blade. What do you think they mean?'
Hirad pulled his sword from its scabbard. 'Funny, Unknown, but leave the jokes to me next time, eh?'
'To prove you're even less amusing, presumably,' said Ilkar.
'All right, come on,' said The Unknown. 'They won't be far behind.'
Hirad was convinced it wouldn't work. Dordovan spies or assassins weren't the type to blunder into a hastily laid ambush. But he had to concede they couldn't lead anyone straight to Denser or Erienne at this stage; and if all it served was to throw them off the scent, then he'd take that as a positive result. And there was no desire to kill those that followed them, after all, they might have some very useful information. They were merely under orders. What they needed was some clear guidance on why following The Raven was an occupation with no future.
It was with some surprise then, that he heard Ilkar whisper that they were coming, just as the wind picked up suddenly, gusting through the remains of the forest and sifting at what it had so brutally created.
The Raven had taken up position a few yards from the crag itself, hidden from the path they'd made by a tangle of pine branches and thick, sharp gorse.
There were four of them, leading their horses, treading carefully and not uttering a sound, as if aware that all was not right in Thornewood. All were men, clad in varying shades of dark leather armour, long swords in free hands, helms framing faces older than those watching them. Hirad raised an eyebrow at the oddity. They were clearly an experienced team but the carelessness with which they'd revealed themselves to The Unknown made him wonder why Dordover had chosen them to follow The Raven. At least with no
elves or willowy athletes in the party he could be fairly sure they weren't mage-assassins. Just trackers.
They entered the crag clearing and were edging around it cautiously, two by two, when The Unknown stepped out directly in front of them, the point of his sword down, tapping on the earth before him, its sound dull but music to Hirad's ears as he moved next to his old friend.
'Lost or looking?' asked The Unknown, not unpleasantly. The quartet had stopped abruptly and Hirad saw the front pair share a glance, sudden fear in one's eyes, confusion and surprise in the other.
'I don't like being followed,' said The Unknown.
'We're not-' began the left of the pair, a heavyset man with greying temples and long brown hair beneath his helm. He had a few days' growth of stubble, thick eyebrows and a stooped forehead.
'I don't like being lied to either,' said The Unknown, interrupting smoothly. Hirad felt Ilkar step up behind them, a spell shape no doubt already formed.
'Now,' continued The Unknown. 'We aren't looking for any trouble. We're just helping a friend. I understand this is all of great interest to your masters but they'll find nothing by sending people to follow us. Just bodies. Do I make myself clear?'
The men shifted a little, one dropped his gaze from The Unknown but the other held firm, brow creasing..
'You'll kill us if we continue to follow you?'
'Quick, isn't he?' said Hirad.
The Unknown ceased tapping his sword point.
'We don't want to but we can't risk you jeopardising what we have to do either. So turn around now and go back the way you came.'
More hesitation. Behind the front pair, the second whispered urgent words.
'Is there something you're confused about?' asked Hirad, his voice loud and harsh in the silence of the forest. The wind stilled momentarily before a fresh gust plucked at cloak, hair and mane, whistling through the jumbled branches.
'I'm not used to being threatened,' said the heavyset man.
'It's not a threat,' said The Unknown. 'Call it heartfelt advice.'
Hirad couldn't stop the smile touching his face. The Unknown had used the same words to face down Styliann, a former Lord of the Mount and a rather more powerful adversary.
T don't see this as a laughing matter,' said one of the second pair, stepping forward between the horses. He was mid-height, younger than his companions, with a long nose and small mouth below hooded eyes.
Hirad felt the tension rise. The four men hadn't been ready for a fight before. Perhaps they were now. He and The Unknown gazed on unmoving. From behind them, Ilkar spoke.
'Please don't make this difficult because it's really very simple,' he said. 'You were following us, we don't want you to, and we've asked you very politely to stop doing so. I suggest we all calm down and go our separate ways. What do you say?'
Hirad and The Unknown both nodded and Hirad saw three of the men relax but the heavyset one pursed his lips.
'We have direct orders,' he said, more in explanation than anything else.
'Well now you have new ones,' said Hirad.
'Hirad, shut up,' hissed The Unknown. 'Look, no one's watching you. Just report back you saw us headed in the direction of Grey-thorne but lost us in Thornewood.' He shrugged. 'But before you go, tell me who sent you to follow us. Dordover?'
The man nodded. 'And losing you was not an option we were given,' he said, and as if he'd reminded his colleagues of a forgotten fact, the tension returned.
Ilkar chuckled gendy. 'Oh, come on. I know Vuldaroq and the Dordovan Quorum are keen to get their prodigy back but they'll hardly have your heads for losing us, will they?'
The answering silence hinted that they believed otherwise.
'Either way, fighting us will not help you,' said The Unknown. 'Because whoever wins, you will have 'lost' us, won't you?'
For a moment, they stood on the verge of fatal indecision. Then, the heavyset man's face twisted in what passed for a lopsided grin. He inclined his head and put up his sword.
'Let's not spill blood here,' he said. Hushing his companions, he turned them round and they mounted and left the crag clearing.
The Unknown put a finger to his lips and the three of them stood silent until the hoofbeats died away.
'You know what they'll do, don't you?' he said.
'Of course,' said Ilkar.
'Then if you'd be so kind, Ilkar,' he invited.
The elf smiled, formed the shape for a CloakedWalk, stepped forward and disappeared, his footfall utterly silent in this mockery of his ancestral home.
'C'mon Hirad,' said The Unknown. 'Let's go. They won't be tracking us back through here.'
'Ahead, you think?'
'No doubt about it.'
Hirad smiled and they led all three horses on an angled path to exit the wood about half a mile from where they'd entered it, a slow enough passage to give Ilkar time to find their followers and let them believe The Raven had swallowed the lie.
Ilkar was disappointed. They really weren't very good at all. Having exited Thornewood the way they'd entered it, the quartet had turned east and trotted along not far from its edge, leaving a trail only the senseless could fail to follow. He broke into a jog and skirted the boundaries of the wood, the wind steadily picking up in strength at his back, clouds now thick and threatening overhead in the grey, dank afternoon sky.
He found them a couple of miles down, slowed to a walk and deep in discussion, one of them making angles with his hands and pointing first into the woodland and then away over the open ground towards Greythorne. Apparently arriving at a decision, they ducked back under cover, having to force their way into the tangled foliage. Ilkar noted their position before walking back to where he estimated Hirad and The Unknown would be waiting. Knowing the way through the forest would be difficult, particularly while leading horses, he took his time.
'Well?' came The Unknown's voice from a deep patch of shadow.
Ilkar grinned and pushed into the foliage, its shelter cutting the strength of the wind that was gusting up to gale force. It was gone mid-afternoon and the light was beginning to fade.
'A mile and a half ahead, just under the eaves, probably split to cover a wider angle. How do you want to play it?'
