'do you think we're walking into a trap?' Tila asked from behind him. Isak turned in his saddle and gave what he hoped was an encour-aging; smile. It didn't seem to have the desired effect; Tila twitched her nose at him and looked away.
'I hope not,' he said. 'I just keep getting the feeling someone's spy-ing on us.' A tremor ran down his spine like a ghostly finger and he flinched, unable to stop himself from checking around again. 'Ignore me, Tila. I'm just being foolish. I'd trust our scouts over anyone else.'
'Some things they can't see,' Morghien said in a distant voice. He closed his eyes for the moment, an inquisitive look on his face. 'Is it
'magic you feel?'
'1 ' Isak stopped. His inexperience counted against him once more 'I don't really know enough about it to be sure.'
'isak,' Garel said, an intent look on his face, 'what do your instincts say? No, don't think about it – don't try magic or anything you're not so fa,miliar with. I know you, and I trust your instincts; tell me right now do you think we're being watched?'
isak nodded. 'I think we are.'
'Right.' Carel raised a hand to signal the halt. 'Helms on, lances out spare mounts behind us; Tila, Mistress Daran, stay in the middle, and,| Morghien, stay with them, no matter what happens. The bastards must have a mage scrying for us, which means we are going to be hit, and when that happens I want you getting the women away. You're not a knight, trained in battle, so you're the one we can spare in a straight light.' he stopped for a moment, suddenly remembering control, and looked at Isak, gesturing at his helm. 'My Lord?'
the white eye smiled as he remembered a saying he'd heard once: tradition rules the Farrlan, the lord just tells everyone what to do. He pulled
the blue hood from his belt and slipped it over his head, then raised the distorting mirror helm over his head. Even on a nondescript day like this the light reflected strangely off it. Isak was glad his enemies were the ones who had to look at that soulless face. 'Gentlemen, your helms.'
Isak's party was already diminished, with eight dead and three seriously wounded who had remained in Narkang, so the absence of the scouts was pronounced. Mihn in particular had become a comforting presence, always in Isak's shadow; in his absence Isak felt unaccountably vulnerable.
Looking around, his eyes came to rest on Carel, organising the spare horses into a train they could abandon if necessary. The old soldier wouldn't thank him for pointing it out, but it was high time he retired. Isak thought he looked too small for plate-armour now, as if the loss of youth had drained inches and more from the man. The battle in Narkang had been evidence enough; Carel was still un¬deniably good with a sword, but hours of combat in heavy plate was exhausting for anyone; this time the effort had nearly killed Carel. When we get to Tirah I'll speak to Lesarl about widows with manor houses and grandchildren he could grumble about, he thought to himself.
'Lord Isak's right; the woods are too quiet,' commented Morghien as Vesna and Carel helped Tila and her chaperone pull shields onto their backs. Neither had armour, of course, but the chances were high that any ambush would be by light cavalry, and while the shields would be useless against a longbow, anything smaller might not penetrate.
'The quiet could be good for us,' said the count. 'There's no wind, sound will travel well, and any ambush will require more than one regiment having seen Lord Isak in battle, any force of fewer than a hundred nun would be taking quite a risk.'
'Vesna, find us somewhere to defend,' Isak snapped, scanning the trees ahead. He could feel movement out there somewhere, move¬ment, and eyes on them. There was magic involved, but this was a predator and the animals of the forest had recognised it.
They broke through a line of high ash trees and moved on to clearer ground. A gentle slope ran down towards a stream which disappeared from view behind higher ground off to the left, but it was steep and thick with tangling hawthorns. Isak didn't need to be told that that was the wrong direction; they could find themselves cornered fifty yards in.
'There should be rocky ground there, where the stream comes out,' Vesna said, pointing to the right. 'Look at the lie of the ground: those bushes are probably hiding a sharp drop where the stream comes out. We aim for that rocky ground, and if there's no threat when we get there we move in to the trees behind and find our scouts. We must move fast. If we're caught in open ground by cavalry we don't stand it chance.'
As one, the horses moved forward at a brisk trot. Isak sat high and tense in his saddle, straining to detect anything over the rattle of armour and the thud of hoofs on the hard ground. He snapped at the reins irritably, trying to hold in Toramin's impatient steps, and as he did so his arm brushed the Skull fixed in his breastplate, reminding him of the power the objects gave him. Forged by the last king of the elves for use in the Great War, the Skulls gave access to more Magic than any mortal could naturally summon. With a Crystal Skull, even the Gods of the Pantheon's Upper Circle could be killed – so he shouild be able to open his senses to the Land around him while he Was running for cover.
Isak touched his mailed fingers to the Skull and through the en-chatned silver encasing his body he felt an immediate rush of exhila-ration fllow through him. The power he could access now was simply terrifying – he'd been nervous about experimenting with the Skulls until he was safe in Tirah Palace, but now he didn't have a choice. He was careful to allow only a trickle of energy to leak out of the artefact and into his body, but that tiny fraction was enough. A sense of the
terrain around them settled over his mind, like a silk cloak descend¬ing the wind rippling through the fat blades of grass on the open slope made him shiver and the chill trickle of water cut sharp through his soul. he focused on the trees ahead and a noise suddenly filled his ears hoof heats, and the clatter of metal.
'Riders ahead,' he called quietly. 'They're closing fast. First squad with me, battle order.'
Aryn Bwr stirred hungrily in his mind, but Isak angrily crowded it out This was Isak's fight and he didn't need anything to distract him At his urging, Toramin leapt forward and the rest followed in two groups, one with him, the second dropping fifteen yards behind to give them space to manoeuvre. They were closer to the river than the FAR tree line, and fifty yards out Isak saw what he'd been hoping for large slabs of rock breaking up a hollow in the slope, and a jagged wall of rock and earth, leaving no more than twenty yards of ground to light on and no space behind them to be encircled by cavalry. Low-spreading yews were dotted all over the crest, and Isak understood why Vesna had aimed for that area in particular. Their al lackers would be on horseback, and there was a good chance it wouldn't occur to cavalrymen to dismount and creep around the back any t inie soon.
As they reached the river and slowed to cross it, two riders burst from the trees ahead of them, riding full-tilt. One stood up in his stirrups as soon as he saw them and bellowed at the top of his voice, 'Riders behind! Tildek and Lomin soldiers!'
Isak's hand tightened: the whole Certinse family. Mow long had they been waiting for this opportunity? They reached the cleft in the hill and Isak wheeled Toramin in a tight circle to survey where they would be making their stand. It wasn't perfect, but there were jutting stones that would prevent a full charge, and some cover at least. The two scouts, Jeil and Mihn, reached them at breakneck speed, their ponies hardly slowing as they reached the taller hunters and found gaps between them to slow and turn in. Both men looked flushed and were out of breath.
'Borl took an arrow and fell from his horse,' Jeil gasped. 'We saw banners from at least two different regiments of light cavalry.' He was gulping air down, getting his wind back for the fight ahead as he strug¬gled to control his words. The rangers were ruthlessly loyal, and Jeil was raging inside that he'd not been able to cut the archer's throat before he fled.