It was official — I hated travelling.
Riding a horse with a small entourage wasn't so bad. That, I could actually enjoy. But when there was an entire army at your back and the horses couldn't even move as fast as a walk, it just got frustrating. I blamed the wagons. Soon, though, they wouldn't be a problem. Temris had assigned them a guard detail and extra horses so that they could continue travelling at night. Every morning, they would catch up with us long enough to distribute supplies, before being left behind again. That would double the pace.
No one felt the frustration more than Nightmare, who was cantering on the spot. No matter how much Temris shortened the reins, he made a break for it every hour or so. Eventually, Temris had given up, opting to take the stallion on another hunting trip to expend energy. All of the usual suspects were to accompany him, from Anlai to Bevan.
Everyone had volunteered in seconds — bored but obviously not too tired by the endless travelling. Only the newly-weds were in excellent spirits. Anlai rode alongside Melia, talking quietly with her. Both of them were smiling, and the girl seemed to have lost some of her shyness. But when the hunt was suggested, he left her side quickly enough. Fendur was on guard duty today and leaving him behind was out of the question, but Rory was quietly asked to stay with the army. Again. Alright, so he couldn't fight. That didn't mean he was unable to learn. Tyros were supposed to accompany the men they served everywhere. I was beginning to wonder if this was all because he was a southerner. He seemed to agree.
"What are you hunting?" the boy asked sullenly.
Temris buckled his sword to Nightmare's saddle. "Rabbits."
Rory frowned. "So why are you wearing armour?"
Fendur grinned, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Have you ever seen a rabbit's teeth, boy? Fearsome, sharp things — you can never be too careful. I once saw a rabbit take off a man's finger when he went to kill it."
He was wide-eyed. "Really?"
"Really," Temris confirmed dryly. "It would be safer for you to stay here. Rabbit hunting is an acquired skill."
That sent him scurrying away quickly enough. Rory had made friends with Melia already, along with half of the rest of the camp. He was unusually friendly, with a gentle nature that made everyone take him under their wing. He would have no shortage of people to talk to while we were gone.
"Horse shit," I muttered when he was out of earshot. "You are going to kill soldiers, and I want to come. One of these raiding teams burned my village."
Temris regarded me coolly. "If you are going to ride with us, you will first have to prove that you can defend yourself. That wound is still healing — you don't need a new one."
"And how do I prove that?" I asked, already getting a sneaking suspicion.
He whistled to catch the attention of the closest warrior on foot, saying something in the language I didn't recognise. The man disappeared into the trees and reappeared seconds later with two branches, roughly the shape and size of swords. Once Temris had received them and said something else in that strange language, he threw one to me. Oh, the steaming heap of shit. He was going to make me fight him. As if any of the soldiers we met would be half as dangerous as the Wolf of Sierra.
I span Amber around to face Nightmare. My branch swung to meet his, the force of the hit jarring my arm. While we exchanged a flurry of blows which would have ended with me losing a hand, my intestines and my head in a real combat situation, I asked him about the language.
"It's the tongue of the northern reaches," he explained with a shrug. "Most Sierrans speak it as well as Anglian. Our warband had been feuding with Creiton since the dawn of time — it pays to understand what they're saying in battle."
Remembering what Fendur had told me about there being two warbands here, I frowned. "Then why are you getting along so nicely now? And surely they should have a leader? Where's their warlord?"
"You're looking at him," Temris told me. "Which also answers your other two questions, I think."
One particularly harsh parry snapped my pretend sword before I had even managed to come close to hurting him. I could almost feel the bruises appearing in the dozen spots he had managed to land a hit. I reckoned I might have lost.
"You can come," Temris allowed. "If you stay at a distance with a bow — your sword-work is a little rusty."
I didn't bother thanking him. It wasn't a favour, just an opportunity to make myself useful. I sated my curiosity even further as I accepted the yew bow and quiver from him. "So how does a person become the leader of their enemies?"
He wore a dangerous half-smile, those damned blue eyes alight. "He kills their last leader in single combat."
"And ... they all followed you?" I demanded. It sounded a little too easy for my liking. "Just like that?"
"What do you think is the point of our succession rules? Northerners follow the best fighters, no matter who the sword arm belongs to. Over the centuries, we have had cruel warlords, stupid warlords and mad warlords, but never a weak warlord."
"I didn't even know it was possible," I said. "Uniting two warbands under one leader, I mean."
"Three warbands." Temris smiled. "Creiton aren't the only ones under my command. And the fourth answers to me."
Fendur rode alongside me, leaning close to explain a little further. "It wasn't possible — completely unprecedented. The Ragnyr changed the rules when he challenged another warlord."
There was pride in his eyes. In all of their eyes. The northerners loved Temris, and I still didn't have the faintest clue why.
Anlai picked out a dozen men, a mix of the two warbands. I could only tell them apart by the language they spoke, and most of the Creitons spoke both languages anyway. I had once heard my father say that people would make an effort to speak your language if you first made an effort to speak theirs, so I resolved to nag Temris into teaching me a few words of their tongue.
"Tell me you're not coming with us," Anlai groaned at me. His gelding was eyeing Amber in a way I didn't like.
"Yes," I snapped back. "So be careful, or one of my arrows might just miss its target."
He kicked his horse forwards to draw level with me, and then he drew his belt knife to show me the razor-sharp edge. "Put one within a pace of me, Lyra, and I will skin you like a rabbit and hang you from the nearest tree."
The gelding kicked out, and Amber shied in Nightmare's direction. I swore at her and tightened the reins, for all the good it did — Anlai was smirking like he had won. I opened my mouth, ready to tell him to go to the abyss in so many words, but Temris had noticed the commotion. He turned in his saddle.
"Come here, little one," he said. "I am beginning to tire of you two bickering."
I was not feeling inclined to obey him. There was a bow slung over my shoulder, and I might have given Anlai a taste of his own medicine had it been strung. As it was, I had to settle for staring at him while he sheathed the knife before his cousin could see it.
"I am not going to ask you twice," Temris told me. The words were sharper than usual.
The army was not far behind us — there was still time for him to send me back, and I wasn't sure I could stand another afternoon of riding with only Melia for company. Scowling, I touched my heels to Amber's side and let her lengthen her strides.
***
Hunting Anglians turned out to be an awful lot like riding with the column. We followed an animal trail deep into the forest, heading for the nearest village. The others had informed me of reports of a raiding team moving west, burning every village in their path and headed right this way. This time, Temris was planning to catch them in the act and hopefully save a few villagers in the process. A few days off the job and I had missed the juiciest piece of information.
When the familiar sight of straw roofs appeared through the trees, I felt a flicker of fear. It was reminding me of that day not so long ago. By some chance, we arrived first, which was good, because I wasn't sure I would be able to handle the scenes of carnage for a second time.
The villagers sensibly retreated into their homes at the sight of armed men. Within minutes of us reining up next to a well, a score of farm labourers brandishing axes and shovels made an appearance. Temris drew his sword with some reluctance and his men followed his example. We were here to help, but they couldn't afford to not defend themselves.
Temris cautiously dismounted Nightmare, despite Fendur's best warning look. He held out a scarred hand in a placating gesture. "I'm—"
"We know who you are," a heavily-muscled man snapped. He must have been a blacksmith, or some equivalently demanding trade. "Bloody warlord."
His face was a picture as he turned back to us, perpetually frowning. "How does everyone know?"
As Temris genuinely didn't seem to have any idea how people might identify him as a northerner, I rolled my eyes.
"We are here to help," Anlai recited dully. He sounded bored, as if any activity that involved aiding others was beneath him.
"Aye, that's what they all say," the blacksmith snapped. "Go home. We don't want northern bastards here."
"More or less than you don't want Anglians here?" Temris asked. "There's a raiding team headed your way, and they are not likely to waste time talking."
Some of the defenders shuffled in place, lowering their makeshift weapons fractionally. Cambrians might hate each other, but there was one thing everyone agreed on — we all despised the Anglians a thousand times more. Even before they invaded, it had been an ingrained prejudice I found it difficult to be ashamed of.
Taking a deep breath, I spoke up. "They aren't lying. One of the raiding teams attacked my village two weeks ago. You can either watch your families led off in chains and die today, or you can sit back and let us kill them for you. It's a fair deal."
It was beyond fair — very one-sided really. The risk was entirely ours.
"I dinna like Anglians," one man muttered. Another strong southern accent slurred his words. More voices joined him in assent. Temris called us southerners, but to be truthful, most of us weren't. This was in the midst of Cambria, not even close to the coast. As neither north nor south, maybe we stood a chance at peace.
The blacksmith shouted for silence, giving a grudging nod. "What do you need from us?"
It turned out we needed quite a lot. Temris had the entire village gather in a longhouse in its centre. Then he stowed the horses in a barn and joined them along with Anlai, Fendur, Bevan and all the others. Except me. A bow wasn't much use in close quarters.
Temris lifted me up high enough to pull myself onto a roof with a decent view of the longhouse entrance. I lay on the scratchy straw, watching and waiting. Not for the first time in my life, I thanked the gods for Tommas. If he hadn't taught me how to shoot, I would be worse than useless.
Waiting made me edgy. The opportunity to give murderers a taste of their own medicine was much anticipated, almost enough to cancel out the inevitable nerves. During the hour or so I lay there, I gnawed my fingernails down on both hands.
Before I heard the hoofbeats, I saw the water in the village well rippling. Then came the beat of iron horseshoes on dirt. I caught sight of them galloping headlong through a field of livestock, nearly a score of fully-armoured soldiers. Great.
I tried to take it in my stride. We were only outnumbered if you didn't count Temris for what he was really worth — ten normal men. In fact, I thought every Cambrian was worth several Anglians. And if you looked at it that way, we outnumbered them five to one.
I notched an arrow and waited impatiently as they drew closer. Temris had told me not to fire until they engaged his warriors, but I didn't feel inclined to listen. Neither did the owner of a throwing axe which buried itself in the leader's skull. Someone was hidden in the tree line.
Even as I watched with a gaping jaw, a Sihon barely bigger than me charged the soldiers on horseback. Identifiable by the furs he wore and his spiked helm, I stared at the born enemy of the north. Surely he didn't mean to fight all of them? I whistled at Temris, who came outside without hesitation.
"Someone else is here," I shouted. "It's a Sihon, alone. He's fighting them by the woods."
He swore viciously and gave the signal for the warriors to follow him. They ran through the village, swords drawn and ready. As I was currently too far away to make use of myself, I eyed the gap to the next roof. I would have been able to jump it easily if it weren't for my injured leg.
The Sihon was a brilliant fighter, killing men left, right and centre without ever letting them surround him. But he was vastly outnumbered. It was only a matter of time. Ah, shit — I couldn't let him die, not when he was killing Anglians.
Slinging my bow over one shoulder, I sprinted straight for the edge of the roof and pushed off the edge. There was the exhilarating feeling of flying for an instant, until I crashed onto yet more straw. My thigh screamed at me, and the pain overwhelmed everything. I allowed myself to crouch there for just a few seconds before pushing back onto my feet and making the jump to another roof.
It would have to be close enough after that, because I could hardly stand, let alone run. I drew back the bowstring and took careful aim. The Sihon was fighting men on both sides, while another two crept up at his back. Temris was close now, but not close enough. I let the arrow fly and watched with pride as it thudded home in an Anglian's stomach.
The Sihon turned to see where the missile had come from and our eyes met briefly. Just as the man was about to be overwhelmed, another Sihon joined the fight. He can't have been older than twelve and was dressed in oversized armour. The older one shouted curses at his friend ... in our language. What the hell was going on here?
I fired off arrows at the remaining soldiers, although it was hardly necessary. The northerners had joined the fight and made quick work of the remaining men. Temris and Anlai killed half between them, wielding an unspoken coordination born of years as shield-mates.
With my job done, I lowered myself gently back to the floor and limped towards the scene of the battle. I reached them just as both Sihons dismounted their horses to find a thicket of blades levelled at their chests. It would take a lot more than bonding over their mutual hatred of Anglians for the northerners to trust people who raided their homes on a weekly basis.
Temris was shouting over his men's taunts, "No. Enough."
It took them almost a full minute to obey him. It was the first time I had seen the Ragnyr's orders ignored. When it came to Sihons, the warriors just didn't want to listen. They only lowered their weapons when Anlai knocked one of them over. It didn't even occur to me to question why Temris would care about their fate until the older Sihon removed his helmet.
It was a girl.