The opposite slope was blanketed in purple-flowered heather and strewn with loose stone, only held in place by the grasp of thin earth. Here and there, stunted trees grew in the lee of the prevailing wind. Thraun and Ilkar had scaled the bank to report on the scene at the Inlet.
Hirad rubbed his gloved hands together and accepted the warm mug of coffee, happy at the decision to keep hold of Will’s stove. Earlier that day, with the horses more of a hindrance than a help, they had set them free in a wooded valley, destroying saddle, bit and stirrup and anything they couldn’t easily carry. After a short debate, Thraun had shouldered Will’s flat-packed stove, the weight not even hastening his breath. They were all happy for its lightless warmth now.
The little wood-burner sat on a flat rock, its thin column of smoke invisible against the overcast sky, the light it cast not enough to illuminate their faces, let alone betray their position. It was five hours before dawn.
‘How far away are we?’ asked Hirad.
‘Perhaps half an hour at a brisk trot but to enter from a sensible angle will take double that. We’ll have to head a little further north or we’ll be seen,’ said Thraun.
‘What have we got?’ asked The Unknown.
‘You’ll be able to see for yourself, the light off the water isn’t too bad,’ said Ilkar. ‘But basically, we estimate an encampment of around three hundred, all billeted in tents set in classic tribal semicircles around standards and fires.
‘There are three watch-towers looking landward and a group of marquees in the centre of the camp that no doubt contain stores for onward transport across the Inlet. The main route is from the south. We need to take northern entry beyond the furthest watch-tower but even then, it’s a little tricky.’
Hirad nodded. ‘Boats?’
‘Plenty. From small sails to mid-sized oceanworthy galleons, although the Gods know where they got them from. We should be able to find something we can take very easily.’
‘What’s on the opposite bank?’ asked Will.
‘Something more heavily fortified, I expect,’ said Thraun. ‘But we couldn’t see that far. We’ll be sailing right into the mouth of the Goran Falls to avoid whatever it is, anyway.’
‘It’ll marginally shorten our journey time, too,’ added The Unknown.
‘What about horses, the other side?’ asked Will.
‘We’ve two options,’ said Ilkar. ‘Either steal some from the Wesmen or hope that the Triverne Lake Guard are still alive. And that’s not too unlikely given that the Wesmen effort seems to have reached only Julatsa so far.’
Hirad rubbed a hand over his mouth. ‘All right, the theory’s fine. Now to the practice. How do we get a boat without waking the camp?’
‘Finish your coffee and come and look,’ said Ilkar. ‘Thraun and I have got an idea.’
Shortly afterwards, The Raven lay in a line, looking down a long bracken-covered slope that ended in the meadows and beach at the edge of Triverne Inlet. To the south, the slope trailed away to a steep escarpment and thence to the Blackthorne Mountains themselves, while to the north, the mountains and hills flattened as they approached the northern coastline a further day’s ride away.
In front of them was the Wesmen staging post. It was quiet, though a large fire burned in the centre of a hexagon of marquees and around it sat a number of Wesmen. Other fires burned along the shore, illuminating the ranks of boats drawn up on the sand, but elsewhere, the camp was in darkness but for the moon’s cloud-filtered reflection off the water.
The natural light gave a muddied blue tinge to Hirad’s vision but he could still make out the three watch-towers, each, he had been reliably informed, holding two guards and a bell. The southernmost commanded a view along the main trail which meandered out of sight south-west and stood in front of a corral containing horses and cattle. Coops for chickens and pens for pigs sat nearby, but the animals were quiet. A quick scan of the camp gave no indication of any Destranas, but he had no doubt the wardogs would be there somewhere, probably on guard in or near the marquees to deter any Wesmen looking to boost their rations.
The other two towers, set equidistant along the perimeter of the camp, partially obscured stands of Wes tents pitched around dead fires, the standards flapping and snapping in the wind. Thraun had been right; the only sensible way in was further north where they would be overlooked by just one tower.
‘All right,’ said Thraun. ‘You can see our access point. The route we need to take will be across the top of the camp, skirting the main fire and dropping down on to the beach. We have to take out the tower guards or we’ll be seen. Ilkar is suggesting two people under CloakedWalks can surprise the guards and bleed them quietly. That will be the first obstacle out of the way.’
‘By which he means two mages,’ said Denser. ‘Which two did he have in mind?’
‘You can address me directly if you want, Denser. I can understand you.’
Hirad sighed. ‘We have to work together or we’ll all be killed,’ he said shortly, staring at Denser. ‘I know things are hard for you right now, but we still have work to do and we need you. There are three hundred Wesmen down there. How long do you think we’ll last if they catch wind we’re on their beach, stealing their boats?’
‘I am well aware of our situation. I merely wanted to know who Ilkar had in mind for his little suicide mission.’
‘Me and you, that’s who,’ said Ilkar. ‘It might take your mind off your inner pain or whatever it is.’
‘You have no idea what I am feeling.’ Denser was dismissive. Ilkar was earnest.
‘I know. But right now, you are doing your damnedest to make sure we all suffer with you. Try participating again, you might even like it. I know I will.’
‘Try completing your life’s work and seeing it damn you,’ growled Denser.
‘Enough,’ said The Unknown. ‘We haven’t much time.’ His voice stilled hasty tongues. ‘Thraun, you were saying.’
‘It all hinges on the watch-tower. As you can see, we can’t enter from the north because the cliff is too steep to climb down and we’ll be seen. We have to edge around towards the camp, scrambling down and keeping to the shadows in the lee of the cliffs.’ Thraun pointed out the areas he was speaking about but Hirad couldn’t make them out clearly.
‘Is this watch-tower thing your whole plan?’ asked Will. Thraun shook his head.
‘In terms of getting us into the camp safely, yes, pretty much. But our idea focused on two other things. First, a back-up in case we are seen and second, we were debating a little sabotage while we were here.’
‘Oh God,’ muttered Denser.
Hirad smiled. ‘It would be rude not to,’ he said. ‘Let’s hear it.’
Styliann did not travel to the Bay of Gyernath. Nor did he have any intention of so doing from the moment he left Darrick’s pitiful band of horsemen. He had been approached by the Xeteskians in the cavalry but they could not offer him anything and he was not in the frame of mind to lead any but the very best in fighting speed, skill and stamina.
So he approached the fortifications at the eastern end of Understone Pass with only ninety Protectors around him. He faced perhaps fifteen hundred Wesmen warriors but wasn’t unduly worried. In a straight fight, he suspected he could force surrender or outright rout but he hadn’t come to fight. He had come to organise a swift passage back to the east and to promise something he had no intention of giving. Help.
His arrival caused a great deal of consternation on the platform that ran around the inside of the partially built stockade. Shouts filled the air, bows were bent and dogs barked. He was ordered to halt and did so, the fading light of late afternoon glinting off the masks of his Protectors, their quiet stillness clearly unsettling the Wesmen.