gully. Razi’s expression cleared of all doubt and he fell unquestioningly in behind Christopher’s little mare – absolutely content to allow someone else lead the way.
Christopher led them from the relative tranquillity of the gully back into the unrelenting gales of the mountain passes. The wind snatched all attempts at communication from them, and for hours they travelled with their heads down, their eyes squinted against the blasting air.
Fear and shame vied in equal measure for dominance within Wynter. Her reaction to Razi’s condition was a gall in her heart. Battling the gale and her own anxious thoughts, she was appalled to find herself dwelling more on the effect that Razi’s confusion would have on the kingdom than on Razi himself. Had her friend been limp and unconscious, it would have been easier to fret for him. But there he was, strong as ever, guiding his mare with his usual skill through the harsh mountain terrain – yet he was completely useless.
Useless? My God! When had she ever judged Razi by his uses to her? Yet she was incapable of weighing her joy at his apparent health over the damage that his condition might do to Alberon’s delicate negotiations. Even her hope that Razi would soon recover was overshadowed by fear that he may not recover soon enough.
They turned a corner – quite literally the path took a sharp branch left and down – and suddenly the wind was gone. It was as if someone had shut the door in a quiet room, blocking the storm outside, and for a moment the effect was almost stunning. Wynter straightened, blinking. Behind her, Sól’s saddle creaked as he turned to regard the path behind them. The wind could still be heard there, moaning past the narrow mouth of the ravine, rushing like water through the pass they had just left.
‘Frith an Domhain,’ murmured Sól, unwrapping his scarf.
It was much warmer without the breeze, and Wynter quickly divested herself of cloak and scarf. As they rode on, the men did the same, though it was not clement enough to do without jackets.
The further they ventured into the ravine, the quieter it grew. This sudden silence made Wynter feel vulnerable somehow, as if they were the only prey in a darkly shifting world of silent predators. Unease settled on the party and they rode with heads swivelling on tense necks, eyes searching the loose gravel slopes and precipitous bluffs overhead. The horses’ footsteps echoed from watchful cliffs, and Boro’s skittering expeditions onto the shale sounded horribly loud.
Christopher scanned the jumbled slope below them, his eyes hopping from rock to rock, while Razi’s attention seemed focused on the rough landscape that loomed to their left. Boro repeatedly tried to run up into those same boulders, his hackles raised, but Sólmundr kept him firmly to heel. Wynter, however, kept her eyes on Razi, and as soon as the path widened she kicked forward to ride side-by-side with him.
‘There is someone up there,’ he murmured, ‘my horse can sense them.’
‘It is a Loup-Garou,’ said Wynter, regarding him closely. ‘He is tracking us. I suspect there is another in the rocks below.’
Razi seemed more surprised than disturbed. ‘Loups-Garous?’ he said. ‘I have heard that they are vile creatures. Your friend is right to keep his crossbow strung.’
He went back to scanning the rocks. His calm acceptance of the situation was terrifying; his lack of questions bizarre.
‘Razi?’ asked Wynter.
He smiled, and glanced kindly at her. ‘You should really call me my Lord,’ he said. ‘My knights might take offence otherwise. Though in private you may call me Razi; I shall not mind.’
Who does he think I am? thought Wynter in despair. ‘Razi!’ she cried, drawing his full attention again. ‘Where do you think we are?’
Wynter saw confusion rise up in his face.
‘What do you think we’re doing here?’
Obviously neither question had occurred to him, and he looked about him as if for the first time. ‘I . . .’ he said. ‘We . . .’ Not finding an answer readily to hand, Razi’s confusion rapidly turned to panic. ‘I should know that,’ he said, the knowledge that something was wrong suddenly very clear in his face. ‘I should know that!’ he cried. ‘I do know that! It’s here!’ He clutched his forehead, as if to capture a black shadow there. ‘It’s right here! OH!
’ Razi slammed his fist into his temple, startling his mare and causing her to throw her head in fear. He hit his temple again, very