Elana began to massage the ankle. At first, Belwynn had to grit her teeth in pain, but gradually she felt her muscles relaxing and the ankle becoming more flexible. As Elana’s hands pressed into the ankle, she could feel a sensation of warmth entering ligament and muscle, restoring the damaged tissue. When she was satisfied that her work was done, Elana bandaged up the ankle, giving it support without putting too much pressure on the injury.
Belwynn had to admit, to herself, that the priestess had done a good job.
‘Are you able to walk?’ asked Gyrmund, putting the question to Soren and Belwynn.
‘They need to rest,’ Elana answered for them.
‘We’ve got to move,’ he replied. ‘Those vossi are of the red-face tribe. It wouldn’t surprise me if they have made a deal of some kind with Salvinus—and even if they haven’t, they’ll still be after us, and they know exactly where we are. We’ve got to put some distance in now or it will be too late.’
Belwynn was well aware of the situation they were in. ‘I can walk,’ she said. She looked over at her brother, who gave her a nod, apparently too tired to speak. ‘Soren can, too, but he’ll need some help.’
Help was forthcoming, as Clarin and Herin put Soren’s arms over their shoulders and grabbed him around the waist. He barely had to carry any of his own weight—just concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. Gyrmund and Rabigar led the party off, while Kaved guarded the rear. Belwynn stayed close to her brother, anxious for him, yet relieved that both of them were now able to keep up with the hard pace that was being set.
Gyrmund tried to put as much distance between the group and the broken bridge as possible, but it wasn’t long before the vossi reappeared. They were moving in small clusters of two or three, spreading out across the Wilderness, renewing their hunt. One call would soon bring the red-face tribe back on their trail. Whenever Gyrmund heard them approaching—for it always seemed to be Gyrmund who heard them first—he directed everyone to the nearest hiding place to the side of the track. He would then slither off to investigate and return when the vossi had moved on.
As time went by, the vossi came more and more regularly, halting the group’s progress. Gyrmund began to leave the others in a secure place for a few minutes while he scouted the area up ahead.
On one such occasion, while Belwynn was taking the opportunity to make Soren and herself eat something, Herin spotted a group of three vossi heading their way. A whispered warning spread through the group and swords and knives were drawn in anticipation of conflict. The three vossi were threading their way through the thick foliage of the forest, apparently talking to each other in their high-pitched language. It looked like they had found their tracks.
The vossi continued to move towards them. Herin and the others were confident enough of dealing with them should the group be spotted, but the real danger was that the calls of these three scouts would bring the whole red-face tribe down on them again. Herin began swearing at the absent Gyrmund, but he was not going to save them from this situation.
Moneva interrupted the warrior’s list of hissed expletives. ‘We’re going to have to deal with them before they spot us.’
Herin seemed to be musing over their options, but eventually nodded his agreement.
‘The rest of you stay here for the time being. Moneva, you swing around to their right and I’ll take the left.’
Herin drew his seax and began crawling off in the direction of the vossi. Moneva reached down to her right calf where she had a knife of her own attached to her leather trousers. As she unsheathed it, Belwynn noticed it was an unusually thin weapon which ended in an extremely sharp point.
Herin and Moneva soon slid out of sight. As Belwynn concentrated on their movements, she noted that neither was quite as quiet or mobile as Gyrmund in these conditions.
As the seconds went by, Belwynn and the others found themselves straining their eyes and ears, trying to fathom out where the two of them were. The three vossi continued to make their way towards them in a roundabout direction, and Belwynn almost found herself feeling sorry for the enemy that had almost scared her witless earlier in the day, knowing that they were totally oblivious to the fact that two trained killers were at this very minute stalking them in the undergrowth.
It happened so suddenly that Belwynn almost shouted out loud with shock. As the vossi continued to make their search of the area, two black blurs of movement erupted upwards from the undergrowth on either side and darted towards them. Moneva attacked a split second before Herin did. From Belwynn’s point of view, it looked as if she didn’t even make contact with her first victim. Before the corpse began to tumble to the floor, she reversed the swing of her first strike and drove the sharp point of the blade into the throat of the second vossi, who had not been able to react to the speed of the attack. Herin, meanwhile, had approached from the opposite angle and grabbed the mouth of the third vossi from behind, ensuring that no noises escaped from his victim as he deliberately and carefully slit its throat. As the bodies of the vossi fell to the ground, so too did those of the killers. Within a matter of seconds, it was over, and the forest returned to peace, as if the deadly spectacle had never happened, but had been some figment of Belwynn’s imagination.
It was some time before Gyrmund returned, and his extended absences always worried Belwynn, knowing as she did that it would be much easier for him to slip away alone than with nine other people. Thoughts of escape seemed to be far from his mind, however. ‘I’ve found the trail,’ he whispered, perhaps by way of explaining his long absence.
Belwynn had pushed Salvinus to the back of her mind since the flight from the vossi, almost giving up on them rediscovering the trail. Gyrmund, on the other hand, had obviously kept his mind firmly on his quarry, leading them all not only away from the chasing vossi but back towards the Brasingians. Belwynn noted that surprise registered across the faces of many of the others, an involuntary admission that, like her, they had little idea of which part of the Wilderness they were in now, and were reliant on his expertise.
Herin, on the other hand, was not the kind of person to admit such a weakness. ‘How far behind are we now?’, he demanded.
If Gyrmund detected any hostility in Herin’s voice, he chose to ignore it. ‘We’re about four hours behind.’ He paused for a moment. ‘If we want to follow them we’re going to lay ourselves open to the vossi again. I’m sure that they know that we’re after Salvinus and they’re taking special care to look in this area.’
Although spoken as a statement, Gyrmund was really asking them a question: were they prepared to risk the vossi again in order to catch up with the Brasingians?
Belwynn wasn’t sure if she was prepared to risk the vossi again, and turned to look at her brother.
Soren stared straight ahead. ‘Take us to the trail, Gyrmund.’
As Gyrmund once again led the group through the forest, their spirits began to rise. Belwynn was no exception and was sure that, like her, the others felt glad to have regained a measure of control over the situation they were in. They were no longer simply running away from the vossi but were taking steps to recover the ground they had lost.
The person they had to thank was a rather enigmatic man. He had joined the group almost as an afterthought, but was now one of its most important members. The challenge of catching up with Salvinus seemed to have evolved into something of a personal test of Gyrmund’s abilities, and he accepted the addition of the vossi into the melting pot with grim fortitude.
Belwynn moved up to the front of the line, where Gyrmund was keeping the group some feet away from the main track in an effort to hide them from the vossi scouts.
‘How are we doing?’ she enquired.
Belwynn studied Gyrmund’s face as his eyes glanced towards her to acknowledge the question and then quickly returned to the forest scene, looking to the
side, up in the trees and then ahead as he tried to make out forms in the shadows of a rocky outcrop. The man was in a constant state of vigilance, but it wasn’t a strained or worried state; it seemed to be his natural way of doing things.
His eyes returned to Belwynn’s. ‘Not too bad.’ He smiled grimly. ‘It seems as though I underestimated this Salvinus. He’s managed to stay pretty much the same distance ahead of me since we left Bidcote.’
Bidcote, thought Belwynn. It seemed like an age since they had parted company with Edgar, but it had only been two days. ‘Why did you decide to come with us, Gyrmund? Did Farred ask you to?’
‘No. I make my own decisions. Farred is just a friend of mine.’
‘How did you meet him?’
‘We grew up together.’
‘So, why did you decide to go on this expedition?’ Belwynn persisted.
‘Toric’s balls, you like your questions, don’t you?’ Gyrmund admonished with a frown. He shrugged. ‘I’m the best tracker around. I was the best person for the job, and the way things turned out, you wouldn’t have had a chance without me.’
Belwynn decided to let his arrogance pass, given that what he had said seemed to be the truth. ‘But you knew more than everyone how dangerous it would be. It’s hardly worth the risk of a bit of coinage or favour from Edgar to you.’
Gyrmund looked at her, as if it was for the first time. ‘I’m not interested in Edgar’s favour. As for the risk—look, you may be a cousin of Edgar’s, but that doesn’t mean that you, a woman, have to go charging into the Wilderness after twenty-odd soldiers, does it? The risk is why most of us are here, and why we decided to keep up the chase with the Brasingians. To test ourselves. If we just cared about the money, I’m sure there are easier and safer ways to earn it.’
There was something in Gyrmund’s words that disappointed her, though they were perhaps true enough. As they waited to get moving again, Belwynn thought about it, looking around at her companions. The risk, the challenge, the adventure. This was why Gyrmund was here, why Herin was here, even why Clarin and no doubt most of the others were, too. There were far easier and less life-threatening ways to earn money for people with their skill set than this chase through the Wilderness, that was for sure. Herin and Clarin could be highly rewarded by any number of ambitious noblemen or wealthy merchants for doing very little from one week to the next but drink their host’s wine and abuse his servants. Instead, they chose to put themselves in danger, to test themselves and hone their skills.
For Soren and herself, though, the danger had never been the attraction. It was the chance to put things right in a world where most things seemed to be wrong. Toric’s Dagger didn’t mean that much to her personally. But it was a symbol to their people, an ancient relic, which had been plundered by a bunch of mercenaries. It hadn’t been stolen on a whim, either; it had been taken in a carefully-conceived operation. The whole business felt threatening, even sinister.
Maybe she was just naive. Maybe right and wrong didn’t come into it that much. And then there had been the attempted robbery of Vincente a few days ago. Sure, he probably wasn’t a very nice man. Yes, they needed the money. Badly. But since when had her brother used his powers simply to rob people? It seemed like, without her noticing, they had got a bit lost; aimless. Belwynn was beginning to think she had had enough of putting herself in these situations.
Gyrmund made a flapping motion with his hand, trying to get everyone to crouch down in the undergrowth, but it was already too late. To their left, on the other side of the track they were following, he had spotted a couple of vossi. Unfortunately, the vossi had spotted them as well. Hardly surprising, thought Belwynn, with all ten of them trudging through the forest. At first the two vossi looked shocked and a little afraid at coming upon the enemy, but soon began screaming their find so that the noise carried through the Wilderness.
Gyrmund swore under his breath. He replaced his bow over his left shoulder, which he had presumably unfastened to silence their discoverers. Sure enough, the calls of the two vossi were being answered by the others of their tribe, and the forest around them erupted into high-pitched noise, which seemed to Belwynn to come from all directions.
‘We’re gonna have to move!’ shouted Gyrmund, not waiting to see if people followed but running on ahead.
He took them down a bank and onto a new track, perhaps one made by the vossi or the animals of the Wilderness. Gyrmund’s jog seemed to be as natural to him as walking, as if he could keep it up for hours without losing breath. For Belwynn to go at the same speed, however, sapped her energy and burnt her lungs. The two vossi made no attempt to interfere with their getaway, apparently content to wait for reinforcements. This didn’t stop Herin from firing an arrow in their direction, which crashed harmlessly into the trunk of a tree. This aggression brought renewed screaming from the vossi, which only served to put Herin in a fouler mood than before.
They continued to run along the winding forest track as the red-face vossi behind them began to organise their chase. Before long they started to run into vossi searching parties of two or three, but these did not try to tackle them alone, preferring to wait for reinforcements. They had obviously learned to fear Herin, Clarin, and the others as a result of the confrontation before the bridge, and were not prepared to risk joining the other vossi who had fallen under the Magnians’ blades.
Soon, however, Belwynn could look behind them and see a large chasing pack of vossi, screaming and letting off the odd dart or stone in her direction. Elana began to fall behind, and Belwynn could hear her fighting for breath as her body tried to pump enough air into her lungs to keep her moving. Ahead, the stronger members of the group were beginning to separate from the slower runners. They had to stop, however, when six vossi emerged from the trees to the left to block their path on the track.
The danger was obvious: if they did not get past, and quickly, they would be caught by the vossi behind them.
Gyrmund and the others drew their weapons and charged the vossi. Fortunately, it was over in seconds. First one, then two, then all of the vossi broke away and ran back to the safety of the trees. One lay dying on the ground, and a couple of the others had received injuries, but none of Belwynn’s companions had been hurt.
The brief melee had wasted valuable time, however. Gyrmund was searching the surrounding terrain, a look of anxiety plainly visible on his face.
What’s he looking for? Belwynn asked her brother.
Somewhere to make a stand, came the reply. We can’t outrun them.
A feeling of dread came over Belwynn, since it was plain that they couldn’t outfight them, either. There were too many of them.
Soren grabbed her wrist. ‘We’re off!’ he shouted.
Gyrmund had apparently made his decision and was taking them in the very direction from which the six vossi had attacked them. Flanked by Clarin and Herin, he made his way from the track into the forest. The vossi backed away, albeit screaming their defiance. Gyrmund pointed towards a mound, barely a hundred yards away, as he was talking to the two brothers. As Belwynn followed on, she could make out Herin nodding his agreement at Gyrmund’s proposition. Everyone began to make a dash for the point of defence. The vossi were now within missile range of the group and their eagerness made them discharge whatever long range weapons they had. Now that they were back in the forest proper, the trees gave them enough cover, and the group made it to the mound without injury.
Once there, Herin began shouting instructions to everyone for the defence of the mound.
The south-east side of the mound, facing the oncoming vossi, was dominated by two large oak trees. The central point of defence was between the two trees, and here Herin positioned himself, Clarin, and Gyrmund. Clarin, whose large shield would be able to defend himself from missile attack, stood in the centre. Herin and Gyrmund stood either side of him, able to use t
he trees as shelter if necessary, with a good view of all the approaching vossi, in order to use their longbows to best effect. On the other side of Gyrmund’s tree, to his right, Herin had positioned Moneva, and next to her was Kaved. His job was to prevent the vossi coming from the flank. Such a task was more than difficult considering the numbers of the enemy. To Herin’s left stood Dirk, waiting in the shadows of the tree, and next to him was Rabigar, who had been given the same job as Kaved. Herin had asked Belwynn, Soren, and Elana to stand behind this line of seven, further up the mound, and to intervene wherever they were needed.
The mound was situated in a small clearing in the forest, and as the vossi approached they stopped short of entering the clearing, preferring to gather in the trees beyond it. Now that Belwynn and the others had stopped running and decided to make a stand, the vossi seemed more agitated than ever, but they looked more confused than aggressive.
Why are they acting so strange? Belwynn asked Soren, using their telepathic link to keep the question private.
I think we might have stumbled onto one of their burial mounds. They seem nervous about coming closer, although it looks like they’re beginning to overcome any doubts.
Some of the vossi leaders had now appeared on the scene and were screaming orders at their soldiers, but the whole approach to the mound seemed very disorganised. Still, they were in no rush, thought Belwynn, and it was her companions who would feel the nerves more as time went by and the ranks of the vossi continued to swell.
Individual vossi were now running into the clearing and approaching the mound, screaming their defiance before backing away again. Herin and the others kept to their positions as the bizarre antics of the vossi continued. One of the braver vossi exposed his genitals to those present on the mound before returning to the safety of the trees on the outskirts of the clearing, to the apparent congratulations of his comrades. The success of this exploit provoked a spate of similar gestures and taunts amongst the vossi.
Toric's Dagger: Book One of The Weapon Takers Saga Page 10
