Knights Of Dark Renown (22 page)

On the third morning, as the sky cleared, Errin gazed up at the rising sun.

‘Which way are we heading today?’ he asked Ubadai, as the tribesman rolled his blankets and strapped them to the saddle of his horse. Ubadai pointed to a trail through the trees.

‘But that’s east, isn’t it?’ asked Errin. Ubadai nodded, but said nothing. ‘Oh, come on, Ubadai, speak to me. Why are we heading east?’

The tribesman grunted something inaudible, then turned to face Errin. ‘No tracks, yes? Everywhere fresh snow. No chance to find woman. We go back.’

‘We ought to search a little longer - we’ve only been here two days.’

‘This is search. Two choices. The men either good or bad, yes. If good they walk through near Royal Road, to the south. If bad they swing back. Wait till Cartain is gone, deliver woman to Pertia Port when fleet comes in, yes? If they are good men, we have lost them. If bad, I think they come this way.’

‘That’s just a guess,’ said Errin.

‘Yes. But I am tracker, not wizard. They travel eastwards on first day — not very good reason for that.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘The cave yesterday where we rested? There were remains of two fires, and tracks to show three people - one with small feet but long stride. Only three people? Then why two fires? Woman sits apart.’

Errin shrugged. It was little to go on, but Ubadai was the masier in this venture. ‘You do not want to be here, do you?’ he said as he climbed into the saddle.

Ubadai mounted his horse and gave a sour grin, gesturing to the ice-covered trail. ‘You want to be here?’

‘That’s not what I meant; it is a duty for me. But why did you agree to come? Why did you come back for me in Mactha?’

‘Plenty stupid, maybe,’ muttered Ubadai, edging his mount forward.

For two hours they rode until they slithered down a steep slope towards a small grove of pine trees. Ubadai drew his mount to a halt and slipped his bow from under his saddlebags. He strung it, then blew on his fingers to warm them.

‘What is it?’ asked Errin, coming alongside. ‘Smell the air,’ ordered Ubadai and Errin lifted his head but could detect little, save perhaps a hint of woodsmoke and a subtle, faintly unpleasant odour reminiscent of the farmyard.

‘What do you make of it?’ asked Errin. ‘Death,’ whispered Ubadai. ‘And something else. Animal - wolf, maybe.’

‘Why are we whispering?’

‘We are downwind. It will not know we are here. Better ride back, maybe.’

‘If it is a wolf pack, we will scare them away. It might be Sheera ... in trouble,’ he added swiftly.

‘I do not like the feel of this,’ said Ubadai. ‘My skin crawls. I have good skin and it knows where it wants to be ... and it doesn’t want to go in there.’

Errin grinned. ‘You’ve hunted wolves before. And bears - even a lion, if I recall. We’re both fine archers.’ An eerie howling came from the grove, the sound magnified beyond any wolf call Errin had ever heard. ‘On the other hand,’ he said, ‘you might be right. I think this is a case for discretion.’ But just as he was about to wheel his horse back to the slope, another sound broke the silence - a woman’s scream.

Errin cursed and spurred his horse into the trees. ‘You have no bow!’ shouted Ubadai, galloping after him.

Errin’s mount thundered into the clearing, saw the giant wolf creature with its sabre talons and huge snarling jaws and desperately tried to swerve. But the ice under its hooves offered no purchase and it slid to its haunches. Errin hurled himself from the saddle as the stallion cannoned into the beast and both animals went down, the beast slashing its talons through the horse’s neck. Blood fountained over the monster’s grey-white fur. The dying horse lashed out with its hooves, hurling the beast to the snow. The stallion struggled to rise, but the beast was upon it once more, rending and slashing. Errin climbed to his feet and drew the curved short sword given to him by Cartain; it was razor-sharp and beautifully made, but it seemed like a child’s toy now, as he stared at the enraged beast. Errin swung his head - Sheera stood nearby, white-faced, holding a smouldering branch. He ran to her. The beast looked up from the dead stallion and climbed slowly across its carcass, staggering and almost falling. Rising to its hind legs, it moved towards the man and woman. Errin stepped in front of Sheera, placed his hand over his buckle and whispered, ‘Ollathair.’

Instantly the advance of the beast seemed to slow. Errin waited until the creature was almost upon him, then ducked under a slowly moving sweep of the taloned arm and rammed his sword into the beast’s belly.

Sheera appeared alongside him, thrusting the branch into the creature’s mouth. In that instant Errin could see the talons moving towards the girl and he let go of his sword and dived at her, dragging her clear.

Behind them Ubadai leapt from the saddle, notched an arrow to his bow, dre\V and loosed his shaft which sped through the air to punch into the beast’s neck. The creature staggered and fell on all fours; then it rolled to its side and died.

Errin climbed to his feet, his eyes scanning the clearing for any further monsters. To his right there was a human leg and across the clearing lay the grisly remains of another victim. Satisfied there were no other beasts, he once more touched the buckle of his belt and turned to Sheera.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, I . . .’ Recognition showed in her eyes and she stepped back from him.

‘Errin? What are you doing here?’

‘I was looking for you. Cartain was worried; he said the men you were with were probably in the employ of Okessa.’

‘I think they were. But of all the men to rescue me - why did it have to be you?’

He shrugged. ‘It is pleasant, lady, to have succeeded in something.’

Her face darkened. ‘Do not think it absolves you from blame over my sister’s murder. It does not! Nothing ever will.’

‘I loved Dianu and I would have done anything to save her. But I did not ask her to stay for me, nor did I know she was in danger. I do not much care whether you believe that; it is immaterial to me.’ He moved to the beast and dragged his sword clear, wiping it clean of blood on the creature’s fur. Reversing the sword, he pushed it at Sheera. ‘You want to kill me, lady? Do it! Go on, take the sword and push it home.’

She turned away. ‘I was angry when I told Cartain I wanted you dead. I do not desire that - but neither do I desire your company.’

‘You have little choice in that, Sheera. I am here to escort you to Pertia Port and then to Cithaeron. Once there you can do as you please.’

‘I am not going to Cithaeron. I will find Okessa and see him dead. And if there was any sense of honour in you, you would do the same. You say you loved Dianu? What a way to prove it - running to Cithaeron.’

Errin took a deep breath, pushing back his anger.

‘In Cithaeron we can raise an army. Here we can do little save run around a winter forest hoping we do not get lost, which may be all right for spoilt little girls but it doesn’t suit me. Now gather your things.’ As he turned away from her she grabbed his arm to swing him round and her fist cracked into his jaw. Ubadai winced as he watched the blow crash home. Most women did not know how to punch, but he had to admire the smooth swing and the explosive contact. Errin was unconscious before he hit the snow.

Ubadai strolled across and knelt by the unconscious nobleman, then he looked up at the astonished Sheera.

‘I like you, girl,’ said Ubadai. ‘You plenty stupid.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Nuada was furious when Groundsel told him bluntly that he would not be allowed to accompany the rescue party. The outlaw leader had gathered thirty men together and each was carrying food - bread, dried meat and fruit.

‘You need me to show you the way,’ protested Nuada. ‘You need me!’

‘I can find the Royal Road, Nuada, without any help. But look at you - you are on the verge of collapse. You could not stand the journey.’

‘I’ll get him there - and back,’ said Llaw Gyffes. The snow had begun to fall thickly once more and Llaw, like the rest of the men, was warmly clad in oiled sheepskin and high wool-lined walking boots. A hood covered his blond hair and a long scarf was wound around his neck.

Groundsel walked over to Nuada and placed a hand upon his shoulder. ‘Every step that you slow us. down could mean a death on the Royal Road. You understand that?’

‘I won’t slow you down, I promise you.’

Llaw pulled Nuada aside and offered him a drink from his canteen. Nuada accepted it - and choked.

‘Gods of chaos!’ he spluttered. ‘What is it?’

‘It is a raw spirit distilled from grain - a little goes a long way. You feel warmer?’

‘I feel as if someone just lit a fire in my belly.’

‘Good. Now, let’s go.’

Groundsel set off at a good pace, feeling his way through the snow with a staff, thrusting it deep into drifts to test the footing. The men behind moved without a sound. There was no conversation and Nuada knew that most of them could not understand the nature of their mission.

‘Why did you want to come?’ asked Llaw, as they walked some way behind the rescue party.

‘I told them I would - but also they fear Groundsel.’

‘They are right so to do. You are leading the wolf into the lamb-pen; do not be surprised if he behaves like a wolf.’

‘I will not be surprised, Llaw. Now tell me why you came with us?’

Llaw chuckled and helped Nuada to climb a sloping drift. The wind picked up, howling ice and snow into their faces, and further conversation became impossible. A journey which had taken Nuada a day and a half was made in less than four hours by the rescue party.

They came across the first bodies lying huddled by a dead fire. There were two women, an old man and a child. All were frozen stiff.

Groundsel hawked and spat. Ice had formed on his dark brows and short beard. ‘Stupid!’ he said. ‘Had they built the fire twenty paces over there, by those rocks, they would still be alive. How could they think a fire in the open would warm them?’

Leaving the bodies where they lay the men pushed on, coming to the cave at mid-afternoon. Some forty people were crowded there; four were dead. Groundsel led the men inside and they broke out the rations. The two fires were dying down and Llaw Gyffes returned to the forest for fuel. Nuada scanned the gaunt, weary faces, glimpsing the girl at the back of the cave. She was squatting beside an elderly woman and he pushed his way through to her.

‘I came back,’ he said simply.

‘She is dead,’ replied the girl. ‘She died an hour ago.’

Nuada gazed down on the serene face. The woman was in her late sixties, he guessed, and she had the look of the patrician. ‘Then nothing can harm her now,’ he said. ‘Come, there is food.’

‘I am not hungry.’ He put his arm around her slender shoulders and pulled her to him.

‘Would she want you to die also?.’ he asked. ‘Follow me.’ Taking her by the arm he led her to Groundsel, who gave her some bread and a canteen of water.

‘The cave could not take all of us; there are others still outside,’ the girl told them. Groundsel turned away and sent three groups to search the forest. Llaw Gyffes went with them. In the cave a woman fell at Groundsel’s feet, hugging his legs and crying quietly. Embarrassed, he pulled away. A man came to him, seizing his hand and pumping it; others joined him. Groundsel accepted their gratitude with ill grace and pushed his way out into the blizzard. He walked alone for a while and watched the men searching the snow; there were bodies everywhere.

He was about to return to the cave when he heard a whimper from close by and looked around, but there was no one to be seen and the sound ceased. Taking his staff he probed the bushes, but could find nothing. He stopped and listened, but the howling wind obscured any lesser sounds. He crouched closer to the ground . . . still nothing. To his left there was a small drift of snow. As he looked, the wind caused it to flurry and he caught sight of an edge of cloth. Moving to it, he dug away at the snow. Buried here were a man and a woman, huddled together, frozen in death, but they had curled themselves around a small child wrapped in a woollen blanket. Grdundsel could imagine their last thoughts: protect the child until the end, their bodies shielding it from the wind and the snow. The child’s head moved and its mouth opened. Groundsel swiftly lifted it clear of the snow and ran for the cave. Inside he forced his way to the fire and pulled away the frozen blanket, rubbing at the little girl’s slender limbs. Her hair was short, but tightly curled and golden, and she was thin, terribly thin.

‘Akis!’ he called. ‘Where the Hell are you?’

A stocky man came forward. ‘Did you bring the milk?’ asked Groundsel.

‘It’s mostly gone, my Lord,’ replied the man. Ever since Nuada’s saga of the beast, men had begun to echo the poet’s style of address.

‘Get some here. Now! And warm it.’

‘Yes, my Lord.’

The girl’s head sagged against Groundsel’s shoulder. ‘Don’t you die on me!’ he shouted. ‘Don’t you dare die on me!’ He shook her and rubbed her back and she began to whimper. ‘That’s it,’ said Groundsel. ‘Cry! Cry and live!’

‘Shall I take her?’ asked a woman.

‘Leave me alone,’ snapped Groundsel as Akis returned with some milk, warmed in a wooden bowl. The outlaw leader lifted the girl’s head and held the bowl to her lips; the milk dribbled to her chin, as she shut her mouth against it. ‘Pinch her nostrils,’ said Groundsel and a woman crouched down beside them and followed his bidding. The child’s mouth opened. At first she choked on the milk, but then she began to swallow. When the milk was finished her head sagged again to his shoulder. He was about to shake her when the woman touched his arm.

‘She is asleep,’ she said. ‘Just asleep. She will be fine. Wrap her in a warm blanket and leave her with me. I’ll take care of her.’

Groundsel was reluctant to part with the child, but he did so, brushing the hair back from her brow. ‘She is pretty,’ he said, ‘and tough. I like that in a child. How old is she? I am not good at judging ages in babes.’

‘I would say around two years old. She might be a little more, but she is very thin and small.’

‘You look after her,’ said Groundsel, rising.