“There,” Drem said.
Dawn was a hint in the air, the solid mass of night breaking down into degrees of shadow. Drem was peering around a wide tree trunk, Faelan and Ethlinn behind him.
He was looking at a dell amongst the trees, a dip in the land before the hill that rose to the fortress of Balara. As Drem stared he saw a denser shadow within the dell, tendrils of mist curling sluggishly from it.
Ethlinn and Faelan looked where he was pointing. Faelan grunted his agreement.
“I can’t see them,” Ethlinn said.
“They are there,” Faelan said.
“Good. Let’s do this, then,” Ethlinn said. She turned and strode away, Drem following, Faelan taking to the air. Four hundred paces deeper into the forest Drem saw Friend waiting for him, amongst what looked like a wall of giant bears, all of them harnessed and buckled into coats of mail. The Order’s huntsmen were scattered amongst them, Drem spotting Reng. Wolven-hounds padded in the shadows.
Ethlinn climbed into her saddle upon a huge brown bear. Alcyon was there, sitting upon Hammer, other giants on foot spread amongst them, including Balur One-Eye and Tain. A murder of crows squawked in the branches above him.
“Revenants are there,” Ethlinn said. She lifted a long spear from a saddle-cup. “Remember, only use your runed blades. We need to put these creatures down.”
Balur One-Eye reached over his back and drew Sig’s longsword. He gripped it two-handed, sliced the air with it.
Drem remembered that blade, remembered Sig wielding it. Abruptly, he found his chest filling with emotion, found it hard to breathe.
“Today you will be avenged, Sig,” Balur rumbled, putting the blade to his lips.
“Yes,” Drem murmured.
A bear growled; Drem realized it was Hammer.
“Let’s be to it, then,” Balur said, looking up at Ethlinn.
Drem climbed into his saddle, settled himself, then drew his father’s sword. It still didn’t feel a natural part of him, but seax and axe were not right for this, he needed a weapon with a longer reach from Friend’s saddle.
He looked around him, saw Fen in his coat of mail.
“You be careful,” Drem told him.
Ethlinn rode forwards. A hundred giant bears, another hundred or so giants on foot; a hundred and fifty warriors of the Order, all hunters, accompanied by their wolven-hounds, followed. Drem spotted movement in the air above them, saw Faelan and other wings.
Drem rode with Reng, who led the hunters wide, moving on the left flank of the bears. Balur and the giants on foot filtered to the right flank, Ethlinn’s line of bear-riders filling the centre.
They moved through the forest, dawn’s grey light all around them now. Birds squawked in trees, startled by their passing. The ground trembled.
This is not a stealth attack. Those Revenants must know we are here.
Trees thinned around them and Drem saw the dell up ahead, the Revenants’ mist clear now.
“Cumhacht an aeir, scrios an dorchadas seo ón talamh,” Ethlinn called out, as she rode through the forest, lifting her arms. “Cumhacht an aeir, scrios an dorchadas seo ón talamh.” Other giants added their voices to hers, a deep-booming chant like a war-song as they rumbled closer to the dell.
Drem heard sounds issuing from the mist, saw it start to seethe and bubble, shapes moving.
“Cumhacht an aeir, scrios an dorchadas seo ón talamh,” Ethlinn and her giants continued to chant, and Drem felt a wind pick up from behind him, swirling through the trees and rushing past him, growing in power and velocity. Drem saw the moment it collided with the mist, a swelling in the air as the mist resisted, making his ears pop, then the mist was tearing and shredding, evaporating, revealing a horde of Revenants within, pale-faced, long-taloned, mouths gaping and razored teeth champing. They were running towards Ethlinn and the line of bears.
I hate Revenants.
Ethlinn levelled her spear and her bear broke into a loping charge.
Bears and Revenants crashed together in a bone-splintering impact, Revenants hurled into the air, trampled, skewered and sliced by rune-marked weapons. It seemed to Drem that a wall of blue fire erupted as the first ranks of the Revenants were decimated.
The bears ploughed on, Revenants screaming their death-rage.
Reng led Drem and the hunters in a looping circle through the trees, cutting back in ahead of Ethlinn’s host as they began to slow, the sheer press of Revenants bogging them down. Drem gripped his sword, saw wolven-hounds loping around him, low to the ground as if they were stalking an elk, breaking into a run. Drem shouted a word to Friend and the bear increased his speed, breaking away from Reng and the other hunters, and then he was crashing into the flank of the Revenants, Friend trampling, crushing, rending with his jaws. Drem saw Revenants fall away, chests caved in, half of their face torn away, only for them to jerk back to their feet and throw themselves at Friend. Drem swung his sword, blue flame crackling, and then Reng and his riders were charging into the flank, spears and swords stabbing, and this time Revenants were falling and not getting back up.
Shadows flitted overhead, arrows hissing down into the press of Revenants between Drem and Ethlinn’s bear-riders, more bursts and sparks of blue flame, and far away Drem heard the battle roar of Balur One-Eye and heard the impact as his giants ploughed into the Revenants’ right flank.
Drem slashed and hacked to either side of him, cutting the creatures off Friend. To his side he glimpsed Reng stabbing a spear into a Revenant that was rolling with Fen on the ground, all along the line hunters working with their wolven-hounds.
They had slain hundreds in the first few heartbeats of their attack, but Drem saw more, maybe thousands.
A Revenant leaped at Friend, its claws raking across the bear’s coat of mail, somehow finding a purchase and scrambling up towards Drem. He stabbed his sword down, into the Revenant’s mouth, but before his blade touched the Revenant it was abruptly still, staring into the distance. Then it sighed, slumped and slithered down Friend’s side, collapsing into a boneless heap on the floor.
All around Drem the Revenants fell, the echo of battle fading.
Drem looked around, searching for who had slain the Revenants’ captain. Then a victory cry drifted down from above, Faelan swooping low. He was brandishing his bow, whooping. Drem cheered, along with three hundred others.
“A great victory,” Ethlinn called up to the half-breed Ben-Elim.
“Aye,” Balur agreed, striding amongst the Revenant dead. “Now let’s get on and find Byrne. Don’t want to be late for the battle of the century.” He patted his sword and rested it over one shoulder.
Silently they moved on, the trees thinning around them, in the distance Balara’s hill becoming visible, and the plain beyond it.