Tom Lloyd - The Twilight herald

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.

'No hurscals, no nobles, but I heard more cavalry not far away.' Mihn looked rather more composed. The sudden ride had forced rare animation onto his normally stony face; he looked truly alive, instead of being a shadow of a man.

'Two regiments, and probably fifty hurscals,' Vesna guessed. 'Right, lances in the ground, form a spike wall. Keep the tips high so they can see what we intend. It might make them hesitate.'

Isak nodded. 'And I need to find those damned mages.'

Harnessing the trickle of power and opening his senses again, Isak quested out, but this time with a purpose that the Skull of Hunting eagerly embraced. The pursuers had reached the tree line, three hundred yards away, but there they stopped. Going further, Isak felt more bodies and smelled the musk of horses on the wind in several distinct places. Within the last he felt some sharp pinpricks of magic and swooped in closer: there! Three of them, protective wards already raised, all taking no chances – Isak could taste the streams of energy surrounding them, bitter in the back of his throat, nothing he recog¬nised, or desired contact with. A wry smile crept onto his lips; their own defences had betrayed them. In his head he heard Aryn Bwr speak with cold dispassion: They can't sense you, kill them quickly and withdraw.

Isak looked around as the rest of his party arrived at the cleft. In the distance he could see the spare horses milling around in fear and confusion, beginning to drift back towards their fellows.

'My Lord, I can see archers,' Mihn said suddenly. Isak jerked his head round – they couldn't let archers close the gap; they had only a few bows themselves and they would never survive an exchange.

Tila, Mistress Daran, get to the back, help hobble the horses, then find a rock to shelter behind. Mihn, tell me if they get closer.'

Isak closed his eyes as everyone took up their positions. The Ghosts were on foot now, kneeling down, axes laid out before them and lances held high. No one spoke. Seeing Isak in the breach at Narkang, emulating Nartis himself in battle, had affected them all profoundly. He would never be treated with the friendly camaraderie of fellow soldiers, for they regarded him with awed devotion. They would follow his orders without question.

In the forest beyond, Isak began to delicately test the defences of the three mages until, in a very short time, he found what he was looking for. He didn't know what any of the spells surrounding them did exactly, but he could sense a gap in one, like an incomplete web. Isak reached out with his left hand, picturing the tips of his dead white fingers slipping between the threads of energy and clamping about the mage's neck. He felt rather than heard a yelp of fear as the mage's shield collapsed inwards. The revolting flavour grew in his mouth, both familiar and yet completely unknown.

Touched by Larat, that one, said Aryn Bwr, ordained then given over to it daemon. Kill him quickly before his new master intervenes.

The white-eye needed no further encouragement. The situation was bad enough as it was without a daemon incarnating. Tightening his hand into a fist, he felt a small snap, then let the corpse drop from his lingers.

'One dead,' he announced. Isak felt rather than saw the question-ing expressions behind their helms; even Carel, his oldest friend, wa a little reluctant to ask what Isak was now capable of, for fear of the answer.

'Any others?' the veteran asked briskly.

'They're paying attention now; I only got one because they weren't watching for me.' Isak slipped on his shield and scanned the ground ahead. Three companies of horsemen had left the cover of the trees and were intent on crossing the river to cut off any escape. They were keeping a respectful distance, perhaps uneasy even now to march on the Chosen of Nartis, but he knew that wouldn't last. Isak allowed himself a moment of pity: the soldiers and sworn bondsmen had no choice but to follow their liege into battle, even when they knew the wrong of it. He shook his head. Time enough for sympathy if he lived, and for that, he must kill as many of them as he could.

'They're just going to form up and stick us like pincushions,' mut¬tered Vesna as he watched the cavalry cross the stream. '1 doubt they'll bother trying to get in behind us now they know we've got nowhere to run.'

'Get the armour off the horses to give us some protection. The longer we're alive the more of them 1 can kill at a distance.'

'There's no time for that – look, those are hurscals.'

Vesna pointed to more troops leaving the trees and Isak recognised the square heraldic flags, present only when the duke or suzerain was on the field. He spotted the barbican emblem of Lomin.

'The whole festering clan is here then,' Isak muttered, 'but how did Duke Certinse get here so fast?'

'Doesn't matter,' Vesna growled. 'What we need to know is how we're going to survive this. Three companies on the left, and one, maybe two, still in the trees? Then we've got heavy cavalry, a good fifty. My Lord, we need those mages dead; we can't afford to have them keep you busy.'

'I can't get to them.' Isak paused, waiting for some sort of response from Aryn Bwr, but the voice in his head was silent. 'I'm just going to ward them off as best I can.'

'While we fight against odds of ten to one? What about what you did on the palace walls in Narkang?'

'That would kill every single one of you; I don't know whether even I would survive it. No, we need some help from somewhere.' Isak's voice tailed off as a memory suddenly appeared in his head. The forest spirits in Llehden – the gentry – if they had called him friend, then perhaps other spirits of the Land would also. It might not be much of an advantage, but he'd take anything. He closed his eyes and took deep, calming breaths to get the anxious drum of his heart under control, then he opened his senses to the Land – which already felt like a seductively natural act.

The two remaining mages noticed immediately, and Isak felt them abandon the smoky ribbon of magic linking them as they scrambled to strengthen their own defences. Whatever spell they had been working on dissipated almost immediately. Instead of probing their defences further, Isak left the mages to their distraction and moved beyond them to run his fingers through the cool heavy earth and listen to the ponderous breath of the trees all around. There was a remarkable stillness shrouding the whole area, once the irritation of humans was ignored. Isak felt his heart slow and relax as his jangling fear seeped away into the black soil beneath him and disappeared. He began to quest out in all directions, nosing at stones, following a ripple dance its way down the stream, blindly weaving his way down the tunnels of rabbits and moles as the sensation of the damp earth grew around him like a protective cocoon. Only then, suffused by a sense of peace, did he notice a difference in one area, like a twisted knot of iron in a haystack. He felt it stir, only the slightest of movements, but enough to make the riverbed where it lay tremble softly.