Their primitive minds knew that the moredhel did not take kindly to others seeing the bodies of their fallen.

He ignored them. In the shadowy mist he saw one of his riders coming back from his scouting ride to the far side of the pass, horse breathing heavily, plumes of steamy mist blowing from its nostrils. It was Tancred, his Master of the Hunt and he did not look pleased.

Dismounting, he approached, eyes as cold as the morning frost.

'They have joined together.' Tancred pointed out the bodies of both Kingdom soldiers and Tsurani warriors.

Bovai nodded. 'That is obvious,' he replied, speaking slowly, his voice barely a whisper, as was his fashion. He inclined his head slightly toward the carnage: thirty-two brothers dead, and only eleven bodies of the humans and the alien Tsurani left behind.

Golun, his second-in-command and leader of the scouts, was silent, arms folded, eyes darting back and forth, watching the exchange between the two. Bovai gave him a quick look, a warning. Golun nodded almost imperceptibly and turned away to continue his examination of the tracks in the slush.

'That they joined and attacked this post is most interesting,' Bovai continued. There was a flicker of a smile on his face. 'Their dread of us overcomes their own petty hatred of one another at the moment.'

'Hartraft is the human leader,' Tancred announced.

He could see several of his followers, standing at a respectful distance, look towards him now with interest. Golun, down on his knees running a fingertip along the edge of a footprint in the ice barely looked up, his intent stare indicating agreement.

'Are you certain?' Bovai asked, attention focused on Tancred.

'I thought I recognized him back at the fort, on the trail when we pursued them.'

'Thought, or know for certain?'

'I am certain, my chieftain. I know his track, his ways on the trail. I followed for nearly five miles.' Tancred nodded back to the crest of the mountain, the road disappearing into the swirling mists.

'They moved on opposite sides of the path, the Tsurani to one side, the Kingdom men to the other. Traps were laid, cunning was shown.'

'Where is Kavala?' Bovai asked, his tone casual. 'He went with you?'

Tancred hesitated.

'Go on.'

'You'll see his body when we renew the pursuit. It was an eledhel arrow that slew him.'

Bovai could sense the injured pride. So even his Master of the Hunt had been surprised and bested. Was there fear in his heart now as well?

He gazed intently at Tancred, probing his thoughts. A hunt leader could not show fear, or let it linger in his stomach, for others would sense it soon enough, taste that fear and become possessed by it. They would hesitate when an order was given, and uncertainty would claim their life as readily as the blade of the enemy.

Golun was behind him, eyes fixed on Tancred, waiting for a response.

'You want revenge, don't you? Your pride is injured because they surprised you and that one was killed.' He avoided using the name of the fallen moredhel.

Tancred nodded.

'Two tracks turned off from the trail and I dismounted to examine them. One was eledhel, the other heavy, I think the track of the dark-skinned companion of Hartraft, a Natalese Ranger. I should have sensed them; how I did not is difficult to understand.'

'And then your companion was killed.'

'If the one aiming at me had shot but a second earlier I would not be here. I swung my mount around. Using it as a shield I was able to escape.'

'So they did surprise you?'

Tancred reluctantly grunted an assertion. 'The mist was heavy and the wind blowing through the trees made it impossible to hear other sounds.'

'I see. And what else did you observe?'

Tancred looked straight ahead, not daring to look into Bovai's eyes. 'I counted the tracks of sixty Kingdom soldiers, perhaps seventy of the aliens. Three, perhaps four wounded being carried, or helped.'

'Curious. Perhaps a soft hearted priest intervened.' Bovai laughed softly.

More of his band came in through the gate: moredhel, these, on foot, bows at the ready. The sight of the carnage within the stockade wall stunned them and several broke ranks to go to the body of a fallen, one drawing a blade, baring his arm to make the ritual cuts of mourning for the death of a father, sprinkling the blood on the eviscerated corpse.

A commander of twenty shouted an order for the bodies to be moved and a prayer-chanter began to sing, his eerie voice high-pitched as he sang to the spirits of the fallen, bidding them to go to the eternal land in the sky.

'You realize,' Bovai whispered, drawing closer to Tancred, 'that this should have been anticipated. Yet you assured me that those we left behind were sufficient in number to hold ten times their number. I left thirty-two of our brothers here to guard this pass while we raided and now they are dead. Kin of many who follow me are dead. This sours all that we have accomplished this last fortnight. The rejoicing over our kills is ended, and our victories will not be sung; instead, this is what will be remembered.'

'It is unheard of that forces of the Kingdom should ally with Tsurani,' Tancred replied hurriedly. He gazed warily at Bovai. 'You said that we would be able to play against their mutual hatred,' he retorted at last, 'to use it to our advantage.' His tone was accusatory.

Bovai could see his followers looking away, nervous. Tancred was speaking within his rights as a brother. He could not challenge him on that and besides, what he said was truth, which at this moment was dangerous. A seed of doubt was being planted and Bovai had to crush it before it grew.

'Things change. That is part of the reason we came here: to observe, to learn -' he paused '- and to kill them. You should have thought of it as well,' Bovai continued, dropping his voice to a faint whisper. 'You are the Master of the Hunt. What has happened here is a fiasco. What of those back there, what will they now say of seeing so many of our brothers dead? Soon, our Master will call the councils into meeting – less than a year from now if all goes as planned – and if we are to forge a grand alliance, we must not be weak, or we bring discredit to him.'

He paused as he considered the grand plan being forged up at the ancient city of Sar-Sargoth. While the moredhel chieftain knew two or three years more would pass before the plan took form, he felt a sense of urgency. Any mistake laid at his feet could prove disastrous.

He looked at Tancred.

'Clans that have not seen one another in centuries gather soon on the Plane of Sar-Sargoth – word has reached us Liallan and her Snow Leopards will attend, and that she and her husband Delekhan would bear the sight of one another without a fight between them is significant.'

For a brief instant, Bovai remembered the almost-painful marriage ceremony when blood enemies wed to seal a truce neither side wished for. Delekhan and Liallan would happily cut the hearts out of one another, yet they were husband and wife. Then for an even briefer instant, Bovai admitted he'd prefer it to be Liallan who won that contest, as that would remove a rival Lesser Chieftain from Clan Counsel, and put himself that much closer to Murad, Grand Chieftain of the Clan. Murad himself was unassailable, now that he was Chosen of the Master, but should he fall…

Bovai forced his thoughts back to the present as he confronted Tancred. 'I hear that even Gorath will bring his Ardanien down from the icy mountains in the far north to see if these rumours about the Master's return are true.'

The Master had first revealed himself to a shaman during a ritual of vision one night when the man was alone upon a mountain top, appearing out of the gloom and stepping into the fire. He had borne the sacred mark and knew the secret ceremonies, and had fasted and chanted with the shaman for three days and nights. The shaman had reported the Master had said, 'I will return, soon,' then had vanished in smoke and flame. Word had spread like a prairie fire that the shaman had had a prophetic vision, hailing the return of the moredhel's greatest hero.