Sovereign

CHAPTER 18

Lynan woke, wide-eyed, his mouth open in a silent scream, his muscles rigid with fear. For a moment he did not know where he was, and then he heard the even and gentle breathing of Korigan, asleep by his side.

Daavis. Night. Autumn.

Safe.

His muscles unlocked and he slumped back into the mattress. He closed his eyes in the vain hope he might find some more sleep, but after a few minutes knew it was useless and got out of bed. He dressed quickly and quietly, making sure not to disturb Korigan, and left the bedchamber. Two Red Hands saluted as he walked out and another two fell in behind him. He was not sure where he was going, but he felt the need to do something physically hard, something that would tire him out enough so that when he fell asleep there would be no nightmare to greet him.

He stopped in the courtyard. In the dim light of an early morning under a grey sky, the palace—the whole city—seemed suffocatingly close. He headed for the stables, chose a mare and saddled it. His escorting Red Hands did likewise. When all three were done they rode out of the palace then out of the city, heading north at a until Lynan felt the horse struggling underneath him. He slowed to a walk and then dismounted.Leading their horses, Lynan and his bodyguard made their way back to Daavis. In the city people were on their way to work. Stalls were opening, carts carrying fresh produce from farms were rattling their way to markets, agile children carrying wooden platters laden with breads and cakes from bakeries weaved their way through the streets to shops and homes. The night cart was finishing its last run and leaving the city, making everyone who passed it wince with the smell. Cleaners were doing their morning course, picking up dead rodents and birds and any other animal that had died during the night and ended up on the street or in the gutters.

For the most part, the streets were so busy at this hour that no one had any time to pay attention to the short youth leading his horse towards the palace. His two companions elicited the occasional remark. Once or twice a passer-by saw Lynan's face and gasped in sudden realisation of who he was, then paled in sudden fear, but before they could do anything he was past them and lost in the crowd, leaving them to sigh in relief he had not noticed them.

When they reached the palace a Chett rushed forward to take his horse, but he waved her away and returned to the stables himself and, despite the protestations of the local hand, insisted on brushing down and feeding his own mare. When he was done he felt hot and sweaty and relaxed. On the way back to his chambers he saw Farben in the courtyard, busily and bossily giving instructions to several workers and at the same time directing clerks and secretaries. Farben stopped when he saw Lynan watching and approached him.

'Prince Lynan, was there something you wished to see me about?'

One of Farben's secretaries, a young, red-headed man, seemed surprised his master would presume to talk to Lynan at all.

'No. I am glad to see you about your duties.'

'As we discussed, I must keep the city in order for the return of its rightful ruler.' He said this without any hint of sarcasm.

Lynan smiled thinly, understanding Farben's need to remind everyone publicly and at every opportunity why he was working as administrator of an enemy-occupied city.

Korigan was awake and eating breakfast by the time Lynan arrived. She was still in bed with a big bowl of fruit nestled in her lap.

'Where did you go?'

'For a ride,' he said, sitting down next to her and picking up a piece of fruit.

'You should have taken me with you.'

'You were asleep. City life is softening you.'

Korigan snorted in disgust. 'We Chetts don't spurn luxury. Out on the Oceans of Grass we have no choice about when we sleep and what we sleep on. But when we have a chance to enjoy a soft bed and late mornings we indulge ourselves.'

'So you don't miss the plains?'

Korigan looked serious. 'Of course I do,' she said, her voice distant, as if she was suddenly standing on the Oceans of Grass. 'How much longer do we stay in Daavis?'

'Until reinforcements arrive from Haxus. We need to garrison this city, then stock supplies for our campaign into Chandra. Daavis will be our base until we capture Sparro.'

'Reinforcements may not arrive until late autumn. Haxus is recovering from a defeat, remember. That means no campaign until next spring, and by then Areava will have organised a new army.'

'Who says we have to wait for spring?'

'Will you fight in winter?'

'Winter in the east can be hard, but it is nothing compared to what the Chetts endure at the High Sooq. We can start our attack on Chandra when we're ready, even if it is in the middle of winter. Our Chetts will be fully rested by then.'

'You are not going to ask for more warriors from the clans?'

Lynan shook his head. 'No. We started with twenty thousand riders, and still have close to eighteen thousand. It is enough to take Chandra as long as Grenda Lear does not interfere with an army. Once I have Sparro we can build an army to rival anything Areava can create, using troops from Chandra and Hume and Haxus.'

'We Chetts aren't used to fighting with other forces. It will be hard to make us all work together.'

'Nonetheless, with you and Ager and Gudon helping, we can do it.' He looked downcast suddenly. He handled the fruit without eating it.

'It would have been a lot easier with Kumul,' Korigan said for him.

'Yes. I think we will miss his presence the most in the coming months. When it was winter and everyone else wanted to stay indoors in front of a fire, drinking ale and telling stories, he would be exercising the guard or polishing swords or training recruits. He knew how to turn farm boys and fishermen and labourers into the Kingdom's best soldiers. I don't have that knack.'

'Ager might,' Korigan observed.

Lynan smiled thinking about the crookback. 'Yes, dear Ager. If anyone can do it now that Kumul is gone, it is he.'

'Out of bed!'

Ager felt himself being rolled before he hit the cold stone floor with a thump. 'Urgh,' he mumbled.

Morfast stood over him, needled his back with her foot. All she got was another grunt. She shook her head in disbelief. He was getting too used to the comforts of so-called civilisation. She went to the washstand and brought back a ewer, tipping its contents over his head.

'You didn't have to do that,' Ager said, still on the ground. 'I was already awake.'

'Yes, like a tree is awake.'

He turned suddenly, grasped her ankles and yanked her legs out from underneath her. She fell on top of him. He kissed her.

'We are wasting time in Daavis,' she said.

'There is much to be done here.'

'Yes, but not for the Ocean Clan. Lynan has his builders and carpenters and stonemasons to rebuild the city. We should be riding.'

He kissed her again.

'Don't tell me you don't feel it,' she persisted.

He sighed and eased himself from underneath her. 'Perhaps,' he admitted, scrounging among the bed sheets for his breeches and jerkin. They were tangled in a clump at the bottom of the bed. Clothes always managed to do that. He wondered if there was a law involved.

'Hume itself has not been conquered yet,' she said.

He laughed dryly. 'The eastern provinces are not like the Oceans of Grass. If you take a capital city you take the heart out of a province. In the west there is no capital city.'

'There are no cities at all,' she pointed out.

'In the east the political and economic strength lies in cities and towns, and they are connected by trade and tradition to the capital. There is no Hume left to pacify because Hume became pacified the moment Daavis fell to us. And when we march on Chandra we will aim straight for Sparro. And when we take Kendra, the whole Kingdom will fall into our hands like a ripe fruit.'

Morfast shook her head. 'How strange.' She thumped her chest. 'That is why the Chetts will never be conquered!'

Ager smiled grimly at her. 'Wrong, Everyone can be conquered. You just have to know a people's weak points and go for them.'

'We have no weak points,' she said.

'Of course you have. Your sooqs and waterholes. Your cattle. Your lack of organisation. Your eagerness to bicker and argue among yourselves. All of these can be exploited. As they were by mercenaries and the king of Haxus during the Slaver War. Korigan's father had to go to war against his own people to unite them.'

He went to the washstand, looked around for the water before remembering Morfast had disposed of it. 'How am I supposed to clean myself now?'

'You are cleaned,' she said, and put her fingers through his soaked hair.

'But you are right. We must do something. I will talk to Lynan about it. Maybe he will release the Ocean Clan to scout into Chandra.'

Morfast's eyes lit up. 'To battle?'

Ager shrugged, making his crookback rise in the air like a mountain. 'Maybe. But mainly to find where they are setting outposts so we may take or avoid them when our army finally moves.'

'That could take weeks,' she said excitedly.

Ager laughed. 'Yes. It might take weeks.'

'We would be together. Alone.'

'Alone with a thousand Ocean Clan warriors.'

It was her turn to shrug. 'They are like family.'

Ager groaned. 'Nobody needs that big a family.'

'You are our father, Ager, our chief.'

He nodded and smiled. 'Yes, and proud of it.'

Morfast moistened her lips. 'And we can always add to it.'

Ager's smile turned into a grin. 'That takes practice.'

Morfast took his hand. 'The more the better.'

'I've just dressed,' he protested, but weakly.

Galen thought it was a dry, scratchy, uncomfortable place with more than its fair share of spiders, scorpions and centipedes. That's how he knew Charion would like it.

'Perfect,' she said.

'It would be,' he said under his breath, then louder: 'The hills are higher than I thought they would be.'

'Good defensive terrain,' she mused, 'and they run up close to the river.' She stood on the highest point, a boulder about the size of a house, and looked west and northwest. 'A good view.'

'Can you see Daavis?'

'Not exactly. There is a smudge on the horizon which might be smoke from all the city's kitchens.'

'Or it could just be a cloud.'

'It probably is. But I do see the north road. It is far enough away to look like nothing but a little yellow string.'

'Well, a hideaway with a view of a dusty road. Wonderful.'

'Don't be sarcastic. It doesn't suit you. What this place gives me is a perfect lookout over Lynan's main route of reinforcement from Haxus.'

Galen silently cursed himself; he should have realised the road's importance as soon as Charion mentioned it. He scrabbled to the top of the boulder and stood by her side. 'How's your side?'

She slowly moved her right arm up and down. The arc of the swing she could take increased every day, and the bruising on her chest was now nothing more than a shrinking pinkish-yellow stain. 'I'll be able to use a sword soon,' she said.

'I wondered when you'd get around to that. Use a sword against whom?'

'Lynan, of course.'

'I mean whom specifically?'

She pointed in the direction of the road. 'Against them.'

Galen squinted, barely able to make out a dark ripple on the northern road. 'Troops?'

'Or supplies. Maybe even a small caravan. Whatever it is, destroying it will hurt Lynan.' She continued to gaze northwestwards. 'Look there…'

Again Galen squinted, 'I can't even see the road that way—'

'Exactly, If I'm not mistaken—and,' she said, turning to Galen, 'I rarely am—that is the Elstra Gorge. It runs north-south for about a league.'

This time Galen was keeping up with her. 'A perfect site for an ambush.'

'Exactly. Especially for a force of infantry.'

'You're going to raise infantry?' This was the first he had heard about it.

'God's death, Galen,' she said, shaking her head. 'You nobles of the Twenty Houses really do think the world was made solely for your benefit.'

'What did I do to deserve that slap in the face?' he asked testily.

'Where do you get your horses from?'

'Me personally?'

'You and every other knight.'

'Well, from our stables or farms outside of the city.'

'And on these farms you grow what crops?'

'Not many. They're mainly horse ranges…' His voice dropped away.

'Exactly. You need to be rich to raise horses, especially warhorses, since they need specialised training, feeding and breeding. Look around you. This is farming and wood country. Not poor by any standard, but not particularly rich. The land here is drier and has more clay than you get around Kendra or the green valleys you find everywhere in Chandra. The average farmer might own one horse, two at most, but they're likely to be old hacks with saggy backs and a tendency to bite. That's why I'm going to raise infantry. Besides, if we're going to use this hill as our hideaway, where would you suggest we put the horses?'

'I've never fought on foot,' he said doubtfully.

'Yes you have,' she said, and patted his hand. 'Defending my city, and by all accounts you fought well.'

'How would you know?' he asked, but she could see he was flattered.

'Farben told me. I think he liked you.' Her face grew solemn. 'I hope he is alright.'

Galen looked at the hill from Charion's point of view again and saw that she was right. It gave them an easily defended position, good views over the north road, access to the river, and lots of hidey holes.

'Very well, you've convinced me,' he told her. 'What next?'

'We recruit.'

'As soon as you do, word will spread about what you are doing. The Chetts will learn of it eventually and come looking.'

'Let them. It's about time we gave them a bloody nose again.'

'Do you seriously think we can win?'

Charion half smiled and shook her head. 'By ourselves? Of course not. I'm counting on your queen—sorry, our queen—coming to my rescue eventually. But everything I can do to help her cause I will do. We may only sting Lynan, but it might be enough. It might make all the difference in the world.'

Lynan called his war council together. It was the first time he, Korigan, Gudon, Ager and Jenrosa had gathered in the same room since the fall of Daavis. They met in a room Farben told them had been used by Charion for the same purpose, and sat around a square table. All except Jenrosa seemed relaxed and confident; she wore the tired, sullen expression she had adopted since Eynon's departure, and Lynan did not know what to do to change it. He resolved to talk to Ager about it after the meeting.

'We have a few things to discuss. First, our reinforcements from Haxus have started to arrive.'

'I've seen them,' Ager said disdainfully. 'Dribs and drabs. Just recruits.'

'We should expect little else after what Haxus has been through. But they can be trained up.' He looked meaningfully at Ager, and the crookback sighed his understanding.

'We must also decide on a replacement for Kumul.'

Jenrosa looked up sharply. 'What do you mean by that?' she demanded.

'I mean we need someone to take over command of the banner of lancers,' Lynan said, keeping his voice level. He glanced at Gudon. 'I was thinking of your brother, Makon, but I had need of him elsewhere.

'Third, we must discuss the timing of our attack on Chandra.'

'I've been giving that some thought myself,' Ager said.

Lynan smiled. 'I thought you might have. It wouldn't by any chance involve a long raiding party into Chandran territory?'

Ager looked abashed. 'Possibly,' he said rather too meekly.

'Involving the Ocean Clan?'

Ager shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 'Possibly.'

'First things first,' Korigan said. 'The reinforcements.'

'Three hundred have arrived so far, in four groups,' Lynan told them. 'All spear.'

'How many have you asked Salokan to send?'

'Just over three thousand, almost all of whom will be allotted to defend Daavis; a handful will be sappers, replacing those we lost assaulting this city.'

'They are worth their weight in gold,' Ager said. 'Do you trust the Haxans to defend Daavis for you?'

'Only as much as I need to. If things go according to plan, we will have Sparro before next summer and Daavis will become less important in the scheme of things.'

'Salokan won't make a grab for it?' Gudon asked.

Lynan remembered the last conversation he had with Salokan. 'No. He will never betray us.'

'That won't stop some Haxan defender with imagination trying to seize Daavis in his name.'

'We will leave Chett officers to supervise any defence,' Lynan said, 'and with them a good contingent of Chett warriors.'

'Three hundred reinforcements so far,' Korigan said, shaking her head. 'I hope the flow increases somewhat.'

'Salokan sent those from among his own house troop as soon as he received my request. The remainder have since been conscripted and are being sent on their way south over the next few days. We should have them all halfway through autumn. Furthermore, they bring with them supplies—weapons, horses, some bullion.'

'Bullion?' Korigan looked surprised. 'We Chetts do not need coin for our services!'

'Not for us, cousin,' Gudon said. 'But for the city. Daavis must resume trade if it is to survive, and the Haxan troops will have to be paid.'

'If you're wanting me to train up these dribs and drabs, lad,' Ager said, 'you'll not be letting me dillydally around Chandra with my Ocean Clan.'

'I'm sorry, no,' Lynan said.

'My people will be disappointed.'

'I don't want that to happen, my friend. The Ocean Clan can still carry out its long raid, but they'll do it under Morfast and not you.'

Ager nodded. 'Very well.'

'The lancers,' Jenrosa said, her voice flat. 'Who will you have take them over? Who can replace Kumul in their hearts? And since you let three troops go with Eynon and Makon, you have not much more than that left here. The battle against the knights saw them lose nearly half their number.'

Every word was aimed at Lynan, as if she was insulting him for so neglecting the lancers and in that way the memory of her beloved.

'I do not think anyone will replace Kumul in the hearts of the lancers,' Lynan replied. 'Nor for that matter in anyone else's heart. But I will not punish them for that by leaving them leaderless. We will increase their numbers when we reorganise some of the common banners.' He turned to Korigan. 'Arrange for two hundred more riders to be added to the lancers. Coordinate their training with Ager.'

'I know nothing about heavy cavalry,' Ager said.

'But you know about the discipline necessary to make heavy cavalry work.'

'And its leader?' Jenrosa prodded.

Lynan met her gaze. 'Terin of the Rain Clan.'

Jenrosa's expression was matched by the others'.

'He is too young!' Jenrosa declared.

'Truth, it is a great responsibility for Terin,' Gudon said.

'He has his own clan, and has led one of our banners with skill and courage. As well, he deserves a reward after his part in our victory over the mercenaries. If not for him and his clan, Rendle would never have entered the trap.'

'And who will take over his banner?'

Lynan shrugged. 'It will have to be a clan chief. Many have shown initiative since we moved from the High Sooq in spring. Korigan can choose one she thinks most deserves promotion.'

'Akota of the Moon Clan.'

Lynan looked at her in surprise. 'She sided with Eynon against you.'

Korigan nodded. 'Truth. But she has fought valiantly for your cause since Eynon's return. As well, it will show those that originally sided with Eynon that there is no longer any enmity between the clans of the Chetts.'

'She is old,' Jenrosa mumbled.

'She is experienced,' Korigan countered.

'Then it is settled,' Lynan said firmly. 'Now to the last issue: when do we resume the war?'

'As soon as Daavis is defended,' Korigan said quickly,

'As soon as my clan has finished its raid,' Ager said. 'We cannot invade blindly. Chandra is a much tougher nut than Hume: richer, more populous, better roads, closer to Kendra—'

'We struck at Hume like a grass wolf strikes at karak,' Gudon said. 'Without warning.'

'And we lost,' Ager pointed out. 'We did not know the size and composition of the enemy army.'

Lynan sighed heavily. 'Ager is right. We lost because having made the decision in my heart to strive for the throne of Grenda Lear, I was too eager to come to grips with the Kingdom's army. I wanted it over and done with.'

All eyes settled on him. None had genuinely felt Lynan was to blame for the loss, not even Jenrosa. Lynan saw what they were thinking.

'It was my decision, and that made it my responsibility. All we lost, including Kumul, we lost because I did not have the information I needed about the enemy to properly plan for the battle.'

'Even Kumul would not lay that on you,' Jenrosa said. Now all eyes turned to her. It was the gentlest thing any had heard her say for a long time.

'Thank you,' Lynan said.

'So you will wait for the Ocean Clan to finish their long raid before moving the whole army into Chandra?' Gudon asked.

Lynan nodded. 'We will wait.'

'Truth, little master, I understand your concerns,' Gudon said, 'but think of the advantage gained by striking quickly. You are the White Wolf.'

'There are other reasons to hold off,' Lynan told him, 'reasons I do not want to go into right now. But you must trust me on this.'

Gudon breathed out, looked perplexed, but nodded his agreement.

'Then we have finished,' Lynan told them. They all stood to leave. Lynan went to Jenrosa and placed a hand on her arm. 'Wait a while.' He waited for the others to go and waved her back into her seat.

'I put off making a decision about the lancers for as long as I could,' Lynan said.

'Thank you for telling me,' she said a little stiffly, and then, more easily: 'I knew it had to be done. I suppose I was afraid that replacing Kumul as the lancers' banner leader meant he was never coming back.'

'It wasn't just that which delayed me,' Lynan said, speaking slowly. 'I don't know if I should tell you this, I think you deserve to know. We have always been friends, but sometimes I cannot do the things for my friends that I would like to.'

Jenrosa looked at him with curiosity. She had no idea what he was talking about. 'What do you mean? What else delayed your decision?'

'Many of the lancers expressed to me or Ager their wish that you take Kumul's place as their banner leader.'

Jenrosa blinked. The idea seemed to her at once both absurd and desirable. She was no warrior, but to have carried on Kumul's work, and to do it in Kumul's name! 'Why didn't you tell me?' she asked.

'I'm telling you now.'

'But why didn't you consult with me on this?' Her voice became strident.

'The time when I had to consult with you or Ager or anyone else on how to lead this army is gone.'

'That's what hurt Kumul the most!' she blurted out. She gasped even as she finished saying the words and turned away from Lynan.

Tears stung Lynan's eyes. 'Yes, and knowing that hurt me as well. But understand, Jenrosa, my decision was made for everyone's good. You are a brave fighter, but you are no warrior, and I needed a warrior to lead the lancers. The lancers themselves—like both of us—wanted to keep Kumul any way they could, and having you as banner leader was a way for them to do that; but it would have been wrong. The last reason, the best reason, although you may not agree, is that you have a role to play in this army, a role no one else can fulfil. You are—'

'No!' she cried over him. 'Don't say it, don't say that word!'

Lynan looked at her with sadness and bewilderment. He hated to see her so distressed but did not completely understand where the distress came from. He recognised it stemmed from more than her grief over the death of Kumul, but that was all. If only he could ask her…

'Alright,' he said, and put a hand out to touch her, but she stood up suddenly and retreated from him.

'Are we finished?'

The tone in her voice told him they were, whether he wanted them to be or not. 'Yes.'

She nodded curtly and left.

Charion, crouching below the rocky outcrops that marked the lip of Elstra Gorge, gently slapped the shoulder of each of her new soldiers. They were a mixed bag but among the first to volunteer to fight for Hume and, even more importantly, were acquainted with the bow, even if it had been for hunting small game to supplement their diet as farmers or craft workers. She had sixty archers lined along the top of the gorge. Forty troops were armed with hand-to-hand weapons, spears mostly but a few with swords inherited from military service or from some ancestor who had done likewise, and were under the command of Galen and situated in a dry river gully that ran into the gorge near its southern end. She got to the end of the line and risked peeping over the outcrop to see Father Hern on the opposite side, responsible for half the archers. They gave each other a short wave, then both turned their attention to the column snaking its way through the gorge. Charion estimated there were about a hundred and fifty enemy soldiers, marching two abreast, divided into two sections with a large baggage train in between. They were all infantry, all armed with spear and sword and wore a mass-produced helm as their only protection. Even from where she was Charion could tell the enemy were as new to the military life as her own soldiers; they carried their weapons either too stiffly or without any care at all, and their helms did not always fit as well as they should. Furthermore, and most importantly, they had no scouts out front or on the flanks. They could not have given her an easier target.

The hard part was waiting for exactly the right moment to strike. She kept a keen eye on her own soldiers, ready to stop anyone from standing and shooting prematurely: with the enemy so close that was a real temptation.

She risked peeping one more time, to check she had accurately estimated their rate of march. Close enough, she decided, sank back down and started counting. When she reached two hundred she checked one more time. The last soldiers in the column were lined up with her position. It was time.

'Now!' she cried, leaping up. The enemy, every one, looked her way just in time to greet the thirty arrows that whistled down on them from her side. Most missed their targets, but three struck mortal or crippling blows, and another ten stuck in arms or legs. Right after this Father Hern called out; and dazed and confused, the enemy obligingly looked the other way just in time to receive another thirty arrows; these—having been better aimed—hit more targets.

The column collapsed into confusion as a second flight of arrows from both directions swept their line. Most fell in panic, some because they were hit. No one gave orders. Another flight of arrows. By now half the rear section of the column had been hit. Soldiers were rolling on the ground moaning and shouting in pain.

'Move along!' Charion ordered, and her thirty archers half ran fifty metres south and started shooting at the vanguard. Hern let his group fire two more times into the rear before marching them south as well. In just a few minutes the enemy bolted. They dropped their weapons and started running back the way they had come. Charion, waiting for just this moment, ordered her archers to concentrate their shooting against the animals drawing the carts and wagons in the baggage train, Many of the arrows hit their target, but only a few caused immediately fatal wounds, most of the animals rearing and twisting across the road, blocking it with their loads. The soldiers of the van scrambled over the animals and each other to get away. Charion now gave her final signal, two arrows fired at the mouth of the dry gully. A second later Galen and his forty warriors streamed out and slammed into the fleeing soldiers. They showed no mercy, unhesitatingly striking the enemy down from behind and flinging corpses aside to get at new targets. As the infantry hacked their way north, the two groups of archers ran to their original position to pour more arrows into the still disorganised rearguard. Some of the enemy at the very end of the column managed to escape the slaughter, but few others.

The battle was over quickly, and the gorge was filled with the smell of blood and death. Crows and even hawks were already circling above, waiting for the feast to start.

Charion joined Galen at the baggage train. He held up a handful of gold coins. 'Money!' he shouted at her. 'Haxan gold and silver. Enough to raise a small army!' He rushed to a couple of spilled boxes; straw littered the roadway, soaking up blood, and amid the straw were swords. Nearby wagons held many boxes the same size. 'And we have enough arms now to equip it!'

Charion nodded. 'We have to move,' she said levelly. 'It's possible the Chetts sent a troop to escort this column on the last stage of their journey.'

Galen grinned at her. 'If not, they will in the future.'

'And that will slow down Lynan even further.'

Galen patted her shoulder. 'You could at least offer a small smile. This is a wonderful victory! Look what you have done with only one hundred raw recruits!'

'Against equally raw, totally surprised and very tired recruits,' she said. 'But yes, the victory is important. It will help raise morale and improve enlistment.'

Galen became more serious. 'And ensure Lynan comes after us.'

Now Charion smiled, but there was no humour in it. 'With any luck.'

Ager had been given permission to ride with his clan as far as the border with Chandra. It would take three days to get there from Daavis, three days he intended to enjoy to the full. For the first few hours he set up a hard pace, eager to get the cobwebs out of his mind and those of his warriors. City living had its advantages, but it limited how you looked at the world and your place in it. Mounted on a horse, the wind in your hair, the smell of trees and earth in your nostrils, the sound of birdsong in your ear, the feel of raw sunlight on your skin, life broadened by the moment; so did Ager's grin as the city fell further and further behind.

Just before noon Ager became aware of a heavier, deeper sound in the ground, as if the surface he was riding on had changed, but then he sensed a change in his warriors, a ripple that moved up the column from the rear to the van. He looked over his shoulder and groaned, seeing with his one good eye the unmistakable figure of Lynan riding his way.

He's changed his mind and is going to ask me to com back to Daavis today, he thought. Then he noticed two other details. Lynan's pennant—the gold circle in a dark red field—fluttered behind him, and the column of riders was noticeably thicker than it should be, four horses abreast instead of two.

'He's brought his Red Hands with him,' he said aloud.

Morfast looked at him. 'Lynan?'

Instead of answering, Ager put his hand up to stop the column and waited, trying to ignore the hundred questions that rose in his mind.

A minute later Lynan had caught up. He reined in, and sitting beside him was Gudon grinning like a genial idiot.

'Decided to join us in Chandra, your Majesty?' Morfast asked lightly.

Lynan smiled at her. 'I wish it were so.' He settled back in his saddle and breathed deeply. 'I wish to God it were so.'

'What's happened?' Ager asked, suddenly impatient.

'We lost a column,' Lynan said flatly.

'Where?'

'In a gorge about a day's travel north of here. Over a hundred reinforcements from Haxus were cut down, and all the supplies and money they escorted were taken.'

'When?'

'Three days ago. Some of the survivors came into Daavis just after you and your clan left.'

'And who?'

Lynan shrugged. 'None of the survivors could tell us. It was a well-laid ambush. Archers on either side of the gorge, a reserve of infantry hidden in a gully. They didn't stand a chance.' He looked up at the sky for a moment, then back down at his hands. 'Things were getting too simple, weren't they, old friend? I should have known something like this would happen. It's just that in all the histories I've read, taking the capital of a Kingdom ends all resistance.'

'This is a civil war,' Ager pointed out. 'We don't have any histories of civil wars, except legends from the earliest days.' He could see from Lynan's face that there was something more. 'Go on.'

'The only thing all the survivors agreed upon was that the ambush was set off by a dark-haired woman.'

'Charion. We knew she had escaped.'

'To Chandra we thought, and then to Kendra.'

'Out of the way,' Gudon added.

Lynan leaned across and patted Ager's shoulder. 'Well, at least you know now that I haven't come to drag you back to the city.'

Ager looked up suddenly, startled. 'You haven't got all the banners out searching, have you?'

Lynan looked disappointedly at Ager. 'I realise it could be a diversion, to empty the city of defenders. Korigan is still there, with the rest of our army. We only need our two banners to hunt down Charion. If her force had been any larger than one or two hundred there would not have been any survivors from the Haxan column.'

Ager nodded meekly by way of apology. 'So we ride north?'

'Until we get to the gorge. Then we search for spore.'

Ager brightened. 'A hunt!'

Gudon's grinned widened. 'Truth, my friend, a hunt!'

Father Hern finished counting out two gold Haxan pieces and four silver. He carefully retied the leather money pouch, put it in his cloak pocket, and pushed the coins across the table in his kitchen. A small, dark-eyed man sitting opposite him looked at the coins for a moment, then at the priest.

'This comes from our queen?'

'You have known me for most of your life, Kivilas, and you trust me. I tell you that Queen Charion led the attack at Elstra Gorge. Hume is fighting back against the demon Lynan.'

'The demon Lynan?' Kivilas smiled quizzically at that, 'You pushing politics or religion, Father?'

'I have heard first-hand from Charion what this Lynan Rosetheme is like,' Father Hern said. 'He is a demon.' His hands shook a little and he had to place them flat on the table to stop them. 'I tell you plainly, I did not want to get involved, but after learning from Charion herself what this Lynan has become I felt I had no choice but to assist in any way that I could.'

Kivilas's smile disappeared and his face went dark. 'I have heard stories about his sister as well. I heard at the last fair that her daughter was born vomiting blood and killed two of the midwives before it could be slain.'

Hern paled. Even he, with his Church connections, had not heard that story. But he did not doubt it. 'All the Rosetheme brood are cursed, I think. There is even a tale told of Olio, whom everyone knows is as gentle as a babe…'

Kivilas nodded to show that he too had heard this.

'… performing dark magic the night Kendra went up in flames.'

'Kendra has been destroyed?' This Kivilas could not believe, and his expression showed it. Kendra was indestructible. Even Hume farmers like himself, common as muck and filled with far more common sense than imagination, believed there was something almost mystical about the capital of Grenda Lear—the capital of the world!

Hern shook his head. 'Not entirely. But everywhere from the palace to the docks is burned down.'

'Then Areava will not send an army north! She will use it to rebuild her city!'

'Charion and her Kendran aide assure me that Areava will not fail us. We can expect an army soon, maybe even before winter.'

'No,' Kivilas said. 'You are a priest and are used to believing in difficult things, but I am a farmer and depend on what I see with my own eyes. I fought in the Slaver War, and I can tell you that no army moves that fast.' He grimaced then. 'Except maybe one from the Oceans of Grass.'

Hern pushed the coins even further across the table. 'I know of your service to Hume and the Kingdom. That is why I asked you to come. Your village can raise seven soldiers for Charion's army, eight including you. There's the equal of twenty-four silver pieces, pay for a full month and in advance. Take it and join our cause.'

'We don't need the money to prove our loyalty to Queen Charion.' He said her name almost with reverence.

'Charion knows this. She is not buying your loyalty but making sure your village does not lose out by sending its best and strongest to join her. This money will keep food on the tables of your families while you are away.'

Kivilas grunted in approval. His hand hovered over the coins. 'And after the first month?'

'More bullion, captured from Haxus convoys.'

Kivilas grinned and scooped the coins into one hand. 'You'll have your eight soldiers.'

'Not me,' Hern said seriously. 'Queen Charion.'

It took the Chett force over a day to reach the gorge. They found signs of the slaughter readily enough. The road was littered with the half-eaten corpses of over a hundred soldiers. Flies hung in the air as thick as a dust cloud, and birds called and wheeled overhead waiting for the living to get out of the way so they could resume their feasting. Before anything else, Lynan ordered the dead be gathered together in a huge pyre. It was noon before the job was done, and the stinking air was almost unbreathable. Lynan himself set fire to the mound.

The Chetts spread out north and south, east and west of the gorge, looking for any and every sign of passing. It did not take them long to discover that the enemy had approached from the east and then returned that way, heavily laden with booty.

'What lies between here and Sparro?' Lynan asked Ager.

'Woods, some hills, a few towns,' Gudon answered before Ager could open his mouth. 'Remember, little master, that I used to pilot a barge up and down the Barda River. I got to know this part of the world quite well.'

'How many towns?'

Gudon shrugged. 'I don't know. They have regular fairs, so a reasonable number, and villages between them.'

'I don't like this,' Ager said. 'The enemy could disperse among any of the towns or villages, making it almost impossible to track them all down, especially their leaders.'

'Nonetheless, we'll try,' Lynan said. 'I don't want the enemy working behind my lines if I have to advance on Chandra.'

'That could take us the rest of autumn,' Ager pointed out.

'We move east until we come to the first settlement. There we get descriptions of the local area and we split in four groups to cover as many towns and villages as possible in the shortest amount of time. Ager and Morfast divide the Ocean Clan; Gudon and I divide the Red Hands.'

The others had no better idea, so the party continued east until they came to a place too small even to be described as a village. The inhabitants were small plot farmers, working land rented from an owner who spent most of his time in Daavis. Their knowledge of the local area extended no more than twenty leagues in any direction, but that did include a couple of villages and one town.

'What's the town called?' Ager asked.

'Was called Esquidion,' one farmer told them.

'Was called?' Lynan asked.

The farmer took a step back. He did not mind talking to the ugly bastard with a misshapen back, but this short, pale, scarred man scared him. 'Priest's Town, if you don't mind.'

'I don't mind,' Lynan repeated, puzzled by the expression. 'But why Priest's Town?'

The farmer looked at him as if he was stupid.

'Because a priest lives there, I dare say,' Ager suggested.

'That's right,' the farmer agreed. 'He came about ten years ago and built a chapel an' all, and does the rounds for the whole area. He could draw you a map, if you don't mind.'

'I don't…' Lynan shook his head. What was the point? 'We go to Priest's Town then. Have you seen any soldiers come this way?'

'Only yerselves.'

Following the farmer's rather vague directions they finally found a large town around noon. Leaving most of their column behind under the command of Morfast, Lynan, Gudon and Ager rode down the dusty avenue that passed for the main street. They asked a local if the place was indeed Priest's Town, and were told in no uncertain terms that it was still called Esquidion by those born and bred here.

'But there is a priest hereabouts?' Ager asked.

'In the chapel,' the local said, and pointed to a long, low building made from recently cut sandstone at the edge of town.

The three companions rode to the chapel and dismounted. Lynan moved to enter first, but Ager put an arm out and stopped him. 'Let Gudon go first. The priest will not be too surprised by a Chett.' Gudon agreed and entered, followed by Ager and Lynan. It was dark inside, and the priest would probably not have made much of any of them. There were low bench seats on either side of the large room they found themselves in with an aisle running between them. At the end of the aisle, and facing the seats, was a plain, strongly-made chair. Behind that was a wall with a doorway.

'The back entrance?' Gudon asked.

'No,' Ager said. 'The main room is not as long as the building. Probably the priest's quarters.'

Gudon went up to the door and knocked. They heard a chair scraping and then footsteps. The door opened and they were confronted by a huge man who seemed to fill the doorway. He looked down at Gudon and blinked in surprise.

'Good Father,' Gudon said in his sweetest tone, 'I hope we did not disturb your meditation?'

'Not at all,' the priest said, a little too quickly for Lynan's ears. 'How may I help you?'

'I come seeking information. I was directed to you.'

'Really? Information of a spiritual sort, perhaps?'

Gudon shook his head. 'Alas, no. We were looking for information about the area; such things as the number of towns and villages, and the number of their inhabitants.'

'I am a priest, not a map maker.'

'You are also learned and well-travelled,' Ager said, stepping from behind Gudon.

The priest did a good job of trying to hide his shock, and Lynan was sure it was not at the sight of the crookback. Working in a farming area like this he was sure to see many with permanent injury of one kind or another; it was Ager himself, and the priest recognised him.

'I recognise your accent,' Ager continued quickly, 'You come from one of the villages to the east of Kendra.'

'You have been there?' the priest asked, trying to sound interested, and to divert the course of the discussion.

'No,' Ager admitted, 'but I have a companion who comes from a village in that area.'

'Do you know the name of the vill—'

'Her name is Jenrosa Alucar,' Ager said over him. 'And before you ask, my name is Ager Parmer.'

'Truth, mine is Gudon,' said the Chett.

'Ah, yes.' Fine beads of sweat had appeared on the priest's forehead. 'I am Father Hern.' He tried to peer behind Ager. 'And your other friend?'

'Friend?' Ager asked. 'Yes, I suppose he is. And my lord. Your Majesty?'

Lynan now stepped aside so the priest could see him clearly. 'You already know who I am, don't you Father Hern?'

The priest looked as if he was about to faint. Gudon reached out and took one of his arms, then helped him retreat into the back room and into a seat. Lynan took the only other seat, on the other side of a narrow table, and nodded to Gudon and Ager. His two companions straightened the priest's chair so Hern was forced to look directly at Lynan.

'And I am?'

'You are Prince Lynan Rosetheme.'

'Almost,' Lynan said. 'I am King Lynan Rosetheme.'

'Ah,' the priest said, and looked away from Lynan's gaze.

'We need a map of the region,' Lynan went on. 'I want every town and village marked on it. I also want any other features peculiar to the area that you know of.'

'Peculiar features?'

'Well, there is a gorge, I believe, some leagues west of here. You could put that on, for example.'

'Elstra Gorge,' Father Hern said, his voice tight.

'Pretty place,' Lynan said. 'I believe.'

'Yes.'

'Have you any paper? Pens? I'm afraid I didn't travel with any.'

The priest stood up, but Ager forced him back down with some force. Everyone heard the heavy jingling come from one of the priest's pockets.

'Don't get up, Father Hern. Gudon will get them for you.'

'In the cupboard behind you.'

Gudon went to the cupboard and scrabbled around before returning with some roughly cut square sheets of paper as well as pen and ink. He placed them before the priest.

'Leave out no detail,' Lynan said. 'Even if you think it is unimportant.'

'May I ask what this is for?' Father Hern asked.

'No.'

The priest unscrewed the ink bottle, dipped the pen and started, quickly sketching in the Barda River, then the gorge and Esquidion, then filling the spaces in between with other names. He paused after a few minutes and considered his work, added a few other items, then slipped the paper across to Lynan.

Lynan blew on it to dry the ink and picked it up. He thought the scale was pretty right, judging by where he placed the gorge and Esquidion in relation to the river, but he did not know the area as well as Gudon and he handed the map to the Chett. Gudon scanned it and nodded.

'It is good work, Father,' Lynan said. 'You were well trained. Did you learn under Primate Giros Northam?'

'No. The primate did not do a lot of teaching when I was a novice. It was the time of the Slaver War, and he was involved in other things.'

'As were my friends here,' Lynan said. 'I was too young, of course.'

'Your father served valiantly.'

'You knew him?'

'Only by reputation. I saw him once with your mother… Queen Usharna.'

'Did you admire him?'

'Very much,' Father Hern said quickly, and Lynan believed him. 'No one in our Church could help admiring the man who destroyed the slavers.'

Lynan nodded, pursed his lips. 'For his sake, then, I may not kill you.'

The priest froze, his hands gripping the arms of his chair so tightly his knuckles went white. 'I'm sorry if I've done something to offend you, Pri—King Lynan—'

'Stand up!' Lynan ordered, and Father Hern stood up, 'Empty your cloak pockets!'

'My cloak pockets?'

'Empty them.'

He did; first the left, some chalk, dried fruit, flint and steel; then the right, a single leather bag.

'Open the bag and empty it.'

Gold and silver coins spilled, rolled and clinked on to the table. Lynan picked one up and studied it. 'Haxan.'

Father Hern's face went white.

'Where is she?'

'She?'

'Queen Charion. Where is she?'

'I've never seen Queen Charion. I couldn't even tell you what she looks like.'

'I see. How long have you lived in Esquidion?'

'Lived here? About ten years.'

Lynan turned to Gudon. 'Return to the column. Bring it in. Burn this town to the ground. If anyone resists, kill them.'

Lasthear took Jenrosa to a smithy she had discovered in the poorer section of Daavis, which possessed a small furnace and produced iron household goods. Lasthear asked the blacksmith if she could demonstrate to Jenrosa her magik, while he worked.

'Magik?' the smithy asked nervously.

'To speed up your work and improve the quality of the iron.'

The smithy grinned then and readily agreed.

Lasthear said to Jenrosa, 'If you try to do both—make the furnace work more efficiently and improve the quality of the iron—you will greatly increase the stress you place on yourself without necessarily succeeding. It is best to concentrate on getting the magik right for one or the other.'

Lasthear stood as near to the furnace as possible and started a chant. Whether it was the magik or simply his belief in the chant's efficacy, the blacksmith began working more energetically. In a short period he made two ladles and a cooking pot. Lasthear withdrew from the smithy to cool down. Sweat poured off her.

'Why don't you take your shirt off?' Jenrosa asked.

'What, here?' Lasthear asked, widening her arms to include the city. 'Amongst all these strangers?' She was astounded.

'But at the High Sooq—'

'At the High Sooq I was working with my people. They have seen naked magikers working next to foundries all their lives. Here everyone wears clothes all the time.'

'Maybe you could start a new fashion,' Jenrosa said, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

'Or a riot,' Lasthear countered.

Jenrosa's smile broadened. 'Well, at least you wouldn't get so hot.'

Lasthear harrumphed and led the way back to the furnace. The new ladles and cooking pot had been placed on a workbench for the blacksmith's son to finish off. The blacksmith looked eagerly at Lasthear. 'What next, Madam Magiker?'

'Have you something especially difficult or expensive to make?'

The man scratched his head. 'Begging your pardon, but everything's difficult in a small furnace like this. Inherited it from my da, o'course, like most in my line, and seeing as how I'm wedged between Orvin the Baker with his oven and Milt the Tanner with his vats, there's no room left to expand—'

'Or something expensive?' Lasthear prompted.

'Well, the last big job I did was a mirror base for some cheap lady near the palace. Cheap for her, I mean. It paid off nearly all my debts—'

'But you have nothing like that now?'

'No, except for a new pan for Orvin next door who wants to try out a flatter loaf.'

'What's so expensive about that?'

'Not expensive so much as extra difficult. It can't have ribbing or beading on the bottom, and has to be the right size. I keep on putting it off until I have more time, but the time don't come and Orvin's getting impatient.'

'He's not the only one,' Lasthear said under her breath. 'Let's do it now. I'll help you.'

The blacksmith grinned and started preparing for the task.

'I'm going to be using the second kind of chant,' Lasthear told Jenrosa. 'Although it takes more concentration to get right, it's slower and more evenly paced and in the end doesn't make you as tired… or sweaty.'

Lasthear started singing, and the blacksmith, instead of setting to with urgent energy, fell in with the pattern of the chant. He worked carefully, methodically, but never tiring, and Jenrosa wondered if the chant had an effect on the blacksmith as much as on the fire.

Jenrosa moved from the side to stand behind the blacksmith, taking care not to get in the way of his swinging hammer, and stared into the furnace. The flames whipped around inside their cage, driven by nature and magik, the heat buffeting Jenrosa like an invisible sea. She found herself almost hypnotised, and without meaning to she started picking up the chant, her voice rising and falling in time with Lasthear's. After a while she noticed there was something in the furnace that was neither flame nor ingot, something that writhed with the fire but was apart from it, more substantial. She tried to focus on the shape and her voice changed without her meaning it to, becoming deeper, stronger, and Lasthear's own voice followed like a stream running into a river.

The shape inside the furnace and the flames around it started to merge, not back into the fire but into something new altogether. Jenrosa could see buildings now, and the flickering silhouettes of people fleeing, burning, tumbling in the dirt. She tried to look away, caught a glimpse of the blacksmith hauling out his iron and hammering it, sparks waterfalling in the air, and then found her gaze following the iron as it re-entered the furnace, saw again the terrible scene of carnage and destruction. She tried to bring the chant back to Lasthear's original song, but it resisted her. She felt as though she was pushing herself into a windstorm, and the air smelled of burning flesh. The fire got brighter and brighter and the vision was swept away, replaced with a face made up of the whitest, hottest flames, the face of Lynan peering out at hers.

She screamed, reeled back and out of the smithy. She heard a terrible oath, a hammer falling, Lasthear calling to her, and then she was out in the cool air, still screaming and falling to the ground. Rough hands caught her, let her down gently. There were more cries. Water hissing and steaming. Lasthear's voice, attenuated, whispery, in her ear.

She opened her eyes. The blacksmith hovered over her, looking frightened and angry. His son cowered behind him. The smithy was filled with smoke. Lasthear put an arm under her back and helped her to her feet.

'The pan's right ruined, Madam Magiker, and that was my most expensive piece of iron.'

'I'll replace the iron,' Lasthear said to him over her shoulder, 'and make sure the pan is done right next time.'

'I don't know what your friend did, but it sure as hell made things hot in there. I think even the furnace might be cracked.'

'My clan will pay for a new furnace, Blacksmith. A better one.'

The man nodded dumbly, not having anything more to say, and shepherded his son away.

'What happened?' Lasthear asked Jenrosa.

'You don't know?'

Lasthear breathed deeply. 'How could I know? What you are capable of is so far beyond my experience…'

'Don't say that. Don't ever say that.'

'Can you stand by yourself?'

'I think so.' Jenrosa took all her weight on her feet; she felt dizzy but did not reach out for Lasthear. 'I'm sorry for what I did to the blacksmith. Was anyone hurt?'

'No. I remember feeling a change in the song, something deeper and more powerful than anything I'd ever experienced before, then you stumbled backwards out of the smithy. At the same time the heat became too much for all of us. I heard a crack, saw the blacksmith throw something in the tub of water and get out with his son.'

People were starting to mill around, and the blacksmith was babbling something to them and pointing at the two magikers.

'Let's get away,' Lasthear said. 'We need to talk about this.'

Slowly at first, but with quickened pace as Jenrosa regained her senses, they made their way back to the palace and Jenrosa's room, getting a ewer of cold water and two mugs from the kitchen on the way.

Lasthear poured the water, and as she passed the mug to Jenrosa asked, 'Can you tell me what you saw in the furnace?'

'How do you know I saw anything?'

'When the song changed I watched you very carefully. I know you saw something in there.'

'I saw a village or town burning, and people on fire, And then I smelled it all burning.'

'No wonder you pulled away,' Lasthear said.

Jenrosa nodded and did not mention seeing Lynan's face at the end. It was that, not the horror of what she had seen before, that frightened her so much she was able to end the chant.

Lasthear looked down into her own mug as if searching for some private vision. 'You have a destiny, Jenrosa Alucar, whether you like it or not.'

'Enough,' Jenrosa said angrily.

'No, it is not enough. You keep on hiding from it, but all you do is hurt yourself more by denying what you are capable of. You keep on stumbling on aspects of your power that are waking now you have been taught how to use magik properly. You cannot avoid what you are. You cannot avoid whatever destiny is laid before you.'

'There is no such thing as destiny. We make our own choices, decide our own future.'

'Undeniably,' Lasthear agreed, and Jenrosa looked up surprised. 'You make the mistake of assuming destiny is set down as law, that destiny demands only one path.'

'Doesn't it? Isn't that what destiny means?'

'Your destiny is where you arrive. How you get there is entirely up to you.'

Jenrosa laughed bitterly. 'So it is set down as law? There is no change to the ending, only the road I take to get there.'

'Which ending? The ending you saw in the river at Kolby? Or in the fire in our camp during the siege? Can you be sure they are endings, Jenrosa, or merely crossroads on your way there?'

Jenrosa looked up at Lasthear, desperation in her eyes. 'I see blood. All the blood of the world. That is all.'

Lasthear paled. 'I thought it might be something like that.'

'What does it mean?'

'Death.'

'Of course it means death,' Jenrosa spat, unable to control her fear and anger any more.

'A close death,' Lasthear continued.

Jenrosa shuddered involuntarily. 'I know. I'm sorry.'

Lasthear's eyes widened with understanding. 'And you know whose, don't you?'

Jenrosa nodded savagely. 'Yes. I've known since Kolby. And every time I get a vision it is the same. I know whose death it is.' She closed her eyes in pain and grief. 'And I know I will be the cause of it.'

The very woods that protected their hideaway from easy detection also allowed the enemy to get within arrow shot without being seen. The first sign of anything awry was the scream of a sentry followed by the whistling of several hundred arrows falling among the boulders and trees. Charion and Galen sprung from their cave near the summit of the hill, swords in hand, looking every which way to determine the main axis of the attack, Arrows clattered on the ground nearby. More screams, Soldiers scrabbling for gear, sliding for cover.

'How did they find us?' Galen cried.

Charion did not answer. It was suddenly very quiet, There were no more flights of arrows, no more cries of the dying. Even the wounded seemed to be holding on to their breath.

'What is happening?' Galen asked.

Charion waved him silent. She could hear movement coming from the south side of the hill, from where the river ran closest to the hill. She started moving down the slope, but Galen grabbed her arm. 'Don't be a fool.'

Charion twisted out of his grip and glared at him, but she moved no further.

'Get down, your Majesty!' cried a nearby soldier.

'I agree,' Galen said, and squatted behind a low bush, pulling the reluctant Charion down beside him.

'That's twice you've grabbed at my royal person this morning,' she hissed at him.

He looked at her amazed. She had not reacted like that when they first woke this morning. 'What about—?'

'There's a difference,' she said coolly, and turned her attention down-slope again. She could see nothing among the vegetation and rocks, but she knew from the sound that there were a lot of enemy troops coming their way. Another flight of arrows ricocheted off rocks, slapped into leaves and tree trunks, into hands and faces.

'We're in trouble,' she said bitterly. 'We didn't have enough warning to prepare any proper defence. Our people are scattered all over this hill.'

'Do you think we're surrounded?'

'They'd need five thousand to encircle this place completely, and we'd have seen that many coming.'

'Then we can retreat.'

'We can, we have horses. Our recruits can get off the hill, but once on flat ground they'll be pursued and cut down by the Chetts.'

'They could surrender.'

'Would you accept a surrender after having one of your columns slaughtered?'

Galen breathed out heavily. 'No. But the recruits have a better chance than you say. They can get away in the woods—the Chetts have to go on foot there too—and our people are locals.'

Charion shook her head. 'I don't know…'

'What will happen if we stay here?'

'We'll die,' she admitted. 'Like we should have died in Daavis.'

'That's an incredibly stupid and callous thing to say,' Galen said.

She touched his face. 'Yes, I'm sorry. We have to save as many of these farmers and townspeople as possible. If only we'd had more time I could have done something with them.'

'You already have. We've tagged the grass wolf, and with luck we'll still get away with it.' He risked looking around the bush. 'Still clear. You go right, spreading the word. I'll go left. We'll meet on the other side then descend to the horses.'

Charion nodded, leaned forward and quickly kissed Galen on the lips. 'I think I love you,' she said breathlessly and then was gone.

'Thanks,' Galen said to air, and went the opposite way.

Lynan gazed at the blood on his hands. It had gone dark and gathered in the creases in his palms until his hands looked like they had been criss-crossed by red spider webs.

'The arrows are having an effect,' Ager, squatting next to him, said to no one in particular.

Gudon grunted in agreement, but Lynan ignored him. He was absorbed by the colour of his hands. He noticed the blood has also crusted under his fingernails. He curiously sniffed the ends of his fingers.

'Priest's blood,' he muttered to himself. It smelt no different to him than anyone else's, which was a disappointment. He had expected there to be something about it that was special somehow, tinged with the sacred. He remembered the priest bleeding after he had stabbed him. At first he had been shocked, as much by his own action as by the amount of blood, but that had changed to a terrible, secret glee, and for a fraction of a moment he understood Silona's desire for warm blood.

'Lynan, it is almost time,' Ager said to him.

Lynan looked at him, blinked. His friend was a little out of focus. He blinked again. 'What?'

'To attack. Our arrows won't last forever.'

'Of course,' Lynan said, and then he shouted: 'Enough!' The Chetts put their bows away. He turned to Ager. 'Now we see if all your short-sword training with the Red Hands and Ocean Clan will pay off.'

'It will,' Ager said confidently, drawing his short sword and kissing its blade. He met Lynan's gaze. 'Just give the word.'

Lynan drew his own sword and stood. 'Up the hill!' he roared, and his voice was met with the bloodthirsty wolf calls of nearly two thousand Chetts as they followed Lynan and Ager and Gudon up the slope. Arrows fell among them, some finding a target, but not enough to slow them down. They hit the first hastily organised ring of defenders like a flood water, running over it easily, stabbing any who stayed to fight, shouting curses at those running away.

Lynan paused to survey the summit and saw that the defenders everywhere were fleeing, but there was some order to it. For a moment he feared an ambush, then realised they had had no time to set one up. They had been ordered to run. They were getting away from him, from his vengeance. Anger boiled up in him. He screamed and set off in pursuit, leaping over rocks, clambering over boulders that would stop anyone else. He fell on two or three running defenders at a time, stabbing with his sword in one hand and dagger in the other, then rushing on to the next group. Word spread ahead of him, cries of fear and despair, and he used the sound to track them down and kill them. He reached the summit before anyone else and looked down the other side.

Too many for him to catch up with them all, and his brave Chetts were too far behind to make any difference. He turned and shouted for his warriors to go back down, get their horses and circle around the hill; that way at least they would trap some before they reached the relative safety of the woods along the river. The command was passed on. Then he resumed his chase, his skin tight across his face, his eyes yellow with wild fury, bounding down the opposite slope like a goat, from boulder to boulder, flying over the deserting enemy and landing in front of them, killing, tearing, paying them back for daring to attack his soldiers in his Kingdom. As the sun went down he made his way to the bottom of the hill, his arms and hair red with blood, his lips and cheeks flecked with gore.

Charion pulled hard on the reins and her horse wheeled around. Galen, behind her, took the reins from her.

'What do you think you are doing? The Chetts can't be more than half a league behind us!'

She looked wildly at him. 'God's death, man, can't you hear him?'

Galen swallowed back his fear. 'Of course I can hear him! The whole bloody world can hear him! He's more demon than man! What are you going to do?'

'Stop him! He's slaughtering my soldiers, hunting them down like karak!'

'Not all of them, Charion! Many will escape. It is almost dark and they are already reaching the woods. You will only die if you try and confront Lynan by yourself.'

'What difference does it make?' she cried at him. 'You told me what he did to your knights. Could I stop him if I had a huge army behind me?'

Galen shook his head. 'I don't know—'

'Then let's just end it now! Why keep on running?'

'Because I'm not giving up hope, and I'm not going to let you give up hope either.'

Charion stopped resisting him, and he pulled her horse around again and kicked his own into a trot. After a while she took the reins and rode beside him. He could hear her crying softly in the night, then found himself doing the same.

Lynan met his army at the bottom of the hill. He did not know how many he had killed, but he was still filled with an uncontrollable rage. He stared wide-eyed at his Chetts, and they could not meet his gaze. Even Gudon had to look away from him. Only Ager One-Eye, who had seen more horrors in his time than any in that group, could match him. 'Are you alright?' he asked.

Lynan nodded stiffly. 'Yes. No sign of Charion?'

'No.'

Some of his Red Hands pushed a group of men towards him. They were wounded, exhausted, obviously terrified of Lynan.

'Who are they?'

'Prisoners, your Majesty,' one of the Red Hands said.

'Did I say anything about taking prisoners?'

The Red Hands glanced at each other, then shook their heads.

'We should take them back to Daavis with us for interrogation,' Ager said.

'For what purpose?' Lynan demanded. 'Their little army is scattered, their leader fled. Why keep these traitors alive?'

'Traitors?' said one of the prisoners, then blanched when he realised what he had done.

Lynan took a step towards him, his hand outstretched to take him by the throat. A young, red-headed man. Lynan stopped in midstride.

'I know you,' he said under his breath.

The man started shaking uncontrollably.

'I have seen you somewhere before,' Lynan continued. His hand shot out, grasped the man around the jaw and pulled his face right next to his own. 'What is your name?'

The man could not help staring into those yellow eyes, could not help being aware of the enemy's hard, white skin, could not help soiling himself in fear and pain.

'Answer me!' Lynan cried.

Ager put a hand on his shoulder. 'Lynan, he can't speak. You have broken his jaw.'

Lynan threw the man to the ground and drew his sword. With one savage swipe he decapitated the prisoner. Hot blood hissed over him. He bent down to pick up the head by its red hair. He brought the face right up against his again. 'I damn well do know you.' He turned to Ager. 'You have my horse?'

Ager made a signal and a Chett brought his mare up for him. He mounted easily, still holding the severed head in one fist. He glanced at his Red Hands. 'We don't need any prisoners. Kill them all.'

As the column turned and started its way back to Daavis, all could hear the screams of the prisoners being slaughtered behind them. Gudon rode next to Ager, and together the two of them watched Lynan in the van.

'What's he doing?' Gudon asked.

'Talking to the head,' Ager said flatly.

'He called the prisoners "traitors",' Gudon said.

'And when he was interrogating the priest, he introduced himself as King Lynan. He's never done that before.'

'Truth, my friend.' Gudon licked his lips nervously. 'Tell me, Ager Parmer, clan chief, do you recognise our Lynan any more?'

Ager felt a spasm pass along his deformed spine, a sensation he had not experienced for longer than he could remember. He knew what it meant. He was learning to be afraid again.