The Crown of blood

III

He woke the next day with the smell of cooking meat in his nostrils. Suddenly aware that he had not eaten the night before, he sat up to find himself covered by a thick blanket lightly dusted with snow. The smell came from a small fire to his right, where four hares were roasting. Reifan sat close by, turning the meat. Beyond, a large canvas had been tied between two trees to create a windbreak, and in its lee Aroisius and the chieftains talked quietly with the two guides.

Anglhan yawned, stretched and stood up, sweeping the blanket from his lap to his shoulders. Reifan looked over at him with a gappy grin.

"You looked dead on your feet," said the rebel. "I wondered if you would wake up this morning."

"I have you to thank for this?" said Anglhan, lifting up the corners of the blanket.

Reifan shrugged as Anglhan joined him, squatting next to the fire to warm his hands.

"No point letting a man freeze to death. I was going to have to wake you; we need to set off soon."

"After breakfast?" Anglhan said hopefully.

"These are for later," said Reifan. He turned and rummaged through a bag, pulled out half a loaf of hard bread and tossed it to Anglhan. "We've already eaten. Toast that and catch some of the dripping juices."

Anglhan did as suggested, moistening his mouth from a cup filled with meltwater. It was rough fare, but it stopped the rumbling protestations of his stomach. No sooner was he done than Aroisius was calling for everybody to pack up their gear. Anglhan had taken nothing out, and so helped Reifan damp down the fire and wrap the cooked hares.

They set out with the guides in the lead, heading through the trees to emerge on a steep hillside dotted with dark boulders jutting from the snow.

"Be careful of drifts," warned Gerril. "You could sink past your head and we'd never find you."

Step by step they forged their way down the slope using staves cut from branches. At the base of the hill, a half-frozen stream trickled from coldwards and they filled their canteens. Turning upstream, they followed its course until a large rock provided a means to jump across to the other bank. Ahead the shoulder of the mountains jutted across their path, rising up behind the white humps of the hills. Anglhan did not enjoy the prospect of tackling the steep obstacle and it was with some relief that they turned dawnwards just after noon, following a much wider river as it rushed down from the mountains towards the Ersuan flats.

Anglhan ached from scalp to toes and had neither the breath nor the inclination for conversation, despite his continuing ignorance concerning their destination. Though the others fared better than he did, little was said as each man concentrated on keeping his footing as the snows continued to fall on the highlands. With only the wind and the scrunch of feet in snow to break the stillness they forged onwards, their route taking them lower and lower.