Okrian hauled her up by her hair and dragged her back to the campfire. A cheer went up from the nine men gathered there. Okrian hurled her towards them. The first man rose and grabbed her as she half fell. 'Let's see a little flesh!' he shouted, tearing at her dress.

Suddenly the girl spun on her heel, slamming her elbow into the man's face, crushing his nose. Blood spurted over his moustache and beard and he staggered back. The sergeant came up behind the girl, curling his arms around her and dragging her into a tight embrace. Her head snapped back into his face, striking him on the cheekbone. He grabbed her hair and savagely twisted her head. The first man drew a dagger and advanced towards her. 'You puking bitch!' he snarled. 'I'm going to cut you bad. Not enough so we can't enjoy you, you little whore, but enough to make you scream like a gutted pig.'

The girl, unable to move, stared with undisguised malevolence at the knifeman. She did not beg or cry out.

Suddenly there was a crunching thud. The knifeman stopped, his expression bemused. Slowly he reached up with his left hand. As he did so he fell to his knees. His questing finger touched the black-feathered bolt jutting from the base of his skull. He tried to speak, but no words flowed. Then he pitched to his face.

For a few heartbeats no-one moved. The sergeant hurled the girl to the ground and drew his sword. Another man, closer to the trees, grunted in shock and pain as a bolt speared his chest. He fell down, tried to rise, then gave out a gurgling scream as he died.

Camran, sword in hand, ran back to the fire, then charged into the undergrowth, his men fanning out around him.

All was silent, and there was no sign of an enemy.

'Make for open ground!' shouted Camran. The men ran to their horses, saddling them swiftly. Camran grabbed the girl, forcing her to mount, then clambered up behind her and rode from the hollow.

Clouds drifted across the moon as the men raced through the forest. In the darkness they were forced to slow their flight. Camran saw a break in the trees and angled his mount towards it, emerging on to a hillside. Okrian came close behind. As the other men broke clear Camran counted them. Six. Flicking his gaze around the milling group, he counted again. The killer had taken another victim during the flight.

Okrian removed his black leather helm and rubbed his hand across his balding pate. 'Shem's Balls,' he said, 'we've lost five men and we've seen no-one!' Camran glanced around. They were in a circle of clear ground, but to progress in any direction they would have to re-enter the forest.