‘They come,’ she said. ‘Eager to slay. The one Faror tracks, it took a human form. A child or woman. No less dangerous. Upon the shore … my horse, slain.’

‘I will send a troop back upon your trail, captain.’

‘Tell them … do not assume death in what they find, no matter the evidence before their eyes.’

‘Ilgast Rend will attend to you now, captain. He will make you sleep.’

She struggled to sit up. ‘I have slept too long as it is—’

‘You are fevered. Infection has set in – the bite of a naked wolf. He will scour it from your blood. If you refuse to sleep, there will be great pain. There is no virtue in knowing it.’

‘I was careless—’

‘If this proves a matter for disciplining, that is for me to decide, captain. Lie back, the Lord insists.’

She relented, caught site of Ilgast Rend’s broad, battered face, the softness in his eyes. He set a calloused hand upon her brow, and darkness flooded up to take her.

* * *

Watching from a distance, Hunn Raal stood with his arms crossed, his back resting against a smoke-stained wall of cracked clay. He was drunk, but in the way of old, in that few could tell, and his thoughts, while loose, were clear enough. Beside him was Osserc, his young face high with colour from the unexpected excitement of this broken troop’s return. The Vitr was a mystery, to be sure, but until now it had been indifferent in its destruction, no more malicious than a winter storm or spring flood. The thought of that vast sea bearing ships or some such thing, followed by the heavy footfalls of invaders, was indeed alarming.

They did not need another war, and yet in that possibility Hunn Raal could see certain advantages, though he could not but view them with unease. The resurrection of Urusander’s Legion. An invasion would give cause to take up arms once more, in a flurry of veterans reinstated, and so set the stage for undeniable clout should internal matters turn sour and threats were needed. Of course, this assumed that the invaders could be quickly dealt with, and Hunn Raal was reluctant to walk that path. He well understood the risks of being dismissive, and was not unaware of how sweet self-serving beliefs could taste in these heady times.

He could see Calat Hustain’s sudden sharpness on the matter. The commander had a quick and sure cause now to dismiss the turgid debate that had threatened to bog them all down in this fort for days, if not weeks. Ilgast Rend had spoken in private with Calat, and there had been betrayal in that, Hunn suspected. The firstborn son of Hust Henarald was now adamant in his neutrality, and in the immediate aftermath of that decision this had amounted to a defeat in Hunn Raal’s eyes.