Eventually, the group collapsed back from the edge and Asayaga reached out and cradled Osami.

Gasping the boy looked up and smiled. 'I did it,' he whispered.

'Yes you did.'

Dennis could see he didn't have long to live. His face was a bloody pulp, his skull was fractured, blood pouring from his ears, and one shoulder was caved in. How the boy had managed to hang on was beyond him. He knelt down, fumbling in his haversack, and pulled out a piece of cloth to wipe the boy's face clean.

Osami's eyes were already going dark. He looked up again at Dennis and smiled. 'Saved friend, yes?'

'Yes boy, you saved us,' Dennis whispered, and then Osami was gone.

Dennis sat back as Asayaga held the boy, struggling to control himself. Then he stood up. Eyes distant he looked across the span.

'Another volunteer, take the rope across,' he said. 'Once secure, I want twenty men over to help haul the second log across: that should give us good enough footing.'

Another Tsurani already had the rope which Osami had clung to, and tying it around his waist he leapt up on to the log and started across.

Asayaga turned away. Going over to the railing, he looked over the side.

Dennis went up to join him. 'I'm sorry,' he said.

'He was my elder sister's boy. Joined us just before we set out on this insanity. It was his first mission.'

Stunned, Dennis said nothing. This was the same boy that Asayaga had been willing to kill back in the retreat long ago, the boy that Richard had insisted on saving, and who the cursed Corwin had helped as well.

Dennis put a hand on Asayaga's shoulder. 'I didn't know.'

'There was no reason to tell you. In our way, we are all of the same family, all who serve our house, so his ties to me gained him no favouritism. Even Sugama would not have thought to go after the boy to strike at me.'

'Sugama?'

'Don't you understand, don't you see anything? Haven't you learned anything of us in all this time? Sugama was my enemy, as much as you are. His clan seeks to destroy my clan; he was sent here as much to spy on me as to replace the Tondora officer who had died.'

'But you were willing to defend him back at Wolfgar's.'

'To preserve my command. I could not let you kill him like a wounded pig when he was already dying. All of us would have lost face.'

Dennis turned away and saw that the volunteer was already across, securing the second rope as a handrail for the next man to follow, and that another Tsurani was already up on the log and stepping out.

'I never could thank your Richard for what he did in the way I wanted to, as an uncle and not just as Osami's commander. I wish I had.'

'He knows that now.'

Asayaga looked back to the open span. 'Once the second log is across we move the children and women, then the men. We should be across within the hour.' His face an impenetrable mask, he looked at Dennis.

'Asayaga, we still must settle what is between us, but I am truly sorry for Osami. He was a brave lad. I think Richard must be greeting him now in Lims-Kragma's Halls.'

'Remember, Hartraft, we go to different places when we die. I don't think your gods let Tsurani into their Hall of Judgment.'

'Still, I think Richard would want to greet him,' Dennis said. He hesitated, his voice dropping. 'And Jurgen would be there, too.'

Asayaga sighed, finally nodding his thanks.

'Dennis!'

He looked up and was stunned to see Gregory approaching, cradling his right hand, a bloody bandage wrapped around it. He felt a momentary panic. So damn close and now the damned moredhel were closing in.

He looked past Gregory. Tsurani and Kingdom soldiers were circling in behind the Natalese scout, but where was Tinuva? But even before Gregory spoke to tell him what had happened he knew what the eledhel was doing: he was sacrificing himself in order to buy them time.

As he heard Gregory's words a terrible rage began to build in him. So much of his anger had been shifting over the last month. For so long it had been aimed at the Tsurani, at those who had murdered his family, at the war, and in the end at Corwin. But now at last he understood and it was as if a curtain that had covered his soul across the years had been torn away.

He could see the same fire in Asayaga as well, for the elf had been the one who had always walked between the two sides, respected by all, trusted by all.

He saw Roxanne and Alyssa standing at the edge of the circle and the fire was in their eyes as well, for the one that Tinuva now faced had destroyed their home, and murdered their father as well.

He caught Roxanne's eye. She studied his face and something in her eyes told him she knew what he must do. A mixture of fear, regret, and faint hope played across her face in seconds, then she returned to her implacable expression.

'Figure out a way to get the children and women across,' he said to her. Without waiting for a response he looked over at Asayaga. 'Are you with me?' he asked.

'For what?'

'We go back and fight. I'm finished with running.'

A curtain of snow drifted down from an overhanging branch. It seemed to hover before him, each flake clearly defined in his mind, each one alive for an eternity, flowing with the gentle wind, cloaking him, touching his brow, cooling the fever of his rage.

Tinuva slipped away from the tree, moving low, almost one with the snow on the ground. He rolled in behind a fallen log that rose like a white hump-backed beast from the forest floor. Bracing himself, he grabbed hold of the arrow sticking out of his thigh and snapped the end off, chanting inwardly to block the pain. He knew he should push it through but there was no time and doing so might sever an artery. Time enough later. He dared a glance up over the side of the log, ducked, rolled, then came back up, bow drawn, arrow winging on its way. The distant shadow moved and collapsed and for a second he felt a disquieting thrill; and then there came a laugh.

'Well sent, brother, well sent.'

Tinuva reached around to his quiver, drew another arrow, started up, then rolled backwards and dodged off in the other direction, racing through a thicket of saplings. He caught a glimpse of others standing silent, arms folded, watching intently, backing away at his approach. There were faces there that he recognized – for how could he not recognize cousins, comrades of hunts from long ago, those with whom he had once laughed, and whom he had once fought alongside, slaying their enemies together?

A few even nodded gravely, for even though he was apostate and an abomination, they remembered hunting and going to war with Morvai.

He turned away from the outer edge of the circle, an instinct telling him to suddenly drop, an arrow singing past his ear, kicking up a plume of snow as it struck the ground by his side.

Sitting up, he drew, aimed, shot again and Bovai dodged back behind an ancient pine, the bolt tearing off a spray of bark.

Tinuva was back up and running, but the pain was registering, each step a flood of agony that would have caused a human to fall, screaming, but he pressed on. He spared a quick glance to the southeast. Though the storm continued, still he could sense the face of the sun beyond the clouds, far above the white mantle, hovering in a fierce blue sky. It had risen to mid-zenith; the duel had consumed hours. He could hear angry mutterings from beyond the next hill, the impatient cries of goblins, the hoarse voices of men in protest, but all the moredhels' attention was focused on this duel, a duel which Tinuva knew they would see as a hunt that would be spoken of into eternity, the hunt of brother against brother. Each knew the tricks of the other, the subtle movements, the way of thinking, the scent of the other on the wind, the feel of one's gaze upon the other even with the back turned.