Nightchild

T beg your pardon?'

'I will be contacting Gorstan at Arlen presently,' said Tendjorn, ignoring Darrick's anger. 'We'll have Erienne as soon as she docks. I expect you to be ready to ride with however many you consider necessary as soon as you have completed your assessment of Greythorne.'

'And The Raven?'

'Will be kept away from causing trouble. Now that can be by you, or by Dordovan forces already in Arlen. Either way, they are not to be allowed contact with Erienne.'

Darrick looked at him, his jaw clenched, eyes betraying his feelings, but said nothing, choosing to walk away. Tendjorn enjoyed his discomfort.

'Oh, General?' Darrick stopped, his back to the mage. 'We don't want bloodshed in Arlen, do we? Like I said, The Raven are your friends. I do hope you decide to, how shall I put it, look after their wellbeing. Stop them doing anything foolhardy.'

The General walked on.

Thraun had tracked the scent of the ones for which he had dim but certain memory. Trotting with the pack towards Greythorne, other disturbing recollections fought to resurface, distracting him and worrying the pack, who kept a wary distance behind. Like dreams while he was awake, the flashes rocked him. Of standing

on two legs; of a friend he knew as man-packbrother; of great winged beasts and of primal fear reaching down from the sky. At least they confirmed that those humans he followed were known to him sometime.

And that they were strong and, he thought, good.

The pack kept above the trail the humans and their animals used as it wound past the remains of Thornewood and arced across open ground, latterly turning full south to enter the town itself.

It was a habit born of caution but he shouldn't have bothered. Nothing travelled the trail and, with the moon shining dully through a cloud-covered sky, there would be no one. Just the spirits of the wind to keep the fear alive within them.

The pack had stopped to rest and watch on a shadowed rise above Greythorne. The scene was much as the previous night, with lights burning, voices calling and stone and wood rumbling, cracking or falling.

Well before dawn, horses and riders had thundered into the western end of the town and Thraun had taken advantage of the disruption to scout the empty streets. He had picked up the scent of his humans very quickly and, satisfied he knew where they were, by smell and the embers of a fire he could see like a puddle in the dark, he had returned to the pack.

But they hadn't stayed in Greythorne. With light across the sky once more, the humans had taken to their horses and ridden south and east. Thraun hadn't known what he expected but it wasn't this. Perhaps the wrong in the air covered more than he dared imagine. Perhaps the two female humans he had seen in Thornewood were not returning to Greythorne. Or perhaps those he knew were doing nothing to change the wrong to right.

Whichever way it was, the pack had to follow him. He ignored their desire for food. That could come later. Choosing to track by scent rather than shadow by eye, Thraun took the pack on to a destiny none of them could guess at or hope to understand.

The Unknown hadn't even paused to say goodbye to Gannan, such was the haste with which they left Greythorne. With their horses' hooves kicking up mud and the surprised and disappointed faces of the town's survivors following them, they galloped through the wreckage and out into the countryside, heading east and south to

Arlen. It was just under a three-day ride and though they were bound to have a good start on any pursuit, that wasn't Denser's principal concern.

They rode hard for two hours before the horses needed a break. Ilkar took the horses to a stream while Hirad built a fire to make coffee.

The barbarian didn't look up when Denser stalked up and ignited the damp timber with a brief but intense FlamePalm. The Unknown dumped a few more short branches by the growing flames.

'Hirad, you are a bloody idiot,' he said, squatting down by his friend. 'What did I say about being careful?'

'It should be all right. We can trust Darrick,' said Hirad, though the pit in his stomach told him it wouldn't be.

'Darrick isn't the problem,' said Denser. 'The Dordovan behind him was.'

'But even so-' began Hirad.

'There isn't an "even so",' snapped Denser. 'Unless they've made a major tactical error, that mage will be able to commune as far as Arlen easily and will have already done so.'

'Always assuming there's anyone there.'

'Oh, assuming that, of course.' Denser cast his eyes skywards. Above him, the cloud was moving and rolling, pushed by a quickly strengthening wind. Already, Hirad had changed his position to shield the fire over which The Unknown hung his pot.

'Hirad, it's become obvious to everyone that Erienne took Lyanna off Balaia. It was a just a question of where. Dordover will have been covering every port for weeks. After all, they've had a fifty-day advantage over the rest of us,' said The Unknown.

'So what do we do?' Hirad at last picked his head up and looked at The Unknown. There was no anger in his expression, just frustration.

'Well we have to assume any Dordovans in Arlen are already aware of Erienne's imminent arrival. And so we have to stop her walking into trouble for a start.'

'Which means Denser communes, right?'

'Yes, Hirad,' said Denser curtly. 'Not exactly how I'd planned to deplete my stamina but still.'

'I'm sorry, all right?' Hirad couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice. 'We'll sort it out.'

'Will we?' Denser's eyes flashed angrily. 'There's four of us. What exactly do you suppose we'll do if the Dordovans get to her before we do?'

'They're not going to hurt her, Denser.'

'But they'll take her from me and time is so short,' he said, fidgeting again. 'And capturing her is all they need to get to Lyanna. Only I can save her.'

'So you keep saying. So get them to avoid Arlen and we'll meet them further down the coast. Don't panic' Hirad stabbed another branch into the fire, sending a few sparks past the gently steaming pot. Ilkar scrambled over and sat the opposite side of the fire to the barbarian.

'I'm not panicking, Hirad. I'm worried for my wife and daughter. I hope that's all right.'

'And I'm worried for my dragons but I'm still here helping you.'

'Oh, Gods,' muttered Ilkar under his breath. 'Must you?'

'Yes, such helpless creatures,' said Denser. 'So vulnerable. I can't imagine how they'll survive without you.'

'They're already dying, Denser,' snarled Hirad. 'Not that you'd know, eating delicacies in your comfortable tower.'

'That's not how it is,' said Denser, leaning back deliberately, attempting to calm the situation a little,

'No, sure, I mean the fruits of your hard work are everywhere, aren't they?' Hirad waved his arms expansively. 'Do you see Protectors freed? Are the Kaan dragons any closer to going home?'

'Those are just two issues in-'

' "Just?" In case it's escaped your attention, Denser, those two issues saved Balaia. One knowingly exiling themselves in the process, the other fought at great cost outside the Septern Manse. Unfortunately, it was some time ago, and perhaps your memory has dimmed over the years.' Hirad's caustic tone echoed around the fireplace. There was a contemplative silence.

'Hirad, I know this is critical to you,' said Ilkar. 'But temporarily, we have more pressing matters. And getting to Erienne and then the Al-Drechar could solve your problem anyway.'

Hirad nodded. T know I made a mistake and I'm sorry. I just

want him to know what he's done. Or rather not done.' He jabbed a finger at Denser.