“Yes. A fair fight, warrior to warrior, and neither your servant nor my men shall be hurt, whoever is the victor,” Black Duncan said.
“You have my word,” Erik promised.
“And you have mine,” Duncan said.
Dismounting, Black Duncan walked the final 50 paces to the boundary wall. He looked inside the fort, where Erik had withdrawn to the muddy depression in the centre and waited for him, shield on left arm and sword in his right hand. No longer in the sky, the two ravens had returned to Erik's shield, looking out balefully from either side of the central spike. The grey man stood beside the tallest remaining part of the boundary wall, nearly invisible against the grey stones.
Please kill me. Erik thought and winced at the waves of pain that attacked him. “You stand well, dead man!” He said, and the pain receded. “You will die today.”
Saying nothing, Black Duncan nodded to his four followers, who moved towards the grey man, without approaching too closely.
Erik clashed the blade of his sword against his shield, the sound reverberating around the fort. Both ravens departed and circled above, eyes busy. They could see the empty countryside for miles around, and the corpses of men, women and children that Erik had killed or left to bleed to death. Each body had one arm outstretched, pointing towards the hill-fort, easy markers for Black Duncan to follow.
After checking that no other warriors followed Duncan, the ravens returned to Erik's shield. Erik clashed his sword again, stepping forward.
Saying nothing, Black Duncan undid his cloak, letting it fall to the ground. Now his dark padded leather could be seen, and the dozen darts he wore at his belt. Without a word, he drew a dart in his right hand, aimed and threw it at Erik, who stepped aside. The dart missed, but Black Duncan followed with two more. Erik caught the second on his shield and gasped as the third nicked the outside of his right arm, drawing blood that slowly descended to his bent elbow and dripped in scarlet drops to the grass below.
The grey man watched impassively, as ever.
Black Duncan circled, lifted another dart, feinted left, feinted right and threw it in a high arc. When Erik lifted his shield to catch the dart, Duncan ran forward, drawing his sword, holding it low on his right side with the point uppermost.
The grey man placed his right hand inside his bag.
Dropping the shield, Erik swooped left and right, avoided Duncan's twisting thrust by a fingers-breadth and slashed at Duncan's left thigh. Drawing Legbiter across Duncan's muscle, he withdrew, caught his shield before it hit the ground and stood waiting as Duncan's forward rush faltered. Duncan looked down at his injured leg, shook his head and plucked two more darts from his belt. With the blood already running down his thigh to his foot, he stepped forward, aimed and threw. Erik caught both on his shield, laughed and ran towards the quickly weakening Duncan.
Leaping into the air, Erik dodged Duncan's next attempted throw and sliced sideways, opening a wound in Duncan's right arm. Duncan lifted a dart with his left hand and thrust, catching Erik on the side of his neck and forcing him back a step. Following his momentary advantage, Duncan swung his sword at Erik.
The grey man pushed his hand deeper into his bag as Erik parried Duncan's weak sword stroke and slashed down the length of his right thigh, opening the flesh to the bone. Deprived of the use of both legs, Duncan fell at once. He was still conscious as Erik ran towards his shocked entourage and hacked them to pieces before they could even draw a sword.
“They were not part of this.” Duncan could hardly hear his voice as he protested.
Erik stood over him, using Duncan's black cloak to clean the blood, flesh and brains off Legbiter. “No,” he said and added curiously. “What's it like to know you are dying?”
Lying in a pool of his blood and with his men butchered before him, Black Duncan reached for one of his darts, until Erik casually stepped on his hand.
“You are a murderer and an oath breaker.” Duncan's voice weakened with every breath he took.
“Yes.” Erik crouched at Duncan's side and dropped his voice to a whisper. “You are a lucky man, Duncan, luckier than you will ever know.”
Although Duncan recognised the pain in Erik's eyes, he was more concerned with the two ravens that hopped towards him. When they began to tear at his eyes, he was glad that death released him from his torment.
Chapter Ten
The woman sat beside the hazel tree, as she had done for the past three days and three nights. Cross-legged, she ignored the intermittent rain that dampened her clothes and the wind that tangled her long blonde hair. At night, she heard the barking of a fox and once the spine-chilling howl of a pack of wolves. She remained still, becoming so much part of the landscape that a herd of deer passed her without hesitation and hopeful bees explored her bare arms. Feeling neither hunger nor thirst, she waited with the infinite patience of a child brought up in nature.
At last, on the fourth day, she heard a whisper from the ground at the foot of the tree. It was only a small sound that most people would not notice, but the woman was aware of everything. She remained still when the snake slithered out, the distinctive marks on its back proclaiming it was a venomous viper. The snake crawled over her legs and away into the long grass at her side. The woman remained still as a second viper followed the first, and then a third followed the second. Only when six snakes had passed over her legs did the woman move, for it was the seventh snake she desired.
When the pure white serpent was completely clear of the hole, the woman sprang forward, caught it by the neck, stood erect and lifted it
