Dath managed a small laugh.
The drum of hooves grew louder.
What am I doing here? The thought was so sudden that Camlin felt as if it had been whispered in his ear. Not much talent at choosing the winning side. Perhaps I should have stayed with Braith. I followed him for long enough in the Darkwood, and like as not he’s more than lord of a strip of woods now, with Rhin’s rise in power. I could leave now, walk away and not look back. This lot would never know, and what if they did? Who are they to me? He glanced at Dath. He trusts me to bring him through this.
Camlin peered back down the track, saw the riders had moved smoothly into single file. Branches arched above them, sunlight and shadow dappling the track. He nocked an arrow, held it loosely, saw Dath mimic him. The riders were close enough to make out individual features now. The leader had a thick beard, his warrior braid poking from beneath an iron helm. He gripped a couched spear, shield bouncing where it was strapped to the saddle.
Camlin flexed his shoulders and drew his arrow back.
Walk away, the voice whispered in his mind.
Not today. Then he released his arrow.
It struck the first rider in the throat, a spray of blood marking it. The man clutched at the shaft, choking, toppling from his saddle. He heard Dath’s arrow, saw it sink into the shoulder of a piebald stallion. The animal reared and threw its rider. He grabbed another arrow, nocked it, let fly. It skittered off a hastily raised shield.
The riders were seasoned warriors; that was clear. There was fear in their faces, but they did not panic. One of them barked an order and two warriors spurred their horses on, tried to get past the fallen horse, its rider’s leg trapped beneath it.
Camlin and Dath drew bows together, releasing only a heartbeat apart. One arrow buried into the meat of a warrior’s arm, the other thrumming in a raised shield. Camlin drew again, put an arrow in a horse’s flank. It screamed, but its rider yanked on his reins, stopped it from rearing. The warrior looked their way, scanning the bank for them.
Three of the warriors at the rear of the column had turned their horses, were kicking their mounts into a retreat. As Camlin glanced back he saw Corban step into the track, sword drawn and shield raised.
What are you doing, boy? They’ll ride you down.
Corban set his feet before the oncoming horsemen. Then Gar appeared, ran before Corban, his long curved sword raised high against the onrushing riders.
There was an explosion of leaves as a great shape burst onto the track, slamming into the first rider.
Storm.
Her long canines ripped into the horse’s neck, the wolven’s weight flipping both animal and rider to the ground. Camlin heard bones breaking, then screaming. The horsemen behind milled on the path, unable to pass the mass of horse and rider and wolven.
‘Move!’ a voice screamed in Camlin’s ear, then Dath was shoving him to the side. There was a shuddering in the ground, the wild neigh of a horse as a warrior drove his mount up the bank at them. Dath leaped for cover, tripping on a root as the horse’s head and chest burst through the thin foliage they had been hiding behind. The warrior blinked as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, then snarled when he saw Dath sprawled on the ground. He raised his sword.
Camlin clutched for an arrow, drew and fired at the looming figure, so close he could almost touch the horse. His arrow hit the man in the face, snapping his head back. Teeth, blood and gore showered Camlin as the warrior hurtled backwards, one foot catching in a stirrup. His corpse hung limp as the horse lurched forwards, dragging the dead warrior through the undergrowth.
‘Are you hurt?’ Camlin asked Dath. The lad shook his head, took Camlin’s arm and staggered upright.
‘Time to finish this,’ Camlin said, slinging his bow across his shoulder, drawing his sword and stepping out of the trees. There was one warrior left here, dismounted, trying to help a comrade trapped beneath a fallen horse. Camlin slithered down loose earth on the ridge, heard Dath following. He glanced down the track and saw Storm, who had moved from the horse to its rider, her teeth clamped about his throat. The two other horsemen drove their mounts past the wolven, kicking them at Gar and Corban.
Gar moved faster than Camlin’s eyes could follow. There was the flash of iron in sunlight and then a horse was screaming, front legs collapsing as it ploughed head and chest into the ground.
Then Camlin was at the foot of the ridge, fixing his eyes on the warrior before him. The man had been unable to free his comrade from the dead horse he was trapped beneath, and by the look of it the pinned man would not be going far anyway, his leg twisted at an unnatural angle.
Camlin circled left, signalled for Dath to go right, then, in the instant that the warrior was sizing them up, Camlin surged forwards. He struck fast and hard at the warrior’s head. His first two blows were hastily blocked, the warrior retreating. Then he stumbled and Camlin hacked his blade between the man’s neck and shoulder. Bone crunched and blood spurted. He wrenched his sword free and the man slumped to the ground.
Camlin swung around, marched to the warrior trapped by his dead horse and slammed his sword into his chest. He looked up, saw Dath staring at him, wide-eyed.
‘Strike first,’ he said, ‘else you might not get a chance to strike at all. That’s a Darkwood education.’
Dath gulped.
Down the track a horse neighed.
One rider was still mounted, swinging a sword at Corban, who was ducking, trying to pull him from his mount. Gar was on the far side, moving in. Storm was circling the horse, crouched low, about to leap. The rider saw his doom approaching, kicked frantically at his mount. The horse leaped forwards, Corban diving out of the way, and then it was galloping down the track.
Camlin broke into a run, unslinging his bow. He reached the horse that Storm had fallen upon, rested a foot on its flank and drew an arrow, its feathers touching his ear. For a moment he tracked the escaping horseman, pulled in a deep breath, held it, then released the arrow. It arced high, dipped, and the rider stiffened, toppling backwards onto the soft ground. The horse ran on a dozen paces, then slowed, began cropping grass.
‘That shot was amazing,’ Dath breathed.
‘I was aiming for the horse,’ Camlin said with a rueful grin.
We’ve taken too long, Camlin thought. They were almost back to their makeshift camp.
They had dragged the corpses of the slain warriors into the trees, Camlin setting Dath to retrieving as many of their arrows as he could find.
‘Do we need to?’ Dath had asked.
‘Once you’ve made arrows of your own you’ll never leave one behind that you didn’t have to. And we may be on this road a long time — what happens if we run out?’
Dath had thought about that and nodded. Then they had rounded up the horses and hobbled them a good distance from the track. That had taken the most time, but if they hadn’t done it one of the animals at least would have wandered back to the encampment, rousing suspicion and an angry pursuit far quicker than if the horses were hidden. Without Gar it would not have happened at all; he had a way with horses.
After that they had all but run back to their camp. They needed to get back on their boat and put some distance between them and the bristling warband that would certainly be sent after them. It was just a matter of time.
Marrock stepped out from behind a tree. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked, frowning as he looked at their faces.
‘We ran into. . some. . company,’ Camlin breathed. ‘We need to leave.’
‘How far behind you?’ Marrock said, scanning the trees.
‘They won’t be following anyone, but can’t say how long it’ll be before they’re missed.’