The Ironhand's Daughter

CHAPTER XII

THE CITY WAS unlike anything Sigarni had ever seen. Crammed together, the houses reared like cliff faces, dotted with lighted windows. Narrow alleyways filtered off like veins in the flesh of a stone giant. Arched tunnels led deeper into the city, and these boasted oil-lamps, hung at regular intervals to guide the traveller. There were signs on every alley, giving names to the streets and the wider avenues that led off from them. Sigarni felt hemmed in and dwarfed by the colossal nature of Zir-vak.

Ironhand was less impressed. 'They have structures in Kushir of far greater beauty,' he said, 'and there is evidence at least of planning there. These ... huge hovels give a man no space to breathe."

'It is oppressive,' agreed Ballistar. They wandered on aimlessly fora while until they saw the lights of a tavern. Ironhand headed for it. 'Wait!' called Ballistar. 'How will we pay?'

Ill think of something," said Ironhand.

The tavern was more than half empty, and few diners sat at the rough-built tables. There was a long, timbered drinking area at which several men stood, downing ale. Ironhand moved to the bar and a serving maid approached him. She was extraordinarily fat, her mouth turned down at the corners, her eyes small and seemingly set in several acres of unnecessary flesh; her enormous breasts sagged over the bar.

'What is there on offer?' asked Ironhand, as Sigarni and Ballistar moved alongside.

'To eat or to drink, or both?" she countered, idly wiping at the counter with a stained rag.

'Just to drink,' said the silver-bearded giant.

'We have ale or water, or if you'd rather something hot we have a dry root tisane.'

'And with what do we pay?'

'What?'

'What currency do we need? We are strangers here and have been told that gold is of no use.'

'You don't pay,' she said, as if talking to someone retarded. 'Everything's free ... has been for years. So what will it be?'

'Ale,' said Ironhand.

'I'll have water,' said Sigarni. 'Where can we find lodgings for the night?'

'Wherever you choose. There's a room upstairs that you're welcome to. There's no fire, mind - no wood, you see. But the oil-lamps keep the room warm enough. There's only one bed, but it's big enough for the two of you,' she said, gesturing towards Ballistar and Sigarni. 'As for him .. . well.'

'I could always share your bed, my pretty,' said Ironhand. 'I expect it's a large one.'

'The cheek of the man!' said the woman, blushing.

'Those that don't ask never get,' said Ironhand, with a wink. 'And you've no idea how long it has been since I've enjoyed the company of a handsome woman.'

'Handsome, indeed! I was a fine-looking young woman, I'll have you know. Men travelled far to court me - and I don't take kindly to being mocked.'

'I would never mock you, my lovely. I've always preferred my women with a litde meat on their bones. You think on it, while you fetch us our drinks. I'm a man of considerable patience.'

Ironhand turned away and strode to a nearby table, where Ballistar sat alongside him. 'Good God, man, how could you make love to that ... that... sow?'

'She looks mighty good to me, lad. Now there's your sort of woman,' he added, pointing to another serving maid carrying a tray to the far table. She was slim and dark-haired, no more than seventeen. Ballistar stared at her with undisguised longing. Ill call her over,' whispered Ironhand.

'No!' squealed Ballistar.

It was too late, for Ironhand waved at the girl. She finished delivering the dishes to a table by the window, then walked over. 'My friend, here, ...' began Ironhand.

'For pity's sake!' snapped Ballistar. He smiled sheepishly at the maid. Tm ... er ... sorry.'

'What he's trying to say, my lovely,' continued Ironhand, 'is that he is smitten by your beauty.

If I were a younger man I'd fight him to the death for you. Now we are strangers in this city, and have no understanding of the normal practices. It will have to suffice that he finds you astonishingly attractive and would like to spend a little time with you when you are finished with your work. What do you say?'

The girl smiled and stared hard at Ballistar, who felt he had reddened to his toes.

'He is a handsome boy,' she said, 'And you are an old devil. However, since you've already seduced my mother - and that puts me out for the night -I think I will spend a little time with the young man. The rooms upstairs are all numbered. I shall be in room eleven in an hour or so.' Reaching out, she cupped Ballistar's chin. 'Your beard is soft,' she said. 'I like that.'

Her mother appeared, bearing a wooden tray on which was set a pitcher of ale, a jug of water and three tankards. She set it down carefully and turned to Ironhand. 'Don't you be drinking too much of that,' she said. 'It has a habit of turning hard men to softness, if you take my meaning.'

Ironhand's laughter bellowed out. Grasping the woman round her ample waist, he drew her into his lap. Then taking the pitcher, he raised it to his lips and began to drink. Ballistar and Sigarni watched in amazement as he downed more than half of it. 'By God, that's better,' he said. Then he rose, lifted the astonished woman into the air and began to spin and dance.

'She must weigh a ton,' whispered Ballistar to Sigarni. 'How does he do that?'

Ironhand returned to the table, still carrying the woman. 'It's no good,' he said. 'I can wait not a moment longer. I'll see you both in the morning." So saying, he carried his conquest from the room.

For a little while Ballistar and Sigarni sat in silence. At last he spoke. 'The woman I'm going to see... I don't... what should I...?'

Sigami laughed softly. 'Do whatever comes naturally. Sit with her and talk for a while. My advice would be to tell her that she is your first, and that you are unskilled.'

'I couldn't do that!'

'She will know anyway. Enjoy yourelf, Ballistar. And make sure that she too has fond memories of the meeting. Too many men get carried away by their lust, and forget that their partners need loving too.'

'How do I...?'

'This is not a lesson, Balli. Kiss, touch and explore. Make it last. This is the one experience you will never forget.'

He grinned. 'I can't believe this. When we get back I'm going to pick up the little wizard and kiss both his wizened cheeks!'

'He'll turn you into a spider and tread on you,'

'Will you be all right alone?'

Leaning forward, she covered his hand with her own. 'I stood in a cave and waited for demons, Balli. I think I'll probably survive a night in a strange inn, don't you?'

They sat and talked for a while, then the young maid came for Ballistar and Sigarni smiled at the look of sudden panic that flashed across his handsome face. 'Go,' she said, 'enjoy yourself.'

Alone now, she sipped the water and concentrated on the magical events that had overtaken them in Yur-vale. Three separate bursts of magic: the growth of Ballistar, the sprouting of the bow and the rebirth of Ironhand. The dwarf had become a man, strong and straight. Why? And why the bow, and not the arrows? She had tried to discuss it with Ballistar, but he had merely shrugged and said, 'It was magic. Who cares why?'

But there must be laws governing magic, she thought. Ironhand had been reborn through a piece of dried bone. But what of the bone tips on her arrows? Why had they not grown into deer? And the leather of her belt or boots - why had these items remained intact?

Taliesen had warned that this was a world of strong magic, and that it would affect them far more than the inhabitants of Yur-vale. What had he said about his fellow sorcerer? He had eaten pork and it had swelled inside him? Sigarni shuddered. Like the bone of Ironhand, the flesh had reconstituted itself in his belly and he had been ripped to pieces from within by a live and panic-stricken boar.

Reaching for the water goblet, she winced as the cold metal edge pushed at the still healing cut on her palm.

And instantly she had the answer. On the night before the journey she had held Ironhand's bone. On the journey itself through the Gateway she had gripped Ballistar's hand.

My blood touched them. The bow also - but not the arrows!

Sigarni rose from her seat and walked upstairs to her room. The bed was deep and soft, but she did not sleep for several hours. When she awoke Ironhand was sitting beside the bed.

'I hope your dreams were good ones,' he said. 'I had none that I can recall," she told him. 'You?'

'I didn't sleep a wink,' he said with a grin. 'But I could eat a horse.' 'That would not be advisable. The horse would eat you.' He looked at her quizzically and she explained about Taliesen's warning. 'Well, then, we had better find the Crown and head back to the Highlands. I want to taste a good steak again, and smell the pines.' 'First we must find the palace, or wherever it is that the King resides.'

'You think he will just give you a national treasure?'

'We'll see.'

*

The King stared from the window of his eighth-floor study, and watched as the enemy siege engines slowly approached the city's north wall. There were seven of them, each around eighty feet high, clad in sheets of hammered iron and impervious to flame arrows. When they reached the walls, which they would within the hour, the fighting would be hard. Close to the wall the towers would lower their drawbridges, and fighting men would pour out on to the ramparts.

His Guards would meet them, blade to blade, hacking and slaying, buying time for the engineers to hurl fire bombs through the apertures. The iron cladding outside would offer no protection to the scores of men waiting on the siege tower stairs.

You are coming to your doom, he told himself. He glanced to his left, where his ceremonial armour was laid out on a bench of oak. You are getting too old to fight, he thought. And what will happen to Zir-vak when you fall in battle? Neither of his sons had yet reached one hundred - and even if they had, he thought with regret, they could not shoulder the responsibilities of command. Perhaps I have been too easy on them.

Stepping back from the window he moved to his desk, lifting a bronze-rimmed oval mirror. The face that peered back at him was grey with fatigue, the eyes dull. Dropping the mirror, he picked up the letter that had arrived the previous evening from the merchant Yos-shiel. Three strangers had come to the city, intent on stealing the Paradise Helm. They would find a fine surprise waiting for them!

A servant entered the room and bowed deeply. 'Majesty, there is a woman who wishes to see you.'

'Tell her I have no time today. Let her make her entreaty to Pasan-Yol!'

'With respect, Majesty, I feel you may wish to speak with the woman. She says she wishes to see you in connection with the Paradise Helm - and she matches the description you gave to the soldiers.'

The King turned. 'Is she alone?'

'No, her companions are with her, Majesty - a white-haired giant and a young man.'

'Are they armed?'

'They gave their weapons to the Royal Sentries.'

Intrigued, the King moved to his desk. 'Show them in - and fetch Pasan-Yol.'

Bowing once more, the servant departed.

As Yos-shiel had reported, the woman was very beautiful, and moved with a grace that stirred the King's blood. 'I understand you claim to be from another land,' he said. 'Where might that be?'

'I could not say where in relation to Yur-vale,' she told him, her voice deep, almost husky. 'We were sent through a magical Gateway.'

The King picked up the letter. 'So Yos-shiel tells me. I must say I find it hard to believe. Could it be that you are spies, sent by the enemy?'

A squad of guards moved in behind the newcomers, 'You wish them arrested, Majesty?' asked Pasan-

Yol.

'Not yet,' the King told the young guardsman. 'They interest me. So tell me, woman, why you are here.'

'To bring back the sun,' she said. The silence in the room grew as the listeners took in her words.

'You are a witch?' asked the King.

'I am.'

'Sorcery has long been considered a crime here, punishable by death.'

The woman smiled. 'Whereas stupidity has obviously not. Do you wish to see the sun shine over Yur-vale?'

The King leaned back in his chair. 'Let us suppose - merely for the sake of argument - that you could achieve this ... this miracle. What do you desire in return?'

'I think the letter from Yos-shiel will answer that,' she told him.

'You know of that - and yet you come here? Was that wise, witch?'

She shrugged. 'The wisdom of any course can only be judged by the outcome. I offer you the sun for a piece of metal. You make whatever choice seems fitting.'

'What do you think, Pasan?' asked the King.

The young guardsman gave a derisory laugh. 'I think they are spies, Father. Let me interrogate them.'

'Yet another numbskull,' said Ironhand to Sigarni, in the same tone of voice. 'You think they are all victims of in-breeding?' The guardsman's sword snaked from its scabbard. 'Put it away, boy,' said Ironhand, 'before I take it away from you and swat your backside.' The guardsman took a deep breath and dropped into a fighting position with sword extended.

'That's enough!' said the King.'Put up your blade, Pasan!'

'You heard what he said, Father!'

'Aye, I did,' answered the King, wearily. 'So let us not be too swift to prove his point.'

'I think a little proofwould not go amiss,' put in Sigarni to the King. 'Do you have a garden here?'

'Nothing grows in Zir-vak,' he said. 'But, yes, there was a garden. I do not go there now, for the sight of it saddens me."

'Take me there,' she said, 'and I will show you something to lift your heart.'

The King stood and moved to the window, where the siege towers were inching ever closer. He swung back to the woman. 'Very well, I will humour you. But know this, if there is no miracle I shall not be best pleased - and the charge of sorcery will be laid against you.'

'If there is no miracle,' said the woman, 'then the charge will be hard to prove.'

For the first time the King smiled. 'Let us go to the garden,' he said.

*

The garden was more than two hundred feet long, and had been designed around a series of winding white-paved pathways. There were three fountains, none of them in use, and the flower-beds were covered with thick grey ash. Scores of dead trees lined the marble walls at the outer edges of the garden, and the area was devoid of any life.

Sigarni felt a moment of fear as she surveyed the landscape. What if her reasoning was flawed?

'I'm looking forward to this,' said Ironhand, with a wink.

'Well,' said the King, 'we are here, and you promised a miracle.' He was standing with his arms folded, his son beside him with hand on sword. The six guards stood nervously by.

Sigarni approached the King. 'May I borrow your dagger, my lord?' she asked.

'What nonsense is this?' stormed the young man at his side.

Sigarni frowned, then raised her arm before him. 'Make a shallow cut, here,' she said, pointing to her forearm.

Pasan-yol drew his dagger, and drew the blade slowly across her skin. Blood welled, and Sigarni walked to a line of dead bushes, kneeling down before the first and holding her arm above the dry branches. Slowly drops of blood dripped to the wood.

Nothing happened. Sigarni stayed where she was, and glanced at Ironhand, who was watching her intently. She had explained her theory to him, and he had listened thoughtfully.

'Well, where is this miracle?' asked the King, his tone hardening.

Ironhand stepped forward and knelt beside Sigarni. 'Touch the bush,' he whispered.

Lowering her arm, her fingers brushed against the wood and she felt her hand grow hot. The blood upon the branches disappeared into the grey wood, which began to swell and grow. Buds appeared, pushing out into new red growth, stretching up towards the iron sky, then darkened to green and finally to brown. Three blooms appeared, opening to roses the colour of Sigarni's blood.

She stood and turned towards the King, ready to present her arguments.

Just then a beam of sunlight pierced the clouds, illuminating the garden. In its bright light the King looked older, more weary, his face lined, dark rings beneath his eyes. 'How have you done this?' he whispered, moving to the rose and kneeling before it to smell the blooms.

'The war must end,' she said. 'That is all that keeps the sun at bay.'

'What are you saying?'

'This is a magical land, Majesty, where the war and the devastation feed the dark side of the magic. Every act of hate, of malice, of bloodlust only serves to fuel the fires beneath the mountains. You are destroying this world with your fighting. Think back to the days before, when the sun shone. The Feast of Athling. There was a three-day truce between the armies; when the righting stopped the sun shone. It was the same when your father was buried: a day of truce. And before the war Yur-vale was a paradise. Can you not see it? In some way the feelings of the people are magnified by the land itself. All this hatred and violence is reflected by the land which, like the people here, is turning on itself.'

'I told you she was a spy!' roared Pasan-Yol. 'This is all a trick to lull us.'

From some distance away came a series of dull, booming sounds, and the faint clash of steel upon steel. The sunlight faded away.

'The siege towers have reached the walls,' said the King. 'I must go now. But I will give your words serious consideration and we will meet again this afternoon. In the meantime I will ask one of my servants to show you the palace museum. There are many wonders there -including the Helm you seek.'

Sigarni and Ballistar bowed. Ironhand merely inclined his head.

'Your tall friend does not care for the formalities. Does he not know it is wise always to pay respects to a king?'

'He does, my lord,' said Sigarni. 'But he is a king himself, and is unused to bowing before others.'

The King chuckled. 'A monarch should have better dress sense,' he said, pointing to Ironhand's ill-fitting red shirt. 'And you, young lady, should have that wound dressed - unless of course you plan to revive my entire garden.' He swung to the young man. 'You cut too deeply, Pasan. See that the surgeon is sent for, and that our guests are looked after.'

'But, Father ...'

'Just do it, Pasan. I have no time for further debate.' The King strolled away, followed by four of the guards.

Pasan glared at Sigarni. 'You may have fooled him with your witchery, but not me. You are an enemy - and enemies are to be destroyed. And look at your rose,' he said triumphantly. 'It is already dying.'

'Aye,' she agreed sadly. 'With every death upon the walls. With every mouthful of corpse meat.

With every word of hate.'

Summoning Ballistar and Ironhand, Sigarni walked back towards the palace.

*

Her arm bandaged, the blood still seeping through, Sigarni sat with Ironhand and Ballistar in the main hall of the Palace Museum. There were statues lining the walls, paintings hung in alcoves, but pride of place went to the Crown of Alwen, which sat upon a slim column of gold within a crystal case. The Helm shimmered in the lamplight and Ironhand gazed upon it with undisguised admiration. 'Had I retained the Crown,' he said softly, 'there would have been no civil war.

Elarine and I could have enjoyed a peaceful reign and you, Sigarni, would have known great joy.'

'I have known great joy,' she said. 'Gwalchmai was a fine foster-father, and I have lived a free life in the Highlands.'

'Even so, I wish it had been different.'

'It is never wise to long for days past,' she told him. 'They cannot come again. What will you do when we get back? Will you announce yourself and lead the army? You are much more suited to the task than I.'

'I think not,' said the giant. 'You are the new Battle Queen. Let it be so. I will advise - and take an hour or two to smite the enemy,' he added with a grin.

'If we get back,' pointed out Ballistar. 'There is no certainty. What if you are wrong about this war, Sigarni? What if the sun does not shine again?'

'I am not wrong,' she said. 'I sensed it from the moment the bow sprouted leaves. This is a land in torment. Everything here is unnatural. When the war ends, so will the upheavals of nature -I am convinced of it.'

'I think you are correct,' said Ironhand, 'but the fact remains that for the war to end, both sides must agree terms. After fighting for this long, such a decision will be hard. There is something else too, daughter. If there is no peace, and the King refuses to give you the Crown, what then?'

'We will leave without it - and fight the Outlanders without the aid ofthePallides.'

'I'm hungry,' said Ballistar. 'Do you think they would allow us a cooking pot? We still have some oats?'

'You could ask,' said Sigarni, gesturing towards the silent guards at the door. But the request was refused, and the trio moved around the museum, studying the various artefacts.

Towards dusk several servants entered, filling the oil-lamps and lighting more. Huge velvet curtains were drawn across the high, arched windows.

At last the King returned. He was wearing armour now, and looked even more weary than he had in the morning. 'Their siege engines were destroyed,' he said, 'but the death toll was very high. I have asked for a truce, and will meet with their King outside the walls in an hour. I want you with me when I speak with him.'

'Gladly, sire,' said Sigarni.

More than fifty lanterns had been set on poles outside the main gates, and a score of chairs were set out in two lines often, facing one another. The night was pitch-black, the lanterns barely giving out sufficient light to see more than a few paces. 'Fetch more,' ordered the King, and two officers moved away into the blackness. The King, now dressed in a simple tunic of blue, sat down, with Sigarni on his left and Pasan-Yol on his right.

Twenty more lanterns were set out.

They waited for some time, and then saw a slow-moving column of men walking from the enemy camp, their King in the lead, wearing silver armour embossed with gold. He had no helm and Sigarni saw that his lean face showed the same edge of weariness as that of the man beside her.

He did not look at the waiting party, but strode directly to a chair opposite the King of Zir-vak and sat down.

'Well, Nashan,' he said at last, as his twenty-man escort fanned out behind him, 'for what purpose do you call this meeting?'

The King told him of Sigarni's arrival, and of the miracle in the rose garden. The enemy leader was less than impressed.

'Today you destroyed a few siege towers, but they proved their worth, did they not? You were hard pressed to stop them. I have now ordered fifty to be built, then Zir-vak will fall. You think me a fool, cousin? You seek to stave off defeat with this nonsense?'

'It is all nonsense, Reva. We fight a war our grandfathers began. And for what? For the honour of our Houses. Where is the honour in what we do?'

'I will find honour,' stormed Reva, 'when I have your head impaled on a lance over the gates of Zir-vak.'

'Then you may have it,' said the King. 'You may take it now. If that will end the war and bring the sun back to our lands, I will die gladly. Is that all you desire?'

'The surrender of all your forces, and the opening of the gates,' demanded Reva.

'The gates are already open,' pointed out the King. 'And we will fight no more.'

'No!' screamed Pasan-Yol. 'You cannot betray us all.'

'It is not betrayal, Pasan, it is a new beginning.'

The young man lurched to his feet, a dagger in his hand. Before anyone could stop him he had rammed the blade into his father's breast. The King groaned and fell against Sigarni. Ironhand, standing behind the King, reached over and grabbed Pasan-Yol by the throat, dragging him away.

Ballistar threw himself at the young man, wrenching the knife from his grasp.

Sigarni lowered the dying King to the ground. 'Reva!' he called.

The enemy King knelt by his side. 'I spoke the truth, cousin. This war is killing the land and it must end. Not just for you and I, and our Houses, but for the land itself. You now have my head, and my city. Let the hatred pass away with my death.'

For a moment Reva said nothing, then he sighed. 'It will be as you say, Nashan. I too have a need to see the sun.' Pulling off his gauntlet, Reva took Nashan's hand.

A man cried out and pointed upwards. A full moon had appeared in the night sky, and the glimmering of distant stars could be clearly seen. 'It begins,' whispered Nashan.

And he died.

Sigarni closed the King's eyes and stood. 'A sad end to a fine man,' she said, turning and walking away. Ironhand released Pasan-Yol, who stood staring at the moon and stars. Then he ran to his father's body, hurling himself across it and sobbing.

Sigarni, Ballistar and Ironhand returned to the museum. Ironhand thundered his fist against the crystal case, which exploded into fragments. Reaching inside, he drew out the Crown and passed it to Sigarni.

'It is time to go,' she said, opening her pack and stowing the Crown inside.

Vast numbers of people thronged the streets, staring up at the sky as the trio made their slow way down to the river.There were several boats moored there and Sigarni chose a small craft, with two oars. Loosing it from its moorings, they climbed aboard, and set out on the journey downstream.

Sigarni sat staring back at the receding city. Ballistar put his arm around her shoulder. 'Why so sad, Sigarni? You saved them.'

'I liked him,' she said. 'He was a good man.'

'But there is something else, I think?' he probed.

She nodded. 'We stopped one war, and now we have the means to pursue another. Is our land any different from this one? How does High Druin feel about the slaughter that is coming?'

'Our fight is not about honour, or a stolen wife,' said Ballistar. 'We fight for survival against a pitiless enemy. There is a difference.'

'Is there? My hatred is all used up, Balli. When they raped me, I wanted to see every Outlander slain. That is not what I desire any more.'

Later the following day, in bright sunlight, the three stood at the circle of stones. Sigarni unwound the bandage on her forearm and used it to press her blood against each of the six stones.

Then the three of them stood at the centre, holding hands and waiting.

'I'm anticipating that steak with great pleasure,' said Ironhand.

'And I can't wait to see their faces when they see what I have become,' said Ballistar happily.

Light grew around them and Sigarni felt dizziness swamp her. Then Taliesen appeared before her, and a cold winter breeze touched her face.

'Did you get it?' the wizard asked.

Sigarni did not answer. In her right hand lay the tiny bone fragment of Ironhand, while clinging to her left was Ballistar the Dwarf, tears flowing from his eyes as he stood, dressed in her outsize leggings.

*

Like all Highlanders, Gwalchmai loved the spring. Life in the mountains was always harsh, and people lived with the constant knowledge that death waited like a monster beyond the firelight.

Winter fell upon the mountains like a mythical beast, robbing the land of crops, of food, sucking the heat from the soil and from the bones of Man.

But spring, with her promise of sunshine and plenty, was a season to be loved. The burst of colour that appeared on the hillsides as the first flowers pushed their way through the cold earth, the singing of birds in the trees, the fragrant blossom on bush and branch - all these things spoke of life.

The ache in Gwalchmai's back had faded away in the morning sunlight, as he sat in the old chair on the porch of his cabin. I almost feel young again, he thought happily. A faint touch of regret whispered across his mind, and he opened the parchment he had held folded in his hand. It had been so long since he had written anything that the words seemed spidery and over-large, like a child's. Still, it was legible.

Time for the last of the mead, he thought. Leaning to his right, he lifted the jug and removed the stopper. Tipping it, he filled his mouth with the sweet liquor and rolled it over his tongue. He had hidden the mead the year Sigarni was brought to him, which had been a vintage year. Gwalchmai smiled at the memory. Taliesen had walked into the clearing, leading the child by the hand. In that moment Gwalchmai had seen the vision of his death. That night, as the child slept, he had taken two jugs and hidden them in the loft, ready for this day.

This day . ..

The old man pushed himself to his feet and stretched his back. The joints creaked and cracked like tinder twigs. Drawing in a deep breath, he swirled the last of the liquor in the jug. Less than half a cup left, he realized. Shall I save it until they come? He thought about it for a moment -

then drained the jug. Letting out a satisfied sigh, he sank back to the chair.

The sound of horses' hooves on the hard-packed ground made him start and panic flickered within his breast. He had waited so long for this moment - and now he was afraid, fearful of the long journey into the dark. His mouth was dry, and he regretted the last swallow of mead.

'Calm yourself, old fool,' he said, aloud. Rising, he strolled out into the wide yard and waited for the horsemen.

There were six scouts, clad in iron helms and baked leather breastplates. They saw him and drew their weapons, fanning out around him in a semi-circle. 'Good morning, my brave boys!' said Gwalchmai.

The riders edged their horses closer, while scanning the surrounding trees. 'I am alone, boys. I have been waiting for you. I have a message here that you may read,' he added, waving the scrap of parchment.

'Who are you, old man?' asked a rider, heeling his horse forward.

Gwalchmai chuckled. 'I am the reader of souls, the speaker of truths, the voice of the slain to come. They found the body, you know, back in your village. Upon your return they intend to hang you. But do not let it concern you - you will not return'

The man blanched, his jaw hanging slack.

'What's he talking about?' demanded another rider. 'What body?'

Gwalchmai swung to the speaker. 'Ah, Bello, what a delight to see you again! And you, Jeraime,' he added, smiling up at a third rider. 'Neither of you like each other, and yet, together you will stand back to back at the last, and you will die together, and take the long walk into Hell side by side. Is that a comforting thought? I hope not!'

'Give me the message, old man!' demanded the first rider, holding out his hand.

'Not yet, Gaele. There is much to say. You are all riding to your deaths. Sigarni will see you slain.'

'How is it you know my name?' demanded Gaele.

'I know all your names, and your sordid pasts,' sneered Gwalchmai. 'That is my Gift - though when I gaze upon your lives it becomes a curse. You buried her deep, Gaele, by the river bank - but you never thought that the old willow would one day fall ... and in so doing expose the grave. Worse yet, you left the ring upon her finger, the topaz ring you brought back from Kushir. All the village knows you killed her. Even now a message is on its way asking that you be returned for trial! Fear not, brave boy, for your belly will be opened at the Duane Pass. No hanging for you!'

'Shut up!' screamed Gaele, spurring his horse forward. His sword lashed down, striking the old man on the crown of his head and smashing him from his feet. Blood gushed from the wound but Gwalchmai struggled to his knees.

'You will all die!' he shouted. 'The whole army. And the crows will feast on your eyes!' The sword slashed down again and Gwalchmai fell to his face in the dirt. All tension eased from his frame, and he did not feel the blades lance into his body.

All these years, he thought, and at the last I lied. I do not know whether Sigarni will win or lose, but these cowards will carry the tale of my prophecy back to the army, and it will rage like a forest fire through their ranks.

As if from a great distance, Gwalchmai heard his name being called.

'I am coming,' he said.

Gaele dragged his sword clear of the old man's back, wiping the blade clean on the dead man's tunic. Stooping, he plucked the parchment from the dead fingers and opened it.

'What does it say?' asked Bello, as the others gathered round the corpse.

'You know I can't read,' snapped Gaele.

Jeraime stepped forward. 'Give it to me,' he said. Gaele passed it over and Jeraime scanned the spidery text.

'Well?' demanded Gaele.

Jeraime was silent for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was trembling. 'It says, "There will be six. One of them a wife-killer. Gaele will strike me down. Jeraime will read my message. "

Jeraime let the parchment fall and backed away to his horse.

'He was a sorcerer,' whispered Bello. 'He said we were all going to die. The whole army! Dear God, why did we come here?'

*

The army made camp near the ruins of Cilfallen: seven thousand men, incorporating four thousand heavily armoured footsoldiers, fifteen hundred archers and slingers, five hundred assorted engineers, cooks, foragers and scouts, and a thousand cavalry. The Baron's long black tent was erected near the Cilfallen stream, while the cavalry camped to the north, the footsoldiers to the east and west and other personnel to the south. Leofric set sentry rotas and despatched scouts to the north; then he returned, weary, to his own tent.

Jakuta Khan was sitting on a canvas-backed chair, sipping fine wine. He smiled as Leofric entered the tent. 'Such a long face,' said the sorcerer, 'and here you are on the verge of a glorious expedition.'

'I dislike lying to the Baron,' said Leofric, opening a travel chair and seating himself opposite the red-clad man.

'I told you, it was not a lie. I aw a merchant - of sorts. Where do you think the first battle will be fought?'

'The Baron believes they will fortify the Duane Pass. We have several contingency plans for such an eventuality. Can you not tell me what they are planning? The fall of the forts has left me out of favour with the Baron. He blames me!'

Jakuta Khan shook his head and adopted a suitably apologetic expression. 'My dear Leofric, I would dearly love to help you. But to use my powers while Taliesen is nearby would be costly to me - perhaps fatal. The old man is not without talent. When he departs I will reach out and, shall we say, observe them. Relax, my boy. Enjoy the wine. It really is very good.'

Leofric sighed. He knew the wine was good; it had cost a small fortune. Accepting a goblet, he sipped the liquid appreciatively. 'You said you had tried to capture the woman before, and had failed. Is she charmed? Is this Taliesen as powerful as you?'

'Interesting questions,' said Jakuta Khan, his jovial round face now looking serious and thoughtful. 'I have pondered them often. The first attempt was thwarted by Taliesen and a Highlander named Caswallon. They took her as a babe, and hid her... here. At that time I did not know of Taliesen's existence, and therefore had no plan to cope with him. By the time I found her hiding place she was a small child; her foster-mother threw her from the cabin window, and she ran to a nearby waterfall. There Caswallon and Taliesen once more intervened, though how they came to be there at that precise time, I do not know. They could not have stopped me, for I was well prepared. Sadly, a third force intervened; I believe it was a spirit. He aided her again - and that cost the life of the dearest of my acolytes. But there it is. That is life and we cannot grumble. But last week I used one of the four great spells. Infallible. Either the victim dies, or the sender. I risked everything. And nothing happened. Curiously, the demon I summoned disappeared as soon as my spell was complete. I can tell you, Leofric, I have spent many a long night since thinking over that problem. I know it is hard for you to imagine, but think of aiming a bow at an enemy and loosing the shaft. As it flies through the air, it disappears. It was like that. The question is, where did the demon go?'

'Did you find an answer?' asked Leofric, intrigued.

'I believe so. I cast the spell just outside Citadel town, inside a circle of ancient stones. They are believed to be Gateways to other worlds. In some way I believe I activated the Gateway. Even so, the creature was completely attuned to Sigarni. Therefore wherever it went, she would have been there also. Mystifying.'

Leofric refilled his goblet. 'Does that mean the creature is still looking for her?'

'It is possible. In fact, it is more than likely. The Gateways operate through time as well as space, and even now he is winging his way towards her. What a cheering prospect - I'll drink to that!'

'Why do you hate her so? Has she done you some harm?'

'Good Heavens, Leofric, I do not hate her. I don't hate anyone. Such a harmful emotion! I rather admire her, don't you? But I need what she has. The blood royal! All the great spells require blood royal. And anything can be achieved with it, lead to gold, immortality - of a kind -

physical strength. As limitless as the imagination.'

'She's just a Highland woman, for God's sake. What royal blood does she carry?'

'What blood? How arrogant of you, Leofric. Your own King does not carry the blood royal, though his grandsons might. Sigarni is the daughter of the great King, Ironhand, who was done to death by assassins centuries ago. He had a fortress near here, colossal and impregnable. Only the foundation stones are left.'

'Then how could she be his daughter?'

'She was carried through a Gateway in time. Do you not listen, my boy?'

'I think the wine must be going to my head,' Leofric admitted. 'It all sounds like gibberish.'

'Of course it does,' said Jakuta Khan soothingly, leaning forward and patting the young man's knee. 'But that is the simple answer to your question. Her blood carries power, and I need that power. If there was a way to utilize it without killing her, I would. For I am not fond of death.'

Leofric refilled his glass for the second time. 'You are a strange man, Jakuta. Perhaps you are insane. Have you thought of that?'

'You are full of interesting ideas, Leofric. It makes you a joy to be with. Let us examine the premise. Insanity: not being sane. Yet how do we establish sanity? Would we, for example, look to the majority of people and claim them as normal and sane?'

'That seems reasonable,' agreed Leofric.

'But the King is not normal like them, is he? He is an extraordinary man, as is the Baron. Does that make them insane?'

'Ah, I see what you are saying,' said Leofric, leaning forward and spilling his wine. 'But then normality is not just a question of who farms or who rules. It is surely an ability to discern right from wrong, or good from evil, perhaps.'

'Now the waters become even muddier, my boy. If a farmer sees a neighbour with a bigger section of land, and more wealth, and sets out to murder him, is he evil?'

'Of course.'

'But if a king sets out to destroy his enemy's kingdom in order to swell his own treasury, then he, by that example, is evil also.'

'Not so!' insisted Leofric, aware he was on dangerous ground. 'There may be many reasons why a nation goes to war. Security, for example, protecting one's borders.'

'Of course, of course,' agreed Jakuta. 'And this war? Against an enemy with no army to speak of, a pretend war for the purpose of self-glorification, is this evil?'

'For God's sake keep your voice down!'

'Sanity is not easy to establish, is it, Leofric? All I know is that one man's good is another man's evil. That is the way life works: it favours the rich and the powerful, it always has and I suspect it always will. I am not rich, but I am powerful. I intend to become more powerful.'

'As powerful as this Taliesen?'

'Less and more. He is a curious fellow. He has vast resources, and chooses not to use them. You would like him, I think, Leofric. He knows more about the Gateways than any man alive. Yet he lives like a peasant, and dresses worse. He has a cloak of feathers that has seen better days, and he has allowed his body to become old and wizened. We have not conversed, but I would make a wager that he believes his powers to be a gift from some supreme source, to be used wisely and carefully.'

'Perhaps he is right.'

'Perhaps. I cannot disprove his theories, but I tend towards disbelief. I have conversed with demons who serve a greater demon, and I have known holy men who claim to have spoken with God.

Whereas I, more powerful than most, have never felt the need to serve either God or the Devil, and neither of them has seen fit to approach me.'

'How will you know when Taliesen has left the Highlands?'

'Oh, I will know.'

*

In the morning Leofric felt that he had a caged horse inside his skull, trying to kick its way to freedom. His head pounded and the bright sunlight induced a feeling of nausea. Jakuta Khan, who seemed untouched by the excesses of the night before, sat quietly, watching the dawn. Leofric stumbled from the tent and made his way to the stream, where he stripped off his tunic and bathed in the clear, cold water.

Wet and shivering, he dressed and walked to the Baron's tent. As he had expected the Baron was already awake, and was sitting at his travel desk examining maps. Leofric entered and bowed. 'Good morning, my lord. I trust you slept well?'

The Baron rubbed at the black leather eye-patch he wore. 'I have not slept well since that damned bird tore out my eye. What news?'

'The scouts are not in yet sir. Shall I fetch you breakfast?'

'Not yet. How do you think they will defend the pass?' The Baron spread out a series of maps on the rug at his feet. Leofric crouched down and studied them.

'They have few choices, sir. My spies tell me the Pallides had pledged themselves to Sigarni. That brings the total of her force to just over three thousand - not quite enough, I would imagine, to defend the eastern slope. They would be too thinly stretched and we could outflank them. The western slope is shorter, but that would mean leaving a gap in their eastern defences, through which a force of cavalry could ride, creating havoc in their villages. Of course, they may try to defend both slopes, or they may, if desperate, choose to occupy the flat-topped hill at the north end of the pass. The slopes are steep and a shield-ring would be hard to penetrate.'

'In what way do you see this as a desperate move?' enquired the Baron.

'We would surround them, and there would be no means of escape. They would be gambling all on being able to hold us, wear us down, then counter-attack.'

'I agree,' said the Baron. 'So which do you believe they will choose?'

'I am not a warrior, my lord, and I do not fully understand their mentality. I would, however, think it likely they will try to occupy the western slope. It is wooded, and covered with boulders. We would be forced to attack many times to discover the areas in which they are weak.'

'Aye, they'll try to be canny,' said the Baron. 'That black traitor Asmidir will see to that.

Their line will be of varying strength, at its most powerful where an attack is likely.' He stabbed his forefinger at a point on the first map. 'Here, where the slope is not so steep, and here, where the tree line thins. We will attack both simultaneously with the infantry. But the cavalry will strike here!'

'The highest ground? Is that wise, my lord?'

'Asmidir knows the way we fight, Leofric. Therefore we change. If I am wrong we will lose a few score cavalry, but the outcome will remain the same. What of supplies?'

Leofric rubbed at his eyes, praying that his head would stop pounding. 'I commandeered as many wagons as were available, my lord, and they should start arriving by late this afternoon. The men will be on short rations until we take the Pallides villages and the cattle there.'

'We have your negligence to thank for that,' snapped the Baron. 'I shall not swiftly forget the fall of your impregnable forts. If you were not my cousin, I would have had you flayed alive.'

'I am very grateful to you, sir,' said Leofric dutifully. The sound of horsemen approaching allowed him to avoid further embarrassment and he rose swiftly and moved outside. The first of the scout troops were returning. Lightly armed on fast horses, they could move swiftly across the countryside. All were veterans of many campaigns, and had travelled with the Census Taker in the autumn in order to accustom themselves to the land.

The lead rider dismounted, the other four riding off towards the cook-fires. The man saluted.

'Your report?' demanded Leofric.

'No sign of the enemy, sir. We killed one old man who ran at us with an ancient broadsword, and we spotted some foresters heading south but, as ordered, we avoided contact. The Loda fort has been plundered and the walls part dismantled. We rode to the Pallides fort, and this has seen similar treatment.'

'Any activity at Duane?'

'None that I could see, sir, and I thought it best not to push too far. We'll head out again after the men have eaten and acquired fresh mounts.'

'Good. We will be moving on to the Loda fort within the hour. When you return, make your report to me there.'

'Yes, sir.'

The Baron appeared and called out to the man as he was about to mount his horse.

'You, how many foresters were heading south?'

'Around a score, sir. Maybe a few more hidden by the trees.'

'Not an attacking force, then?'

'I don't believe so, sir. I think they may have been hunting. I expect food is scarce about now.'

'That's all,' said the Baron, moving alongside Leofric as the man saluted and turned away. 'How many men do you have guarding the supply wagons?"

'Two troops, my lord, and a section of infantrymen.'

'Send back another fifty cavalrymen. I don't think they are hunting deer, they are seeking to cut our supply line.'

'Yes, sir. I'll do that immediately.'

'And give the orders to take some of them alive for questioning.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Now you can order me that breakfast,' said the Baron, returning to his tent.

*

Asmidir fought to keep himself calm. 'Sigarni, listen to me, you cannot continue to risk everything on a single throw of the dice. We have enough men now to hold the western slope. We can wear them down, harry their flanks, disrupt their supply lines. There is simply no need for us to take unnecessary chances.'

'I hear what you say, Asmidir, and I will consider it,' she said. 'Leave me now.'

She watched him depart, knowing his turmoil. He was a soldier, a strategist, and his hatred of the Outlanders had seeped into his bones. He had travelled far to find an enemy capable of inflicting savage defeats on his enemies, and now he felt it was all at risk. As indeed it was...

Fell had stood by silently during the exchange, and she turned to him. 'You are slow to offer your opinions, general?'

He laughed. 'I'm no general. I am a forester and proud of it. What he says makes sense to me, but who am I to argue with the great Battle Queen of the Highlands?'

'Stop it, Fell,' she said irritated. 'Just tell me what you think.'

'The man understands war - and he knows the ways of the Outlanders. The western slope must be defended, for it leads into our heartland. He knows it. You know it. The Outlanders know it.'

'Exactly my point,' said Sigarni. 'We all know where the dangers lie - therefore it is time to think of something different. And, by God, I shall!' She sat in silence for a few moments. 'Any sign of Gwalchmai yet?' she asked.

'No. I think he headed home.'

'To die,' she said, softly.

'Aye. His time had come, he said. He told me he was due to die in the spring - even knew the face of the soldier who would do the deed.'

'He did not say goodbye,' she said. 'He took me in when the beasts slew my... parents, and he cherished me throughout my childhood. Why would he leave without saying goodbye?'

'He knew the day and the hour, Sigarni. He left soon after you set off for the Crown. He spoke to Taliesen just before he departed; maybe the wizard can tell you more.'

'And what of Ballistar?'

Fell shook his head. 'Nothing yet, but Kollarin is seeking him.'

'It broke his heart, Fell. He wanted you to see him as he was in that other world, strong and straight. He even bedded a woman there. It is often said that what is never had cannot be missed. I think that is true. All his life he has yearned to be like us. Then it happened, and he experienced a joy he could not have dreamed of. The return was a living nightmare for him.'

'You look tired, Sigarni. Perhaps you should rest for a while.'

'No,' she told him, 'I need to see Taliesen before he leaves. Will you fetch him?'

'And then you will rest?'

She nodded. As Fell left the cabin Sigarni felt the truth of his words. Her bones ached with weariness, and her mind seemed to float from problem to problem, never settling. How long since you slept, she asked herself? Three days? Four?

Taliesen entered. 'The enemy is six thousand strong,' he said, 'and they will be here in two days. I wish you good fortune, Sigarni. It all rests now on your skill, and the courage of your men.'

'I wish you could stay, Taliesen. Your powers would be more than useful.'

'I shall return when the battle is over.'

'You are assuming that we will conquer?'

'No,' he said sadly. 'I am making no assumptions. I have seen many futures, Sigarni. In some you win, in others you die.'

'They cannot all be true,' she pointed out.

'Oh, they can,' he said softly. 'I long ago learned that there are many worlds identical to our own. When we travel between them, all things are possible. If you are dead when I return I will travel more Gateways, seeking a Sigarni who survived.'

'Why not seek her now - and then tell me how she did it?'

He smiled 'I like you, Battle Queen. Truly. And now I must go. Have you spoken to Ironhand since he lost his second life?'

'Yes. His hurt is considerable, but he is still with me,' she said, touching the pouch hanging at her throat.

'I am sorry for the dwarf. I did not know that he would be so affected beyond the Gate.'

'Kollarin will find him. Ballistar is strong; he will recover. Go in peace, Taliesen.'

The old man bowed once more and walked to the door. Sigarni stretched herself out on the narrow pallet bed.

And drifted into the bliss of a dreamless sleep.

*

When she awoke Ironhand was sitting beside her. The old King was clad once more in his silver armour, with a great winged helm upon his head, his beard braided. 'How long have I been asleep?' she asked.

'Three hours. Fell is outside the cabin and is allowing no one in.'

'Now is the time for decisions,' she said, sitting up and rubbing the sand of sleep from her eyes.

'And it frightens me.'

'As it should. A little fear is like yeast to the spirit, encouraging it to grow strong.'

'What if I make a mistake now?'

'Then all die,' he told her bluntly.

She took a deep, calming breath. 'What advice can you offer me?'

'You are the Queen of the Highlands, my daughter, and I am proud of you. But now you must learn the one, terrible lesson of monarchy. That you are alone. The decision is yours. Win or lose, you carry the weight. For what it is worth, however, I will offer one thought - seek out the wife of Torgan.'

'You know her?'

'I was with you when you spoke last to her. She made you smile, and she made you cry. Both were good for you.'

'Then you cannot say which defensive plan would be the best for us? I was relying on you, Ironhand. You have fought so many battles. You won them all.'

'No, I didn't. Wish I had. I was always too headstrong. I just won the important ones. Seek out the woman, then make a decision. Stick to it, and be firm in your leadership. If you have doubts, hide them. You are the Battle Queen. They will all look to you, now and always.'

'You will be with me on the battlefield?'

'Aye, then I will seek Elarine and the fields of glory.'

The image shimmered and vanished. Sigarni rose and called out to Fell, who entered the room and knelt beside her. 'You were talking in your sleep,' he said.'I could not make out the words.'

'I am going for a walk. Will you join me?'

'I am at your command,' he told her.

'I am asking you as a. friend, Fell,' she told him, holding out her hand. For a moment only he stared at it, then their fingers touched. She looked into his deep brown eyes, and watched his smile grow.

'I love you, Sigarni,' he said, his voice thickening. 'Always did, always will. Welcome home.'

Together they walked from the cabin and down the hillside. The snow was melting fast, and spring flowers were everywhere. 'Is Torgan still here?' she asked.

'As far as I know. He and his wife have taken lodging with Fyon Sharp-axe. Are you going to give him a command?'

'Yes,' she said, 'under you.'

'Why? The man insulted you - and all of us.'

'But he's a Highlander, Fell, and a brave man. He deserves a second chance - for his wife and family if for nothing else.'

'Why the change, Sigarni? What has happened to you?'

'Perhaps it is High Drain,' she said, with a smile. 'Perhaps he spoke to me. When I went through the Gateway to that strange land I could almost feel its emotions. Yet the people there could not.

I think it is the same here. The land cannot abide hatred, Fell. And I have no place left in my heart for it. Tomorrow we fight the Outlanders — because we must. We will destroy them if we can -

but only because we must. Torgan was wrong, but he believed himself right and acted with the best interests of his clan at heart. Now he suffers shame. I shall end that.'

As they approached the end of the tree line Sigarni turned towards Fell and curled her arms around his neck. 'I hated you when you left me, and when I heard about the death of your wife I was glad.

It shames me to admit, and I feel sorrow now.'

Dipping his head he kissed her tenderly. 'This is all I ever wanted, Sigarni. I know that now."

'Leave me here, Fell. I will see you later - at the meeting hall. There I will announce our battle plan.'

'And after that?'

'We will go home. Together.'

Sigarni walked down the winding lane to the home of Fyon Sharp-axe. Loran, Torgan, and the huge warrior Mereth were sitting in the sunshine with the Hunt Lord. All rose as Sigarni approached.

'You are welcome, lady,' said Fyon, with a short bow.

Loran fetched a chair for her, and they sat. Torgan remained standing, then turned towards the house. 'Wait,' said Sigarni. 'I would value your counsel.'

'Do you wish to shame me again?' he asked, standing tall, his eyes angry.

'No. I want you to be at the meeting tonight. Tomorrow you will command the Farlain wing, under Fell's leadership.'

Torgan stood stock-still, and she could see the anger replaced by wariness. 'Why are you doing this?' he asked.

'I need strong men in positions of authority. You may decline if you choose.'

'No! I accept.'

'Good. The meeting begins at dusk. Is Layelia in the house?'

'Yes,' said Torgan, still stunned. 'Shall I fetch her?'

'No. I will find her.' Sigarni rose and left the men to their conversation. As she passed Torgan he called out to her.

'Wait!' Dropping to one knee, he bowed his head. 'My sword and my life,' he said.

*

It was an hour before dusk as Sigarni set out from the Pallides village. The afternoon was clear and bright, the sun dappling the new leaves on the trees. She felt belter than she had in days, her mind cleansed of doubt. Whatever the outcome now, she felt that her plan was the best chance for Highland success.

Breaking into a run, she raced up the track, her body revelling in the exertion. As she ran she noticed a mist spreading out from the undergrowth. At first she ignored it, but it thickened suddenly, swirling around her. Sigarni slowed. The trees were indistinct now, mere faint shadows in the grey. Glancing up she saw that the mist was also above her, blocking the sun.

Unafraid, yet with growing concern, she walked on, heading upward. The trail was no longer beneath her feet, but if she continued climbing she would arrive at the encampment. A line of bushes appeared directly before her and she tried to skirt them, moving to the left. The undergrowth was thicker here, the ground flat.

Her irritation grew, but she pushed on.

After a while she came to a gap in the mist, a small hollow inside a ring of oak trees. The mist clung to the outer ring, and rose up over the dip to form a grey dome. There was a man sitting on the grass at the centre of the hollow, portly and friendly of face. Looking up, he smiled broadly.

'Welcome, Sigarni. At last we meet in perfect circumstances.'

'I saw you die at the Falls, ripped to pieces,' she said, her hand closing around the hilt of her dagger.

'Happily that was an acolyte of mine. I say happily, though I miss him dreadfully. Happily for me, I should have said.'

'You will not find today so happy,' she told him, drawing the blade and advancing towards him. Her legs felt suddenly heavy, as if she was wading through knee-deep mud. The knife was a terrible weight in her hand ... it dropped slowly towards her side, then tumbled from her trembling fingers.

'You are quite correct,' he said, 'I do not find this a happy experience. You have done well among your barbarian friends and, were you to live, I believe you could cause the Outlanders considerable embarrassment. Sadly you must die - would that it were different.' Pushing himself to his feet, he drew a slender curved blade and advanced towards her. Sigarni fought to move, but could not. The knife came up and he took the neck of her tunic between the pudgy fingers of his left hand and cut away the cloth, exposing her breasts. 'I apologize for this apparently unseemly behaviour,' he said amiably. 'I have no intention of soiling your virtue. It is just that I need to make the correct incision for the removal of your heart.'

'Why are you doing this?' she asked him. 'What have I ever done to you?'

'As I recall, my dear, you used to hunt hares for sport. What had they ever done to you? We are not dealing here in petty squabbles or feuds. I am a sorcerer and a student of the universe. It is well known among my peers that certain sacrifices are considerably more powerful than others. A man, for example, will provide more power than ... a hare. But the blood royal! Ah now, that is a priceless commodity.' Taking a small chunk of charcoal from his pocket, he drew a line between her breasts and along the rib line on her left side.

'Ironhand!' she cried.

'Ah,' he said, stepping back, 'so he was -the mysterious force. Fascinating! Sadly, however, my dear, I have established a mystic wall around this hollow. No spirit can enter here, so save your breath. Your friend will not hear you either, for the mist dampens all sound. Now what I am about to do is remove your heart. There will be no pain. I am not a savage, and your death will be swift.'

'Give me until tomorrow,' she begged him. 'Let me save my people first!'

He chuckled. 'And you, of course, will give me your word to return?'

'Yes, I will. I swear it.'

'Ah, but you know what you hunters say - a hare in the bag is worth ten in the burrow. Let us merely hope that your officers will perform ably without you. Now, do you have a God you wish to make a final prayer to?'

'Yes,' she said, silently praying for the return of Taliesen.

'Then make it brief, my dear, for I wish to return to Leofric's tent. He has a fine stock of wine which I am looking forward to savouring. This country air does not suit me. I was born to exist within well-stocked cities. Let me know when you are finished, Sigarni. And do not waste your time seeking to contact Taliesen. He has gone back to his own time and is too far away to be of assistance - even could he hear your thoughts, which he cannot. I am afraid, dear lady, you are all alone. There are no creatures of myth or legend to help you now.'

'Don't be too sure,' she said, with a smile.

'Oh, I am sure,' he said. The knife rose andjakuta Khan leaned forward, then arched back with a cry. He staggered several paces, his hand scrabbling at his back, where a bone-handled knife jutted from his kidneys. Sigarni felt the spell holding her dissipate and fall away. She lunged for her dagger and sprang at the sorcerer, ramming her blade into his fat belly and ripping it up towards his lungs. His scream was high-pitched and pain-filled as he sank to the ground. 'Oh, you have wounded me!' he cried.

Ballistar ran forward to stand beside Sigarni and Jakuta Khan looked up at him, his eyes already misting in death. 'A dwarf,' he whispered, surprised. 'I have been killed by a dwarf!'

He turned his dying eyes upon Sigarni. 'It is ... not over. I sent a ... demon. He is lost somewhere in time. But one day .. . when you look into his eyes .. . remember me!' And he slumped face down on the grass.

'Your arrival was most timely,' she said, kneeling beside the dwarf and kissing his bearded cheek.

'Gwalchmai appeared to me. Told me to be here. I was ready to kill myself, but he said I would be needed, that I could help the clans.'

'Oh, Balli, if you had died my heart would have been broken. Come, let us go to the meeting!'

'I suggest you dress yourself first,' he said.