Gregory pulled off his own cloak and wrapped it around Tinuva’s shoulders. ‘There are mounted riders behind us. Men.’
‘The moredhel?’
‘Not yet. I guess they’re still taking care of things at the pass.’
Tinuva said nothing.
‘Something is brewing with the Tsurani,’ Gregory whispered. ‘We don’t have time for this.’
Tinuva nodded, glad for the cloak Gregory wrapped around him.
As he approached the knot of Tsurani, he could sense the tension.
Some had stripped down, but others were obviously hesitant. Asayaga drew back from his men.
‘What is the problem?’ Tinuva whispered.
Asayaga hesitated, head lowered, obviously ashamed.
‘It’s the fact that most of your men can’t swim, isn’t it?’
Asayaga nodded. ‘My world. Those who live on the coast learn.
The rest . . .’ His voice trailed off for a moment. ‘I have the power of command, but many think it suicide and demand the right to turn and fight.’
‘You know there will be a fight between us if this continues.’
Tinuva nodded to the thirty or so men of Dennis’s command still to cross. They were eyeing the Tsurani with suspicion and several were whispering.
‘Perhaps we should settle our differences now,’ Asayaga said.
‘And Gregory has undoubtedly told you that the moredhel’s human renegades are closing in.’
‘Are they?’
‘I have no reason to lie to you. If anything I should be telling you that no one is coming and leave you here,’ said Gregory in a calm, even tone.
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‘Then why tell me the truth?’
‘Because for any of us to survive we still must travel together for now,’ said the elf. ‘We need you in order to live as much as you need us.’ He locked gaze with Asayaga and calmly added, ‘You know this is true.’
Asayaga reluctantly grunted his agreement.
Tinuva said, ‘For the moment no more of Hartraft’s troops will cross. Send half of yours over now. Then the rest can cross, alternating: one of yours, then one of Hartraft’s – that way we can keep the forces balanced on both sides of the river. But we don’t have any more time to waste.’
Asayaga, hands planted on his hips, looked up into Tinuva’s eyes.
‘I have never seen one of your race so close before,’ Asayaga said.
‘Is it true you are immortal?’
Gregory started to object to the digression, but Tinuva sensed something important was behind it. He gestured slightly with his hand and his old friend fell silent. The elf said, ‘All of us are immortal. Our spirits never perish, no matter the length of our span in the flesh in this world. Mine is just longer a span than yours. We both live on in the next world, though our afterworld is different from yours, I think.
‘In this world, though, I can die, the same as you, and trust my word, we shall both certainly die within the hour if you do not act now.’
‘You came back. Why?’
How to explain? He could claim loyalty to his friend Gregory. That was true, but it was something beyond that. This entire war was one of madness: perhaps the Tsurani before him had slain some of his kin. And yet, he had a curiosity to see how this affair would play out and with that a sense that it was not destined to end here over this foolish squabble.
‘Because I want to live and the best chance for that at this moment is for us to band together. Trust me. I know the moredhel in a way you do not and never will. They will not give up on the pursuit, for in their eyes we have wronged them grievously. Their honour demands that we be hunted down and killed no matter what the 126
cost. Tsurani, I will tell you more later, but there is no time now.
Order your men to go.’
Asayaga hesitated, then nodded. Issues of honour, no matter whose, he understood. He turned and said something in his own language which Tinuva sensed was a rueful curse. Then he pulled off his tunic and leggings, and barked out a string of commands. The others hesitated and then one of the older men, shaking his head and laughing began to strip as well. To his companions he shouted, ‘My manhood is shrunken with the cold. What is your excuse?’
Minutes later Asayaga lead the column into the river.
‘Go with them,’ Gregory said, ‘I’ll bring up the rear.’
Tinuva nodded. Casting aside the cloak, he fell in behind Asayaga, oblivious to the curious stares of the Tsurani. Once their commander went into the river, the others began to follow, cursing and spluttering as they hit the icy water. Half-way across the man in front of Tinuva lost his grip and went under, dropping his staff.
Reaching out, he grabbed the warrior and pulled him back, but his equipment had disappeared.
A shout went up from behind and he saw two more men lose their hold on the line, one of them bobbing back up and clumsily trying to swim, while the other simply vanished.
Reaching the shoreline again, Tinuva found he could barely move and was grateful for Barry’s help in getting up the river bank. A blanket was spread out on the ground next to the roaring fire and he collapsed, shivering, oblivious for several minutes. Sergeant Barry held a cloak up to the fire for a moment to warm it, then lay it around Tinuva’s shoulders. The contrast with the cold almost made him cry out, but the warmth was enough to revive him. He took a slow breath and willed his arms and legs to move, and at last he stood.
Naked men pressed in around him, all of them shaking, teeth chattering. A second fire was started, some of Dennis’s men, now fully clothed, bringing up armloads of wood. The sound of axes rang in the woods. Soon there was even the scent of roasting meat.
Tinuva saw that someone had found a stag and brought it down.
Three men were butchering it, unceremoniously cutting hunks of meat and tossing them straight into the flames to be speared out with sharpened sticks.
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His senses returning, Tinuva struggled back into his trousers, boots and tunic, the spasms of shivering finally passing.
Asayaga was standing by the edge of the water, still naked, reaching out and pulling each of his men in as they staggered to the shore, urging them up to the fires to dry out.
Brother Corwin started into the river, modesty demanding that he keep his habit on, though he did cinch it up around his waist.
In spite of his portly build he was still strong enough to help two of the wounded, aided by young Richard.
Gregory was still on the far shore, fully clothed, bow out. A crow rose up from a tree on the far bank squawking loudly. Tinuva saw Gregory tense.
‘They’re here,’ Tinuva hissed.
Dennis was at his side at once, tossing over a bow and quiver and Tinuva bent the weapon, notching the string which he had carefully wrapped up inside an oiled cloth before the crossing.
The last of the men were in mid-stream. Gregory suddenly cut the rope secured to the tree on his side of the river then sprinted for the water and dived in, still holding his bow. Surfacing, he started across, half-swimming, half-running clumsily through the chest-deep water.
Tinuva saw a flicker of reflected light, which resolved itself as a mounted man, burnished shield strapped to his left shoulder.
Without hesitation, he drew and fired a shaft at the glint. Even if he didn’t hit the target, he might hold the man away from the shore for an extra second or two, gaining those still in the water a safe crossing.
Another man, this one a mounted archer, came out of the woods, bow drawn, aiming at Gregory.
Tinuva raised his own weapon again, but this time he didn’t fire as soon as the bow was fully drawn. He hesitated, feeling the breeze on his cheek, judging the range and the drift of the arrow, and then released. The mounted archer fired first. Gregory dived down and the shaft struck the spot where he had disappeared. Then Tinuva’s arrow streaked in, hitting the rider’s horse and the animal reared up, screaming with pain.
More riders emerged,
spreading out along the river bank. Gregory 128
was at mid-stream now, up with Brother Corwin, urging him on, arrows hissing about their ears. A crossbow bolt struck one of the wounded in the back and with a cry he collapsed. Richard tried to grab the fallen man but Gregory pushed him on, pulling Richard under as another bolt snaked in.
Dennis’s most experienced archers positioned themselves along the river bank next to Tinuva, carefully took aim, and shot their bow-shafts high in the air.
With the rope on the far shore cut away, the men in the middle of the stream were gradually being swept down by the current. A Tsurani let go, disappearing into the torrent. Asayaga jumped into the river and started to wade back out and Dennis, cursing angrily, followed him in.
Together they reached Corwin, Richard, Gregory and several of the others. Another went under hit by a crossbow bolt.
Stepping into a hole, Dennis suddenly disappeared. Tinuva, who had been taking careful aim on what he suspected was one of the human leaders on the far shore, lowered his bow, ready to go into the water yet again. Cries of alarm rose up and half a dozen men jumped into the icy torrent, ready to flounder back out.
Dennis finally surfaced, held up by Asayaga, and the two regained the shore. His bow gone, Gregory, cursing and gasping, hauled in the priest and Richard.
Asayaga pushed Dennis up the embankment even as the Tsurani swarmed around their leader.
Looking around, Dennis cursed wearily, then half-crawled back up the icy slope.
‘Noble gesture,’ Tinuva offered.
Dennis held up a hand to silence him. ‘Not another word,’ he gasped, teeth chattering. He shouldered his way past Tinuva to stand by the fire.
A dozen mounted men were on the far shore, several of them venturing long shots, but the wind was brisk and the arrows arced down harmlessly. Taunts echoed back and forth across the river as the two sides glared at each other, unable to come to blows.
More fires had sprung up, and knots of men stood around 129
them, stamping their feet, dressing, wolfing down hunks of barely-cooked meat.
Gregory, clothes steaming, came up to join his friend. ‘I had that bow for nearly half a score of years. I’ll miss it.’
‘For that you saved the priest.’
‘I know. It still needs to be proven if it was a fair exchange.’
Tinuva looked at him quizzically.
‘Nothing yet. Just wondering, that’s all.’
‘He’s proven his value so far.’
‘I know.’
Gregory nodded to the far shore.
‘It’ll take them an hour to get back to the main column. Two hours, more like three, to reach the bridge and then another couple hours to here. We leave a dozen archers to hold here, just in case they are crazy enough to try and rush across. I think we can get this lot moving in an hour or so.’
‘Better dry yourself out first. The temperature will drop today now that the storm is past.’
Gregory, features turning blue, nodded and returned to the fire.
One of the riders had already turned about and disappeared back into the woods. The others drew back to the edge of the wood line and dismounted, and within minutes a fire had sprung to life.
He saw Asayaga standing by the fire, shivering violently, hands extended to the heat. Tinuva went to the second fire where the venison was charring in the flames, poked out a piece with a stick and went back to the Tsurani leader and offered him the meat, which he accepted without comment.
‘Why did you do it?’
‘I thought it was someone else, one of my men.’
Tinuva chuckled softly.
‘Hard to mistake Hartraft for one of yours.’
‘It was a mistake, I tell you.’
‘A mistake to save him or a mistake in knowing who you were saving?’
Asayaga took a bite of half-cooked venison. ‘He hates me.’
‘Do you hate him?’
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‘It is my duty to kill him. And yes, he has been a thorn in our side for years. Killing him would bring honour to my clan.’
‘Would you have let him drown?’
Asayaga hesitated.
‘Would you?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘When I kill him, I want it to be a fight of honour. Letting him drown would not bring honour to either of us. And it would be a waste. He’s right. We need every sword if we are to survive.’
‘Know this, Asayaga: Dennis is a brilliant warrior, among the finest of your race I think I have ever known. He, too, has honour, though perhaps not as your people define it. I think he would have done the same for you. In fact it will rankle with him now because he owes you a blood debt.’ Tinuva chuckled softly. ‘You’ve presented him with a paradox. In order to kill you he first must settle the blood debt of life.’
‘There is nothing funny about it.’
Gregory approached them. ‘Funny about what?’ he asked.
‘Dennis owes Asayaga his life, but wants to kill him.’
Gregory nodded, then observed, ‘Elven-kind see the world slightly differently than we do.’
‘Yes, there is much in this that is grim,’ observed the elf. ‘Yet, nevertheless I see humour in it. Your human gods love to present you with such riddles and challenges, or so it has seemed to me for most of my life. Long have I known humans like Gregory and I have even visited a human city, yet there are times when I wonder at the complexities of your thinking. You often seem to prefer difficult choices when simple alternatives are available; it is a constant source of amazement to my kind.’ He glanced over to where Dennis stood. ‘It will be interesting to see how the two of you solve this dilemma.’
Asayaga grunted, obviously not seeing anything of humour in the situation.
Dennis came up to join them, munching on a piece of meat. He tossed a stick with another piece of meat on it to Tinuva. He offered none to Asayaga.
‘We rest here for an hour to dry out, warm up and eat. Tinuva, 131
I’ll detail off some men, half a dozen, to stay behind here with you. I expect the Tsurani to leave a half dozen as well. That should dissuade them from trying to make a rush.’
‘I will not take orders from you, Hartraft.’
‘Fine then. Call it another of my bloody suggestions, Tsurani.’
‘And then what?’
Dennis smiled and pointed to the next range of mountains to the north. ‘We head up there, lose the bastards, then settle our differences.’
Without waiting for a reply he walked away.
‘A hateful man,’ Asayaga snapped and Tinuva could sense that the Tsurani had expected some sort of ritual to be played out, a formal exchange of acknowledgment of blood debt. He could tell, however, that Hartraft was uncomfortable with the entire incident and just wanted it dropped.
‘War does that,’ Tinuva replied finally.
‘Does what?’
‘It makes all of us hateful.’ As he said the words he gazed intently at the far side of the river.
After a moment, Asayaga left to see to his men.
When they were alone, Gregory said, ‘What is it?’
Tinuva knew what the question meant. Gregory understood his people well enough to know that sooner or later Tinuva would tell him what it was that had bothered him since the ambush.
Quietly, Tinuva said, ‘Of those the Tsurani and I ambushed, one was Kavala.’
Gregory swore. ‘That means . . .’
Softly, Tinuva said, ‘Bovai is near.’
Gregory said, ‘Another of the gods’ riddles and challenges?’ He shook his head. For a human, he could mask his expression almost as well as an elf, yet to Tinuva, his distress was obvious.
‘Hardly,’ said Tinuva. ‘A cruel fate, perhaps.’
‘What will you do?’
Tinuva said, ‘I will serve, and do what I can to help Dennis, you, and the Tsurani, survive. But if the chance comes to end this . . .
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sp; blood debt, then I will take it.’
Gregory nodded. He knew what few humans knew of the truth 132
behind the relationship between the eledhel and the moredhel, and specifically between Tinuva and Bovai, and he would not speak of it to anyone without Tinuva’s permission.
Finally, he said, ‘Best not to let Dennis know about this until it is impossible to hide it. If he knew Bovai was there, he might just linger long enough to force a confrontation.’
Tinuva’s mouth turned slightly upward, an open expression of humour. ‘Dennis owes Bovai a blood debt, but he has more sense than that.’
Chuckling, Gregory said, ‘I hope you’re right.’ He turned towards the fire and said again, ‘I’m going to miss that bow.’
Looking at the fatigued men around the fire, Tinuva remarked,
‘There will be extra weapons, soon enough.’
Gregory needed no explanation – he knew many of these men would be dead within days – and nodded once, then walked away, leaving the elf to his own thoughts.
Staring across the river, where the human mercenaries stood watching, judging what to do next, Tinuva wondered how long he would wait before seeking out Bovai.
Lost in his reverie he almost didn’t notice the first command for the men to get ready to move out; then, sensing movement behind him as the activity in the camp quickened, he took one last look across the river, then turned and moved back towards the others.
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eight
Decisions
Twilight was deepening.
Dennis Hartraft turned away from the knot of soldiers, throwing up his hands in exasperation. ‘You are all crazy,’ he snapped angrily, looking back over his shoulder. ‘Stopping now is madness.’ He pointed to the pass in the next range of mountains, still ten miles away. ‘Once over the Teeth of the World, we’re in the clear. Then we rest.’
‘And not one man in ten will make it that far,’ Brother Corwin interjected. ‘I suspect it’s because neither you nor the Tsurani will admit in front of the other that you have to stop. This chase has been going on for three days. There’s barely a man left who can fight, let alone march another mile.’
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