He was on his knees now, towering over her, fist raised ready to smash her face. Somehow she managed to get her knee against his chest and kick him off her. In one fluid motion he rolled and reached for a dagger tucked into his belt. Before he had a chance to rise, she leapt up and grabbed the krol’s cup, bringing it down on the back of his head so hard that the force of the blow reverberated through her arm. With a groan the boy fell to the floor, the back of his head matted with blood.
She slumped to the floor and lay against the side of the ship. A stray gust of wind rustled the tarpaulin. A woyak could come in at any moment. Lungs aching, she picked herself up and, grabbing the amulet, ran over to the stairs, all thoughts of stealth forgotten as she jumped over the side. She hit the ground and became cautious again. She had to get out quickly before the boy came to his senses.
Where was Wislaw? Fear gave her courage as she broke into a shallow run. It was a fool’s gambit – but the woyaks had finished with their sacrifice and were now hard at their vodka as they danced round the fire. There was nobody to notice as she made her way to the wall. Hopefully there would only be a few woyaks left on guard.
Up above a figure moved. She froze, breath held, as the figure rested against the parapet, the wood creaking under his weight as he scanned the forest. Maybe he was one of those who Grunmir trusted, or the old woyak’s bark had terrified the man because he didn’t spare so much as a glance to the camp. Keeping her eyes trained on the figure, she began to crawl on her hands and knees. Here the ground had been cleared, making it difficult to find any cover.
By the shore, the dance was in full swing, the shadows flickering across the camp. Crawling slowly, Iwa tried to make her way to the earth wall. In the dark it looked even larger and more terrifying, the shadows closing in around her as she looked up and tried to fight down the panic. There had to be a way up. Luckily the watcher on the parapet hadn’t spotted her. But she couldn’t see how she could get to the top.
Then she stopped. In the dark there was a scuffle, the faintest trace of a footstep; the hunters were close. She could sense them, their breath halted as they clung to the shadows. There couldn’t be too many out there, a raiding party perhaps. She looked about her but caught little more than a few fleeting glimpses of figures scurrying in the night.
Keeping a tight watch on the wall, she began to crawl forward as, by the river, the woyaks’ chant swelled. Wislaw’s voice was raised above the din. Then, as she neared the base of the wall, she stopped. A figure came out of the night, a woyak in full armour. Around her she sensed the hunters tense, as the woyak walked along the base of the earthwork. He was old, his limbs stiff as he stopped to arch his back.
Luckily he turned to the river and the spectacle of the sacrifice. Iwa closed her eyes and prayed to Jezi Baba. The hunters had melted into the shadows, but she had never mastered the skills of the hunt. She was a child of the clan, far stealthier than any woyak, but she was no hunter and, at any moment, the old man would be bound to see her. Maybe the hunters would kill him before his warning cry had left his lips.
He was close now, his footsteps creaking. She tensed. Still there was no sound of an arrow or spear thrust. Surely the hunters will help me? They were far from the river and, once the woyak had caught her, it would have been easy for the hunters to slip past him unseen and scrabble over the wall before Grunmir and the others arrived. So they have me in the bear pit again. She cursed and wondered if she shouldn’t make a run for it now.
‘It’s a cold night,’ a voice said. It was Alia, her footsteps sliding smoothly across the hard ground, ‘and you are far from the fires.’
‘Shouldn’t you be on the shore, with the others?’ the woyak replied. There was a hint of suspicion as he glanced at her. She was the krol’s woman, the one who kept at his side, so what was she doing here so far from the fire?
‘I have no stomach for such things,’ she smiled as the woyak raised his spear to her.
‘And I thought a huntress born of the forest wouldn’t be so squeamish.’
‘I’ve gutted more than my fair share of the kill before now, and we too burn our meat before the sacred fires of Karnobog, but never the whole of a carcass. Our god is not so greedy.’
‘Perhaps that is why Piórun is more powerful than this Karnobog of yours.’ There was a pause as Alia came closer, the firelight shimmering around her tight dress. ‘Shouldn’t you be with the krol?’ the old woyak said slowly. ‘If not, then shouldn’t you be with the women? I heard no orders for you to wander free.’
‘I brought you some vodka.’ There was the sound of a cork being opened. ‘Come rest your bones by the fire.’ She nodded to where a
