blood washed downstream just as the rebel soldier’s had done.
Wynter’s sword-arm dropped to her side and she watched the King’s men die.
The magnificent cavalry horses staggered under a second hail of missiles. They fell, and their blood mingled with that of their riders, eddying out into the clear water to flood the river with scarlet. The stain rapidly filled the ford, swirling and flowing and stretching its arms outwards until it lapped in bright, sun-dappled wavelets on the shore and coloured the heedless stones at Wynter’s feet.
Behind her, Razi turned from this spectacle of death and knelt once again by the rebel soldier’s side. Wynter watched as he closed the poor fellow’s lifeless eyes. For the briefest of moments Christopher stayed at Wynter’s side, his arm a sympathetic warmth around her waist. Then he splashed out into the scarlet ford and began to help the Merron harvest their fallen arrows.
THE REBEL CAMP
IT WAS very late in the evening, the forest shadows already deepening to gloom, when Christopher pulled his mare to a halt on the path ahead, blocking Wynter’s way. He cursed softly under his breath. Alarmed, Wynter urged her own horse up the narrow space between them and reined in at Christopher’s side. She peered through the foliage to see what had disturbed him. Around them, the air filled with the snort of horses and the irritated jangle of tack as the rest of the Merron riders came to a stop. There were mutterings and low exclamations of concern.
Leaning forward to get a better view, Wynter felt her heart sink. Only six or so feet ahead, the trees ended abruptly and the safety of their cover gave way to a wide patch of rocky ground – a break of perhaps twenty yards between this section of dense forest and the next. The open ground stretched away on either side, a long spine of rock cleaving the forest in two for as far as she could see from her limited perspective.
‘Oh Christopher, this is not good.’
Christopher nodded in agreement. ‘We’ll be vulnerable as babes if we cross here.’
Wynter glanced to the head of the travel party, where Razi had prime position next to Úlfnaor and Sól. All three were gazing out across the gap with similar expressions of concern.
‘I not like it,’ said Sólmundr quietly. ‘It feel bad. We should to go around.’
Úlfnaor exchanged a look with Razi, who curtly shook his head. ‘I say we cross.’
The Aoire nodded. ‘Then we cross,’ he said. ‘Wari, Coinín, Soma and Frangok will to watch our back while we pass over. Then follow when all is well.’ At Sólmundr’s disapproving look, Úlfnaor sighed. ‘Time grow short, Sól. We not risk changing our route. We trust judgement of Tabiyb. We cross here.’
Sólmundr glowered at Razi, who kept his eyes ahead, his face devoid of expression as he waited. After a moment, Sólmundr grunted his reluctant assent. Commands were given in Merron, and the guarding party drew their bows.
Wynter met Christopher’s eye as he loaded his crossbow.
‘I’m warning you, lass,’ he said solemnly. ‘If we get to the other side with no holes in us, I’m stealing seven Protector Lady Moorehawke kisses.’
He looked so sure of himself, so gravely confident and alive, that Wynter had to reach across the gap between their horses and take a fistful of his tunic. Smiling slightly, he let her pull him to her, and she pressed her lips to his, hard and fierce and protective. They stayed close at the kiss’s ending, their foreheads touching, their eyes half-closed.
‘You stay safe,’ she whispered.
‘If I do, you’ll owe me six more of those.’
She smiled. ‘Come across in one piece, Freeman, and I may just grant you more than kisses.’
His cheeks dimpled as his own smile grew. ‘So many promises to keep,’ he murmured.
They kissed again, the horses shifting beneath them. Then Wynter drew away, covered her face and, without looking back, pulled into formation with the advance party as they urged their horses into the glare of the late evening sun.
Glad to be free of the claustrophobic forest, the warhounds bounded ahead of their masters, their tongues lolling, their great tails lashing the air with joy. The Merron kept their eyes on them. When, halfway across the clearing, the enormous creatures abruptly stopped their happy exploring and froze, Úlfnaor immediately lifted his arm, and the advance party brought their mounts to a wary halt.
The warhounds lowered their heads, their attention focused on the forest ahead. Suddenly Boro howled and leapt forward,