And I owe you.
In a fluid motion Drem drew his short axe from his belt, raised it two-handed and brought it down upon the lock and chain wrapped around the iron-barred gate. An explosion of sparks, links falling away.
‘What are you doing?’ Aed shouted.
The axe rose and fell again, and then the chain fell away, unravelling to the ground in a long, sinuous coil.
‘What have you done?’ Aed whispered.
Drem grabbed the cage door and threw it open.
‘I think you should run,’ he said to Aed as he walked calmly back to his horse.
‘WARE!’ Aed screamed as the white bear burst from the cage, head high, sniffing the air. It roared, a great, defiant bellow that rattled the iron bars of its cage, looked about, taking in Aed, Drem swinging back into his saddle, and the open spread of meadow that led to woodland and the Bonefells.
It’s not a mankiller; it proved that in the forest when it left me alive and chose to run.
Another roar and it shambled away, breaking into a ponderous run, snow spraying as it aimed straight as an arrow for the trees and mountains.
Your home. Drem thought. And I should do the same.
With a touch to reins and heels to his horse, he urged his mount to a canter across the white meadow, heading northeast.
Heading home.
Exhaustion was heavy upon him when he rode back into his yard, but he knew he could not rest yet.
Men or worse from the mine will be coming for me, soon enough. Later today, maybe on the morrow. I’ve not the energy or will to run any further, and even if I did, they would catch up with me, out in the Wild where I would be defenceless. They won’t expect me to make a stand, and, besides, this is my home, where I spent the last five years with my da. As good a place to make a stand as any.
He stabled his horse, let the livestock out, and looked up at the sky. It was well past highsun, edging towards sunset.
Still time enough.
And he went to work.
Later that night he finally collapsed onto a makeshift bed of hemp sacks stuffed with hay. His weapons were still buckled around his waist, sword, axe, his bone-handled seax, more axes and knives in a bundle on the ground, and his spear leaned against the wall by his head. It was dark, the wind whistling around the hold as exhaustion finally claimed Drem.
I’ve done all I can do. You never know, I might just make it through this. Depends how many are tracking me.
The last thing he remembered before he fell into the black well of sleep was the sound of a goat bleating close to his ear.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
RIV
Riv gazed in awe at Bleda and a dozen of his honour guard. They were galloping across the weapons-field in an arrowhead formation, leaning low in their saddles, bows drawn, two or three more arrows gripped in the same fist that held their bows. Without any obvious sign that Riv could tell, they loosed their bows together, arrows flying at the straw targets before them; within heartbeats they had drawn and loosed another shaft, then were thundering past their pin-cushioned targets, twisting in their saddles to shoot one last arrow into the back of the straw men.
Just in case two arrows in the face isn’t enough to put your enemy down.
Riv whooped her approval as the riders curled around the field, slowing to a canter, and another dozen rode at the straw targets.
‘Have to admit, that’s an impressive party trick,’ Jost said beside her.
‘Aye. How can Bleda still do that, after five years away from it?’ Riv said.
‘It’s like riding a horse,’ a voice said behind her, and she turned to see Jin, sat upon a mount of her own, a curved bow in her hand. ‘Once you learn the skill of it, you never forget.’ She shrugged. ‘It may take a while to come back, like knocking the rust from a blade left untended, but the iron and steel is still beneath.’
‘Wise words,’ Jost said.
‘Huh,’ Riv grunted. She didn’t much care for Jin, had always found her abrupt, rude. And now that she had an honour guard of a hundred warriors, there was a new level of arrogance in her, the way she spoke, even the way she walked was irritating Riv.
‘It’s about discipline, self-control, focus,’ Jin said as she rode past them. She looked down and met Riv’s eyes flatly. ‘Something you’d know very little about.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Riv said, a seam of anger heating in her veins. She felt Jost’s hand upon her arm, heard his voice. Ignored it.
‘You know exactly what it means,’ Jin said. ‘I saw your warrior trial. You have no discipline, no control.’ She snorted a laugh. ‘What kind of warrior are you? The answer is: none at all. I doubt you will ever pass your warrior trial, will always be wishing, hoping, dreaming. As you dream of other things.’
Riv opened her mouth, but only a strangled hiss came out.
‘I see the way you look at my betrothed. Bleda is mine. Betrothed to me. We shall rule Arcona together, while you are still polishing warriors’ boots and dreaming of being one.’
Jin kicked her horse on. Riv snarled, clenching her fists, and started after her. Jost was hanging on to her, pleading for her to calm down, to see sense, though she was dragging him across the grass. But the anger had total control again, was putting a fire in her limbs and, even as she knew she shouldn’t be doing this, should be mastering her emotions, she couldn’t. Part of her didn’t even want to try, there was something bittersweet about the surrender, relinquishing the need to think, instead just doing.
A great gust of wind, and a Ben-Elim was alighting between Riv and the shrinking backside of Jin and her horse.
It was Kol, all gleaming mail, golden hair and white teeth.
‘Here,’ he said, throwing something through the air at Riv.
Instinctively she caught it, a practice sword. She looked up and saw Kol coming at her with a weapon raised high, whistling towards her head. Without thinking, she blocked it, rotated her wrist and shoulder, sending it wide, knocking her opponent off balance, and she was swinging her blade at him, all the rage she’d felt a moment ago still there, coursing through her, just focused on something else now. With a savage fury she attacked Kol, chopping, stabbing, lunging, feinting, stabbing again. Her blade connected more times than she missed, hard blows that would leave a tale of bruises, Kol grunting with the pain of them, though he kept grinning the whole time.
‘Feels good, doesn’t it?’ he whispered as she lunged in close, seeking to skewer him, but he stepped to one side, their bodies crashing together.
‘What does?’ she snarled up at him.
‘Letting go,’ he breathed, pushed her with his empty hand and swept his wooden blade at her neck, a blow that would have decapitated her if it were sharp steel.
If it touched me.