He shook his head. 'I fear they took nothing. They gave you something ... something vile, like a poison that eats into your heart. I am your friend, Sigarni. More than that, I love you. I would die for you. But you alone must find a way to defeat the monsters tormenting you.'
'What do you mean defeat them? I killed them!'
'You misunderstand me,' he said gently. 'They may be dead, but you hold them to you. They exist in every thought you have; you see their faces on all men — even your friends. I cannot advise you, for I have no ... no perception of what you have been through. But you are now a fortress, barred against those who love you. Yet you have the enemy trapped within also. I think you will have to find a way to raise the portcullis and allow your friends in.'
'Nonsense,' she retorted. 'There is no portcullis.' Before he could speak again, she swung away and walked to her horse. 'Let's get to the village,' she said.
The two of them rode in silence.
The narrow lanes of Cilfallen were strewn with Outland corpses. Sigarni gazed on them dispassionately and guided her horse to the south of the town. The bodies of the mercenaries - stripped of all weapons - were slowly being carted across the bridge to an open field. Fell was sitting on the retaining wall surrounded by several of his foresters; they rose when they saw Sigarni. She dismounted and approached them. 'You did well," she said. 'Did you suffer any losses?'
'Three men wounded, none seriously. Four of the villagers were killed. Eleven others sustained wounds, most of them minor.' She turned towards the waiting foresters, recognizing them all. Three of them had been casual lovers. The men stood silently, their expressions guarded.
'You have now seen how the Outlanders keep the peace. Know this: In the spring they will come with an army. Their mission will be to annihilate all clansmen, and their families, and their children.
I intend to fight them - just like today. I will drench the Highlands in their blood. Today we are few, but that will change. Those who wish to serve me should make their wishes known to Fell.
Those who do not should make plans to leave the mountains. There are only two sides now: Outland and Highland. Those not with me will be deemed traitors, and I will hunt them down also. That is all.'
Spinning on her heel, she walked back to where Asmidir waited with the horses. 'I need to see Tovi,' she said. They found him at the bakery, with the ovens heating. He had discarded his sword and was kneading a batch of dough.
'One last time,' he said, with an embarrassed smile. 'I don't know why I wanted to.' He gazed around the long room with its racks of empty shelves. 'This place has been my life.'
'Now you have another life,' she said sternly. 'You were a warrior, Tovi; you understood discipline. You and Grame and Fell will train the Loda men. We will fall back into the forest and there I shall leave you. You will gather fighting men, organize stores for the winter, and put out scouts to watch for any further incursions into our territory. You understand this?'
'We can't win, Sigarni. I understand that.'
'We just did!'
'Aye,' he said, wiping the dough from his hands and moving to stand before her. 'We defeated a band of ill-led mercenaries. We tricked them and trapped them. What happens when the Baron marches with his regular soldiers? I watched your man Obrin fight today. He was deadly. What happens when there are thousands like him against us?'
Sigarni stepped in close, her eyes cold, her voice hard as a blade. 'Has all your courage gone, fat man? Has it melted into the blubber around your belly? I am Sigarni. I am of the Blood. And I wear the Crimson. I do not promise victory. I promise war and death. Now you have two choices. The first is to take your family and run, leave the Highlands. The second is to drop to your knee and pledge yourself to serve me until the day you die. Make that choice now, Hunt LordP
At the use of his title Tovi stiffened, and Sigarni saw the anger in his eyes. 'You have fought one battle, Sigarni. I have fought many. I know what war is, and I know what it achieves. It is no more than a pestilence. It is a terrible thing - it consumes and destroys, birthing hatreds that last for generations. But I am the Hunt Lord, and I will not leave my people in this desperate hour.'
'Then kneel,' she said, her voice flat and unrelenting.
Tovi stepped forward and dropped to one knee. 'My sword and my life,' he said, solemnly.
'Let it be so,' she told him.
Sigarni left him there and walked from the bakery. Grame was sitting by his forge with a bloody bandage around his upper arm. Gwalchmai was with him. The smith grinned as he saw her. Gwalchmai belched, stood, staggered and sat down.
'He's drunk,' said Grame.
'He always is,' said Sigarni. 'Will you serve me, Grame?'
The smith scratched his thick white beard. 'You've changed, lass. You always had iron in you, but I'd guess it has been run through the fire and moulded into something sharp and deadly. Aye, I'll serve you. What would you have me do?'
'Make the pledge.'
'I gave that pledge once already, and the King ran away and left me and others to rot.'
'I will not run, Grame. Make the pledge.'
He stood and looked into her eyes. Bending his knee, he took a deep breath. 'My sword and my life,' he said.
'Let it be so.'
'Where do I begin?' he asked, rising.
'See Tovi. He will tell you what I require in the coming weeks. For now, gather all weapons and supplies and lead our people deep into Pallides territory. We will speak again when the evacuation is complete. Any man who comes to you, Grame, and wishes to serve, make him speak the pledge. From now on we are Highlanders again. Nothing and no one will ever steal our pride. You understand?'
'Hail to thee, Battle Queen!' shouted Gwalchmai, lifting his jug in salute.
The words chilled Sigarni. 'Be silent, old fool! This is no place for your drunken ramblings.'
'He may be drunk,' said Grame, 'but he is not wrong. Only the sovereign can call for the pledge.
And only to a sovereign would I make it. You are the Battle Queen, Sigarni. Nothing can change that.'
Sigarni said nothing. Fell and his foresters came into sight, along with scores of villagers, forming a great semi-circle around the forge. All had heard Gwalchmai's drunken salute, and Sigarni saw both confusion and apprehension on the faces of the people around her.
She walked slowly to her horse and stepped into the saddle. There was no noise now, and she felt their eyes upon her as she rode slowly towards the hills.
CHAPTER VIII
LIKE A GIFT from a merciful god winter came twelve days early, blizzards sweeping across the mountains, heavy snowfalls blocking narrow passes and making treacherous even the best of the roads. Sigarni sat alone on a high ridge, wrapped in a cloak of sheepskin, and stared out over the hills to the south. A mile away she could see three figures making their slow progress through the snow.
The heady days of victory at Cilfallen were weeks behind her now, and all the subsequent news had been bad. Stung by unexpected defeat the Outlanders had reacted savagely, sending three forces deep into the mountains to the east and the west. Three Farlain villages had been attacked, and more than four hundred Highlanders massacred in their homes. In the east a Pallides settlement was razed to the ground, and several Loda hamlets were struck during the same week, bringing the death total to more than five hundred.
Ten days before the slaughter Sigarni had travelled with Fell and Asmidir to the main Farlain town, seeking warriors to join their growing band. The experience had proved a hard lesson. As she sat watching the walkers in the snow, Sigarni steeled herself to recall the day.
More than five hundred people had gathered in the main square as the Hunt Lord, Torgan, waited to greet her. There were no cheers as the trio rode in. Torgan, a tall slender man, with wiry black hair cut short to expose a sharp widow's peak and a bald spot at the crown, was waiting for them.