Bleda reined in his mount, staring at the river that cut across their path. It was wide and slow.
“A big river,” Ellac observed.
“Aye,” Bleda agreed. He twisted in his saddle and looked back, over the heads of his warband to the dust cloud that hovered in the distance, marking Jin’s pursuit behind him.
“They are still following,” Ellac said. “And getting closer.”
Bleda looked at Ellac.
“I know,” he said.
They had ridden south-west for a ten-night, a fast pace, though not as fast as Bleda would have liked. They had around a hundred and eighty spare mounts, and between nine hundred and eighty-three riders that was not particularly helpful. Even less, when a dozen of those spare mounts were carrying provisions and bundles of arrows gathered from the Cheren they had slain. The initial gap that Bleda had opened between him and Jin’s following warband had closed steadily over the last seven days.
He frowned, looked back at the river, then rode Dilis on, down a gentle slope and into the water until it lapped at her hocks. It looked as if the waters did not rise any higher. Bleda patted Dilis’ neck and she dropped her head to drink from the river.
Ellac joined him, Yul, Ruga and Saran following.
“A ford,” Bleda said.
“Aye. A good place to cross,” Ellac said, “or—” He paused, looking left and right, following the river as far as he could see, both north and south. He touched his reins, his horse moving left, through the slow-flowing water. He stopped after a hundred paces or so, turned to look back at Bleda.
“What?” Bleda asked. He felt his nerves starting to fray. Constant riding, exhaustion and the weight of responsibility heavy upon his shoulders.
If Jin catches us, we will die. All my people, the last of the Sirak. Because of me. My leadership. My decisions.
“I am thinking, we could ride a league or two in these shallows, until we reach another ford.”
“Why? The Cheren would find our trail when we leave the river,” Bleda said.
“Yes, they would,” Ellac said. “But first they would have to stop here, send riders to the far bank, and ride both north and south until they found our trail again.”
That will slow them, help to widen the gap again.
Bleda rolled his left shoulder as he thought on Ellac’s suggestion. His arm ached where the old warrior’s arrow had pierced him. Yul had pushed the arrowhead through, clean out the other side of Bleda’s arm, then snapped the shaft and pulled it free. Bleda had his lamellar coat back on, now, and was thankful for it, though his wound was itching and he could not reach it to scratch it. It was driving him insane.
Yul and Saran both grunted their approval of Ellac’s plan.
“That is a good idea,” Ruga said.
“Ellac, you are wise beyond your years,” Bleda called out.
“Then that would be wise indeed,” Ellac said, water splashing as he cantered back to them. “The old wolf is the more cunning,” he said as he reached them.
“Cunning is good,” Bleda said. “Cunning is what we need right now.” He clicked his horse on, riding along the shallows, his warband moving into the river after him, churning the water brown.
“Ruga, what river was that?”
“The Ider,” she said.
“I don’t remember these lands,” he said, much to his shame.
How can I lead my people when I do not even know the land?
By asking for help. Pride can be a poison.
“You were taken when you were eight,” Ruga said, with a shrug. “You have not ridden the Sea of Grass all your life, like most Sirak.”
“No,” Bleda said.
“But you are Sirak, here,” she said, fingers brushing her heart. “And here—” a tap of her temple.
Bleda glanced at her and smiled.
“Thank you,” he said.
They were riding at the head of the warband, the Ider River three days and sixty leagues behind them. They were deep in the south of Arcona now, heading for the southern passages, running for Ripa. The grass was not so green, the earth dustier. Groves of trees spotted the distance, mostly twisted, sun-blasted husks. He turned in his saddle and looked back. His warband was riding in tight formation at a steady canter, scouts on the flanks and ahead. He looked behind them into the distance and swore under his breath.
Jin was back.
For two days the dust cloud of Jin’s warband had disappeared, Ellac’s idea at the river slowing his enemy. But now they had caught up again. He turned and looked forwards.
“You know when you stopped me killing that old warrior,” Ruga said, “the one that put an arrow in your arm?”
“I know the one.”
“Why did you say those things to him, insulting Jin, goading her?”
“Because I needed to make sure she would follow us. If she wasn’t sure it was me, she might have sent a warband a few hundred strong after us. And I wanted her and all the Cheren in Arcona to follow me, to give any survivors in the Heartland a chance to escape.”
Ruga looked back at the Cheren warband, then forwards.
“Your plan may have worked a little too well.”
“Ha, that is the truth of it.” Bleda laughed. “I think Jin must be angrier than a hornet-stung bull.”
In the distance he saw the shimmer of hills and mountains, marking the southern rim of Arcona. Beyond those mountains were the deserts of Tarbesh. To the east Arcona’s plateau was bordered by the southernmost reaches of Forn Forest. That was his goal.
“How well do you know this land, and the route to the Tethys Sea?” Bleda asked her.
“Well enough,” Ruga said. “As well as anyone, better than most. My kin travelled often in the south.”
“Good,” Bleda said. “Out of my captains, who would you say knows these southlands as well as you?”
“Ellac,” Ruga said without hesitation. “Out of all, he is the only one I would say knows them better. He was born here.”
“Ellac,” Bleda said, an idea starting to form in his head.
“I won’t do it,” Ellac said.
“You will, because I am Lord of the Sirak, and it is my wish,” Bleda said. “But even if I were not, you would still do it. Because you know it is our best hope, and because I ask you as my friend, not my subject.”
“Ach, don’t try your clever words on me,” Ellac spat. Bleda saw panic in his eyes. “My place is with you. At your side. That is the oath I swore to your mother.”
“You swore to do all in your power to protect me,” Bleda said. “That is not staying at my side. Do what I ask, that will be protecting me. It will be the best chance at protecting us all.”
A silence between them, Ellac looking from Bleda to the others—Ruga, Yul, Saran. All stared back at him, stony-faced.
“You could go,” Ellac said to Yul.
“I could, but I would get the warband as lost as a deaf and blind rabbit.” Yul shrugged. “I do not know these lands.”
“You, then,” Ellac said to Ruga.
“I am asking you,” Bleda said. “It is the most important task, and I only trust you to do it.”
A long, indrawn breath from Ellac, expelled angrily.
“All right,” Ellac said. He pointed a finger at Bleda. “But you better live to see me the other side of this.”
“I will do my absolute best to honour that,” Bleda said.
“And you—” Ellac pointed at Yul—“make sure he keeps his word, and his head.”
“If it is within my power, then it is already done,” Yul said.
“Good, that is settled,” Bleda said. “Now, strip every bush, every tree, I need as many campfires as we can make.”