CHAPTER 2

The next day was cooler and overcast, with wide furrowed clouds that darkened towards the horizon and threatened rain. They made for the forest road, riding mostly in silence as every member of the party listened hard for the crash of branches and drum of following hooves. Having abandoned the river, they headed directly north, skirting the borderland between Tor Milist and the lands claimed by the Farlan. Their destination now was the suzerainty of Saroc, a longer journey, but one that avoided the most obvious route home.

One glance at a map made it abundantly clear where the danger lay: on the river that took them up the border between Nerlos and the suzerainty of Tildek, seat of the inordinately powerful Certinse family. Suzerain Tildek and his nephew, the Duke of Lomin, would be overjoyed to catch Lord Isak with only a small force of guards before the- young heir could reach Tirah and assert his claim. Their only dilemma would be deciding between themselves as to which of them should become king.

Riding on the fringe of the group, Morghien sat awkwardly atop one of the spare horses, his eyes fixed on the lead Ghost. As there was nothing he could do for Wisten Fedei, Morghien had agreed to Isak's suggestion that he accompany them to Tirah instead. He wasn't a natural horseman, and his discomfort added to his misery as the hours crawled past.

Isak had worried that the forest was too quiet, but early in the afternoon, when the forest thinned to the familiar sight of groves and thickets encircled by pastureland that characterised much of Farlan territory, the Land remained deserted. Where they would expect sheep and cattle to be grazing, thus far they hadn't seen even a rabbit, and the air was empty of birdsong. Isak had spent enough time alone in the wilds to know what a quiet day sounded like; this was the silence that followed a hunting predator.

'We crossed the Longbow River two hours ago now,' he said, break¬ing the silence. 'We should have seen someone by now.' Like his soldiers, Isak was riding in full armour, his helm upturned in his lap. |eil and Borl, the rangers, were scouting ahead with Mihn; Isak didn't believe anyone could catch all three of them unawares, but still he felt better when his hand was resting on the hilt of his sword. There was something nagging at the back of his mind. He looked around again; there were few enough hiding places nearby – and yet he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

'do you think we're walking into a trap?' Tila asked from behind him. Isak turned in his saddle and gave what he hoped was an encour-aging; smile. It didn't seem to have the desired effect; Tila twitched her nose at him and looked away.

'I hope not,' he said. 'I just keep getting the feeling someone's spy-ing on us.' A tremor ran down his spine like a ghostly finger and he flinched, unable to stop himself from checking around again. 'Ignore me, Tila. I'm just being foolish. I'd trust our scouts over anyone else.'

'Some things they can't see,' Morghien said in a distant voice. He closed his eyes for the moment, an inquisitive look on his face. 'Is it

'magic you feel?'

'1 ' Isak stopped. His inexperience counted against him once more 'I don't really know enough about it to be sure.'

'isak,' Garel said, an intent look on his face, 'what do your instincts say? No, don't think about it – don't try magic or anything you're not so fa,miliar with. I know you, and I trust your instincts; tell me right now do you think we're being watched?'

isak nodded. 'I think we are.'

'Right.' Carel raised a hand to signal the halt. 'Helms on, lances out spare mounts behind us; Tila, Mistress Daran, stay in the middle, and,| Morghien, stay with them, no matter what happens. The bastards must have a mage scrying for us, which means we are going to be hit, and when that happens I want you getting the women away. You're not a knight, trained in battle, so you're the one we can spare in a straight light.' he stopped for a moment, suddenly remembering control, and looked at Isak, gesturing at his helm. 'My Lord?'

the white eye smiled as he remembered a saying he'd heard once: tradition rules the Farrlan, the lord just tells everyone what to do. He pulled

the blue hood from his belt and slipped it over his head, then raised the distorting mirror helm over his head. Even on a nondescript day like this the light reflected strangely off it. Isak was glad his enemies were the ones who had to look at that soulless face. 'Gentlemen, your helms.'

Isak's party was already diminished, with eight dead and three seriously wounded who had remained in Narkang, so the absence of the scouts was pronounced. Mihn in particular had become a comforting presence, always in Isak's shadow; in his absence Isak felt unaccountably vulnerable.

Looking around, his eyes came to rest on Carel, organising the spare horses into a train they could abandon if necessary. The old soldier wouldn't thank him for pointing it out, but it was high time he retired. Isak thought he looked too small for plate-armour now, as if the loss of youth had drained inches and more from the man. The battle in Narkang had been evidence enough; Carel was still un¬deniably good with a sword, but hours of combat in heavy plate was exhausting for anyone; this time the effort had nearly killed Carel. When we get to Tirah I'll speak to Lesarl about widows with manor houses and grandchildren he could grumble about, he thought to himself.

'Lord Isak's right; the woods are too quiet,' commented Morghien as Vesna and Carel helped Tila and her chaperone pull shields onto their backs. Neither had armour, of course, but the chances were high that any ambush would be by light cavalry, and while the shields would be useless against a longbow, anything smaller might not penetrate.

'The quiet could be good for us,' said the count. 'There's no wind, sound will travel well, and any ambush will require more than one regiment having seen Lord Isak in battle, any force of fewer than a hundred nun would be taking quite a risk.'

'Vesna, find us somewhere to defend,' Isak snapped, scanning the trees ahead. He could feel movement out there somewhere, move¬ment, and eyes on them. There was magic involved, but this was a predator and the animals of the forest had recognised it.

They broke through a line of high ash trees and moved on to clearer ground. A gentle slope ran down towards a stream which disappeared from view behind higher ground off to the left, but it was steep and thick with tangling hawthorns. Isak didn't need to be told that that was the wrong direction; they could find themselves cornered fifty yards in.

'There should be rocky ground there, where the stream comes out,' Vesna said, pointing to the right. 'Look at the lie of the ground: those bushes are probably hiding a sharp drop where the stream comes out. We aim for that rocky ground, and if there's no threat when we get there we move in to the trees behind and find our scouts. We must move fast. If we're caught in open ground by cavalry we don't stand it chance.'

As one, the horses moved forward at a brisk trot. Isak sat high and tense in his saddle, straining to detect anything over the rattle of armour and the thud of hoofs on the hard ground. He snapped at the reins irritably, trying to hold in Toramin's impatient steps, and as he did so his arm brushed the Skull fixed in his breastplate, reminding him of the power the objects gave him. Forged by the last king of the elves for use in the Great War, the Skulls gave access to more Magic than any mortal could naturally summon. With a Crystal Skull, even the Gods of the Pantheon's Upper Circle could be killed – so he shouild be able to open his senses to the Land around him while he Was running for cover.

Isak touched his mailed fingers to the Skull and through the en-chatned silver encasing his body he felt an immediate rush of exhila-ration fllow through him. The power he could access now was simply terrifying – he'd been nervous about experimenting with the Skulls until he was safe in Tirah Palace, but now he didn't have a choice. He was careful to allow only a trickle of energy to leak out of the artefact and into his body, but that tiny fraction was enough. A sense of the