CHAPTER SIXTEEN

JAEL

Jael ran through the camp, with every jarring step, every wheezing breath, trying to somehow lessen the pain of his broken ribs.

Though that doesn’t seem to be working.

Blood was still leaking into his eyes from a wound on his forehead, and Maquin’s sword cuts on his leg and forearm burned as if he’d been branded.

He took me by surprise, before I was ready.

He risked a look over his shoulder, relieved to see that there was no lunatic armed to the brim with knives chasing after him. In fact no one was in sight, before or behind. It felt as if he was alone in a world of white tents and narrow aisles, of smoke and fire and distant screams.

The last he’d seen of Maquin he’d been rolling in the dirt with Dag. He looked like a man with a serious grudge, and I really could do without that right now.

Could be that Dag has killed Maquin? Much as he wanted to believe it, he wasn’t convinced. The ease with which Maquin had shattered his ribs had shocked Jael.

How did he move so fast? It must have been a lucky blow. He’s old and broken!

He heard screaming off to his left and so veered right, taking a new path through abandoned tents and cook-fires.

No more battle if I can help it.

Ahead of him the trees of Forn loomed, overlooking the fringes of the camp like a tribe of dour ogres.

Nearly out of this hell-hole. Even if Maquin still breathes, he’ll never find me now. I just have to find my men—three hundred swords waiting for me half a league along Gundul’s cursed road.

The clamour of battle drifted down to Jael. He was travelling straight towards it. He didn’t turn away this time, though, as it was exactly where he needed to go. My men are out there somewhere, and if I’m going to get out of Forn alive I will need them about me. So Jael gritted his teeth and ran on.

He emerged from the tents into a scene of carnage.

Warriors were massed upon the road, more of the enemy in the black and silver of Tenebral, but to Jael’s pleasant surprise the Jehar were loose amongst them. The road was a heaving mass of battle, the path into the forest blocked for the moment, but the Jehar were doing all that they could about that. Even as Jael watched, he saw one of the Jehar lift a warrior into the air and hurl him down the embankment.

Might be able to sneak through in the chaos, he thought, and began to climb; then he saw Gundul. The young King of Carnutan was standing upon the road, separate from the battle, his sycophants huddled about him, though their numbers looked somewhat thinned. About them were a dozen or so Jehar warriors, the rest of Gundul’s honour guard trying to carve a way through the wall of flesh and bone that barred the way to escape. From what Jael could see they were doing a good job of it.

Stick with Gundul, or try and sneak past?

A warrior in black and silver flew through the air a handspan from Jael, struck the ground and rolled bonelessly down the embankment, crashing into a tent and bringing it down around him.

Jael reached the road and tried to skirt the combat, which had broken down into a series of scattered and brutal skirmishes. The enemy looked to be rallying against the Jehar—one man leading a charge that sent two of those disturbing black mists jetting into the air.

“Break, damn you,” Jael muttered at the enemy. “Don’t rally.”

“Jael,” a voice called, and for a terrifying moment Jael thought it was Maquin. His head jerked around to see Gundul waving wildly to him from the midst of his protectors.

“Over here,” Gundul beckoned to him. For a moment Jael considered his options and quickly concluded that he was safer within a ring of Jehar warriors. He hobbled over to Gundul, a Jehar stepping out of the way to let him through.

“I’m glad you are still alive,” Gundul said. “Three hundred men, you said. Where are they?”

For a moment Jael didn’t understand what Gundul was talking about, then he realized he was referring to Jael’s men, left waiting further along the road.

Not a complete idiot, then.

“That way,” Jael pointed over the combat before them into the dark tunnel of the road.

“Good. Drassil is that way, too, and a few hundred more swords around me would be a good thing.” He looked back at his camp, at the flames and the black clouds of smoke, at the dead scattered all around.

“Look what they’ve done,” Gundul wailed, face twisting in misery. “They’ve destroyed my camp, crushed my warband!”

Best hope they don’t do it to you, too, you whining little worm. And more importantly, not to me.

“We need to move,” Jael muttered, not liking the feeling of standing still. The knowledge that Maquin was out there somewhere, hunting him, hovered at the back of his mind like a black cloud.

“Yes. Onwards,” Gundul yelled.

A Jehar warrior turned its black eyes upon Gundul, then with a shrug began to lead their small group along the road. The other Jehar—a dozen left with Gundul at best—fanned out in a tight half-circle, pushing into the fringes of battle.

Then something crashed into their group from the left, sending men tumbling, Jehar reeling, turning to face this new attack. Jael staggered into one of Gundul’s followers, shoving the man to the ground as he righted himself.

They’d been attacked by a knot of warriors in black and silver, charged and rammed by them, all with shields raised and interlocked. Even as he looked, short swords darted out from the small wall of shields. Two of Gundul’s followers were caught in the attack and fell, pierced many times. Gundul was shrieking, waving his sword around ineffectually. Jael saw blades sink into the flesh of a Jehar, but it shrugged off the blows and grabbed a shield rim, dragging the warrior behind it forwards and chopping into his neck, sending him crashing to the ground in a spray of blood.

The small shield wall fractured, men breaking away and attacking Gundul’s party the old way, man to man.

Not a wise choice against the Jehar.

Jael backed away, put a few of Gundul’s followers between him and this new attack.

I’m scared of no man, but…

He put a hand to his throbbing ribs, glanced down at the blood crusting his thigh.

Another warrior came at the first Jehar, this man in a black and silver commander’s cuirass, using sword and shield together to push the creature back a pace, sword darting out to stab at its thigh, shield-boss punching into the Jehar’s face. There was something familiar about the warrior…

I know him.

The Jehar staggered back a few steps, black blood dripping from its broken nose. Its face twisted in a snarl as it launched itself forwards, shoulder ramming into the warrior, sending him stumbling backwards, tripping over a corpse and falling hard. The Jehar stood over him, curved sword rising, then another figure was there, plunging a spear into the Jehar’s throat.

A woman! She was dressed in travelling fur and leather, richly made, dark hair pulled back tight. Then warriors were swarming either side of her, chopping at the wounded Jehar as she wrenched her spear free. The Jehar warrior went down in a hail of blows, its head hacked from its body, that black mist spilling from its neck. A figure formed in the air, black-winged and red-eyed, hissing its fury, then it was gone, only a few ragged wisps remaining.

I wish they’d stop doing that.

Gundul was screaming orders to attack, though nobody seemed to be paying much attention to him. Most of his hangers-on were running in different directions. Jael saw one of the Jehar grab Gundul by the scruff of his neck and start dragging him through the crowd, three or four Jehar carving a way for them through the melee. Gundul spluttered a protest but the Jehar just marched resolutely on. Jael lurched into motion, saw them as his best way of getting out of this and stumbled close behind them.

A huddle of warriors crashed into them, mostly enemy all striking at a Jehar in their midst. With a grimace Jael drew his sword and pulled a knife from his belt.

Pain over death, always the better option. He hacked at a warrior’s head, bursts of agony pulsing from his damaged ribs. He dented the man’s helm, then slashed at another with his knife, leaving a long red wound, this warrior lurching away, then they were past them, Jael adding his blades to the Jehar as they cut, hewed, punched and stabbed their way through the battling mass. Off to his left Jael saw the woman, still wielding her spear, a group of warriors tight about her. He had seen her before, at the great-council of Aquilus in Jerolin. He blinked as recognition dawned.

Fidele! Aquilus’ wife—or widow, now. Nathair’s mother. What is she doing here? And fighting, against Nathair’s ally? He grunted as he ducked a sword blow aimed at his head, chopped at an ankle, then glanced back to Fidele.

She’d make a good hostage, either to buy me safe-passage out of here, or a good trophy to present to Nathair, something to win back some favour and prestige from the disastrous mess this campaign has become.

They were almost through the main press of battle now. Jael could see empty road beyond a few clumps of combat, the darkness of Forn beckoning, promising safety.

Battle-cries snapped his attention back. Beside him one of the Jehar fell to its knee. It struggled to rise but another warrior lunged in close and his sword swing took the Jehar’s head; black vapour spewed from the wound.

The Jehar that had been dragging Gundul let go of him to join the fray, sword rising and falling, a warrior staggering away with a terrible gash from his forehead to his chin. Gundul slipped and fell to the ground beside Jael and grabbed at his boot.

“Help me,” Gundul cried, trying to climb up Jael’s leg and pull himself back to his feet. Jael sneered down at him, remembering how Gundul had mocked him back in his tent.

I don’t need you or your horses now.

He pulled his sword back and stabbed it into Gundul’s screaming mouth, smashing teeth, on into the soft tissue of his throat, jerked it out red, left the King of Carnutan bleeding out his life in the dirt of Forn.

Looking up again he saw that the last few moments of frantic combat had swung them close to the woman he was sure was Fidele.

At last, fate smiles upon me once more.

He swerved around a mass of combat and strode straight towards her.