The Faithful and the Fallen: Ruin Part 78

Ulfilas wiped sweat from his brow. It was freezing cold, there was snow beneath his boots, and the ground was as hard as iron beneath that, and yet still he was sweating.

This road-making is hard work, there's no denying.

Behind him close to three thousand warriors laboured from sunrise to sunset, felling trees, levelling ground, laying a timber road wide enough for a dozen hors.e.m.e.n to ride abreast. At the rear of the column King Jael rode with his honour guard of twenty Jehar warriors, and Sumur. Ulfilas had ridden with them for the first moon, but he found those black, dead eyes of the Jehar harder to bear than the backbreaking life of a road-layer, so he chose to fill his days with hard work and his nights with exhausted, dreamless sleep.

Up ahead Ulfilas heard shouting, saw men stop what they were doing.

Better go and see what all the fuss is about.

Running feet caught him up as Dag joined him.

'What's that all about?' Ulfilas asked the huntsman.

'We'll find out soon enough.'

Ulfilas felt a flush of pride as he looked at the road they were building and thought of both the leagues behind them and the conditions under which they'd accomplished this mammoth task.

It was Tempest Moon, the heart of winter, and they had carved their way over sixty leagues into Forn forest, following the trail left by the warband that had abandoned Gramm's hold, following the markers left by Dag's scouts. Felling trees, stripping them of branches, cutting them down to manageable strips, clearing thorn and underbrush, and all while hungry predators watched, prowled and occasionally ate someone stupid or unwary enough to wander too far alone.

Then Ulfilas and Dag were at the head of the column, staring up at what had caused the commotion.

'Ah, well, at least we know what happened to your scouts, now,' Ulfilas said to Dag. Four corpses dangled upside down from branches directly in front of the route of the new road. Dag gave him a sidelong glance.

'They were good men,' Dag muttered. 'Huntsmen through and through; two of them I trained from before they were old enough to set foot in the Rowan Field.'

'Oh. My apologies,' Ulfilas said. He'd noticed himself making comments like that lately; insensitive, sometimes cruel. That is not the man I used to be. What is happening to me?

'Cut them down before word of this spreads,' he muttered to Dag. Warriors won't like this. It's the kind of thing that festers into fear around a campfire at night.

'Too late to stop that,' Dag said, looking back at a group of men supposedly working on tree-felling who were standing staring at the corpses.

Behind them Ulfilas saw a handful of riders approaching.

Jael.

'What is all this?' Jael called as he rode up. There were a dozen riders about him Fram his first-sword and other warriors, the best in Isiltir. About them strode the black-clothed Jehar, Sumur close to Jael.

Jael has his own s.h.i.+eldmen, a bulwark between him and the Jehar. He remembered Sumur defeating Fram without breaking a sweat, and cutting down old Belo in Mikil's feast-hall. I do not think they would protect him for long, though.

The Jehar spread to either side of the new road's foundations, some looking up at the dangling bodies as men climbed trees to cut them down.

'What is all this?' Jael repeated, gesturing at the corpses.

'My scouts,' Dag said.

'Ah. Confirmation that we are on the right trail, at least.'

We've hardly needed that so far, the path left by the warband fleeing Gramm's hold has been wide and deep. I could have tracked them, and I'm no woodsman.

Dag didn't answer.

'How long have they been up there?' Jael asked.

Now that is a sensible question. In other words, how far behind this Bright Star and his rabble are we?

Dag bent to look at the first corpse that was cut down, hitting the ground with a brittle crack.

'They are frozen,' Dag observed, 'and have been feasted upon by . . .' He waved at the forest, trees encroaching upon them. 'So it is hard to tell with any measure of certainty, but ' he poked and prodded strips of skin, sniffed 'dead four moons, is my guess.'

Jael nodded. 'We are making good time,' he murmured, looking pleased.

We have a head start: a trail to follow.

After Belo had been cut down at Nathair's council they had spent the day discussing how exactly Dra.s.sil was to be discovered.

They had settled upon the plan put forward by Calidus, to build roads into Forn, each with a different starting point. Gundul's road would begin at Brikan, the old Hunen tower that the Gadrai had occupied as their foothold in Forn. Lothar's road would follow the course they had originally travelled to Haldis, the Hunen burial ground, and then work deeper into Forn from there. The theory Calidus had used to justify this course was that the giants had dwelt in Dra.s.sil before their Sundering into many clans, and so Haldis and Brikan most likely were linked to Dra.s.sil in some way, possibly even by giant-built roads.

Jael's road had been given a different starting point the logical move to follow the trail of this Corban, 'the Black Sun', Nathair had called him, and his warband into Forn. Ulfilas suspected that they had the easiest course, and from Jael's expression so did he. It was not just personal satisfaction and pride in a job well done. Nathair had given an incentive that the leader of the first group that found Dra.s.sil would rule the three kingdoms of Isiltir, Carnutan and Helveth, the other two kings reduced to va.s.sals. Looking at his Jehar warriors, no one had doubted that he could enforce the threat. Or promise, to the winner.

So the race is on.

'Onwards then,' Jael shouted, turning his mount to ride back down the road, the Jehar closing about him and his s.h.i.+eldmen like a black-gloved fist.

Ulfilas turned and stared ahead, into the gloom of the forest. A snowflake drifted down and landed on his nose, filtering through the leafless canopy high above. Trees filled his vision. And out there somewhere is this Black Sun, with giants and the warriors that cut through my men like a scythe through wheat.

And we are rus.h.i.+ng to find them.

'What do you mean, their trail has disappeared?' Jael snapped.

'There are no more signs of their pa.s.sage, my King,' Dag said. 'No boot prints, hoof prints, excrement, dung, scuffed rocks, trampled or broken foliage. Nothing. It is as if they disappeared.'

'Pfah,' Jael said, clearly unable to formulate anything more complex.

It would appear that our good run has come to an end.

'You must search harder,' Jael said, waving a hand vaguely at the forest.

'My King, I have over two hundred scouts scouring the surrounding area. If there is any sign to be found, they will find it.'

'Has there been any word from Ildaer and his ilk? The Jotun dwelt in this region once, they must surely know something.'

'No word from him, or any of the Jotun, my King,' Dag said.

We have heard nothing from them since Gramm's hold. What happened to Ildaer there? Does he even still live?

Jael threw a cup of wine at the fire; the flames flared.

'What use in dealing with giants if they prove to be useless,' he snarled.

They were sitting in Jael's tent, a huge, sumptuous reminder of Jael's new t.i.tle, furs and tapestries draped extensively about, a richly decorated table and chairs in the centre laden with cups studded with jewels and gold platters heaped with untouched food. The pale dawn light leaked in through the entrance, the forest feeling dense and oppressive all about them.

'We'll keep moving forwards,' Jael said. 'Straight as an arrow from their last known position. And keep searching; take more men from the warband if you need them just find that trail.'

And if it is not there to be found?

Yes, my King,' Dag said, bowed and left the tent. Ulfilas followed him, not wis.h.i.+ng to endure the wrath of a petulant King. He knew Jael better than any man alive. There was a crash from inside as the tent flap swung shut behind him.

Ulfilas stood with one hand upon his sword hilt, looking down at the corpses strewn about the glade. Four men. They'd been part of a scouting team that had not returned to camp last night. Each man was lacerated with scars, two had had their throats ripped out, the flesh gaping in ragged strips. One of them lay amongst his own intestines.

'What did this?' Ulfilas asked, his eyes sweeping the trees about the glade, shadows moving with the creak of branches.

'Wolven pack?' Dag shrugged, though he was frowning. He crouched to examine one of the dead more closely.

'It happened early,' Dag muttered, prodding the pile of intestines that were frozen solid. 'Soon after dusk. And look.' He pulled the dead man's head back, the throat cut in three clear lines. Ulfilas frowned.

Those cuts look too neat for claws.

Dag looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. 'Looks iron-made, not animal,' he said.

'Whether iron, tooth or claw, Jael's not going to be too happy about this,' Ulfilas muttered.

'I know it,' Dag agreed.

It had been a ten-night since the trail of their enemy had disappeared, the road-building slowing to a snail's pace as more and more men were taken from work crews to scout the surrounding areas. Three nights ago men had started disappearing. These were the first that had been found. Yesterday, upon hearing of men going missing, Jael had half-throttled the messenger bringing him the tidings.

He doesn't seem best equipped for dealing with the pressures of ruling.

A sound in the undergrowth had Ulfilas and the six men with him drawing their blades, Dag reaching for his bow and quiver. Figures appeared from amongst the gloom between the trees, Dag's scouts.

'Something for you to see,' the first one said, breathing hard, then turned and disappeared.

'More dead men?' Ulfilas muttered.

They followed the man through thick undergrowth, finally climbing a slope and stopping beside the scout.

Dag looked around and then smiled.

'What?' Ulfilas asked.

'Look,' Dag said, pointing.

They were standing on a level area, an embankment either side. Dag nudged something with his toe, a rock. Ulfilas looked closer, saw that it had been shaped, an edge rounded.

'It is dressed stone,' Dag said.

Ulfilas looked further, saw more pieces of stone glinting with frost, sparkling a ragged line into the distance.

'A road,' he whispered.

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT.

CAMLIN.

Camlin stood on the banks of the lake, watching Meg walk away from him. He'd just said goodbye to her. With a sigh he turned and stared out at the disjointed walls and towers of Dun Crin, islands of stone amidst the dark waters. Beyond them he could see the small fleet of boats that was carrying away so many of those who had started to make a new life for themselves around this lake.

Better to run and live than to stay and die. And better for the warriors that stay. They'll fight better knowing their bairns and kin are safe.

He heard footsteps and turned to see Edana walking towards him, Halion, Baird and Vonn around her.

Vonn. Edana's s.h.i.+eldman. Do I trust him so close to her?

'Walk with me,' she said to Camlin, and they strolled in silence away from the lakesh.o.r.e, following a path that wound through tall gra.s.s and thick clumps of reeds, shadowing one of the many streams that fed into the lake.

'You are sure of this?' Edana said when the lake had pa.s.sed from view.

'It is the only way. Even if I'm successful, it's still no guarantee, but it'll give us a chance. It'll slow them down, and bring them here from one direction. Much better knowing where they'll be arriving.'

Edana stopped and turned to face him, took hold of his hands and stared into his eyes.

'I will never forget this, or the countless other times you have risked your life for me. If there is ever a time when this is over, and I am Queen of Ardan . . .' She hesitated. 'I will not forget this.'

Camlin shrugged. 'I'm not doing it for a reward.'

'Why are you doing it, Camlin? A brigand from the Darkwood. You do not even come from Ardan, but from Narvon.'

He looked at Halion, Baird, then Vonn, finally back to her.

'Because,' he said with a shrug, 'you make me want to be a better man. Not just you, but all of you. Marrock, Dath, Corban. Never really had friends before, just fellow thieves. Doesn't make for a good night's sleep.'

Edana nodded to herself, as if hearing an answer to a long-asked question.

'Come back to us,' she said.