He moved silently, drifting with the wind, feeling its touch, sensing that never had he been so alive as he now felt at this moment. The shadow which had darkened his world was about to be lifted forever, and again he could walk in the sunlight and beneath the moon without shame.

'Bovai.'

The voice was close, very close. He tensed, turning… and then he saw him, standing in a clearing, his bow down, the world around him a swirl of white snow, the only sound the gentle hissing as the icy sparkles struck the ground.

'Tinuva.'

He stepped closer. The wind swirled up and for an instant he felt a touch of panic, imagining that it was all illusion, that his brother had disappeared. The snow parted like a curtain being drawn back and he was still there, not a dozen paces away. He took another step, then Tinuva slowly raised his right hand.

'Close enough.'

Bovai nodded in agreement.

Tinuva sighed, a sigh that was filled with an infinite sadness and for the briefest of moments Bovai felt a stab of pain. Here before him was his brother, whom he had once loved as no other. Though now of the despised eledhel he could sense all that he once was.

'So how are you, brother?' Tinuva asked and Bovai felt a flash of hot anger.

'I am not your brother. My brother Morvai died the night you were created, eledhel. And you know all that I have been since the day you left, as I know all that you have been.'

Tinuva nodded. 'I slew Kavala.'

Bovai shrugged. 'He was too ambitious for his own good. If you had not killed him, once you were dead I would have cut his heart out.'

'I didn't need to go that far. Killing him was enough.'

'As I shall now kill you,' Bovai said softly.

'That is what you want?'

Bovai hesitated and Tinuva took a step closer, bow still down.

Bovai half-raised his bow and he stopped, tensing. 'You were once of the People. You know that what you've become is an abomination to us all. You are a traitor to your race. Honour demands that you die. It is not what I want, it is what I need,' Bovai finally hissed.

Tinuva sighed again. 'Then there is no more to be said,' he replied, but now his voice was full with power, power as Bovai once remembered it and it sent a thrill through him. For this was the Morvai he had once loved, but whom he must now slay, and all the glory that had once been Tinuva's would now be his. Honour would be restored, the clan would again be whole, and Tinuva could be buried as a brother who had finally returned, through death, to his own blood.

'Then, "brother" let us begin,' Bovai snarled and he stepped back.

Another eddy of snow swirled up, as if the passion of the two had stirred the breeze. An arrow snapped past Bovai, missing him by inches. He raced from the clearing, one now with the wind, turned, caught a glimpse of a shadow, and released his bolt.

The hunt between the brothers had begun.

'Damn it, tie it off, tie it off!'

Dennis pushed his way in, tearing off his gloves, and helped to lash off a log. One of his men, swearing, pulled back bloodied hands that had been wrapped around the rope. Throwing another lash around the log, Dennis pulled hard, straining to keep it taut as two men behind him threw the end of the rope around one of the stone abutments and tied it off.

'Secured!'

Dennis stepped back, looking up at the two logs which had been raised to form an inverted V twenty feet high at the edge of the broken span. The whole contraption was wobbly: they simply didn't have enough rope, nor the time, to do it all right, but it would have to do. A double length of rope, flung over the top of the V, dangled down to the black, scorched stones.

He looked over the edge. It was nearly two hundred feet down to the river below. He caught a glimpse of two Tsurani far below. They had volunteered to try and get across the river. There had been three of them, but the third had lost his grip on the icy rocks and plummeted to his death. The two survivors were valiantly trying to make their way across the torrent below, jumping from icy rock to icy rock, with the hope of then climbing up the far side. If they succeeded a rope would be hurled across and they would help in the desperate task of trying to pull the timber across.

Leaving the bridge, Dennis went up the road a couple of hundred yards and then turned into the woods. A group of Tsurani were hurriedly cutting the branches off a tree which had just been dropped. He paced off the length.

'I already checked it, Hartraft – it's long enough.' Asayaga looked up, sweat dripping from his brow, axe clutched tightly in his hand.

'The top looks too thin – it might just break when we drop it.'

'Tsurani are builders, Hartraft; we know what we are doing.'

'You'd better.'

Asayaga stood up. 'Don't try to order me any more, Hartraft. We know what we are doing. You're supposed to be handling the defences, leave this to me.'

'Once across we settle things. Tsurani.'

'Why do you think I'm working so hard?' Asayaga snapped.

Dennis was tempted to make a reply but knew they were wasting precious time. 'Just keep at it, damn it.'

He stalked back to the road and pressed on up to the crest. Half of his men were dragging in logs and throwing up a barricade. To either side men were dropping saplings, making a tangle that could stop a cavalry charge from cutting around the flanks. The position was impossible, however, and he knew it. The crest was too open.

They might break up the initial charge, but eventually they'd be flanked and pushed back. Once off the crest, the ground below -around the bridge – was a death trap.

In the ruins of the mill he saw the old women and children huddled around a fire. He looked over at the corporal who had come in from the rearguard only minutes ago. They had already spoken but he felt compelled to do so again.

'You know what to do for them if the moredhel start to break through,' Dennis said, nodding back towards the mill.

The old corporal gulped and nodded. 'Trust me, sir. I'll see to it. The poor little lambs…" He looked at the tiny faces of the children and the frightened expressions on the women and his own visage softened for a moment, then with resolution in his voice, he said, 'I'll see it's done, sir.'

Dennis caught a glimpse of Roxanne, who had refused to stay in the mill, and was now helping with the defences. She noticed his gaze, nodded in his direction and continued with the work.

From back down on the road a gang of Tsurani emerged, half-carrying, half-dragging a sixty foot log. Dennis raced back down to join them.

'I have this, Hartraft,' Asayaga snapped and Dennis stepped back.

The men cursed and struggled for several minutes to swing the log out onto the road, but because it was twice as long as the road was wide, the heavy root-end snagged in the saplings at the edge. The tangle was finally cut away and the Tsurani, half-running, propelled forward by the weight of their burden, slipped down the road and up on to the bridge. Reaching the edge, they laid the log down under the inverted V. Asayaga shouted for the ropes from the overhead hoist and the four men holding the cables lowered them down. The ropes were slung around the log like nooses, and tied off. Thirty Tsurani started to push the log forward. Dennis wanted to comment, but remained silent. Asayaga was in charge of this and the Tsurani were damn good engineers.

The log was soon nearly thirty feet across, the men at the front letting go as their section passed the edge, then coming around to the root-end, ready to throw their weight on if it started to tip. Finally it was balanced: another few feet and it would pitch over into the gorge. Asayaga detailed off the rest of his men to the cables going up over the inverted V, ordering them to pull and keep the forward end of the log up high. The far end of the log started to rise and after going up only half a dozen feet the root-end started to skid backwards.