Drem rode through the sentry-line, one of the last to return from a day scouting ahead of Nara’s vanguard. Warriors parted for Friend, nodding a greeting up at him as Fen loped at his side and Reng the huntsman trotted beside him. Since Keld had died, Drem had ridden ahead as scout every day. Reng had led, taking over Keld’s position amongst the huntsmen of Dun Seren, but had given Drem point on many occasions, having seen first-hand Drem’s skills as a woodsman and tracker.
They passed through countless lines of tents, the smell of woodsmoke from a hundred fire-pits drifting on the breeze. Up above, winged figures circled: Faelan and his kin, as well as Craf’s crows.
He glanced to his right, saw the spike of a tower beyond their camp. The fortress of Jerolin, its black tower pointing like an accusatory finger at the sky, a glistening lake beyond it, wide as a sea to Drem’s eyes. The fortress was empty; word of Asroth’s horde had sent all fighting men and women south to Ripa, those left behind running to hide in the wooded hills and forests of this land. It had been the same for over a moon: every hold, village, town and fortress empty. The people of the Banished Lands were afraid. Drem could feel it, a creeping sensation in his gut, a shiver down his spine, as if a spider’s legs crawled across his neck.
The end is coming.
He wiped sweat from his eyes.
“It’s Hunter’s Moon, how can it be so warm?” he muttered to Friend. “Though I don’t know why I’m complaining; you’re the one covered in fur.”
They reached the bear enclosure and Hammer lumbered over to them as they entered, a deep rumbling sound in her chest. She rubbed her head against Friend’s neck and he rumbled back, pushing against the huge bear.
“We’re pleased to see you, too,” Drem said to Hammer, “but let me climb out of my saddle first.”
Alcyon laughed, the giant following Hammer. Drem dropped to the ground, stretched his back and patted Fen’s neck. The wolven-hound padded off to the shade of a tree, turned a circle and flopped to the ground, mail coat clanking. Drem saw Alcyon looking up at Jerolin’s tower.
“You’ve seen this place before?” Drem said.
“Aye,” Alcyon growled. The memory did not seem like a pleasant one. The giant sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Those Kadoshim have caused a lot of hurt in this world. Too much.”
“That will end soon,” Drem said, his mind full of Gulla and Fritha and Morn.
“Aye, it will,” Alcyon said. “One way or another.”
The giant was helping Drem unbuckle and remove Friend’s saddle and coat when Cullen ran into the enclosure.
“Byrne wants us,” Cullen said. “Riv’s back from Ripa.”
Byrne was in her tent standing beside a table, pouring mead into a handful of cups. Riv was there, wings furled tight across her back. Meical was there, too, and Kill was at Byrne’s shoulder.
Riv looked over at Drem and Cullen as they walked into the tent, gave them a tentative smile that faded.
“What’s wrong?” Riv said. Then she looked at Fen, who had followed Drem and now padded into the tent. “Where’s Keld?”
Byrne handed Riv a cup of mead. “I haven’t had time to tell her,” Byrne said to Drem and Cullen.
“Keld…” Cullen began, a tremor in his voice stopping him.
“Keld fell, at Brikan,” Drem said, his voice flat, monotone. He felt the grief, though, a nausea deep in his gut and a prickling behind his eyes.
“How?” Riv asked, colour draining from her face.
Drem drew in a deep breath. “Keld led a scouting expedition to Brikan. While we were there, Revenants attacked. Gulla was there. He and his daughter, Morn, slew Keld.”
“And I will slay them,” Cullen snarled.
Rage helps him.
“Keld put a rune-marked sword through the heart of one of Gulla’s Seven,” Drem carried on. “Thousands of Revenants fell.”
Riv shook her head and put a hand to her temple, rubbed it. She drank her cup of mead.
Byrne refilled the cup.
“Keld is a loss we all feel,” she said.
“Aye,” muttered Kill beside her.
“I—” Riv started, but words would not come. Her face twisted in a snarl. “Asroth, Gulla and all his scum need to die.” She took a long, shivering breath, looked at Drem and Cullen. “I am so sorry,” she said.
“Asroth does need to die,” Byrne said.
“The Long War must come to an end,” Meical said beside Riv. “And killing Asroth is the start of that, but it will only be over when every last Kadoshim is wiped from existence.”
“So, let us be about that end,” Byrne said. “What news, Riv?”
“You are ten, maybe twelve nights from Ripa,” Riv said slowly. “But Asroth is closer. He has crossed the Agullas far to the east of here, and is marching due south to Ripa. I have not had a close look at his warband, his scouts were thick in the air, but I saw it from a distance. It is… vast. Though much of it was cloaked in mist. The work of Gulla and his Seven, no doubt.”
“They are four, now,” Cullen said with a fierce snarl.
And soon they will be none.
“How long until Asroth reaches Ripa?” Byrne asked.
Riv looked at Meical and shrugged. “If his host were as disciplined as White-Wings, they would travel the distance in five days. But he is slower. Nine, maybe ten days. It is hard to tell.”
Byrne’s mouth formed a tight line. “Can he be delayed? It would be best for us to reach Ripa and fight him together. Divided we are both easier to destroy. And we have rune-marked blades, unlike the warband at Ripa. Until we reach there they are vulnerable to a Revenant attack. It would be overwhelming.”
“Aye. Like Drassil,” Riv said. “But Kol is in no hurry to join with you.”
Byrne raised an eyebrow.
“He has seven thousand White-Wings around him, over a thousand Ben-Elim. He thinks he is invulnerable.”
“Idiot,” Byrne muttered.
“Fortunately, he is not in total control of the Ben-Elim and White-Wings anymore,” Meical said. “Thanks to Riv.”
All looked at Riv.
“I named him as my father,” Riv said, “in front of his Ben-Elim and White-Wing captains.”
“Ah, well, better the truth be brought out into the light,” Byrne said. “What happened?”
“Kol will be tried before the Assembly after the battle with Asroth is fought, if anyone lives to try him.”
Byrne nodded. “But who commands at Ripa, now?”
“Technically, the Ben-Elim Assembly,” Meical said. “But that is too unwieldy. In reality it is spread between a handful of Ben-Elim: Dumah, Hadran, a few others. Kol still holds some power. He has many followers.”
“So,” Byrne said, “is there any way that Asroth can be slowed?”
“Defences have been laid. Ditches dug, barriers built, but how long will they slow him?” Riv shrugged. “Who knows?”
“We must hurry, then,” Byrne said, looking at them all.
“There is something else I wanted to talk to you about,” Riv said. “To ask you.”
Byrne sat down.
“Sit,” she said, “and tell me all about it.”