‘You’re awake. About fucking time.’ Jerek was there, crouched beside him. His right shoulder and thigh were wrapped in padded dressing. Blood had seeped through the bandages, but it had long since dried and turned brown.
Brodar Kayne forced himself up onto his elbows and glanced around. They were in a narrow depression, tree-covered hills rising on either side. The smell of rain was in the air. It was hard to be sure with the sun behind the clouds, but he reckoned it was late afternoon. How long?
‘You been out the better part of a week,’ the Wolf said, answering his unspoken question. ‘You were gutted good and proper, Kayne. Isaac stitched you up but the girl thought you was done for. I told her you was a stubborn cunt.’
Kayne licked his lips. His mouth was dry and tasted foul. ‘Where are they?’ he asked.
The Wolf reached down and passed him his water bottle. ‘Hunting,’ he replied. ‘Would have gone myself, but Isaac reckons my wounds still need time to heal. Turns out he’s an expert trapper.’
He looked up at his friend. Jerek’s face was unreadable. He scowled slightly when he saw Kayne studying him. You’ve taken worse wounds and they ain’t slowed you an inch, Wolf. You stayed with me in case I regained my senses. Not that the grim Highlander would ever admit to the fact.
‘Where are we?’ he asked.
Jerek spat. ‘West of the Rift, maybe a dozen miles. A shipful of the red-cloaked pricks turned up the day after we collapsed the mine. Followed our trail for a while, but I reckon we lost them. We been lying low ever since.’
Kayne sighed. How many had died at the Rift? The sabotage mission had turned into a massacre. ‘They discover it was us that destroyed the place?’
Jerek shrugged. ‘Don’t think so. They never got close enough to see our faces. Still, ain’t much chance of us swanning back into the Grey City now, is there? Not with the trail of bodies we’ve left behind. I say we escort the girl back to the city and get her to retrieve our gold, then put some miles between us and Dorminia. I’m tired of this shit.’
Kayne was of a like mind himself. He felt old. He felt ancient. Too many dead; too much sorrow. He was tired of running away, sick of killing. A man has to know when to quit.
A disturbance up near a line of alders caught his attention. Isaac and Sasha emerged from the trees, the manservant clutching a trio of coneys in one hand. He smiled happily when he saw his charge had regained consciousness.
In contrast, Sasha was looking mighty peeved. Her jaw clenched and unclenched in a manner not dissimilar to the Wolf when he got into one of his moods. She had a jagged tear down the side of her breeches and her left leg was caked up to the knee in mud.
‘So you made it after all,’ she said, somewhat coldly, hunkering down near to where he lay. She pulled her muddy boot off and turned it upside down, giving it a violent shake. Filthy water trickled out. ‘It would be nice if Isaac paid as much attention to our footing as he did your recovery.’ She glared at the manservant. ‘I can’t believe you led me into a bog.’
Isaac looked slightly embarrassed. ‘I really am sorry about that. I was distracted.’
‘Distracted? You were ambling along drawing pictures of birds.’
‘I like to sketch. I have quite a collection back at the depository. Perhaps when we return to the city I could show them to you.’ His vapid face looked hopeful.
Sasha snorted. ‘Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse. Don’t waste your time, Isaac. I’m not interested.’
Isaac’s face fell. Kayne couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. ‘I guess I should thank you for patching me up,’ he said to the dejected manservant. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. ‘I shouldn’t fret about the girl. I reckon she has her sights set on someone else.’ He gave her a knowing look, thought about winking but couldn’t quite muster the enthusiasm.
Sasha shot him a poisonous glance. ‘As if you’re in any position to know what I want. You Highlanders and your women. How does it go? You hit them on the head with a rock and rape them while they’re unconscious? Or is it the other way around?’
The girl’s words cut right through him. She might have been jesting, but if there was anything besides anger and contempt in those dark eyes he couldn’t see it.
Her tone didn’t sit well with Jerek. ‘What’s your fucking problem?’ he demanded in an angry rasp. ‘You’ve been bitching like a she-bear with a twig up her arse for the last week. Did the alchemist mean that much to you?’
‘Vicard was a better man than you’ll ever be,’ Sasha spat back. ‘I suppose I should consider myself lucky Isaac is around, or who knows what you’d have done to me by now. I’m not scared of you.’
Jerek’s face twisted in anger. He stepped towards her. She stared back, unflinching. The Wolf’s right hand went to his beard, tugging furiously. His left hand clenched into a fist. ‘Fuck yourself. I’m going for a walk.’ With that, he spun and stormed off into the trees.
Kayne watched him go. He released the breath he’d been holding with a tired sigh and closed his eyes for a moment. The first light patters of rain fell, cooling his face and releasing some of the tension in the air.
Isaac scratched the side of his head and risked a nervous smile. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘I think we’d better find shelter from this downpour.’ He gave the rabbits he was holding a small shake. ‘Who’s hungry?’
He watched the small fire dancing in the light breeze. The canopy of leaves and branches overhead shook with the strength of the downpour. Occasional droplets of rain splattered down through gaps in the foliage, but it was better than being out there in the open where the spring deluge was beating at the surrounding hills like an anvil. Isaac stirred the stew he was preparing with a stick, humming to himself. It smelled delicious. Even Sasha appeared to have relaxed somewhat.
The old Highlander was so hungry he felt sick but there was no point complaining about it. The food would be ready when it was ready. At least his stomach wound seemed to be healing. He’d managed to struggle to his feet and hobble up the hill without the help of the others. His knees hurt like hell and the piss he’d just taken had been two of the worst minutes of his life, but he reckoned he was on the mend.
He cleared his throat and glanced across at Sasha. ‘Sorry for the loss of your friend, lass,’ he said. He tried to think of something else to add but couldn’t, so he stared at his scarred hands instead.
For a moment she didn’t respond. Then she looked across the fire at him. ‘I have a name, you know. Sasha. Not “girl”, or “lass”. Or even “bitch”, as your brutish companion so endearingly refers to me.’
‘I don’t mean to offend,’ he said. ‘I’ve never been good with names, and my memory ain’t getting any better with age. Besides, most everyone seems a girl or boy when you’re as old as me.’
She seemed to ponder this for a time. ‘Just how old are you?’ she asked eventually.
‘Can’t say for sure. I killed my first man over forty years ago. I was, what, nine at the time. I guess that means I’m past fifty.’
She stared at him in disbelief. ‘You killed your first man when you were nine years old? That’s ridiculous.’
‘Aye, well, the High Fangs were wilder back in them days.’ He stared at the pot bubbling over the fire. ‘My village had come under attack from a nearby settlement. Our warriors drove them off, but they left some of their wounded behind. One of ’em was right there before me on the snow, stabbed through his chest and sobbing like a babe. Father handed me his spear, told me it was time I became a man.’ He shrugged. ‘I did what I had to do.’