But he had the girl. She seemed to be important somehow. Moments ago he’d been terrified, crying to the gods as he cowered behind the barrel and prayed that Wislaw’s barrier might hold. Like the others he’d been living in hope that the thing had gone, that tiny spark of optimism kindling with each passing night. He’d even began to think again of the kroldom in the forest, of the bread and the vodka that would follow, and the easy women. And to have all those dreams dashed, to realise that he was nothing more than a prisoner cowering behind the barrier was too much to bear.
But now he had the girl, caught, he imagined, by his own cunning. Grunmir had set him to guard the prisoner, the battle captain had always picked on him for such things, always kept him back and well away from the fight. Well, let that battle hag underestimate him now! He smiled as he drove the wretch forward, his spear butt driven hard into her back as he imagined himself the all-conquering hero. Yes, Grunmir would see his worth, the krol too, even that idiot priest.
Iwa felt the stab of the spear, the pain hard in the small of her back as she stumbled across the broken ground. She didn’t even bother to look to the trees, her head hanging as she made her way through the camp. She was too tired now even to think of escape. Truly the gods had deserted her. I should have thrown myself into the river. Now it was too late even for that.
Dawn was nearing and already life had begun to creep into the camp. Some of the woyaks had ventured out of the ships and had set about gathering their armour. Others examined the barrier, casting fearful glances to the far shore. A few of the women had joined them, many having taken refuge with the men in the night. Alia was there, quick to organise the women into working parties so that they could set about clearing up the camp.
‘Ah, the prodigal daughter has returned,’ Wislaw said as Iwa was pushed forward.
‘Are you hurt, my krol?’ Grunmir said as he pulled Krol Gawel towards the camp.
‘My magic was there to protect him.’ Wislaw smiled as he hid the doll in the folds of his cloak. ‘Piórun would not forsake his servant.’
‘But the demon grows ever stronger,’ Grunmir replied. ‘And each time I see his face more clearly. I doubt that even your magic will hold it for long.’
‘And even if it could,’ the krol muttered, ‘is this how we are to live, like a trapped hare, caught between the hunters and the demon? This is not the way for men to die, cowered behind their ships and waiting for their doom.’
A few of the woyaks dragged a fresh stake into the water where Lord Bethrayal had tried to cross. A few of the stakes had split, the animal skulls shattered into a multitude of tiny fragments scattered on the riverbed. Iwa felt the spear butt force her forward. Behind her Eber hovered, unable to understand why he’d been ignored. If it hadn’t been for him she’d have run into the forest, this girl who Grunmir and the priest were so ready to fight over.
‘We’re lucky that the creature comes only at night,’ Grunmir said. ‘Give me one of the boats and a few good men and we could sail back for more supplies.’
‘And how many would return with you?’ The krol looked to his woyaks, ‘and what of those who’d remain? How long would my power hold sway once they realised that I’d let so much as a dog leave?
‘Our strength fails and the demon grows stronger: soon I doubt even the protection of Piórun will stay its power.’
‘Give me the girl,’ Wislaw said as, sensing his moment had come, Eber jabbed her forward with the end of his spear, ‘and I’ll rid us of this demon.’
‘What is she to you?’ Grunmir replied. ‘She’s a spy, nothing more.’
‘My lord krol, Piórun demands a blood sacrifice. I have seen his anger in the sky.’
‘What have you seen?’ Grunmir scoffed. ‘You’ve spent too much time without a woman, old man.’ But there was a hollowness to his laughter as he looked over the wreck of the camp. Surely there were more important things to be done.
Yet this girl intrigued him. She seemed different somehow. He didn’t trust her, the way she looked at him as if there was some deep secret locked behind her eyes. She should have been frightened, like the others. Even Alia was careful to keep her gaze far from him, for all the kindness that the krol had lavished upon her. Such kindness could shift in an instant, he knew that well enough. Alia recognised that too, her power in the camp hanging by a sliver, but this girl was different, although she was not openly defiant. At least that would have been easy to deal with. She was sulking, like all her clan. They should not have come to this miserable place. He would have left long ago, if it hadn’t been for the krol. Carefully he looked to Gawel, careworn and bitter. He should not have to deal with this priest, not now there was so much else to be done. What does that idiot see in the girl, he wondered. Nothing more than a forest wretch, surely. He wasn’t even convinced that she was much of a spy. So why does he want her so badly? It couldn’t be for her body, surely. One word and he could force far better into to his bed. Grunmir smiled at the thought. He couldn’t conceive of any woman who’d want to bed a worm like that fool priest willingly.
‘Piórun the thunderer demands his sacrifice,’ Wislaw said. ‘Have you not heard his cry rumble through the mountains?’
‘A summer storm, nothing more, or have we taken to hearing the chuckle of gods
