that tomorrow will bring battle, the first of many, for war is coming to these lands. It’s not too late for you to walk your own path. You should feel no obligation . . .”
“The path to the children lies with you.” Alum’s voice held no doubt, and the hard gaze he turned on Vaelin lacked any glimmer of uncertainty. “And I’ll fight any number of battles to see them again.”
Vaelin nodded, clapping the Moreska on the shoulder before rising and moving away, pausing when Alum added, “They will call you Father too. You walk under the Protectors’ gaze now, whether you believe it or not.”
He turned back to his symbols, hefting his spear to add more details, and Vaelin sensed it would be best to leave him to what was essentially a form of prayer. He moved to tour the picket line, exchanging clipped conversation with the Scouts. Their manner was markedly less hostile now, as he would expect from men he had fought alongside. But the tension of being on the enemy’s ground was palpable.
“Six years since I last rode the Iron Steppe,” Corporal Wei muttered in response to Vaelin’s greeting. Despite his well-expressed disdain for foreigners, Wei seemed more willing to talk than the other Scouts, which Vaelin suspected was due to an innate inability to still his tongue rather than any softening of prejudice. “Hoped I’d never set eyes on it again. Not a place for civilised folk to fight a war. A man can die of thirst or hunger out here just as easily as he can fall to a savage’s sabre.”
“You fought the Stahlhast?” Vaelin asked.
“Once.” A shadow passed over Wei’s battered visage before he grunted out a bitter laugh and traced his thumb over his mangled upper lip. “One of the fuckers gave me this. Stuck a lance through his neck by way of thanks; even then the bastard kept fighting. That’s the worst thing about them, see? Yes, they can ride better than most, fight better than most, and they got all manner of cunning tricks when it comes to battle. But what makes them near impossible to beat is that they just refuse to die when they should.”
The corporal fell silent as a sound came drifting across the featureless plain. It was faint and high pitched, somewhere between a howl and a yelp. The sky was clear tonight, and the light of a half-moon cast a dim glow, revealing much of the terrain to their front. However, Vaelin still failed to pick out whatever animal had produced such a cry.
“Wild dogs?” he asked Wei, who replied with a grim shake of his head.
“Stahlhast hunters,” he said. “They mimic the call of the wild dog when they find prey. We’ve been seen. Only a matter of time, I s’pose.”
“I’ll tell the captain,” Vaelin said, turning away.
“No point. He’s probably heard it already. Anyway, the Stahlhast will always find you when you ride their Steppe. A long-standing truth known to those who patrol the northern border.”
“Won’t they bring others?”
“Surely.” Wei shrugged. “Just a question of how many. I’m guessing we’ll find out tomorrow.”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
Come the morning Ahm Lin once again had them following the river for several hours until he drew his pony to an abrupt halt. “What is it?” Vaelin asked, seeing the mason’s features bunched in mingled fear and discomfort.
“They . . .” He winced and shook his head. “They’ve been found.”
Vaelin took a breath to still his racing heart, forcing calm into his voice as he asked, “Are they . . . ?”
“They’re alive.” A measure of fear slipped from Ahm Lin’s face. “Unharmed too, I believe. They . . .” He trailed off, lips forming a puzzled grimace. “They wanted to be found.”
“How far?” Sho Tsai demanded.
“I can’t say exactly but they’re close.” He turned his pony towards the north-east and spurred it into a fast trot. “This way.”
The company proceeded at the speed of the mason’s pony, which Vaelin found ever more frustratingly sluggish with each passing mile. His gaze was locked on the horizon, tracking back and forth for the smallest silhouette. They had covered another ten miles when Alum suddenly spurred his horse to the front of the column, arm raised and attention focused on the ground.
“Sign?” Vaelin asked him. The hunter nodded and slipped from the saddle, crouching to inspect a cluster of hoof-prints. After a moment he grunted and moved off, eyes roving the sparse turf until he came to a