Bairoth laughed. ‘True. Among all the Teblor, there are but three heroes. Will that be enough, do you think?’

‘Three is better than two,’ Karsa snapped, ‘but if need be, two will suffice.’

‘I pray to the Seven, Karsa Orlong, that your mind ever remain free of doubt.’

Karsa realized that his hands had closed on the grip of his sword. ‘Ah, that’s your thought, then. The son of the father. Am I being accused of Synyg’s weakness?’

Bairoth studied Karsa, then slowly shook his head. ‘Your father is not weak, Karsa Orlong. If there are doubts to speak of here and now, they concern Pahlk and his heroic raid to Silver Lake.’

Karsa was on his feet, the bloodwood sword in his hands.

Bairoth made no move. ‘You do not see what I see,’ he said quietly. ‘There is the potential within you, Karsa Orlong, to be your father’s son. I lied earlier when I said I prayed that you would remain free of doubt. I pray for the very opposite, Warleader. I pray that doubt comes to you, that it tempers you with its wisdom. Those heroes in our legends, Karsa Orlong, they were terrible, they were monsters, for they were strangers to uncertainty.’

‘Stand before me, Bairoth Gild, for I will not kill you whilst your sword remains at your side.’

‘I will not, Karsa Orlong. The straw is on my back, and you are not my enemy.’

Delum moved forward with his hands full of earth, which he dropped onto the fire between the two other men. ‘It is late,’ he muttered, ‘and it may be as Bairoth suggests, that we are not as alone in this valley as we believe ourselves to be. At the very least, there may be watchers on the other side. Warleader, there have been only words this night. Let us leave the spilling of blood for our true enemies.’

Karsa remained standing, glaring down at Bairoth Gild. ‘Words,’ he growled. ‘Yes, and for the words he has spoken, Bairoth Gild must apologize.’

‘I, Bairoth Gild, beg forgiveness for my words. Now, Karsa Orlong, will you put away your sword?’

‘You are warned,’ Karsa said, ‘I will not be so easily appeased next time.’


‘I am warned.’

Grasses and saplings had reclaimed the Sunyd village. The trails leading to and from it had almost vanished beneath brambles, but here and there, among the stone foundations of the circular houses, the signs of fire and violence could be seen.

Delum dismounted and began poking about the ruins. It was only a few moments before he found the first bones.

Bairoth grunted. ‘A raiding party. One that left no survivors.’

Delum straightened with a splintered arrow shaft in his hands. ‘Lowlanders. The Sunyd keep few dogs, else they would not have been so unprepared.’

‘We now take upon ourselves,’ Karsa said, ‘not a raid, but a war. We journey to Silver Lake not as Uryd, but as Teblor. And we shall deliver vengeance.’ He dismounted and removed from the saddle pack four hard leather sheaths, which he began strapping onto Havok’s legs to protect the horse from the brambles. The other two warriors followed suit.

‘Lead us, Warleader,’ Delum said when he was done, swinging himself onto his destrier’s back.

Karsa collected the three-legged dog and laid it down once more behind Havok’s withers. He regained his seat and looked to Bairoth.

The burly warrior also remounted. His eyes were hooded as he met Karsa’s gaze. ‘Lead us, Warleader.’

‘We shall ride as fast as the land allows,’ Karsa said, drawing the three-legged dog onto his thighs. ‘Once beyond this valley, we head northward, then east once more. By tomorrow night we shall be close to Bone Pass, the southward wend that will take us to Silver Lake.’

‘And if we come across lowlanders on the way?’

‘Then, Bairoth Gild, we shall begin gathering trophies. But none must be allowed to escape, for our attack on the farm must come as a complete surprise, lest the children flee.’

They skirted the village until they came to a trail that led them into the forest. Beneath the trees there was less undergrowth, allowing them to ride at a slow canter. Before long, the trail began climbing the valley side. By dusk, they reached the summit. Horses steaming beneath them, the three warriors reined in.

They had come to the edge of the escarpment. To the north and east and still bathed in golden sunlight, the horizon was a jagged line of mountains, their peaks capped in snow with rivers of white stretching down their flanks. Directly before them, after a sheer drop of three hundred or more paces, lay a vast, forested basin.

‘I see no fires,’ Delum said, scanning the shadow-draped valley.



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