He could sense the nerves of those around them. This was not in any of their experience. They’d all been on Calaius for over a hundred days, trying to acclimatise. But there was no getting used to the rainforest. Rumours had run riot about what travelled inside the canopy. Haleth knew.
‘Nothing yet,’ said One-Eye. ‘Wait. Movement. Up ahead, fifteen yards. Haven’t we-’
The shriek from Haleth’s left was drawn from the deepest well of fear. Birds took flight and a rush of movement was heard in the canopy all around them. There was a crashing on the forest floor. Haleth, Arshul and the eight others in the central group turned, holding their swords ready. Haleth already knew it wasn’t an enemy coming. But an enemy might be right behind the runner.
A young man appeared, his face white in the gloom, his weapon gone and his mind with it. He burst through the vines and fell to the ground just in front of Haleth.
‘Kuthan!’ he wailed. ‘Kuthan’s head… So quick. Nothing to see. Nothing to hear.’
‘Talk to me, Ilesh. I need more sense than that.’ Haleth dropped to his knees and grabbed Ilesh’s shoulders. The young man looked up. ‘That’s better. Speak.’
‘There is nothing more. Kuthan’s dead. Beheaded and I didn’t even see anything. But there was something there. And then gone.’
A keening wail carried over the drumming of the rain. For a moment, Haleth thought it had to be a wounded animal. Then he heard the slicing of vegetation, terribly close. He jerked back reflexively. Ilesh’s head jolted violently to the left. Blood sprayed out over Haleth’s face. He dropped the man and scrabbled back to his feet, grabbing his sword from the mud.
Something jutted from Ilesh’s neck. A crescent blade with indented finger grips at one end. It had carved deep, slicing the jugular and lodging in the windpipe. The poor fool juddered and slumped sideways. Haleth didn’t take his eyes from the weapon. Sildaan had spoken of these things. Jaqrui, she’d called them. A signature weapon.
‘Shit,’ he breathed. ‘TaiGethen.’
A scream rang out from behind them. Shouting followed it and cries for help floated across the forest floor. Haleth turned full circle, seeing another glimpse of the ghost in the trees.
‘Everyone to me. Now! I want a circle. Clear some ground, dammit. And stand together. Stand. Arshul, behind me. One-Eye, get back here. Archers and mages in the centre. To my left. Move!’ Haleth could see fear in every face. Action helped, but only a little.
His men chopped at the vegetation at their feet, desperately trying to make enough space to stand and defend. The rain still rattled down and the gloom had deepened if anything, meaning there was yet more to come. One-Eye was leading his two back to the fold. They were trying to cover every angle, hacking at the foliage in front of them to make a path.
‘We’re watching for you,’ said Haleth. ‘Come on. Quickly.’
A shadow flashed behind One-Eye. Haleth’s throat went dry. The man to One-Eye’s left pitched forwards. Haleth saw the pale gleam of a blade. Gone in an instant.
‘Run, One-Eye!’ he yelled. ‘Run!’
Around him his men were jittery, staring out into the forest, trying to pierce the impenetrable. The ground around them was still treacherous but it would have to do. Tree trunks, vines and thick branches were going to get in the way of free swordplay. And the circle was too small. Haleth could understand their reluctance. Still…
‘Move out. Give the mages and bowmen some space. Don’t wait for a command to shoot or cast. Come on. Space. Space to fight.’
Haleth took two deliberate steps forward and gestured with his arms for those to his left and right to come with him.
‘How many of them are there?’ asked one.
‘Do I look like a seer?’
One-Eye and his sole charge ran into the rough circle. Survivors of the left flank and rear joined too. Seventeen stood and waited. Three of them with bows. Two mages. There was the sound of feet seeking firm purchase. Muttered curses and demands for more room. The whisper of spell shapes forming.
Yet around them, barring the dripping, drumming and splashing of rain, the forest had fallen silent.
Chapter 2
Complacency is your greatest enemy. Auum and Serrin watched the men. The three already dead would be reclaimed by the forest. Auum prayed that Shorth visited torment on them for eternity. A prayer sure to be answered. Shorth would be greedy for the souls of men. Merciful Shorth whose wrath when betrayed was more terrible than that of Yniss himself.
‘They have courage,’ said Serrin.
Auum sniffed. ‘They have organisation. Courage, no. We will wait long enough for the fear to eat away what little belief they have. Tual’s denizens will create doubt and false thought. Gyal’s tears will obscure real threat. And then you and I will complete Yniss’s work.’
‘Their leader. He has courage.’
‘It will not save him.’
‘One must survive.’
‘Is that an order?’ asked Auum.
Serrin shrugged. ‘Advice.’
Auum inclined his head. ‘I understand.’
He turned back to study his prey and chose his next target. ‘Where are they?’ asked Arshul, his voice a hiss into the cacophony of animal and insect calls that had sprung up with a sudden slackening of the rain.
This was not what he had signed up for. Decent money but unacceptable conditions. He was a man who lived with total certainty. With the knowledge that he had all the answers, was in complete control. He was here to fulfil specific tasks. Remove specific targets. This jaunt into the rainforest was billed as little more than an educational stroll. A way to understand better the complexities of this ridiculous society. Being under attack from lethal elves was not in the brief.
‘Out there,’ said One-Eye.
‘Very helpful. Any of you, can you see anything?’
‘Focus,’ said Haleth from the other side of the circle. ‘Remember the way it’s gone so far. The pale one is a distraction. The others will come from another direction. Keep talking, and whatever you do, do not break ranks. If we stand together, we’ll get through this.’
‘A ghost in the forest,’ said Arshul. ‘Not everything you hear turns out to be rumour.’
‘It’s no ghost,’ said Haleth. ‘Trust me.’
The group fell silent. Out there, they were watching. Arshul felt a moment of pure guilt. Was this how his marks felt? Knowing he was coming for them and unable to do anything but note the sun travel across the sky. Wait for the blade to issue through the ribs or the poison to take a hold. And die wondering who it was that had ordered their death at the hands of a paid stranger.
The hoots and calls of monkeys and birds filled the air above. The buzz and chitter of insects brought a phantom itch to the ear. The undergrowth was alive. Animals took the opportunity to see what the rain had unearthed. They didn’t have long. Thunder rumbled above the canopy. Another downpour was coming.
But out there, in the infinite shadows the rainforest provided, the enemy awaited the perfect moment. No doubt they would pick it. And the delay was having precisely the desired effect. The men were twitchy, wondering how long they would have to stand here. How long they had to live. Some would be thinking about escape.
‘A song, anyone?’ said Arshul.
‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ said a voice, nervous and small.
‘Not at all. Might break the mood. Get the blood flowing. Give us energy. Get our feet going and our courage together.’
‘Good idea, Arshul,’ said Haleth. ‘It’s about time this hell hole heard the beauty of Balaian song. A chorus of “Break the Chains”?’
‘We won’t be able to hear them coming.’
‘You won’t hear them anyway, not even if every beast in the forest fell silent and the sun dried the rain,’ growled One-Eye. ‘Sing, you bastards. And keep your eyes open.’
Tentatively at first, but growing in volume, the battle chant rose. And with every word, Arshul felt warmer and stronger. He surprised even himself. ‘Blade aloft and arrow nocked Break the Chains! Break the Chains! Armour bright and soul alight Break the Chains! Break the Chains! Enemies hear and cower in fear Break the Chains! Break the Chains! Shake them, break them, bring them down Break the Chains! Break the Chains!’ Warm fluid sprayed over Arshul’s face. He looked left. The one with the white face was in front of Jinosh, his fingers buried in Jinosh’s neck. Arshul brought up his blade. The white face dragged his fingers clear, the filed nails tearing out flesh. Jinosh screamed and fell forward. Arshul moved his blade to strike. The white face dropped to his knees. Feet ploughed into Arshul’s chest, driving him back onto the sodden ground.