I hadn’t made but five strides before the camp erupted in noise and smoke. Oreg’s tent burst into explosive flame, and I got a quick glimpse of dark bodies and sparks as steel met steel before the underbrush obscured the camp.

I kept my link to Jakoven, as much to assure myself he wasn’t anywhere near the Bane as because I needed it to find him. One of the mages had lit the campsite, and I could see the glow through the branches I clawed my way past.

I burst through one section of clinging branches and all but ran into one of the sentries who had just released a crossbow bolt into the camp. My sword took his head without my slowing a step, as I tried not to think about where the bolt he’d loosed had hit.

There was nothing I could do about my friends until I dealt with Jakoven. I was behind him now. There was a chance he would think any noise I made was his own sentry—the man I’d killed.

Jakoven, for his part, was moving slowly toward the camp—trying, I supposed, to get close enough to tell his men from mine. I was almost upon him when I heard a roar I almost didn’t recognize as the king’s voice.

“Garranon!”he howled.

Tosten had a song he liked, which I thought silly, about a soldier who finds his wife was a traitor. One of the phrases I’d objected to said something about the man’s voice trembling with betrayal and disbelief.

“How,” I’d asked, “do betrayal and disbelief sound?”

I heard it now in Jakoven’s voice. Felt it in the thunder of power and magic that formed around his person.

I was close enough to have used my sword, but the branches of the trees were too close, hampering my swing, and my sword was not made for thrusting. So I bellowed like a bull moose and charged through the hampering foliage and set my shoulder into Jakoven’s stomach before I even saw him with my eyes.

My charge sent us both tumbling down a sharp incline and into the camp’s clearing. It also interrupted whatever spell he’d intended for Garranon.

I rolled to my feet and struck in the same motion, but Jakoven’s blade met mine and turned it. He let my weapon slide along his blade and replied to my thrust with a series of quick short moves designed to cut rather than maim or kill.

It was an unexpected and effective style. He left several shallow cuts on my arms and a more serious one across my belly. His sword was shorter than mine, which should have been a disadvantage, except that he kept close to me, where my own weapon’s length got in my way.