The Twilight Herald Part 2

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 G.o.ds 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 descending the wind rippling through the fat blades of gra.s.s 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 s.p.a.ce 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 s.p.a.ce 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 struggled 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 n.o.bles, 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 d.a.m.ned 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 pinp.r.i.c.ks 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 recognised, 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 dispa.s.sion: 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 hors.e.m.e.n 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,' muttered 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 coc.o.o.n. 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.

With great care Isak approached as it stirred again, brightening and expanding, almost like a tree waking slowly into summer. There was a note of muzzy confusion before the creature shook itself to wakefulness and noticed Isak and the water suddenly surged, a flurry of movement. He felt a shape arch up out of the water and stretch to its full height. Isak hurriedly retreated back in on himself and cut the How of magic flowing from him, but not before he felt a pulse of pure fury radiate out from the creature.

'b.u.g.g.e.r.'

Vesna rounded on him. 'b.u.g.g.e.r? What do you mean? What in the name of Ghenna has happened now?'

'Well, it seems things could have been worse after all,' Isak mut-tered grimly. 'I think I just woke something up, and it's not happy.'

Vesna opened his mouth but his retort was cut off as one of the Ghosts in the line gave a bellow.

'p.i.s.s and daemons, what's that?' The man pointed a hundred yards down the stream to where something was thrashing under the surface.

Isak strained to see, but all he could make out was furious spurts of water erupting. As the taste of its anger filled the air, Isak, to his horror, recognised it.

'It reminds me- But not the same- Oh G.o.ds, the Chalebrat, from the battle with the Elves!'

'Like a Chalebrat?' spat Mihn from Isak's left, so sudden and unexpected that the white-eye jumped at the sound. 'You've just woken a Malviebrat? A water elemental? My Lord, we. are the only ones near the water!'

All eyes jumped to the drifting water of the stream that ran no more than five yards to their left. Here it was calm and almost clear, about two feet deep and running smoothly over a bed of pebbles, a straight path towards the boiling chaos Isak had stirred up.

's.h.i.t, it's coming this way!'

The churning column of water abruptly resolved into the shape of a tall figure striding down the centre of the stream, water seething and dancing furiously at its feet.

'Mihn, any ideas?'

The small man cast his eyes around desperately as the Malviebrat closed in on them. The soldiers lining up against them had stopped and all eyes were on the creature, exactly as Isak had intended. But there was no doubting the intent in its walk. 'I- Perhaps a show of strength? They are creatures of magic, after all, and however much you're angered it, it must have some sense of self-preservation.'

'Morghien?'

The wanderer's eyes flashed open and his features seemed to flicker for a moment until they became his usual weather-beaten face. Isak felt a moment of hope as he remembered what Mihn had called him once, the man of many spirits. One of those had been a local G.o.ddess bound to a stream.

Morghien shook his head wearily. 'Seliasei cannot reach it; the Malviebrat will not listen to her.'

A show of force?' Isak repeated.

Morghien rubbed his hand over his face to wipe away the sensation of allowing the Aspect control of his body. 'Will probably not work, but it is worth a try. If you fight it, don't worry that your blade pa.s.ses through it. Elementals use magic to hold their form; the more you cut through that form, the weaker it will become.'

'Worth a try,' Isak confirmed. He felt a wolfish grin creep onto his face as he readied himself and felt the huge reserve of energy inside the Skulls pulse with eagerness. 'Cover your eyes.'

Isak raised his arms, holding sword and shield up to the sky, and blistering light burst into life in an arc beyond his hands. He could feel the heat it gave off; even with his eyes almost entirely closed the light was nearly unbearable. The lashing coils of energy bucked and kicked as he fought to control them. The impact of the magic smashing into itself reverberated down into his ma.s.sive shoulders. The air shuddered and screamed around him as the streams of energy within the arc writhed about each other, but after a few moments Isak felt the magic reluctantly submit to his control.

He felt as though he were rising up on the air, and all sensation other than the enormous power in his hands fell away. Isak struggled not to cry out at the overwhelming strength flowing through his body; he felt invulnerable, divine. The Malviebrat seemed to recognise his divinity too: its advance faltered, but instead of stopping, a palpable surge of rage radiated out and on it came. Isak watched the fluid motion of its limbs and it stretched out into a sprint. It looked like Siulents as it moved. The white froth of its body was tinted the faintest of blues, and it was deceptively quick with the unnatural grace of water come alive.

As the Malviebrat surged towards Isak, fists bunched and ready, he heard screams from behind him as the horses caught sight of the unearthly figure. With a thought, Isak split the weaves of magic running between his hands. The creature was not cowed, but he remembered Morghien's words. The vast energy he held would disrupt the elemental's body, even if nothing showed. Wrapping one crackling loop of magic around his shield and another around Eolis, Isak charged forward to get clear of his own men. He readied himself to fight.

The Malviebrat swung wildly towards Isak as he came towards it. The white-eye ducked and spun around, letting momentum carry the blade into its belly and on through its body. The elemental howled as it stopped and turned, raking down with clawed hands onto Isak's raised shield. To Isak it felt like an axe had been slammed down, sending a shower of droplets into his face, blinding him for a moment. He slashed wildly upwards and felt Eolis cut something, momentarily driving the creature off. When he cleared his eyes it was on him again, but this time he was prepared, riding the blow as he cut to the knee, then reversing his blade and ripping it up into the groin, and right through to the elemental's shoulder.

Again the creature screamed, but the cuts, heavy impacts as Isak felt them, seemed to pa.s.s through and out without causing any obvious damage other than a blaze in the water of its body as Eolis cut through it. Isak gave steady ground, cutting forward again and again, until at last the elemental seemed to slow and Isak felt his chance come. With every sc.r.a.p of a white-eye's unnatural speed he slashed and tore at his enemy, using his shield as a club to batter away at it, following each blow with another. The Malviebrat reeled under his furious a.s.sault and squealed like a wounded boar before bursting apart into a sudden torrent of water.

Isak stopped and looked around at the stream he was standing in. There was no sign of the elemental; the still air above seemed frozen with shock at the violence of his a.s.sault. He noticed his breathing again, ragged through his tight throat, and then the sounds of the Land once more rushed back to him. His toes twitched automatically as he felt the chill of the water invading his boots and that stirred him into action.

Turning back to his soldiers, Isak saw them staring. Most were wearing helms, but Morghien and Mihn stood with their mouths hanging open in astonishment. Isak felt a growl of annoyance as he started back towards them. Just once, it would be nice if people didn't look at him that way after a battle.

CHAPTER 3.

Distant shouts reminded Isak that not all the enemy had fled: the cavalry were still formed up on each side of the stream some two hundred yards away, arrows nocked, just waiting for the order. The smaller group of knights between them were n.o.blemen and hurscals in the dull burgundy livery of Lomin, but Isak had eyes only for the man at the centre. The scarlet wolf's head helm would have made Duke Certinse's ident.i.ty obvious even without the flag of Lomin hanging limply above his head. Isak, still standing in mid-stream, allowed himself a moment to stare at one of the few men in the Land who was his peer, in both age and station.

'What are you waiting for then?' Isak said under his breath. 'It's a bit late for second thoughts now.'

No answer appeared, and with a flourish Isak sheathed his sword and turned his back on them. He kept his eyes fixed on Count Vesna as he returned to his comrades, keeping his pace steady. He knew he looked unconcerned, a.s.sured the glamour of Siulents ensured that but inside he was beginning to feel the first strains of panic. A score of men against several regiments was no battle at all, and try as he might, Isak couldn't think of any way out. To have come so far, only to be killed as he crossed the border seemed like a sick joke.

G.o.ds, is this really it? After all those dreams? 1 was sure I knew who was going to kill me, but I guess that was all wrong. Perhaps Aryn Bwr was right when he said I had broken history... perhaps no portent will now hold true for me.

Isak couldn't help but take a quick glance around at the trees on either side. 'Stop it,' he muttered to himself, 'there's no one there. You're being foolish. It's fear playing with you, nothing more.'

'Archers coming forward at slow order,' said Vesna in a neutral tone as Isak reached his guards. The white-eye nodded, not trusting himself to speak. His hand bunched into a fist as he felt a growing knot in his stomach. He'd been frightened before, many times, but this was the first time he'd had the luxury of time to savour its bitter flavour.

The absence of magic coursing through his body added to t he sensation, he realised, feeling insubstantial, almost weak as his impending death reared in his mind. Everything else fled before that: here he was, armed with weapons to make a G.o.d envious and there was no help to be found. He was outnumbered, miles from safety, and not so inexperienced that he didn't know that any magic he did use would kill him and his friends as surely as it would those they were fighting.

A flicker of anger appeared at that thought. If I'm going to die, so is that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Certinse. I couldn't stand to take my last breath and see his triumphant grin. I'd rather put out my own eyes first. He looked up at the overcast sky. The poacher's moon would have fallen behind the horizon by now. If Nartis was watching, he was obviously content to leave his Chosen to whatever fate was coming.

'More hors.e.m.e.n, my Lord,' someone called, and a soldier pointed off to their left. A group of mounted men trotted in line at the top of the slope, following the path Isak's party had taken, anonymous against the darkness of the tall pines.

'Vesna, do you recognise them?'

Vesna craned his neck, then shook his head. 'I can't tell. They're wearing a uniform I don't recognise, but they're riding hunters, and they're not knights or hurscals, not all in black like that.'

'Their leader isn't,' Carel said, sounding confused. 'Is that-? G.o.ds, it's a b.l.o.o.d.y chaplain leading them!'

He was right: as the party came closer they could make out the one man not in black was sporting the white robes of a Legion Chaplain. His hood was pushed back to display a bald head and a long grey beard hung down over his chest. As they neared, the chaplain stood up in his stirrups and called something towards the enemy cavalry, swinging his moon-glaive in a wide circle above his head and finishing his statement with a roar and a cackle of laughter.

'b.a.s.t.a.r.d's a bit old to be an active chaplain,' Vesna commented, 'and what's he laughing about-? He broke off abruptly, then exclaimed, 'Oh G.o.ds, of course! He's been waiting the best part of his life for this day, no wonder he's making sure he enjoys it!' He turned to Carel. 'Get our men in the saddle, now those knights are on our side but they're still outnumbered.'

The men didn't wait for Carel's orders; they were already running for the horses. Isak grabbed Vesna by the arm and demanded an explanation.

'That's Cardinal Disten,' the count said, his eyes shining. 'He's the one who uncovered the whole b.l.o.o.d.y Malich affair. He's been after the Certinse family ever since, but he never managed to find the proof he needed to have them tried. Now they've delivered themselves to him, both Duke Certinse and Suzerain Tildek, and that's reason enough to round up the rest of the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.'

'Who are the knights with him? That's not a cardinal's staff.'

Vesna beckoned one of the soldiers to bring their horses. 'Dark monks, I'd bet, my Lord. The Brethren of the Sacred Teachings themselves. Suzerain Saroc has always been known as a bit of a recluse I think we've just found out why!'

Isak swung himself into the saddle and looked at the advancing hors.e.m.e.n. 'I never expected to be so glad to see religious fanatics,' he said as the newcomers unleashed a volley of arrows into the suddenly disordered enemy soldiers desperately turning to face the new threat. Isak grinned and drew his own sword. The dark monks didn't make the numbers even, but it was close enough for Isak. He felt the sharp hunger of magic inside his chest as Eolis glittered in the dull daylight, around the lower part of which the Skull of Hunting had wrapped itself. It looked as if the guard and a few inches of the blade had been coated in a thick layer of ice, and the weapon throbbed with barely restrained power.

'Morghien, Mihn, your weapons will do more good here, protecting Tila and Mistress Daran, than in the midst of a cavalry charge.' The wanderer nodded. He was not a natural horseman and controlling his animal in the midst of battle was no easy thing. Mihn looked less impressed, but he didn't argue; his staff would be of little use against plate-armour.

'The rest of you, form line. I'd prefer them alive to put on trial, but dead will do almost as well.'

The men laughed and Carel called out the first line of the Palace Guard's battle-hymn. The voices, few as they were, sang out with l.u.s.ty vigour as Isak watched the enemy reel from the unexpected a.s.sault. Cardinal Disten's manic laughter echoed out and Isak gentled Toramin as he waited for the Ghosts to ready themselves.

He fixed his attention on his prey, seeing the distant Duke Certinse slapping away the hand of the knight next to him presumably his uncle, Suzerain Tildek and drawing his sword. Flames burst from the weapon's surface and Isak smiled and raised his own weapon in salute. The slender blade glittered in the dull light, a soft sssshh sounding as it cut the air.

'I'm going to have your head on a spike,' Isak said softly, a promise to the wind. He gestured, and his party advanced a few yards until they were clear of the hollow and standing on firmer ground, where they stood and waited for the monks.

Wherever they came from, they were well trained and led. They swapped bows for lances quickly and neatly enough to have satisfied even that notorious disciplinarian General Lahk, and charged into the disordered cavalry, who were scattering even before the first blow had been struck. Cardinal Disten's troops didn't bother giving chase; they reordered their lines and continued on towards the knights across the stream. Duke Certinse hadn't moved; his men appeared paralysed by indecision. Even when the charge was called and Certinse levelled his sword towards Isak, still more than a few heads were turned towards the dark monks.

Vesna drew Isak's attention to the other regiment of cavalry, and both men grinned as the captain, incandescent with rage, berated his men, only to be cut off abruptly as one of them shot him and sent him tumbling to the floor.

'They've seen the sense of it,' Vesna called.

'And now we finish this,' Isak said, and kicked his spurs into Toramin's flanks. The ma.s.sive stallion didn't need any further encouragement, slamming his enormous hooves into the ground and charging forward.

The dark monks were closer and once through the stream they crashed into the enemy's flank, forcing them to slow and turn as Isak led his own small unit to meet them head-on. The monks' impact threw the hurscals into disarray, and Toramin, moving at speed, missed the target, slamming instead into the Lomin standard-bearer's horse with such force that it threw the man from his saddle and his animal collapsed on top of him. Isak pulled Toramin away, not wanting the horse cut by a flailing leg, and hacked at the nearest hurscal, catching a hopeful swinging mace on its edge, then using Eolis to cut savagely across the knight's face, tearing through his visor as if it were made of cotton. Isak laid about himself furiously, spreading chaos through what was left of the enemy ranks as he made for the centre. He caught an axe on his shield and sheared the shaft, leaned forward to punch his shield into the man's faceplate, then moved on, not waiting to see what damage he'd done. A lance-head sc.r.a.ped past his belly and Isak turned to see a knight in white and yellow reach back for another stab. As Isak dropped his shield down to trap the shaft and break it on his thigh, a hurscal dressed in Lomin's red hacked at his other side. Eolis absorbed most of the force, but the axe-head spun off that unnatural blade and the spike on its reverse stabbed down into Toramin's shoulder. As the huge horse screamed and reared up, the hurscal, still clinging grimly to his battle-axe, was dragged from his saddle. Toramin stamped down on the man as Isak yanked the spike from the horse's flesh and let it fall.

A black-cowled monk pushed past them, an edged mace in each hand, and Isak took a moment to look around. He saw Count Vesna trading blows with Duke Certinse nearby, and nearer still, one of the Ghosts was savagely attacking Suzerain Tildek. In the chaos, Isak couldn't see who it was, but as he deftly worked an opening in the suzerain's defence and knocked Tildek reeling, there was no doubt the soldier outmatched the n.o.bleman.

Isak had no time to look further as a hurscal came at him head-on. The white-eye slashed at the man's head but missed; another hurscal came in from his left and as the two attacked Isak together, words came unbidden to Isak's throat and he felt magic flow out through Eolis. The sword traced a path of blinding light that made both attackers cry out and cover their eyes. The unnatural edge did the rest.

Isak sensed rather than saw a tall knight with a swan emblazoned on his chest just as he launched a furious attack. Hacking at Isak with a gleaming broadsword, the knight forced Isak into defensive mode, warding off the blows, until Toramin, circling clockwise, managed to shove the knight's own mount off-balance and Isak was able to get a blow in himself. Eolis cut the knight's broadsword in two, then con-tinued on down into the man's peaked helm. The knight went rigid, then flopped to the floor as Isak withdrew.

Looking around, Isak saw the enemy break and run, but beyond them was a ring of archers with bows ready. The fleeing men came to a sudden halt when a single arrow hit the lead knight with an audible thud. For a moment, all they could hear were the cries of the dying, then the men, broken, threw down their weapons and pulled off their helms.

'My Lord,' called Vesna from somewhere behind. Isak pulled his own helm off and hung it back on his saddle as he turned to the count.

'A present, my Lord,' Vesna continued, prompting laughter from those around him. Beside him, alternately scowling and grimacing with pain, was Karlat Certinse. The young duke clutched at his sword arm as blood ran freely from the elbow joint. He had no helm and his face was streaked in blood and mud, his long black hair matted.

'Get that wound bound, then his hands and mouth,' Isak ordered, I want him alive. Better to string him up in Tirah than on a field somewhere.' Isak nudged his horse closer and saw a flash of fear in Certinse's eyes before hatred masked everything. Beneath the blood and mud and the purpling bruise swelling the duke's left cheek, he looked almost absurdly young. What are you, Isak thought, a boy in a man's armour, playing a game you don't really understand, or the calculating traitor I'm going to hang you as? In this life, does it matter?

Isak lifted the duke's chin with his finger and looked into his eyes. 'What's more,' he said quietly, 'I shall hang your mother beside you, and any other member of your treacherous family that my Chief Steward takes a disliking to on the morning I sign the warrants.'