In the trees the Karzełek tensed, their hands trembling on their spear shafts and their eyes filled with a bitter enmity as, on the path, the woyaks peered into the woods.
‘A rabbit, most like,’ his son sniggered, ‘these forests are liable to spook the gods.’
‘The sooner I’m away from here…’ the old man began – and then the Karzełek attacked. In one swift motion one of them broke out of the bushes, his spear shattering the old man’s armour as the blade pushed deep into his chest. With a look of shock and surprise, the old woyak crashed to the ground, a river of blood spilling from his mouth.
But his son was quick and, even as his father fell, he’d turned his spear and thrust it through the Karzelek’s neck. There was an awful rending as the iron tip pushed through skin hard and tough as bleached leather and the creature collapsed in a fountain of gore. Before Iwa had time to move, the rest of the Karzełek charged, their war cries ripping through the darkness.
‘Piórun!’ One of the woyaks began a battle chant, as he lifted up his spear; but his voice was stopped short by a spear thrust through the throat. Dropping his shield, the fourth man fled, leaving the young woyak to his fate. A couple of spears hurtled through the air to crash harmlessly into the scrub. But, in his haste, the man forgot to dodge and a third clipped his side.
‘Grunmir, you old battle hag, come on out and you’ll dine on my spear point tonight!’ the young woyak yelled, perhaps, in the darkness and confusion, not realising what he faced. With a roar a Karzełek attacked, a giant club beating through the air, but the young woyak ducked under the blow and thrust up through the gut. With a cry the Karzełek collapsed and the woyak pushed his spear further in. But he hadn’t counted on the snakes. Even as their host lay dying, one of them struck past the woyak’s face guard and buried its fangs in the young man’s eye. With a scream he fell, his hands drawn to his face.
Then all was silent. Iwa couldn’t move as she pressed herself against Matka Ziemia. Behind her the woyak who’d tried to run whimpered, blood gushing from a wound torn deep in his side as he crawled for the safety of the scrub, but the Karzełek surrounded him, howling in their eagerness, the air scented with blood.
Perhaps the Karzełek hadn’t realised that the woyaks hadn’t spotted her. She could scarcely credit it herself. They must have been terrified not to have seen me. She looked at the young woyak; his face puffed up with an ugly blue wound where the second snake had bitten deep. By his side the Karzełek lay, its mouth still open in a final battle cry, the snakes motionless. So the snakes do not outlive their master.
‘Come,’ Miskyia said, ‘we must get to the river.’ Reluctantly Iwa was drawn away. She couldn’t help one last look back at the dead boy.
‘They would have died anyway,’ the witch said, tucking her arm around Iwa. ‘They’d never have found a path out of the forest and it wouldn’t be long before the wolves found them.’
‘They must have been desperate to get away.’ She couldn’t rid herself of the memory of the dead woyak, the poison burned deep beneath his skin. No natural venom dripped from those fangs. She’d never seen anything act so swiftly or so terribly.
‘At least, this way, their doom fell quickly upon them.’ Miskyia’s hand was soft on her shoulder. ‘Who knows how long the wolves would have let them starve before they were weak enough to be attacked.’
Iwa nodded, but the thought brought little comfort.
Out in the woods she could feel Lord Bethrayal slinking through the trees. They moved quickly now, the Karzełek’s spears held ready. In the scrub something moved. Another woyak? Iwa shivered. Already she’d had her fill of war and death. Animals died all the time, she’d been brought up gutting boar and deer, but this was different.
There was a disturbance in the craft. Iwa struggled to keep the link with Lord Bethrayal, feeling him strain against the forces that held him. Yet there was something else as well, a tiny flutter that she almost missed in her desperation to keep Lord Bethrayal at bay. Somewhere out there the old spells listened. She could almost feel their magic strain, those old curses uttered so long ago.
But the ages hadn’t diminished their power as, out in the firmament, they wrapped round the Lord Bethrayal. She could feel his anguish and his torment as he railed against them. Freedom was so close. Bit by bit she could feel him slip into the world, his body taking form in the mists.
‘Quick!’ one of the Karzełek barked as she tried to keep up, her feet slippery over the loose ground.
The track led to a sheltered cove overhung with trees. ‘All is well prepared.’ Miskyia smiled as she pointed to the thickets, from which two Karzełek came out, dragging a tiny raft between them. ‘We need to get out into the river,’ she said, looking up at the stars. ‘With luck the others should be ready to attack the camp.’
Without a sound the raft slid into the river. Iwa clambered on, the wood creaking as two Karzełek followed her. After that there was barely room for Miskyia, the raft almost capsizing as she climbed on. The Karzełek were not natural sailors, their oar strokes falling unevenly as the raft wobbled into the river.
‘Careful,’ Miskyia said as they tried to get further out, ‘we want to get to the camp in one piece.’ With a growl they
