‘But they’ll assume our decision to go in means we’ve seen them, won’t they?’ queried Ilkar.
The Unknown shrugged. ‘Possibly. But it hardly matters. It’ll make them wary perhaps but it doesn’t change what they’re doing. And if we lose them, then so much the better.’
‘So, Unknown, any ideas about how to get in?’ Hirad smiled. The Unknown blew out his cheeks. The force of the hurricane had snapped off almost every tree at a height varying between eight and a dozen or so feet. Tangled foliage was knotted across the forest floor and banked up in huge drifts against close-packed stands of trunks and, further in, no doubt against the rock itself. It had left no obvious entry point and the Raven trio would have to pick or hack their way through the least dense obstructions.
‘We’ll find a way. C’mon, break over, no time like now.’
They mounted up and trotted gently to the borders of the forest, indistinct now with debris scattered so widely. Making their way inside, the destruction was brought into stark focus. In places, the forest floor had been swept clean, the mulch and dust of years, the loose topsoil and every plant, flower and shrub scoured away. No tree was undamaged and everywhere arches of fallen boughs crisscrossed just above their heads or were impenetrable, forcing a change of direction, as if they wished no living thing to see the death of Thornewood.
For three hours, The Unknown ensured they left a traceable trail as he bullied his horse through the debris. Where it thickened too much to be trampled, he dismounted and used his sword one-handed, sweeping through leaf and branch alike. Behind him, Ilkar and Hirad followed, saying nothing until they reached the crag.
‘Make sure you clean your sword. Sap’s a real killer for rust,’ said Hirad, sliding from his horse. The Unknown looked at him, his expression carefully blank.
‘Really? Thanks, Hirad. I’d have hated to have lost my sword through ignorance of sap’s rust-inducing qualities.’
Ilkar chuckled.
‘Just saying,’ muttered Hirad.
‘I have been at this a couple of years myself,’ said The Unknown. ‘And don’t get comfortable. You’ve twenty yards of path to make thataway—’ he waved his sword across the clearing around the crag ‘—while Ilkar goes and listens for them and I work out our best point of contact. All right?’
Hirad nodded. ‘What about the horses?’
‘Take them down the path to tether when you’re done. I’d help you but I can see little brown spots on my blade. What do you think they mean?’
Hirad pulled his sword from its scabbard. ‘Funny, Unknown, but leave the jokes to me next time, eh?’
‘To prove you’re even less amusing, presumably,’ said Ilkar.
‘All right, come on,’ said The Unknown. ‘They won’t be far behind.’
Hirad was convinced it wouldn’t work. Dordovan spies or assassins weren’t the type to blunder into a hastily laid ambush. But he had to concede they couldn’t lead anyone straight to Denser or Erienne at this stage; and if all it served was to throw them off the scent, then he’d take that as a positive result. And there was no desire to kill those that followed them, after all, they might have some very useful information. They were merely under orders. What they needed was some clear guidance on why following The Raven was an occupation with no future.
It was with some surprise then, that he heard Ilkar whisper that they were coming, just as the wind picked up suddenly, gusting through the remains of the forest and sifting at what it had so brutally created.
The Raven had taken up position a few yards from the crag itself, hidden from the path they’d made by a tangle of pine branches and thick, sharp gorse.
There were four of them, leading their horses, treading carefully and not uttering a sound, as if aware that all was not right in Thornewood. All were men, clad in varying shades of dark leather armour, long swords in free hands, helms framing faces older than those watching them. Hirad raised an eyebrow at the oddity. They were clearly an experienced team but the carelessness with which they’d revealed themselves to The Unknown made him wonder why Dordover had chosen them to follow The Raven. At least with no elves or willowy athletes in the party he could be fairly sure they weren’t mage-assassins. Just trackers.
They entered the crag clearing and were edging around it cautiously, two by two, when The Unknown stepped out directly in front of them, the point of his sword down, tapping on the earth before him, its sound dull but music to Hirad’s ears as he moved next to his old friend.
‘Lost or looking?’ asked The Unknown, not unpleasantly. The quartet had stopped abruptly and Hirad saw the front pair share a glance, sudden fear in one’s eyes, confusion and surprise in the other.
‘I don’t like being followed,’ said The Unknown.
‘We’re not—’ began the left of the pair, a heavyset man with greying temples and long brown hair beneath his helm. He had a few days’ growth of stubble, thick eyebrows and a stooped forehead.
‘I don’t like being lied to either,’ said The Unknown, interrupting smoothly. Hirad felt Ilkar step up behind them, a spell shape no doubt already formed.
‘Now,’ continued The Unknown. ‘We aren’t looking for any trouble. We’re just helping a friend. I understand this is all of great interest to your masters but they’ll find nothing by sending people to follow us. Just bodies. Do I make myself clear?’
The men shifted a little, one dropped his gaze from The Unknown but the other held firm, brow creasing.
‘You’ll kill us if we continue to follow you?’
‘Quick, isn’t he?’ said Hirad.
The Unknown ceased tapping his sword point.
‘We don’t want to but we can’t risk you jeopardising what we have to do either. So turn around now and go back the way you came.’
More hesitation. Behind the front pair, the second whispered urgent words.
‘Is there something you’re confused about?’ asked Hirad, his voice loud and harsh in the silence of the forest. The wind stilled momentarily before a fresh gust plucked at cloak, hair and mane, whistling through the jumbled branches.
‘I’m not used to being threatened,’ said the heavyset man.
‘It’s not a threat,’ said The Unknown. ‘Call it heartfelt advice.’
Hirad couldn’t stop the smile touching his face. The Unknown had used the same words to face down Styliann, a former Lord of the Mount and a rather more powerful adversary.
‘I don’t see this as a laughing matter,’ said one of the second pair, stepping forward between the horses. He was mid-height, younger than his companions, with a long nose and small mouth below hooded eyes.
Hirad felt the tension rise. The four men hadn’t been ready for a fight before. Perhaps they were now. He and The Unknown gazed on unmoving. From behind them, Ilkar spoke.
‘Please don’t make this difficult because it’s really very simple,’ he said. ‘You were following us, we don’t want you to, and we’ve asked you very politely to stop doing so. I suggest we all calm down and go our separate ways. What do you say?’
Hirad and The Unknown both nodded and Hirad saw three of the men relax but the heavyset one pursed his lips.
‘We have direct orders,’ he said, more in explanation than anything else.
‘Well now you have new ones,’ said Hirad.
‘Hirad, shut up,’ hissed The Unknown. ‘Look, no one’s watching you. Just report back you saw us headed in the direction of Greythorne but lost us in Thornewood.’ He shrugged. ‘But before you go, tell me who sent you to follow us. Dordover?’
The man nodded. ‘And losing you was not an option we were given,’ he said, and as if he’d reminded his colleagues of a forgotten fact, the tension returned.