help him down, and keep the horses together.’ He tightened his grip to emphasize the urgency of his words. ‘This is a bad lesson for you, Caddoran, but learn it well and learn it quickly. You’re here through no fault of your own and you’re entitled to survive. Do you understand? You’re entitled to survive! Where we are now, everything is that simple.’

Endryk’s tone allowed no debate as he pushed the knife back into Thyrn’s belt.

Hyrald glanced quickly over his shoulder. Their pursuers were in sight.

Endryk was shouting. ‘Now!’

As he swung off his horse, Endryk took Thyrn with him, thrust both sets of reins into his shaking hands and pushed him towards his uncle with a final command, ‘Your uncle and the horses.’

Thyrn was vaguely aware of catching Nordath as he slid from Endryk’s horse and shouting, ‘Get the horses,’ at him. Then everything was confusion and terror – a mosaic of sounds and images that moved at once with desperate slowness and violent, jerking, speed.

There was Nals, blurred and leaping, teeth fearsome.

And Endryk, eyes both frightening and frightened, drawing his bow.

It creaked deafeningly…

Bending the fabric of everything around it…

And the echoing, echoing, wind-rush of a flying arrow…

It struck the horse of the leading pursuer. Hooves flailed and a high-pitched scream filled Thyrn’s mind as the animal reared, white-eyed, unseating its rider and bringing down another.

Swords and staves were rising and falling…

The scream of the horse became a wavering background to a tangled cacophony of fury and terror.

A second arrow struck a rider…

Something twisted deep in Thyrn, a re-shaping, a re-ordering. The sound of the arrow’s flight swelled to overtop everything else. It stretched giddily backwards from its fateful strike to the very creaking of the bow.

Wrong…

Wrong way…

But it was the way it was.

It was the sound of a black sword falling through the darkness between…

Falling?

No…

Yes…

But from when to when?

It was gone.

He was Vashnar, mouth agape, staring down at his glistening, ordered desk, seeing everything, knowing everything.

Then he was Thyrn again. Scarcely a heartbeat spent.

Trapped in the mosaic. Part of it. Still watching the arrow strike.

Endryk’s target, moving his arms upwards to complete their futile attempt to deflect the arrow, tumbled backwards out of his saddle. A thrust from Rhavvan’s staff was unseating another.

Others had already been downed.

Then the hunters were retreating, as noisily as they had come, Nals barking after them.

‘Gather the horses!’ Endryk was shouting as he kicked the arms from under one of the unhorsed riders who was trying to rise. ‘Stay where you are if you want to live.’ He moved to the screaming horse, stroked its head gently then drew his sword and killed it with a single quick thrust. Thyrn heard himself gasp.

Silence flooded deafeningly over the scene.

Endryk pulled the arrow from the dead horse.

As if released by this, the sounds of the forest began to force their way through the silence. At their ragged edge was the dwindling echo of the crashing flight of the attackers.

‘Damn you all!’ Endryk shouted, turning his sword towards one of the downed riders. ‘Bringing me to this again.’ For a moment it seemed that he was going to kill the man as quickly as he had killed the horse, but instead he pushed his sword into the ground by his terrified face and placed a foot on his chest. Adren moved to the man that Endryk had shot, though her Warden’s caution kept her blade levelled at him. The arrow had struck him in the shoulder and was swaying like an admonishing finger as he breathed. His eyes were wide and shocked.

‘Horses, Thyrn.’ It was Nordath nudging his nephew from behind. ‘Come on. And empty the saddlebags on that dead one.’

There was a sudden scuffling and two of the unhorsed riders were on their feet and running.

‘Let them go,’ Hyrald said, as Rhavvan and Adren made to run after them. ‘They’re no use to us and it won’t be long before the others re-group and come after us again. We’ve been lucky but we’re still out-numbered, don’t forget.’ He moved to the man pinioned by Endryk’s foot.

‘Who are you? And why are you chasing us?’ He bent forward, frowning. ‘And what kind of a uniform is that you’re wearing?’

The man’s mouth was trembling too much for him to speak coherently. ‘Orders. Vashnar’s orders. Death Cry. Don’t kill me, please.’

Hyrald drew his knife, knelt down by the cringing figure and cut off an insignia from his tunic. He glanced at it, puzzled, then pushed it into his pocket before seizing the man’s face and turning it towards him.

‘How many more of you? The truth now, or…’ He indicated the watching figure of Endryk, looming above him, leaning on his sword.

‘Only us,’ the man blurted out. ‘Nine. Lost some on way.’

Who’s in charge of you?’

‘Commander Aghrid.’

Hyrald started and there was an audible response from the other two Wardens.

‘CommanderAghrid?’

The man nodded, his eyes desperately urging the truth of what he was saying. Hyrald’s face filled with questions.

‘No time,’ Endryk said, seeing them and laying a hand on his shoulder.

Reluctantly Hyrald stood up. ‘Take your wounded friend and get out of here while you can. And take a message to whoever sent you, Warden.’ He put a withering emphasis into the last word. We’ve done nothing wrong, but as soon as we can find a river crossing we’re going north, away from Arvenstaat until some kind of sanity returns. You come after us again like this – anyone comes after us – and we’ll defend ourselves.’ His anger suddenly spilled out. ‘And remember this, you drew on us without challenge! A civilian’s taking a chance when he does that, but a Warden’s breaking every unwritten law we live by.’ He bent over the man viciously. ‘So remember that we didn’t kill you when we were more than entitled to. Remember that especially when you watch the sun go down tonight. Remember it every day for the rest of your life. Now go!’

For a moment he looked as though he were going to strike the man, then he stepped back, face set. The man clambered shakily to his feet, his eyes moving fearfully around each of his assailants in turn. He took a step and clutched at his leg with a grimace of pain. It evoked no response from his audience.

‘Your friend,’ Hyrald said coldly, pointing towards the rider that Endryk had shot.

‘Wait,’ Endryk said. He moved to the wounded man. ‘Your lucky day,’ he said, kneeling down beside him. ‘Lucky it wasn’t a battle arrow, lucky it was clean, and lucky I missed what I was aiming at.’ Then, with the same abrupt briskness with which he had killed the horse, he pulled out the arrow. The man arched and his mouth gaped but no sound came. Endryk patted him reassuringly, then helped him to his feet with unexpected gentleness. ‘Is there a healer with you?’ he asked. The man shook his head. ‘Well, do your best to keep the wound clean and don’t use that arm too much.’ He draped the man’s uninjured arm around the shoulder of the limping man.

As they hobbled away, menaced by a returning Nals, Endryk turned to Nordath and Thyrn. ‘Are you all right?’

‘No, not remotely,’ Nordath said, with unexpected force. ‘I’ve just aged ten years, and my heart’s beating enough to break my ribs, but I don’t think I’m hurt and I can still ride.’

‘Me too,’ Thyrn said weakly.

Endryk looked at the others. ‘The rest of you? Anyone hurt?’

Hyrald and Rhavvan shook their heads.

‘Shaky. Very shaky,’ Adren said, holding out her hands to demonstrate the point. ‘But it’ll pass. And you? How are you?’

A flicker of surprise passed over Endryk’s face but he did not reply other than with a cursory nod. ‘Two more horses, I see,’ he said brusquely. ‘And a few more supplies, I presume. That’s good. In fact, it’s excellent.’ He stroked one of the horses. ‘But they’re in a sorry state. They look as if they’ve been ridden out. Still, we can take it steady for a while. Let’s go.’

‘All of them looked as if they’d been ridden out,’ Adren said as they rode away from the sunlit battleground.

‘All?’ Endryk queried.

‘The horses, the men. They all looked exhausted. As if they’d been riding for days.’

‘I can’t say I noticed, to be honest, I was too busy aiming,’ Endryk replied. ‘Though those two were even more travel-stained than you are. You could be right, they could well have travelled a long way very quickly.’ He smiled appreciatively. ‘Still, so much the better. They’re three horses down now and with at least two injured men to tend to – one badly if that wound becomes infected. That plus exhaustion should slow them down radically.’

‘What do you make of this?’ Hyrald said, handing the insignia he had cut off the man’s tunic to Rhavvan.

Rhavvan held it against the insignia on his own tunic. ‘It’s certainly not one of ours. It looks familiar, but I don’t know where from. Come to think of it, there was something odd about their uniforms. Apart from being the worse for wear like ours.’

‘They were black,’ Endryk said. ‘It brings back bad memories for me – black uniformed thugs policing the streets. Yours are very dark blue – or were before you set out.’

Adren took the insignia from Rhavvan and studied it intently. After a moment she began clicking her fingers in an attempt to conjure up an old memory. ‘Two lightning flashes and a single silver star,’ she said. ‘I know it from somewhere. It’s old.’

‘It’s the symbol of the Tervaidin,’ Nordath said quietly. ‘The old Dictators’ bodyguards. Your ancient precursors.’

Hyrald leaned across to examine the insignia again. Adren gave it to him.

‘You’re right,’ he said, frowning. ‘What the devil’s going on? Wardens wearing a Tervaidin symbol. It’s…’ He left the sentence hanging.

‘Were they Wardens?’ Endryk asked.

Hyrald looked at the captured horses. ‘The uniforms were the same, as far as I could tell, bar the colour and this badge. And the horses and tack are ours.’

‘I recognized one of the ones who bolted,’ Rhavvan said. ‘One of Vashnar’s own command, I think.’

‘AndCommander Aghrid,’ Adren said, significantly.

‘None of this makes any sense.’ Hyrald scowled. ‘Aghrid can’t possibly be a Commander. He’s a disgrace to the entire Warding. He should’ve been locked up, not just thrown out.’

‘I don’t think the man was lying,’ Endryk said. ‘And he did say Aghrid, quite clearly.’

Hyrald was clutching for reason. ‘Anyway, there’s no Commandership vacant.’

Adren cleared her throat significantly.

‘Except yours.’ Rhavvan spoke her meaning.

Hyrald glowered at him. ‘Our men wouldn’t accept Aghrid, you know that,’ he said indignantly. ‘Besides, I doubt he’d have the nerve even to go near the House. He was lucky someone didn’t take a staff to him one quiet night.’

‘He was lucky someone didn’t take a sword to him,’ Rhavvan added.

‘This man is known to you?’ Endryk asked diffidently.

Hyrald pulled a sour face, as though the words themselves were distasteful. ‘He was a Deputy Commander – same rank as Adren and Rhavvan…’

‘Acting Deputy Commander,’ they both interpolated defensively. ‘And to a minor district.’

Hyrald gave a conceding wave. ‘Acting Deputy Commander,’ he emphasized. ‘But he was corrupt and violent.’

‘In my limited stay in Arvenshelm I gained the distinct impression that corruption and violence amongst Wardens was endemic,’ Endryk said bluntly.

Hyrald turned to him angrily. ‘No!’ he protested, but Endryk outfaced him.

‘No shopkeepers and tradesmen “doing favours”? No “summary fines” in lieu of more physical retribution?’ he said. Hyrald turned away unhappily.

‘We’re not perfect. And there are certain… traditions whereby citizens show their gratitude for what we do. That’s always happened. But it’s kept at a sensible level – there’s never any threat. It’s not officially condoned, and there’re certainly no “summary fines” – not by any of my men, anyway.’ He was wilting under Endryk’s continuing gaze. ‘Occasional “summary justice”, I’ll grant you. A cracked head perhaps, instead of burdening the courts.’

‘But Aghrid was different?’

Hyrald searched the comment for some hint of sarcasm, but there was none. ‘Yes, he was,’ he replied, thankful to be on safer ground. ‘Very different. He did intimidate and harass. How he ever got into the Warding in the first place defies me, let alone how he became an Acting Deputy Commander. He was completely out of control, getting greedier and more violent by the week until he half killed some poor shopkeeper who stood up to him. He was dismissed from the Warding eventually.’

‘And the shopkeeper and his other victims?’

Hyrald clenched his fists at the memory. ‘Duly recompensed,’ he said, unsettled again. He turned to his colleagues for support. ‘He can’t be a Commander. It’s not possible.’

‘It’s what the man said,’ Adren replied unhelpfully. She was patently distressed herself. ‘Aghrid and Tervaidin. None of this makes any sense.’

‘The Tervaidin were an elite bodyguard who eventually took over the running of the state, weren’t they?’ Endryk asked, addressing the question predominantly to Nordath.

‘Never overtly,’ Nordath replied, his voice unsteady. ‘They were astute enough to keep the Dictator conspicuously in the eye of the people so that he would carry the blame for anything bad that happened. In the first place they were, anyway. Later, they just became corrupt and greedy – like Aghrid.’

‘Corrupt and greedy. How about tyrannical and brutal?’ Endryk said.

‘That as well, certainly,’ Nordath said. ‘It’s strange. They’re generally thought of now as heroic – brave protectors of the land and people. Even though there’s no doubt about what they were really like.’

They came to a clearing. Endryk reined his horse to a halt and held up a hand for silence. There was no sound of pursuit. Just the rustling of leaves and the sound of the river. It was not as loud now. The sun was low and the sky was purpling. The pristine whiteness of the slowly drifting flotilla of clouds was being transformed into a fevered redness tinged with leaden grey shadows.

‘I’ve no idea where we are,’ Endryk said. ‘But I think we should move on westwards for as long as possible. Nice and steady. Use lanterns if we have to, they won’t give our positions away while we’re in the trees. And we’ll have to post a double guard tonight.’

No one said anything, but the Wardens were grim-faced while Nordath and Thyrn looked distracted. Endryk addressed their concerns.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, clicking his horse forward. ‘I’d forgotten. That must have frightened both of you very badly.’ They looked up at him, but he did not wait for an answer. ‘It frightened us all. Fighting isn’t something you ever get used to – not fighting like that especially, where your life is threatened. There’s an intensity to it – a focus – that leaves scars for ever. Changes you. Even Wardens, who deal with a lot of violence, don’t often get threatened like that. My only advice is that if you want to be sick, or faint, or whatever – do it, get rid of it. But…’ He looked at each of them in turn. ‘Remember this, and cling to it. No matter how bad you feel, you survived. Not only that, in this instance you weren’t even hurt. And know this, those people who came against you will be feeling far worse.’

‘I’m still shaking.’ The words tumbled out of Thyrn as if he had indeed been holding them back like vomit.

Endryk held out his hand, imitating Adren’s earlier gesture. It was trembling slightly. ‘It’s the way your body looks after itself. Before and after. Don’t be afraid to be afraid. It’s not pleasant, but it’s in your best interests. Don’t hide things from yourself. I’ll tell you this, too. You did well, both of you – very well. We’d have been in a sorry state if the horses had scattered.’ He cast a glance at Hyrald and the others. ‘In fact, we all did well. Though I’ll have to get some archery practice in. Hitting that man in the shoulder like that.’

‘You were aiming to kill him?’ Adren asked hesitantly.

Endryk smiled ruefully. ‘No. I told him he was lucky I missed just to catch his attention. I was aiming for the horse.’ His smile turned into a laugh. Despite its grim origin his laughter lightened their mood as they rode from the clearing into the premature gloaming of the trees.

It was not long before it became too dark for them to ride safely and they were obliged to dismount. The dancing light of a solitary lantern held by Endryk led them on, filling their world with dusty flashing shadows, bright flickering moths and a snowy rain of flitting insects which left Rhavvan growling.

They walked for a long time and were very tired when they finally camped – too tired for any of them to be able to stand guard.

‘They’ll be in a worse state than we are,’ Rhavvan protested to Endryk as his concern about this became apparent. ‘We won’t need a guard.’

‘I’ll remind you of that when you wake up tomorrow with your throat cut,’ Endryk said uncompromisingly.

In the end he had them lay trip lines around the camp. ‘Do be careful when you get up in the morning,’ he said, laughing again.

None of them slept well that night, Thyrn least of all, as troublesome dreams full of terrible blood-soaked injuries plagued him. Only towards morning did some semblance of the control that he normally had over his dreams begin to return, but he was ill-at-ease when he finally woke to a dull, overcast day. There was some solace in the damp freshness that filled the air but none of them save Endryk and Nals seemed to find it.

As they ate, Hyrald was anxious to make and discuss plans for the rest of their journey, though his immediate concern was the intention of their pursuers. By common consent and at Endryk’s prompting, they postponed any debate about the Tervaidin symbol and the mysterious re-appointment and promotion of Aghrid.

‘With luck, they’ll believe what I said about going north,’ Hyrald said.

Thyrn cleared his throat noisily. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, louder than he had intended. ‘I told Vashnar that we were coming back.’