The Ironhand's Daughter

'Sigarni has left the encampment,' he said. 'It is imperative that we find her swiftly.'

'Why would she go?' asked Ballistar. Asmidir switched his gaze to Taliesen and the old man took a deep breath.

'How much do you know of her childhood?' he asked.

'Everything.'

'Then you will recall how her ... parents were killed.'

Ballistar felt his heartbeat quicken, and his mouth was suddenly dry. 'They were killed by ... by demons.'

'By demons, yes. Summoned by an enchanter who calls himself Jakuta Khan. There is much that I cannot tell you, but you should know this: Jakuta has returned. Twice already he has tried to capture Sigarni. Once as a babe. I thwarted him then, with the help of Caswallon. Then he found where we had hidden her and came again, killing her guardians. I thought he was finished then, but somehow he survived. We must find her.'

'Why does he want to kill her? Is he hired by the Baron?' asked Kollarin.

'No. This goes back a very long way. As I said, I cannot tell you everything. But the heart of the matter is Sigarni's blood, or more accurately her blood line. She is of the blood of kings. Those who understand the mystic arts will know why that is important to Jakuta.'

Kollarin nodded. Ballistar looked from one to the other. 'Well, I don't know,' he said. 'Why?'

'Power,' Kollarin told him. 'It is believed that the soul of a king carries great power. To sacrifice such a man would bestow enormous power on the one who carried out the deed. It is said that the Demon Lord, Salaimun, conquered the world after killing three kings. I don't know whether there be truth in such tales.'

'Some truth,' said Taliesen. 'Salaimun made pacts with the Lords of the pits. He fed them blood and souls in return for power. Jakuta made a similar pact. But he has failed - twice.'

'As far as I understand it,' said Asmidir, 'if you fail then your own soul is consumed. Is that not one of the dangers of necromancy?'

'It should be,' agreed Taliesen. 'I can only surmise that Jakuta used a familiar through which to cast his spells of summoning.'

'A familiar?' echoed Ballistar.

'A conduit,' Kollarin told him. 'The sorcerer uses an apprentice, who is placed in a trance. The spell is then spoken through the apprentice. If it fails, the demons take the soul of the conduit... the familiar.'

'Enough of this!' stormed Taliesen. 'We are not here to educate the dwarf. Can you find her, Kollarin?'

Kollarin shook his head. 'Not from here. I must go to where she last slept, then I will pick up her spirit trail.'

'It will take three days in the snow,' said Asmidir. The black man swung to the sorcerer.

'However, it did not take you three days, Taliesen. Do you know another path?'

'Aye, but none of you could walk it," he said despondently.

'Why do you need to be in the hut Kollarin?' asked Ballistar. 'Could you not merely track her by using a piece of her clothing?'

'I am not a bloodhound, you idiot! I don't follow the trail with my snout to the snow!'

'Then how do you hone your talent?' asked Asmidir.

'It is hard to explain. But for me a person leaves an essence of themselves in any building. It fades over a period of weeks, but once I hook to it I can follow it anywhere.'

'And where is such an ... essence . .. most strongly felt?'

'In a bed, or a favourite chair. Sometimes attached to a family member, or a close friend."

'By going to the hut, could you gain a sense of her ultimate destination?'

'No,' admitted Kollarin. 'I would follow the trail.'

'Damn!' said Asmidir. 'It brings us no closer. What of you, Taliesen? You are a sorcerer. You claim to be able to see the future. How then do you not know her whereabouts?'

'Pah!' said the old man. 'You think in straight lines. You talk of a future. There are thousands upon thousands. New futures begin with every heartbeat. Aye, in all of them Sigarni is the Chosen One. In some of them she even succeeds for a while. In most of them she dies, young and unfulfilled. I am seeking the one future among so many. I do not know where she is; I don't know why she has run away. Perhaps in this future she lacks courage.'

'Nonsense,' said Ballistar, reddening. 'She would not flee. If she knew the demons were coming she would try to think of a way of fighting them. I know her - better than any of you. She has gone to choose her ground.'

'Where would that be?' asked Asmidir. 'That is the question. And why did she not come to us to aid her?'

'Her father was a great fighter,' said Ballistar, 'but he was torn to pieces. She would not take her friends into such peril. Who among us could fight demons?'

'I could, but I wasn't here,' said Taliesen. 'My people are fighting a war in another time. They needed me.'

'There was no one she could turn to,' said the dwarf. 'Therefore she will fight alone."

'Wait!' said Taliesen, his eyes brightening. 'There is one she would turn to. I know where she is!'

'Where?' Asmidir asked.

'The cave by the pool. She has an ally there. I must go!' Taliesen rose.

Ballistar lifted his hand. 'A moment, please,' said the dwarf. 'Do you know what Sigarni took with her when she left?'

'Knives, balls of twine, some food, a bow, arrows. What does it matter?' asked the sorcerer.

'It matters more than you think,' said Ballistar. 'You had better let me come with you.'

CHAPTER IX

SIGARNI PUT OUT her hand to the fire. The warmth was both welcoming and reassuring. When the demons had killed her parents all heat had vanished from the blaze in the hearth. This, she reasoned, would be her only warning that death was close. She stared at her hands. There were blisters on her palms and on the inside joints of her fingers; one had bled profusely and they were painful.

It was the eve of her second day by the frozen Falls and she had worked hard through the hours of daylight. Fear was a constant companion, but somehow that fear was eased merely by being alone.

Sigarni the Huntress had no other concerns now save to stay alive. To do that she must somehow defeat a wizard and his demons.

They can be killed, she thought. Father struck one of them and black blood flowed from it. And that which bleeds can die. Banking up the fire, she drew her sabre and honed the edge with a whetstone. Outside the light was failing fast. Sigarni hooked her quiver of arrows over her shoulder and kept the bow close at hand.

Will it be like last time, she wondered? Will the man in red come first? And if he does, how many creatures of the dark will be with him? How many had been back at the cabin on that awful day?

One? Two? More? How could she tell? Father had been struck first. Perhaps it was the same creature which slew her mother.

Sigarni had made plans for three.

The wind was building outside, and flurries of snow were blowing into the cave-mouth. A distant wolf howled. The fire crackled and spat and Sigarni knocked a burning cinder from her leggings.

Feeling drowsy, she took up her bow and walked to the mouth of the cave, drawing a deep, cold breaths. How long since you slept? Too long, she realized. If they did not come tonight, she would catch a few hours after dawn.

Perhaps they won't find me here, she thought suddenly. Perhaps I am safe.

The moon shone in a cloudless sky, but the wind continued to blow flurries of snow across the frozen pool, rising like a white mist and sparkling in the moonlight. The air was cold against her face, but she could just feel the warmth of the fire behind her.

Alone in the wilderness of white Sigarni found herself thinking of her life, and the great joys she had known. It saddened her that she had not appreciated those joys when she had them; those glorious golden days with Abby and Lady, walking the high country without a care. Recalling them was a strange experience, as if she was looking through a window on to the life of a twin. And she wondered about the white-haired girl she could remember. How could she have lived in such a carefree manner?