The woman turned her gaze on Rabalyn for the first time. Her eyes were a smoky grey. She tilted her head as she looked at him, her expression unchanging. Rabalyn felt himself reddening. Then she looked back at Druss. Finally she stood and wandered over to the dead beasts, examining them, and then the ground around the campsite. At last she returned to the fire. ‘Now you know,’ said Druss.
‘Yes.’
‘Thought you would.’
The woman undipped her cloak and let it fall to the ground. Then she lifted clear a narrow leather baldric from which hung a small black double-winged crossbow. Rabalyn had never seen a weapon like it before.
He leaned forward. ‘May I look at it?’ he asked.
The woman ignored him. ‘Your axe became lodged in one of the beasts.
The boy pulled it clear as you wrestled with the last,’ she said to Druss.
‘The boy hid in that tree until then.’
‘Exactly. Now show him your bow, Garianne,’ said the axeman softly.
‘He’s a good lad and means no harm.’
Lifting the weapon, she passed it to Rabalyn without glancing at him.
The bow was around a foot in length, with two bronze triggers, and a sharply curved grip. He turned it in his hands, trying to see how the lower bolt could be inserted. It was a clever mechanism. The top bolt was merely placed in a groove in the main shaft; the second was loaded below it, through an opening in the side. Rabalyn curled his hand around the grip and extended his arm. The weapon was lighter than it looked. An image appeared in his mind, of a tall man, dark-eyed and lean. Then it was gone.
Rabalyn placed the crossbow on the ground. Garianne moved to the cookpot, stirring the contents with a wooden spoon. From the pack she took a small sack of salt, and added several pinches. Then, from another muslin package, she sprinkled dried herbs into the broth. A savoury scent filled the air.
Time passed, and Rabalyn became uneasy at the lack of conversation.
The woman said nothing. The axeman seemed unconcerned. Finally Garianne lifted clear the pot, and set it on the ground to cool. Occasionally she would stir it. ‘I’ll buy you a meal in Mellicane,’ said Druss.
‘We are not going to the city. We’re heading north. We want to see the high country.’
‘There’s some sights to see,’ agreed the axeman. ‘If you change your mind I’ll be staying at the Crimson Stag on the west quay.’ She seemed not to be listening, then Rabalyn saw her cock her head to one side, and nod.
‘I don’t like cities,’ she said, staring upwards. Then there was a pause.
‘Easy for you to say,’ she continued. Then another pause. ‘But I can hunt what we need.’ Finally she shrugged and said: ‘As you wish.’
Now Rabalyn was totally confused. The axeman seemed to take the entire one-sided conversation in his stride. Moving to the pan he lifted the spoon, and stirred the contents. ‘Smells good,’ he said.
‘Eat,’ said Garianne. Druss ate several spoonfuls, then passed the pot and spoon to Rabalyn. The broth was thick and tasty, and he too ate. At last he pushed the pot towards Garianne. She sighed. ‘I am not hungry now,’ she said, replacing her baldric and clipping her cloak back into place. ‘We will see you in Mellicane, Uncle.’
‘I’ll bring your pot with me,’ he said.
She walked off into the trees without another word.
Druss finished the last of the broth. ‘Who was she talking to?’ asked Rabalyn.
The axeman shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’ve learned there is more in this world than I can see. I like her, though.’
‘Are you her uncle?’
‘I can imagine worse nieces. But no, I’m not her uncle. She started calling me that after I nursed her through a fever last year.’
‘I think she’s mad,’ said Rabalyn.
‘Aye, I can see why you would.’
‘Why didn’t she wait for you to finish the broth? Then she would have had her pot.’
‘She’s uncomfortable around people. You made her nervous.’
‘Me? How?’
‘You asked her a question. I did warn you, laddie. She doesn’t take well to questions.’
‘I only asked to see her crossbow. I was being polite.’
‘I know. She’s a strange lass. But she’s got heart, and she uses that crossbow like a master.’
‘What does her family think of her running around dressed like a man?’
asked Rabalyn.
Druss laughed aloud. ‘I’m forgetting you come from a small community, laddie. She doesn’t have any family — not that I know of. She sometimes travels with a pair of twins. Good lads. One’s a simpleton. I have never heard her speak of family, though. My guess is they were probably killed.
That, or some other shock unhinged her. She is not always as you saw her today. A little wine inside her and she’ll sing sweeter than a songbird. Aye, and dance and laugh. It’s only when the voices come that she.. well, you saw,’ he concluded lamely.
‘How did you meet her?’
‘Do you never run out of questions, laddie?’ replied Druss, pushing himself to his feet. ‘Come on, it’s time to be moving. I have a feeling we’ll be meeting your friends before long.’
With the coming of the dawn Braygan was more exhausted than at any other time in his life. The bright sunshine hurt his eyes, and he felt as if he was walking through a dream. A small boy was sleeping beside him, his terrified mother stroking the child’s hair. Other women and children were huddled together at the centre of the circle. A girl of around three began to cry. Braygan reached out to comfort her, but she backed away from him. A woman called to the child, who scrambled over to her, sobbing.
Braygan pushed himself to his feet and eased his way to the outer circle where Skilgannon stood, with around a dozen surviving men, and the same number of strong women. Some of the women in the circle were armed with knives. The remainder held thick lumps of wood, which they had used as clubs when the beasts attacked.
‘Have they gone for good this time?’ asked Braygan, glancing down at the dried blood on Skilgannon’s blades.
Skilgannon looked at the priest and shrugged. Just beyond the circle lay the giant body of a hideous creature. Braygan tried not to look at it, but his eyes were drawn to its massive jaws. The little priest had seen those fangs crunch into the skull of a man, ripping the head from the shoulders, before Skilgannon had leapt in, cutting a gaping hole in the beast’s throat.
The headless body of the man was no longer in sight. Other creatures had dragged it away into the darkness, along with the corpses of other Joinings.
Braygan swung to look back at the crowd of people huddled together inside the circle. There were some fifty or more, half of them children.
‘How many of us did they get?’ asked Braygan.
‘Ten… fifteen,’ answered Skilgannon wearily. ‘I had no time to keep count.’
The two brothers, Jared and Nian, broke away from the outer circle and approached Skilgannon. Both carried longswords, with double-handed hilts. ‘You think we should try to get away now it’s light?’ asked Jared.
‘Wait a while,’ said Skilgannon. ‘They may have retreated back into the reeds, and be watching for just such a move.’
‘I counted eighteen of them,’ said the young man. ‘I think we killed five at least, and wounded four others.’
‘I cut the head from one,’ said Nian. ‘Did you see that, Jared? Did you see me cut its head?’
‘I saw. You did well. Very brave, Nian.’
‘Did you see?’ the man asked Skilgannon. ‘Did you see me cut its head off?’
‘Your brother is right. You are very brave,’ said Skilgannon. Braygan saw the simpleton give a crooked smile, then reach out and take hold of the long blue sash that hung from his brother’s belt. He stood there, sword in one hand, sash in the other.
