The Fighting Man. Adrian Deans

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СКАЧАТЬ said Carl. ‘But he thought it more likely one of the Danes had taken it than you. It is a delicate alliance he has with Ulrik Dragontooth.’

      ‘The Danes that escaped will go back to Ulrik and report that no ring was found on Brand when he was captured,’ said Valla.

      ‘That news will take a while to get to Malgard,’ said Carl, ‘unless Ulrik sails to Lundene to trade. But when it does, he will be angered and fearful to know that Brand lives. He will send out more assassins.’

      The chill crept over me – both future threat and present cold – and I shivered. More wood went onto the fire and I found myself drawn into its black and red depths like watching a vision of life in a great city. It would be strange and searing in such a place, but at least I’d be safe from the cold – and Malgard.

      ‘It is time for sleep,’ said Carl, disturbing my reverie and bringing me back to present danger. ‘We should lie together for warmth.’

      I glanced at Valla and her eyes narrowed.

      ‘I don’t trust Brand,’ she said.

      I was indignant, but Carl said, ‘Lie back to back with Brand … and I also shall turn my back to you, but you will still be warmed by two backs.’

      After some muttering and difficulty, we arranged ourselves – with Malgard the hound also curled between my and Valla’s knees. It was warm enough, but as I knew it would, the feel of Valla’s body and her soft breath against my neck caused the serpent to uncoil and I lay restively as the breathing of the others became slow and regular.

      The serpent saved our lives.

      As I huddled against Valla resenting both her mistrust and rejection of my lordly rights, I became aware that the night noises had stilled. That usually meant a new presence, and I remembered my sword was lying in its scabbard on the far side of the dying fire.

      I lay without breathing, trying to pick out the sounds of stealth that would confirm my fears, then I pressed my leg down on Malgard to gently wake him.

      Almost immediately he began to growl softly and I felt a horror – there was something, or someone, very close.

      Without further thought, I leapt up from the ground and ran for my sword just visible in the red glow of the embers, and no sooner had I done so I heard a thump and then a curse.

      ‘Valla!’ I shouted, pulling the sword from the scabbard and peering vainly into the darkness. There were black shapes moving and I leapt towards them, swinging the sword and feeling it catch against something – then the shapes were backing away and more red light bathed the clearing as Valla and Carl threw kindling onto the fire.

      ‘Who was that?’ I exclaimed, but Valla shrugged.

      ‘The owners of the hare. Get out of the firelight … unless you want to be a target.’

      We all shrank away from the deadly warmth and light, but not before I noticed a large rock part-buried in the ground, where my head had been.

      ‘Some of your magic might be useful?’ I muttered at Valla.

      ‘Still!’ she hissed, and crouched low with an arrow nocked, searching the immediate trees for targets. Suddenly a wild laughter rang out of the darkness – taken up by several voices – all around us.

      ‘We mean you no harm,’ cried Carl, and the shrieking laughter got louder.

      ‘We mean you harm,’ replied a voice, high pitched and mad with mirth.

      ‘They fear our weapons,’ said Valla. ‘They have none of their own, save rocks and sharpened staves … but they have some skill with those.’

      At that moment I realised that the tip of my sword was dripping blood. I must have caught one of them swinging in the dark – and couldn’t help but feel a little pride. They had no weapons? They weren’t so tough.

      ‘I am Brand,’ I shouted, planting the sword at my feet. ‘Son of Holgar … thegn and reeve. I am lord of this wood. Who wishes to taste my sword?’

      If anything, the laughter got louder and more deranged. One voice began shrieking, ‘Lord of the Wood! Lord of the Wood!’

      I estimated that there were at least five or six voices contributing to the laughter, and took a couple of paces in the direction they seemed thickest, when suddenly the small clearing flared brightly with a greenish light and I spun around to see Valla standing over the fire with her hands raised above her head. The fire burned green with a great intensity that faded quickly, and left the air stinking like a cess pit.

      ‘Behold! I am Valla! Leave this place or I will boil the blood in your veins, wither your children and bring terror to your dreams.’

      The laughter ceased.

      Valla held her pose, still as a clay figure, until the green flames turned red again and her arms drooped to her sides.

      ‘They will return,’ she said, softly. ‘Only one of us can sleep, the others must watch and keep the fire alive.’

      As for that, we had only collected so much fuel, so I strode to the edge of the light and, always with an eye on the forest, began collecting bark, twigs, cones and anything else that might burn and keep us alive.

      ‘How did you do that?’ I asked, dragging a good-sized log while still brandishing my sword and keeping my eyes to the forest.

      ‘You said my magic would be useful,’ said Valla. ‘I agreed. It was time to unveil my power … but the Rockers will return.’

      It was all a bit much, and I wasn’t sure which of the two lines of questions I most wanted to pursue.

      ‘The green flames?’ I faltered, once again feeling the hair rise on the back of my neck. ‘What sort of spell … ’

      ‘Sulphate of copper,’ said Carl, ‘…blended with pitch to keep it burning bright for a few moments.’

      I turned to glance at him, peering calmly into the trees, holding only a stave.

      ‘So you know the ingredients,’ shrugged Valla. ‘It doesn’t reduce the effect of the magic.’

      ‘There is no magic save the Lord’s,’ replied Carl. ‘Yours is just the application of basic alchemy.’

      ‘Magic or alchemy … does it matter? I brought the preparation for such a happening … and now the Rockers have withdrawn.’

      ‘Who are the Rockers?’ I asked.

      ‘Outlaws … dispossessed … poor folk without clan. They live deep in the forest and keep to themselves … until they are invaded and robbed.’

      ‘I didn’t know it was their hare!’ I said hotly, raising my voice slightly in case the Rockers were within earshot.

      ‘You knew it was someone’s,’ said Valla.

      ‘You ate it too.’

      ‘Can I suggest we remain silent?’ asked Carl.

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