"Caddoran" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Roger)

Chapter 3

‘It’s a sea monster.’ Thyrn was wide-eyed as he stared at the approaching shape. Hyrald shot him a silencing glance, though there was as much doubt in his eyes as anger, and he half drew his sword as he moved to stand by Rhavvan. One of the horses whinnied. Adren reached up to calm it.

As if in response, the shape stopped its advance and stood swaying slightly.

‘Who are you? What’s been happening here?’

An unsteady voice, a man’s, reached them through the mist.

Rhavvan frowned. ‘Who’re you?’ he echoed back, following it with a more uncertain, ‘What are you?’

The shape wavered, then replied, ‘I’m a shoreman.’

And, abruptly, with two cautious paces forward, it was a man. What had made his mist-shrouded form so strange was a long object he was carrying on his back. His loose-fitting calf-length boots and hooded long coat were patently working clothes of some kind, and they glistened dully as if wet. The coat was unfastened and Hyrald noted immediately that he was unarmed, apart from what was obviously a working knife in a rough string-bound sheath shoved into his belt. The object on his back exaggerated his movements, which in turn demonstrated that he was torn between staying and fleeing. He was also edging sideways slightly, as if he were trying to move around and past them. Whatever else he might be, Hyrald decided, he was no immediate threat. He released his sword and Rhavvan, reaching the same conclusion, lowered his staff.

‘Who are you?’ the newcomer repeated, clearly afraid. ‘What are you doing here?’ Then he saw the bodies of the dead Wardens. He stepped back with a cry, half stumbling as he did so.

Rhavvan moved forward quickly and caught his arm.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I… I told you… I’m a shoreman. Let me go. Don’t hurt me. I’ve nothing worth having on me. Hardly any fish even, today.’ Then, more urgently, ‘I must get off the shore.’ He tried to shake free of Rhavvan’s grip, but was apparently no match for the big man. He made no attempt to draw his knife with his free hand.

Hyrald intervened. ‘Don’t be afraid. We mean you no harm.’

He nodded to Rhavvan, who reluctantly eased his grip on the man. Hyrald met his frightened but unexpectedly searching gaze. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he repeated earnestly, willing calmness into the man. He pointed to the two bodies. ‘I can explain what’s happened here. There’s been… an accident. We’re not going to hurt you. We just want…’

A raucous cry from above made all of them start. It was followed by the sound of a wave gently breaking.

With unexpected force the man tore his arm free from Rhavvan. His face was desperate now and it was obvious he was going to flee no matter what the cost. Yet, as Hyrald held his gaze, he hesitated. Hyrald held out a hand to stop Rhavvan seizing him again. The man pointed past the group, into the mist. His mouth worked silently for a moment before he managed to say, ‘For mercy’s sake, man, the tide’s turning. Get off the shore.’

Somewhere, another wave broke, louder this time. The nearby water’s edge suddenly retreated then surged forward with unexpected force, splashing over Hyrald’s boots, tugging at him impatiently. The shoreman began running, deftly evading a lunge from Rhavvan despite his cumbersome burden.

A cold breeze brushed Hyrald’s face and the man’s fear swept over him. ‘We’re lost. Help us,’ he shouted after the retreating form. ‘Please.’

The shoreman stopped and turned, then gestured to them.

‘Get on your horses – follow me, quickly.’ And he was running again.

His urgency infected the others and, without any debate, Rhavvan mounted, dragging the injured and protesting Warden unceremoniously across his saddle, while Hyrald and Nordath took the other two horses with Adren and Thyrn. Another wave lapped around the horses’ hooves. Then they were galloping after the fleeing shoreman. It took them longer to catch him than Hyrald had anticipated – he was running very quickly, despite his burden.

As they rode, it came to Hyrald briefly that he might perhaps be dreaming, following this silent figure through the cold greyness that constantly unfocused his eyes. He could hear nothing above the dull sound of hooves on the soft sand and the disordered clatter of tackle, though somewhere he sensed a growing sound trying to be heard. The runner’s urgency pervaded everything, drawing the three riders after him, like an army, unmanned and turned into a rout by a single sudden deserter.

Then they were moving alongside a wide foaming stream running between sharp, fresh-cut banks in the sand – it too, seemed to be fleeing. Once again Hyrald felt disorientated as the stream was moving faster than they were, giving the impression when he looked down at it that he was not moving, or even moving backwards. He shook his head to rid himself of the disconcerting image.

The shoreman, running along the edge of the stream, was looking at it intently, though occasionally he glanced backwards at the riders. He reached a decision and shouted something.

Hyrald caught the words, ‘Risk it,’ and ‘Follow me,’ then, with bewildering speed, the shoreman had swung his burden from his back, dropped it into the water and stepped into it – it was a narrow boat. He snatched up a paddle hung on the side and gesticulated urgently with it to the riders, before plunging it into the racing water. ‘Quickly,’ he kept shouting.

Hyrald hesitated for a moment, but Rhavvan dashed past him, echoing the shoreman’s cry. Nordath and Hyrald spurred forwards after him.

Though the stream was not very wide, it was deeper than Hyrald had expected and he could feel the fear in his horse as the water dragged at its legs. Then, as the water deepened further, everything was confusion and near-panic, with spray and curses filling the air as the horses struggled to stay upright against the power of the stream and the riders struggled to stay mounted.

When they were halfway across, a sudden surge in the stream made Nordath’s horse lose its footing. It recovered, but as it did, Thyrn lost his grip on Nordath and, with a cry, tumbled into the water. Hyrald watched horrified as, arms thrashing, Thyrn floated for a moment then disappeared beneath the water. The sight of his upturned, terrified face, and the knowledge of his own helplessness, brought the futility and insanity of the past few weeks crashing down on Hyrald. A frantic roar of rage and frustration formed in his throat as the current relentlessly carried Thyrn away.

‘Keep going!’

It was the shoreman. His voice barely penetrated the din of the splashing horses and the turmoil filling Hyrald’s mind, but a blow from his paddle and his urgent gesturing did. Adren shook her brother and shouted the same message directly into his ear. ‘Get us out or we’ll be joining him!’

As Hyrald returned to his own struggle, he was aware of the shoreman, his paddle working desperately, now one side of the boat, now the other, pursuing Thyrn. The boat twisted and turned as he manoeuvred it through the increasingly turbulent stream while he peered into the depths in search of the young man.

Hyrald could see no sign of Thyrn, but the shoreman suddenly spun his boat about and plunged an arm into the water. The boat tilted perilously and for a long moment everything seemed to be motionless and balanced. Then the boat turned and abruptly righted itself and Thyrn was being lifted out of the water. He was flailing his arms frantically, causing the boat to rock violently. Hyrald was about to call out to him to be still when the shoreman gave him a powerful slap across the face, and somehow managed to drag him half across the boat where he pinioned him with a none too gentle boot.

Hyrald’s horse was the last to reach the far side of the stream. When it arrived, Rhavvan and Nordath had already ridden downstream to meet the shoreman and his passenger. Thyrn spilled out on to the sand, coughing and retching, as the boat was driven into the bank at speed. The shoreman vaulted out of it and dragged it from the water. Rhavvan hoisted Thyrn to his feet with the intention of examining him, but the shoreman urgently signalled him to keep moving. By way of emphasis, he himself began running again, slinging the boat across his back as he ran and scarcely breaking stride. Rhavvan hastily thrust Thyrn up behind Nordath with the injunction, ‘Hang on!’ and remounted.

With the riders trotting beside him, the shoreman maintained the same headlong pace for some while until the sand became dry and loose and dotted with occasional clumps of hard green grass.

Finally he stopped and dropped to his knees, breathing heavily. Rhavvan dismounted and lifted the injured Warden down, a little more gently than he had handled him before. The man was unconscious.

‘He’s only passed out,’ Rhavvan said, laying him down. ‘Probably the best thing he could have done in the circumstances.’

Hyrald cast a glance at Thyrn, slithering down from Nordath’s horse. The young man, wringing wet and still coughing, was a dismal sight, but seemingly unhurt so, his own knees shaking, he crouched down unsteadily by the panting shoreman. ‘Thank you,’ he said, resting a hand on his shoulder. ‘We’d no idea where we were, or the danger we were in. It seems to me you risked your own life to save us… especially Thyrn here.’

‘We were nearly too late,’ the man replied breathlessly. He was patting his boat as if he wanted to embrace it. ‘But I couldn’t leave you, could I? Whoever you are. Not to the sea.’ He shivered then looked at Hyrald intently. ‘What possessed you to go out that far?’

‘We need to light a fire,’ Nordath interrupted before Hyrald could reply. He indicated Thyrn, hugging himself. ‘He’s sodden. The last thing we need now is him down with a fever.’

Hyrald looked around. ‘I doubt there’s any wood lying about here. See if there’s anything in the Wardens’ packs.’

‘Theywere Wardens then, those men – those bodies we left. I thought I recognized the uniforms.’ The shoreman looked at the unconscious figure by Rhavvan. ‘He’s one too. What are Wardens doing up here? Who are you people? What’s going on?’

‘There’s a tent – and food, but no wood,’ Nordath called out.

‘This lot won’t burn,’ Rhavvan said, tugging at a clump of the tough grass.

‘Where can we find firewood around here?’ Hyrald asked the shoreman, ignoring his questions. We’ve got to get Thyrn dry and warm. I’ll answer your questions then.’

The shoreman peered into the mist, orientating himself.

‘That way,’ he said eventually, standing up and pointing. With a final pat he swung the boat on to his back. ‘I’ve got a shelter you can use. It’s not much, but there’s wood there, and some food and water. It’s not far.’

As they followed him, leading the horses, the mist began to yellow and then to clear, revealing a blue sky and a late afternoon sun. It was a welcome sight and the warmth it brought began to ease the mood of the group. Hyrald looked back, but though he could hear the distant clamour of the sea, he could see only sand dunes and the dull grey haziness of the mist. Rhavvan scrambled to the top of the highest nearby dune and peered around.

‘I can’t see anyone,’ he reported when he came down. The shoreman watched him warily.

‘There were only three of us.’ It was the young Warden.

‘Back with us, eh?’ Rhavvan said, almost heartily. ‘Slept through all the fun.’

The Warden grimaced in pain as he dropped down from the horse. Rhavvan caught him. ‘You may as well ride,’ he said.

The Warden scowled at him and shook his hand free. ‘Wherever you’re taking me, I’d rather walk.’

‘We’re not taking you anywhere,’ Hyrald said. ‘You’re free to go anytime you want to.’ He pointed to the shoreman. ‘But that man just saved all our lives and now he’s offering us shelter. It’s up to you whether you accept it or not but, if you’re leaving, the least you can do is thank him.’

The Warden looked at him, bewildered, but did not reject Rhavvan’s supporting hand as the group set off again. They continued in silence as the dunes gradually merged into undulating countryside. Swathes of purple and white flowers splashed the short turf, and birdsong filled the air. More and more trees and bushes began to appear and it was in a dip at the edge of a small copse that they came to the shoreman’s shelter.

It was a ramshackle collection of stones, weathered timbers and branches, and plaited grasses. As they approached it, a large dog emerged from the trees. Hackles raised, teeth bared and growling ominously it looked at each of the newcomers in turn as it moved towards them. Its slow, deliberate gait was more menacing than any demented charge.

‘Stay here,’ the shoreman said to the others needlessly. He went forward and, squatting down by the dog, spoke to it softly. None of the watchers could hear what he said, but the dog walked a little way from the shelter and lay down. It did not close its eyes however, but kept them fixed on the new arrivals.

‘Fine dog,’ Adren said nervously.

The shoreman grunted. He seemed a little more at ease now. ‘Don’t go near him, and don’t make any sudden movements,’ he said tersely as he disappeared into the shelter. A moment later he emerged with an armful of wood which he took to a small, stone-lined pit. Within minutes a fire was blazing and Thyrn was enthusiastically drying himself and his clothes while the others sat and examined the contents of the Wardens’ packs.

With the unspoken consent of the others, Rhavvan offered the food to the shoreman, but he took only a loaf which he promptly proceeded to cut up and hand around.

‘I’ve plenty of food,’ he said. ‘And I’m not lost. Your need seems to be greater than mine.’

His earlier questions were implicit in the statement and Hyrald introduced himself and the others. The Warden eventually called himself Oudrence.

‘My name’s Endryk,’ the shoreman said.

Rhavvan frowned slightly. ‘That’s not an Arvens name.’

Endryk looked at him, but said nothing.

‘Well, wherever you hail from, it’s our good fortune you were here today and we’re all indebted to you,’ Hyrald said, breaking the awkward silence. He indicated the food again. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing here that you want?’

‘I’ve everything I need,’ Endryk replied. ‘Except an explanation of what you’re all doing here and what possessed you to go so far out on the shore. It’s a dangerous place for even those who know it well.’ He looked around the seated circle and quickly glanced at his watchful dog. Then he looked directly at Hyrald. ‘I heard you shouting and fighting, before you try to tell me there was an accident out there again. The only reason I came near you was because I’d no choice. That’s the only way off the shore.’

Hyrald gave a guilty shrug. ‘I’m sorry. I was just trying to reassure you once I knew you weren’t another attacker. We were lost. We needed your help – more than we realized, as it turned out.’

‘Tell him everything,’ Nordath said. ‘He’s entitled to know. He could have left us, and without him we’d all be dead now.’ He motioned towards Oudrence. ‘And he needs to know if he’s going back. We’ve got to start getting our side of this business widely known somehow.’

Hyrald nodded. He stared into the fire for a moment, wondering where to begin.

‘It’s difficult,’ he said. ‘We’ve nothing to hide, but we really don’t know what’s happened. Or rather, we don’t knowwhy it’s happened.’

He plunged in. ‘The fact is, the Death Cry’s been proclaimed against all of us. We’re trying to get out of the country – to go north until we can find some way of having it annulled. Oudrence here came with two other Wardens to find us, but…’ He grimaced. ‘We killed them when they attacked us.’

Endryk looked at Oudrence, pale and stiff. ‘Why didn’t you kill him, as well?’

It was an unexpectedly cold question. ‘We’re not murderers,’ Hyrald replied angrily. ‘We were attacked, we defended ourselves, we survived. Two died, he didn’t. None of it was of our seeking and what we did – what we’ve done since all this started – we’ll defend before any tribunal.’

Endryk’s face was unreadable. Increasingly, Hyrald noted, he was becoming less and less the frightened man they had encountered on the shore. His response was blunt.

‘You can’t have the Death Cry proclaimed against you and not know what it’s about, still less have the Wardens coming all the way up here to find you. I doubt there’s anyone in Arvenshelm who even knows this place exists.’

‘That’s true enough,’ Rhavvan replied. ‘The only maps we could find of this region are vague to say the least. But what Hyrald’s just told you is true. We were sent to find Thyrn by his employer – Commander Vashnar – our own senior officer. Nothing urgent or particularly unusual – not even the Cry. Just find him and quietly bring him back. Then we’ve no sooner found him than we’re all being hunted. And the Death Cry isn’t something to stand and debate about, is it?’

‘But you’re telling me about it.’

Rhavvan shrugged. ‘As Nordath said, you’re entitled to know. We’ve done nothing wrong and we’ve got to start saying that sooner or later.’

Endryk looked at Thyrn. ‘He doesn’t look particularly dangerous to me. What did you do, young man, to upset your employer so badly?’

Thyrn stared at him blankly.

‘It was a Caddoran matter,’ Nordath answered for him protectively.

Interest flickered briefly in Endryk’s eyes. ‘Caddoran, eh? Heirs to the ancient battle messengers and the great storytellers.’ His face darkened. ‘Reduced to runners for merchants and the Wardens.’

Nordath’s eyes narrowed at the barely disguised sarcasm in his voice. ‘Thyrn’s is a rare gift these days,’ he protested. ‘And being a Caddoran is a respected and useful profession.’

‘I apologize,’ Endryk said, without hesitation. ‘I meant no reproach to the lad. You must forgive me, I’m not used to company.’

He turned to Oudrence. ‘Is all this true, Warden?’

The sudden question made Oudrence start and then flinch as the movement hurt him. ‘I don’t know. There is a Death Cry for them, but I don’t know why. The two I was with said it would put us in well with Commander Vashnar if we found them and brought them back. It seemed like a good idea at the time – the way they explained it.’ He looked round at the others. ‘I didn’t know they were going to attack you like that – not draw on fellow Wardens.’

‘What in mercy’s name did you think they were going to do?’ Rhavvan snapped angrily. ‘Three of you against five? Take us all the way back to Arvenshelm in chains?’

‘I told you, I don’t know,’ Oudrence shouted. ‘I didn’t even know what the Death Cry really meant.’ He was suddenly very young and defensive. ‘I only finished my basic training a few weeks ago. I just did as I was told, followed the others.’

‘They brought him along to do the work, Rhavvan, that’s all,’ Hyrald said dismissively. ‘We’ve done it to new recruits ourselves before now – and had it done to us when we first started.’

‘What… what’ll happen to their bodies?’ The question burst out of Oudrence.

‘From this part of the shore they’ll be washed out to sea,’ Endryk replied gently. ‘They’ll be long gone already. The tide’s very powerful. A few minutes more and we’d all have been lost… horses included.’

The group fell silent. Oudrence put his head in his free hand.

‘What’s the matter with your arm?’ Endryk asked.

‘His shoulder’s broken,’ Rhavvan replied as Oudrence opened his mouth. ‘I just bound it up to keep it still.’

‘I know a little about healing,’ Endryk said. ‘May I look at it?’

Oudrence looked at Rhavvan who shrugged.

Endryk’s examination was markedly more gentle than Rhavvan’s had been, and Oudrence relaxed noticeably as his injured shoulder was carefully tested and manipulated. Seemingly satisfied, Endryk announced, ‘You’re lucky. It’s not broken, just dislocated. Hang on.’ Before Oudrence could respond, Endryk wound his arms about him in an elaborate embrace and then jerked him violently. There was a cracking sound that made all the watchers start and then cringe, and such colour as there was in Oudrence’s cheeks drained away instantly as his mouth opened to draw in a loud breath of disbelief and horror.

‘There, that’s better,’ Endryk said briskly, releasing him and slipping Oudrence’s arm back into Rhavvan’s impromptu sling. ‘It’s going to hurt like hell for a while, but at least it’s back in place. Rest it as much as you can – keep it relaxed.’

Oudrence, staring wide-eyed into the fire, let out the breath he had taken in, in a series of short, distressed gasps.

‘Anyone else got any problems?’ Endryk asked, sitting down and looking expectantly round the circle. A series of vigorous head shakes greeted this inquiry.

‘Will he be fit to move on… on his own?’ Hyrald asked, a little hoarsely.

Endryk nodded. ‘The nearest village is a long day’s walk away, but it’s not difficult. He won’t enjoy it, but he should be all right if he takes it easy. He can rest here tonight – you all can, if you want. I’ll show him the way tomorrow.’

‘We seem to be growing more and more in your debt,’ Hyrald said.

‘You’ve lived too long in Arvenshelm,’ Endryk said. ‘What else could I have done? Left you? Walked on?’

‘Even so…’

‘Nothing you’ve told me makes any sense,’ Endryk interrupted. ‘But that’s the way it is with the Moot and its officers and everything around it.’ He tapped his head. ‘Devoid of logic and reason. Full of self-deception, vanity, corruption.’ His tone was bitter. ‘That someone’s proclaimed the Death Cry – with or without so-called just cause – shows that clearly enough. It’s barbarous – a relic of times long gone!’ He ended abruptly with a gesture of disgust. ‘Just offering you a hand when you were in danger, helping the lad with his injury, incurs no debt. How could I have done less?’

‘I didn’t mean to offend,’ Hyrald replied, taken aback by this sudden passion.

‘You didn’t, you didn’t,’ Endryk said hastily. ‘I didn’t realize I still felt so strongly about such matters. You must forgive me. As I said, I’m not used to company.’

‘Where are you from?’ Rhavvan asked.

‘Or questions,’ Endryk added forcefully. Rhavvan raised an apologetic hand and sat back. ‘If you want to carry on north, I’ll show you the way as well, though it’s at least four days west, inland past the estuary, before there’s a river narrow enough to cross. And it’s no easy crossing.’

‘Have you ever been north?’ Adren asked. Rhavvan looked at Endryk in anticipation of another rebuke, but none came, just a slight nod.

‘What kind of place is it?’ Thyrn burst in, wide-eyed. ‘There’s a great city there, isn’t there? Bigger even than a dozen Arvenshelms. And a land where everyone rides horses…’

‘There are towns and cities, and people,’ Endryk replied quietly. ‘And people are the same everywhere.’

‘Can you tell us anything about these places? Would we be safe there?’ Hyrald asked.

‘From the Death Cry, yes. But you’d be safe from that here. No one in the village, or in any of the villages within a week’s walk, gives a damn about anything that happens in Arvenshelm.’ He chuckled to himself. It was a warming sound. ‘In fact, most of them probably have no idea where Arvenshelm is. Still less what the Moot and Wardens are. It might be that your journey’s ended.’

Hyrald shook his head. ‘They found us once, they’ll find us again. If we stayed, we might only bring trouble to you.’ He let out a noisy breath. ‘We have to leave Arvenstaat. Settle into new lives somewhere until we can find out what’s happened – have the Death Cry set aside.’

‘How are you going to do that from exile?’

Hyrald made a helpless gesture. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. None of us have. We…’

‘Think about it now,’ Endryk said bluntly. ‘While you can. There are other lands to the north, and you could survive there, even live well. But maybe not, too. And this land is yours. Don’t be too anxious to be rid of it. Its roots will go deeper than you know.’

‘We’ve no choice.’

‘There are always choices.’

Hyrald shrugged to end the discussion. He was finding the course of the conversation oddly disturbing. The sun had set and though the sky was still clear, it had become quite dark in the dip.

‘My choice now then is to rest,’ he said, stretching. ‘We’ll accept your offer to stay here tonight, with thanks. This is the first time we’ve stopped running since all this started. Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps we need to pause and think for a while. And we’ll certainly need to put today behind us before we can do that.’

Hyrald woke the next day with bright daylight shining in his face. It was obviously long past dawn. Although he was uncomfortable, he felt refreshed. He had envisaged a disturbed and difficult night, cramped as they all were in the shelter and following on the day’s desperate events, but he had gone to sleep as soon as he had lain down. The light was coming through the doorway of the shelter which had been left open and it enabled him to disentangle himself gently from Nordath’s legs. Stiffly he levered himself upright and went outside.

Endryk was talking to the horses, tethered to a nearby tree. Rhavvan was crouched over the fire prodding something in a pan. ‘Very useful, those supplies our colleagues brought.’

Hyrald frowned at the remark. ‘First shade of the day,’ he said. Rhavvan looked up at him questioningly.

‘I was just feeling glad to be awake after a good night’s sleep, and you remind me we killed two of our own yesterday.’ He raised a hand to forestall Rhavvan’s protest. ‘I know. They asked for it. They drew on us. We couldn’t have done anything else. But that doesn’t make it any easier.’

Rhavvan returned to his cooking. ‘It does for me,’ he said. ‘A damned sight easier. For crying out, Hyrald, would you have gone tearing all the way up here on such an errand? They came in blades swinging and they got what they deserved. I’ve taken my stick to a few in my time, but I can count on one hand the number I’ve drawn against – and none of them without damned good justification. Here, sit and eat, it’ll clear your mind – you must’ve got sand in it. It’s got everywhere else!’

Gradually the others emerged from the shelter. Reproach was offered to Hyrald for managing to sleep through Oudrence’s tossing and turning as he had striven unsuccessfully to find a comfortable position, but Hyrald could tell that the events of the previous day and the night’s sleep had somehow renewed the group’s determination.

Despite some initial wariness, not to say downright alarm, on the part of the young Warden, Endryk examined Oudrence’s shoulder again and pronounced it sound.

When they had finished eating – a bizarre mixture of dried meats that the Wardens had carried, and fresh fish that Endryk had provided – Hyrald turned to Oudrence.

‘Time for you to go now, if you’re going,’ he said. He looked at Endryk for confirmation. ‘It’s going to be a fine day. You should make good progress. You’ll be all right once you reach the village, I’m sure. You might even be able to borrow a horse.’ He bent close and looked directly into Oudrence’s eyes. ‘You can tell anyone you meet what’s happened here, and everything we’ve said. When you get back to Arvenshelm – you are from Commander Vashnar’s own district, aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, tell Vashnar – tell everyone – the truth. Don’t lie about anything. And tell him we’re going north, but that we’ll be back, and looking for justice when we come. Do you understand?’

Oudrence nodded.

Hyrald answered an unasked question. ‘And don’t blame yourself for what happened to your companions. They were experienced men, they knew what they were doing and the risks they ran. They misled you and you were lucky not to get killed along with them.’ He turned to Endryk. ‘You can show him the way?’

‘I’ll have to take him part of the way.’

‘How long will you be?’

‘A few hours.’

Hyrald thought for a moment. ‘Take one of the horses,’ he said. ‘We’ll be ready to leave when you get back. I want to make as much progress as possible today.’

Thyrn rubbed his hands excitedly. Endryk and Oudrence had been gone some time.

‘West along the coast for about four days, he said. Then across the river and we’ll be there – safe.’

Hyrald thought for a moment then shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ve been thinking. We can’t go on like this. We should go west along the coast, but only until we reach the Karpas Mountains. Then south. Back to Arvenshelm.’