'Thraun?'
'We just have to pray he escaped,' said The Unknown quietly. 'But even he would have been hard pressed to survive a falling tree.'
'And as for the pack…' Ilkar left his words hanging. Though he was a wolf, Thraun would always retain vestiges of humanity in his mind. It was the way of all shapechangers, even those lost to their human form, and Thraun had already experienced more sadness than most of his fragile kind could bear. The Gods only knew what he would do if he lost the pack.
'What caused this?' The Unknown shook his head.
'I'm scared to even think about it,' said Ilkar.
'What do you mean?' asked Hirad.
'Let's get to Greythorne,' said Ilkar by way of reply. 'Find Denser.'
They rode on, expectations of finding the town undamaged dismissed. But as they travelled the decimated lowlands surrounding the wrecked forest, it became clear that their worst fears were liable to be realised.
It was like a journey through a foreign landscape though they all knew the land well. So many landmarks and waypoints had gone. Trail posts, cairns, copses and spinneys, all had been scratched from the face of Balaia. Any remote homestead had been destroyed, timbers scattered wide and even the topsoil had been ripped away on the exposed slopes, bringing rock to the surface for the first time in centuries.
The wind, if such it was, had been utterly indiscriminate and totally ruinous.
They were under a day's ride from Greythorne with the morning all but over when The Unknown turned in his saddle for the third time in as many miles. He dropped back slowly before shifting in his seat and pulling up.
'Hey!' he called, dismounting and scrutinising the girth buckle and strap. 'Wait up.'
Hirad and Ilkar wheeled their horses and trotted towards him, slipping off as they approached.
'Girth slipping?' asked Hirad.
The Unknown nodded. 'No,' he said. 'Don't look up. We're being followed. Tell you what, get out your waterskin and let's have a break, all right?'
Hirad shrugged. 'Sure.'
The Unknown unbuckled the strap and tugged it back to the same position before joining his friends sitting at the side of the trail. The horses grazed a few feet away.
'How many?' asked Hirad, handing him the waterskin.
'Impossible to say.' He took a swig and rinsed his dry mouth, handing the skin back. 'I've seen metal glint and shapes moving against the background.'
'Distance?' Ilkar pushed a hand through his hair and lay out on his back.
'Three miles, maybe a little more. Certainly horse-borne. I think they've been trailing us since the Balan Mountains.'
'But you didn't want to worry us, eh?' Hirad's tone was only half joking. The Unknown's lips thinned.
'No, Hirad, I just wasn't sure. You know how it is,' he said. 'It's of no importance anyway. They haven't attacked us so we have to assume they're just trailing us for information. That also means they'll probably have a mage to communicate with whoever.'
'Dordover,' said Ilkar.
'Most likely,' agreed The Unknown. 'And suffice to say, we can't let them find out any more than they can already guess.'
'So where do we take them? The forest?' Hirad nodded at the wrecked woodland. They had been skirting it to the south having ignored the north-east trail through the farmsteads as they headed for Greythorne.
'Yes. At the rock.'
Whatever the state of the forest, the crag at its centre would still be intact until the earth opened up to swallow it.
'Assuming we can persuade them to follow us in there.'
Thornewood was a mess, just a shamble of dying vegetation and twisted wood. The birds had returned and their song could be heard above the wind that was gusting stronger again, clouds bubbling across the fast greying sky.
'I don't think they have any choice,' said The Unknown. 'They can't simply watch the hunter trails because there are none, not any
more. We can pick our way in and out anywhere. And they can't go on to Greythorne and risk us not stopping there.'
'But they'll assume our decision to go in means we've seen them, won't they?' queried Ilkar.
The Unknown shrugged. 'Possibly. But it hardly matters. It'll make them wary perhaps but it doesn't change what they're doing. And if we lose them, then so much the better.'
'So, Unknown, any ideas about how to get in?' Hirad smiled. The Unknown blew out his cheeks. The force of the hurricane had snapped off almost every tree at a height varying between eight and a dozen or so feet. Tangled foliage was knotted across the forest floor and banked up in huge drifts against close-packed stands of trunks and, further in, no doubt against the rock itself. It had left no obvious entry point and the Raven trio would have to pick or hack their way through the least dense obstructions.
'We'll find a way. C'mon, break over, no time like now.'
They mounted up and trotted gently to the borders of the forest, indistinct now with debris scattered so widely. Making their way inside, the destruction was brought into stark focus. In places, the forest floor had been swept clean, the mulch and dust of years, the loose topsoil and every plant, flower and shrub scoured away. No tree was undamaged and everywhere arches of fallen boughs crisscrossed just above their heads or were impenetrable, forcing a change of direction, as if they wished no living thing to see the death of Thornewood.
For three hours, The Unknown ensured they left a traceable trail as he bullied his horse through the debris. Where it thickened too much to be trampled, he dismounted and used his sword one-handed, sweeping through leaf and branch alike. Behind him, Ilkar and Hirad followed, saying nothing until they reached the crag.
'Make sure you clean your sword. Sap's a real killer for rust,' said Hirad, sliding from his horse. The Unknown looked at him, his expression carefully blank.
'Really? Thanks, Hirad. I'd have hated to have lost my sword through ignorance of sap's rust-inducing qualities.'
Ilkar chuckled.
'Just saying,' muttered Hirad.
'I have been at this a couple of years myself,' said The Unknown.
'And don't get comfortable. You've twenty yards of path to make thataway-' he waved his sword across the clearing around the crag '-while Ilkar goes and listens for them and I work out our best point of contact. All right?'
Hirad nodded. 'What about the horses?'
'Take them down the path to tether when you're done. I'd help you but I can see little brown spots on my blade. What do you think they mean?'
Hirad pulled his sword from its scabbard. 'Funny, Unknown, but leave the jokes to me next time, eh?'
'To prove you're even less amusing, presumably,' said Ilkar.
'All right, come on,' said The Unknown. 'They won't be far behind.'
Hirad was convinced it wouldn't work. Dordovan spies or assassins weren't the type to blunder into a hastily laid ambush. But he had to concede they couldn't lead anyone straight to Denser or Erienne at this stage; and if all it served was to throw them off the scent, then he'd take that as a positive result. And there was no desire to kill those that followed them, after all, they might have some very useful information. They were merely under orders. What they needed was some clear guidance on why following The Raven was an occupation with no future.
It was with some surprise then, that he heard Ilkar whisper that they were coming, just as the wind picked up suddenly, gusting through the remains of the forest and sifting at what it had so brutally created.
The Raven had taken up position a few yards from the crag itself, hidden from the path they'd made by a tangle of pine branches and thick, sharp gorse.
There were four of them, leading their horses, treading carefully and not uttering a sound, as if aware that all was not right in Thornewood. All were men, clad in varying shades of dark leather armour, long swords in free hands, helms framing faces older than those watching them. Hirad raised an eyebrow at the oddity. They were clearly an experienced team but the carelessness with which they'd revealed themselves to The Unknown made him wonder why Dordover had chosen them to follow The Raven. At least with no