Honoured Enemy Page 0,5

old mine but that's no reason to let our guard down. It might even be a trick. Space out, a man to every thirty paces, and don't get lost. Keep a sharp watch. I'm going forward and please don't kill me when I come back in.'

The men chuckled grimly.

'Move!'

The squad started into the woods, moving just below the top of the crest. Richard made to follow, but Gregory motioned him back. 'You're going forward with me.'

'Me?'

'Yes, you. Something wrong with your hearing, boy?'

Richard swallowed hard, saying nothing.

Without another word Gregory started down the slope, drifting from tree to tree, Richard struggling to keep pace. Looking to his right he caught a glimpse of the pass below, the glow of firelight shimmering from the top of the chimney, and wished he was back inside, sitting by the roaring fire, or better yet curled up and asleep by it.

He lost sight of Gregory for a moment and felt a surge of panic when he tore his gaze away from the fire and realized he couldn't see the Natalese Ranger. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and stumbled forward, startled when the ice cracked beneath his feet. An instant later a hand snapped around his throat. He started to cry out, but then the hand released him and he found himself staring into Gregory's eyes.

'First lesson. Never lose contact with your partner when scouting at night,' Gregory whispered. His voice was calm, there was no reproach in it. It was if the two of them were simply having a pleasant chat while strolling through the woods.

'You looked at the fire glowing, you were wishing you were inside, you forgot about me.'

Richard nodded, and suddenly realized that behind the calm words he could see a dagger in Gregory's other hand.

'Yes, I could have killed you as easily as a baby asleep in a cradle. Remember that, boy, for that's what they'll do to you.'

Not sure how to react, Richard could only nod.

'Second lesson: never look at a fire when you're on night patrol. It robs you of sight in the dark. Look to one side or the other. On watch, stand with your back to the fire. Blind yourself for even just a moment, and it can cost you your life. Now get your own dagger out. This isn't a night for archery or sword-play.'

Gregory turned and continued forward and this time Richard stayed close, trying to mimic his movements, the fluid glide to his steps, noticing a certain rhythm . . . half a dozen quick steps, a pause, head turning, then forward, though at a slightly different angle; again, the pause. Once he stopped, pointing down and Richard looked, seeing footsteps in the frozen mud and a stain where someone had relieved himself.

'Troll,' Gregory whispered. 'You can tell by the smell.'

Richard nodded. The forest trolls of southern Yabon where he had been a boy were barely more than animals, without language and little more dangerous than a bear or lion. They were scarcely a nuisance to a party of armed men. Mountain trolls on the other hand had language and weapons and knew how to use them. And now they were in the woods around him. He gripped his dagger tightly.

'Night watchers.' Gregory whispered. 'The moredhel call them allies, but treat them like slaves; so do the human renegades who travel with this kind of group. They're all inside the mine staying warm while the trolls are out here freezing.' He was quiet for a moment, then softly he added, 'It's a stupid choice; trolls don't have the discipline needed for a night like this.'

Gregory pushed forward. They pressed down a low rise and then started to climb to the next ridge, moving parallel to the road they had run along earlier in the day. Richard even recognized the place where the group had broken off from the road, spotting the cleft boulder with a tree growing out of the middle that marked the spot.

Gregory stopped and held up his hand. He then pointed to the side of the boulder, the downwind side and held up his hand, two fingers extended.

Richard felt his heart trip over. Two forms were huddled beneath the downwind side of the boulder, hunched over a small flickering fire . . . two trolls.

Richard started to reach over his shoulder to pull out his bow and string it. Gregory shook his head. Motioning to the dagger in Richard's hand, he then drew a finger across his throat.

Richard