Hirkran spat and made a disgusted noise. “Back at the cave. Their stench dishonours us.”
Vaelin nodded and moved back from the edge, causing Hirkran to bark a question at Erlin. “Where are you going?”
“To muster the army for our mighty leader’s attack. Where else?”
• • •
The Rotha were led by a stocky woman of middling years with a deep matrix of decorative scars carved into the flesh around her eyes. “Mirvald,” she stated when Erlin asked her name, going on to add a few other titles which apparently indicated her status. “She’s a mix of counsellor and shaman, said to have the ability to hear the word of the spirits.”
“She saw the seven red men?” Vaelin asked.
Mirvald eyed Vaelin closely for a second before replying. “The Rotha were the first to feel their wrath. The Seven came to their settlement alone. Because they were strangers the warriors tried to kill them, but were themselves killed. The Seven are not like other men. They move and fight as one, as if each hears the thoughts of the others. Even so the Rotha would have prevailed had they not had other powers. One could kill with a single touch, another had the power to freeze a man’s heart with fear. They killed many Rotha, and then their army came and killed many more.”
“Thank her for her knowledge,” Vaelin said.
The woman inclined her head at Erlin’s words then asked a question of her own. “How do you intend to defeat the Seven when others could not?”
Vaelin glanced over to where Wise Bear held counsel with the other Gifted, all gathered round as he imparted another lesson from his bottomless well of knowledge. “Tell her we have powers of our own. If she would see them, she should come with us.”
Erlin listened to her reply and forced a placid smile. “She will, but only if you name her leader of the army. Her people won’t come otherwise.”
“We already have a leader.”
“I suspect it won’t matter if you name two. The tribes rarely speak to each other except to exchange insults. I profess myself amazed they’ve managed to spend more than a day here without finishing what the Volarians started.”
“Very well.” Vaelin gave a weary nod and bowed to Mirvald before turning back to Wise Bear. “I await her wise commands and, with her permission, will now consult with my captains.”
• • •
“How do we find them?” Marken asked. “Hidden in such a host?”
“The Rotha woman said they move as one,” Vaelin said. “I suspect if we find one, we find them all. Even so it will be no easy task in the midst of battle.”
“My song may guide us,” Kiral said. “But the tune is so uneven now . . .”
“No.” Vaelin shook his head to clear red-tinged memories of Alltor. “Singing during battle is best avoided.” He turned to Astorek. “Could your mother’s spear-hawks find them?”
“Commanding a beast becomes difficult when the killing begins,” he said. “The sound, the scent of blood, makes them either fearful or hungry. It requires great concentration to ensure they attack the enemy and not our own people. To maintain enough focus to seek out a particular prey would prove difficult, perhaps impossible.”
“I can find them,” Dahrena said, her tone soft but certain. “Their souls are like black pearls in a sea of red.”
“You have flown enough during this enterprise,” Vaelin stated.
“There is no other way, as I suspect you know, my lord. Besides”—she reached for Cara’s hand—“I have friends to share the burden.”
“More than one,” Marken added, moving to her side. “Doubt my old bones are fit for fighting in any case.”
“So you see, my lord.” Dahrena met his gaze with a bright smile. “Our course is set.”
• • •
“Remember, they need to be taken alive,” Vaelin told Astorek. “Until Wise Bear touches them, they must not be killed.”
The Volarian nodded as his wolves moved to take up position alongside Vaelin and Scar. The army had mustered to the north of the ridge, marching through the night to arrive before the onset of dawn. Dahrena would remain atop the ridge with Cara and Marken, their cats prowling the cliff-top with twenty of the Wolf People’s most trusted warriors.
Vaelin went to Dahrena, the others retreating to a respectful distance. Her anger seemed to have dissipated and she clasped his proffered hands without demur, returning his kiss and letting it linger.
After a moment he drew back, speaking softly, “I have asked too much of you . . .”
She put a hand to his lips. “No more than you ask of yourself. We came to make an end, and I hunger for it. I want to go home, Vaelin. I want to go home with you and that can’t happen until this ends.”
He touched his forehead to hers and clasped her hands once more before moving back and striding towards Scar and the wolves.
• • •
