Kinyon joined him. ‘What is happening?’
Stavut lifted the canvas cover on the wagon and pulled out several rounds of ham, passing two to Kinyon. There was also a hank of beef. ‘That’s all the meat we have,’ the innkeeper pointed out.
‘No, it isn’t. There’s you, me and the villagers.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Teach them to hunt.’
‘You are a hunter?’
‘Let’s not go into that. My confidence is frail enough as it is.’
Hauling the beef to his shoulder Stavut walked across to where the Jiamads sat, then heaved it to the ground. Kinyon dropped the rounds of ham, and backed swiftly away. Stavut moved back to the horses and petted them. Brightstar, still nervous, tried to bite him. Stavut leapt back. ‘One more trick like that and I’ll let them eat you,’ he told the trembling grey. He glanced back to see the Jiamads tearing at the beef, splintering the bones and gnawing at the flesh.
The meat did not last long. Stavut went to the villagers and advised them to rest. Then, heart pounding, he returned to the Jiamads, calling out to Shakul. The pack leader rose and followed Stavut to a fallen tree. The merchant sat. ‘Why did you not return to your regiment?’ he asked.
‘No officer. Dead officer we die. Kill us. Where Two Swords?’
‘He will be back. Tell me how you tried to hunt the deer.’
Shakul hunkered down. ‘Scent, chase. Too fast. You catch deer?’
‘We will tomorrow,’ said Stavut.
Askari moved through the thick forest, alert and focused. Bards sang of the silence of the woods, but this always made her laugh. There was never silence within the trees. Breezes caused the leaves to whisper, heat or cold made the tree trunks expand or contract, bringing groans and cracks from the bark. Animals scuttled, birds flew, insects buzzed. Askari ran swiftly up an old deer trail. There were tracks here, but they were not new. Ants had crawled across the deer prints, and the once sharp edges had crumbled.
Up ahead a group of sparrows suddenly took flight. Askari hunkered down. Their panic could have been caused by a wild cat, or a snapping branch. On the other hand it could be a sign that men — or beasts -
were close by. The tall huntress crouched down and closed her eyes, listening intently. She caught the sound of dry wood crunching under a boot, and faded back into the cover of the trees. The breeze was in her face, and coming from the direction of the sound. If there were Jiamads present they would not scent her swiftly. Even so, she notched an arrow to the recurve bow. If necessary she would kill one and head off towards the east, drawing them away from Skilgannon and Harad, who were following her trail.
In her leggings and jerkin of faded leather, and her dark green hooded shirt, Askari was virtually invisible in the deep undergrowth. She waited patiently. A troop of twenty Jiamads moved out of the trees some thirty paces east of her. They were marching in double file. Each one wore a leather breastplate, emblazoned with the head of a silver eagle. Several also wore leather helms. All carried clubs, embedded with iron nails. There were two officers with them, both walking to the rear of the column. Askari waited until the troop had re-entered the trees, heading northeast, then rose and ran swiftly to the far side of the trail. Here she scaled a tall tree, moving smoothly up through the branches. From this high vantage point she could see the valley to the south, and the distant red rooftops of Petar, some twenty miles away.
Horsemen were riding across the valley, and there were small groups of Jiamads scanning the ground. It was obvious that they were searching for something. A rider on a pale grey horse sat unmoving, his long, dark hair blowing in the afternoon breeze.
Movement came from below her. Someone was climbing the tree. Her bow was hooked over her shoulder, but Askari drew a double-edged skinning knife from the buckskin sheath at her side.
Skilgannon eased aside a thick, leaf-laden branch and levered himself up alongside her. He followed her gaze. ‘It will not be possible to cross the valley in daylight,’ she whispered. He was very close to her, and she could smell woodsmoke and sweat on his shirt. The scent made her uncomfortable. Not because it was unpleasant. Far from it. She tried to ease back a little from him. A small leaf had come loose and had attached itself to his dark hair, just above the ear. It was an effort not to reach out and brush it away.
‘There are too many Jiamads searching,’ he said. ‘It must be someone important. Maybe Landis himself.’
‘They will find him. The breeze is now northerly. Wherever he is they will scent him. Indeed, if we stay here they will scent us before long.’
Skilgannon returned his gaze to the valley below. Askari found herself staring at his profile, and noting the sheen on his hair and the curve of his cheekbone. Closing her eyes, she drew in the scent of his clothes. When she opened them she found his sapphire eyes staring at her.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Of course. Why would you ask?’
‘Your face is flushed.’
‘This shirt is too warm. I am climbing down now.’ She glanced at him. ‘There is a leaf in your hair.’
Easing her way down the tree she jumped to the ground alongside Harad. ‘We need to take the long route into Petar,’ she said. ‘There are Jiamads swarming over the valley.’
Harad nodded. ‘I thought I heard something from the north,’ he said. ‘Sounded like a scream. Very faint, very distant.’
Askari had heard nothing. ‘There are some Jiamads behind us now. However, they are searching for someone, and it is unlikely to be us. We should be able to avoid them if we move east.’
Skilgannon leapt lightly to the ground beside them. ‘I heard a shout, or a scream,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t place the direction.’
‘North,’ said Harad.
‘I’m not sure it was human. It was cut off too soon. Did you hear it?’ he asked Askari. She was annoyed that she had not. The scramble down the tree had been too hurried, and the swishing of the branches must have obscured the sound. She shook her head.
‘Did you want to investigate it?’ she asked. ‘Such a plan would seem foolish to me.’
‘I agree,’ said Skilgannon, ‘but we have a problem. Harad is looking for a friend. She may be back in the town — or she may be out here. If that scream was human then it suggests there are people in the high woods. Any one of them might know what happened to either Charis or Landis Kan. You lead off, Askari. We’ll follow. Do not get too far ahead.’
The huntress pulled her bow clear and set off towards the north at a lope, ducking under low branches and zig-zagging through the undergrowth. Skilgannon and Harad followed. They had run for almost half a mile before another scream sounded. It was a high, trembling cry, full of agony. Askari slowed in her run and angled towards the east and a stand of trees. Skilgannon and Harad moved up behind her as she scaled a small rise, then crouched down in the scrub at the top. Beyond it was a wide, rock-strewn hollow. There were three bodies splayed out on the ground, and five Jiamads and a human officer were kneeling beside a fourth man. His arm had been severed above the elbow, the limb lying some ten feet away, seeping blood to the grass. The officer had applied a clumsy tourniquet, but not to save the man’s life. Merely to keep him alive during questioning.
‘Where did they go?’ asked the officer. The dying man swore at him, and spat blood towards the other’s face. A Jiamad plunged a knife into the man’s leg, twisting the blade. The man’s scream was high pitched and ended in a gurgling cry.
‘I’ve had enough of this,’ said Harad, heaving himself to his feet.
‘I agree,’ said Skilgannon, his voice cold. Together they walked out into the open. Skilgannon raised his right hand and drew the Sword of Day. With his left he took hold of the jutting lower hilt and drew the Sword of Night.