Byroc answered. ‘This is the Groundshakers’ work,’ he said. ‘It comes from what they do at the slave-place. In other parts it is very bad.’
‘Worse than that?’ Athyr said, aghast.
‘Outside His bigger slave-places, yes,’ Byroc replied. ‘The air burns and the waters glow in the night. Even the wind from such will tear the throat and blind the eyes-sometimes forever.’ His upper lip curled savagely to reveal his massive teeth. ‘It bends and destroys even the unborn.’
Hawklan turned away from the Mandroc’s pain.
‘Let’s get well away, then,’ he said, setting off again. ‘We’ll have to find a way round the other side of this slave-place, however difficult it is.’
‘That might mean waiting until night-time,’ Dacu said, looking up the small slope that was hiding them from the camp.
Hawklan scowled. ‘We can’t spend the whole day sitting about waiting. Time’s against us here,’ he said. ‘And in any case I’ve no great desire to go wandering about in the dark with surprises like that waiting to be fallen into. We’ll get around today if we have to crawl around on our bellies.’
They moved back along the route they had been following, cautiously helping one another over the ditches they had earlier jumped quite casually. Eventu-ally the ground became drier and the air fresher, though to Hawklan it still carried a strange taint, and all of them found it difficult to rid themselves of the stench that had risen from the poisonous quagmire.
They crawled slowly to the top of the slope until they could see the camp again.
‘It looks deserted,’ Isloman said after a while.
Hawklan looked at Byroc. ‘How many people would there be in a place that size?’ he asked.
Byroc slapped his muscular hands together rapidly in a scissoring action. ‘A few tens of tens,’ he said. ‘And much noise, smoke, and stink.’
‘I can see no one,’ Isloman said.
‘Trust Gavor to wander off when he’s needed,’ Tirke said.
‘He’ll be here when he’s needed,’ Hawklan said sharply. ‘I think we can reconnoitre a place like this on our own. Isloman, crawl forward. Dacu, go with him.’
Without comment, the two men set off.
Despite his bulk, it was the big carver, with his Goraidin training and his subtle shadow lore, who disappeared from view first. There was a soft whistle of appreciation from one of the watchers.
Then there was a long nervous pause as the group waited for a signal from the now invisible scouts, or a desperate alarm from the camp.
‘They’re there,’ Yrain said abruptly, pointing. Peer-ing between the long rough grass, Hawklan followed her hand to see the two men edging into the camp, shadows against the grey buildings.
What are they doing? he thought, in some alarm, but he said nothing out loud. Then they were gone, out of sight amid the buildings somewhere, and there was another long period of tense, silent waiting for the watchers.
Eventually they both reappeared, beckoning the others forward.
Despite the reassuring signals, however, Hawklan and the others ran low and crouching across the intervening open ground until they reached the camp.
‘It’s completely deserted,’ Isloman said, before Hawklan could ask. ‘I don’t think anyone’s been here for several days.’
Hawklan turned to Byroc questioningly, but the Mandroc looked bewildered and nervous. ‘This is a bad place,’ he said. ‘All His places are. We mustn’t linger.’
‘These buildings are like those monstrosities that Dan-Tor built outside Vakloss,’ Yatsu said.
Hawklan looked around at the drab grey buildings. They were obviously not old, but they had a worn, neglected look which was peculiarly depressing. Further, he found that his inability to see into the distance all around was disconcerting.
‘Let’s move out,’ he said. ‘My instincts are with By-roc’s, and we’ve wasted enough time here already.’
They moved through the eerily silent camp quickly and quietly, splitting into two groups and trotting down either side of the long street that ran through it. At its centre was a building with what appeared to be a watch-tower on top of it. As they passed it, Byroc paused and growled. ‘Stinking priest hole,’ but offered no further amplification of the remark when Hawklan looked at him.
They passed through the remainder of the camp without incident but as they reached the last buildings, Gavor came swooping along the street behind them. ‘Look out… ’ he began, but his message was ended by the sudden appearance of a rider out of the scrubland that bounded the road where it left the camp.
He was a Mathidrin, and at his heels was a troop of some twenty of more Mandrocs.
‘Whoops,’ Gavor said as he landed on Hawklan’s shoulder briefly and then took off again.
‘Slave gatherers from the mines,’ Byroc said. ‘They will be looking for those who escaped.’
‘Yatsu, Lorac, Tel-Odrel, move to the sides and look as if you’re in charge,’ Hawklan said urgently. ‘The rest of you look beaten. Those at the back, string your bows discreetly. We’ll have to go through this lot whether we like it or not, and we’ll have to bring down as many as we can before they close with us.’
‘They’ll hardly take you for slaves, carrying swords and bows,’ Yatsu said as he and the others moved to the side of the group and assumed the typical arrogant pose of Mathidrin officers.
‘Your Mathidrin uniforms and Byroc here will con-fuse them for long enough,’ Hawklan replied. ‘Are you ready at the back?’
There was grunted confirmation.
‘On my command, come forward and start firing. Don’t worry about the man, he’ll be no problem. Take the Mandrocs, they’re an unknown quantity. The rest of you string up as quickly as you can once the action starts.’ He glanced at Andawyr. ‘When they close with us, stay together. Andawyr is to be protected at all costs.’
He caught a glimpse of Dacu’s hand signal, ‘And Hawklan, too.’
‘Yes, and me too,’ he confirmed reluctantly.
Andawyr touched his arm. ‘Don’t use the sword or the bow, Hawklan,’ he said. ‘I doubt I can keep that from Him.’
Hawklan frowned. ‘I understand,’ he said.
Suddenly Byroc froze, and his mouth curled up into a horrifying gape. ‘Dowynai Vraen!’ he snarled savagely.
Hawklan felt the intention of the Mandroc and reached out to dissuade him, but Byroc evaded his grip and with an angry cry, broke ranks; not to run forward at the approaching patrol, but to disappear into a narrow alleyway between two buildings.
A flicker of surprise passed through Hawklan’s mind at this apparent cowardice, but there was no time to dwell on it. The sudden movement galvanized the hesitant patrol and the Mathidrin barked out an order. At the same time, so also did Hawklan. As the Mandrocs began running forward, Tirke, Jaldaric, Jenna and Yrain strode past their companions and released their four arrows. Three of them struck home, and even as the Mandrocs were falling, the four archers were firing again and the remainder of the group were preparing to fire.
For an instant the advancing Mandrocs faltered, then with a great cry of ‘Amrahl! Amrahl!’ they renewed their charge, seemingly oblivious to the hail of arrows being laid down by the archers.
The mindless ferocity of the attack took the defend-ers completely by surprise and they had barely chance to discard their bows and draw their swords before the Mandrocs struck. Several of the chanting creatures were already mortally wounded but the force of the charge scattered the group before it could form a defensive line.
Hawklan dragged Andawyr aside roughly and, push-ing him against the wall of a building, stood in front of him.
A Mandroc charged at him, sword extended. Hawk-lan stepped forward and sideways outside the line of the attack. His right hand gripped the extended wrist and deflected the blade across his opponent causing him to turn. At the same time his left hand reached up to rest almost gently on the back of the Mandroc’s neck. Then, effortlessly, he lowered the hand and the Mandroc crashed heavily to the ground.
Hawklan followed him down and killed him in-stantly with a single crushing blow, at the same time seizing his sword.