Aspar's hand went to the feyknife, but he let it drop and balled his fists instead. "First your bloody father, now you," he snapped. "What's wrong with you people?"

"We're just people who do what needs to be done," Emfrith said. "My family guards this march, and I'm not going to let motley monsters and Sefry come strutting in unchallenged."

"Yah, werlic. But what's that to do with us?"

"If I let you go, they'll just follow you. If you're here, they'll be forced to fight, and we'll slaughter them at our walls."

"Didn't you learn anything from your little brawl with the woorm?" Aspar asked.

"Yes," he said, nodding. "Quite a bit. And more since, as we've had occasion to kill a greffyn. They're tough, I'll grant you, but they can die. And there aren't so many of them in the band coming here."

"You've got only fifty men," Aspar pointed out. "They may not be many, but they can do fifty men."

"I've sent for more from my father, and I've alerted Celly Guest-that's the other fort I mentioned, about three leagues north. We'll have more than fifty."

"Maunt, maunt," Aspar said, almost begging. "This is a bad mistake."

Was that the geos talking?

No, this was stupid.

"I'd rather have your help than lock you up," Emfrith said, "but we'll do it any way we have to." He sighed. "I'm putting Winna in the tower, under guard, until it's over."

"You're taking her prisoner," Aspar said, his voice flat.

Emfrith strode angrily toward him, and for a moment Aspar thought he might have succeeded in starting the fight he had wondered about earlier. His hand went back to the feyknife.

But Emfrith stopped a kingsyard from him. "I love her, holter. I'm doing what I think is best for her."

"And I'm not?"

"I don't know. But she's not in the best shape to travel, is she? To be chased over hill and stream by this horde? Women die from that sort of thing."

"Yah. But you're still taking her hostage."

"If you want to look at it like that, I can't stop you," Emfrith said. "But this is how it's going to be. Now, you can sulk about it, or you can help me win. You've fought more of these things than any of us. We have a day. What should we do?"

"Run."

"Raiht. Besides that."

Aspar shrugged inwardly, and his mounting anger leveled off. Maybe this was for the best, for them to all die here. Better than waiting to see what the witch had in store for Winna and her child.

"To begin with," he said, "three of the Sefry warriors are something Leshya calls Vaix. They're supposed to be stronger and faster than Mannish warriors. They have swords like my knife and Grimknows what else. Leshya can probably tell us more." He rubbed his chin.

"Some of the beasts aren't that smart," he went on. "Leshya and I killed several of them with pit traps. You might want to dig some of those. And haul heavy things up here to drop on them. Do you have any siege engines?"

"I've got one catapult."

"More would be better."

"We'll make do," Emfrith said. "Why don't we go find Leshya and some beer? I know greffyns, but the other things Arn describes are new to me."

"How did you kill the greffyn?" Aspar asked.

"Eight of us charged it on horseback. Two of us managed to hit it in that sally. That didn't kill it, but it slowed it down. We just kept lancing it."

"You didn't lose any men?"

"We lost two horses, and three of my men got pretty sick, but no one actually touched it. Winna warned us about that."

"Some of these will be harder than that," Aspar said. "I'll help. You've got my word. But you won't keep Winna locked up."

Emfrith held his gaze for a moment then nodded curtly.

Sir Evan of Leanvel had a loose sort of face with several chins and cheeks threatening to join their number. At the moment his bushy eyebrows were pinched together in a frown.

"What's that, then?" he asked, pointing at Fend and his monsters.

"Name it whatever you like," Emfrith replied. "Manticore is what I've been calling it."

"I fancy that," Sir Evan replied. "Like the beast in the story of the Knight-Prince of Albion."

"There's more of them," Leshya said.

Aspar already had noticed that. The number of men and Sefry looked about the same, but Aspar now counted seven utins loping along, four greffyns, and two manticores. There were also a couple of wagons Aspar hadn't seen before, likely because Fend hadn't wanted to bring them over the pass.

"Theres something odd about a Woothshaer with a supply train," Emfrith said.

"Yah," Aspar allowed. "But Haergrim's hunt is mostly dead men, alvs, and booygshins. They don't need to eat. The monsters probably eat off the land, but that wouldn't leave much for Fend and his men."

The enemy was still a good ten bowshots away, approaching the Warlock River across a wheat field. Aspar and his companions were watching from a low bluff a bowshot from the river. The land below the rise was clear and flat, a good place for a charge. Better yet, Fend had to cross an old stone bridge that was wide enough for only about three horses to go abreast.

Aspar still didn't feel particularly hopeful.

"Celly Guest would like the honor of the first charge," Sir Evan said.

"It's my duty, sir," Emfrith replied.

"Come along, lad; let us have a go first. We'll save you a greff or two."

"You're the senior," Emfrith said. "If you ask like that…"

The knight smiled and reached to slap Emfrith on the back. "Very good. Down we go, then." He raised his voice. "Come along, men."

Celly Guest had spared them not only Sir Evan but fifty heavily armored riders, thirty archers, and thirty pikemen. As Aspar watched, the knight formed his cavalry in a thick column, five abreast and ten deep. He supposed that made sense, as they would only be charging what was coming across the bridge.

The archers fanned out on the bluff, with the pikemen lined up to protect them. Emfrith's men were now the reserve.

Aspar sighed and strung his bow. Leshya did the same. He checked the binding on the spear he'd made from the feyknife one last time, wondering if it would be better to have it in his hand.

Probably not. Emfrith had given him a new throwing ax and dirk, which would be fine against men and Sefry but of less use against the sedhmhari. If he fought one of those, better to keep it at more than arm's length.

Fend was forming his beasts up, too. Aspar wondered how exactly the Sefry communicated with them and how he had learned to do so.

He probably would never know. If he got Fend close enough to talk to, Aspar didn't intend to waste any time asking questions.

Fend didn't seem much interested in getting within bowshot, however. He wasn't in sight. In fact, Aspar still didn't know his old enemy was with the band at all.

Whoever led them, the monsters would be his vanguard.

One of the manticores came first, followed by the pack of greffyns and then the utins.

Have I lost my mind? he wondered. Am I dying of fever in the Mountains of the Hare? Is any of this real? Because it shouldn't be.

The archers began firing as the beasts marched onto the bridge. Some of the shafts stuck, but the sedhmhari all had hide like armor, and none of them went down.

He heard the snap and hum of the catapult firing. Emfrith and his men had dragged it down there and found the range that morning.

A stone a little larger than Aspar's head flew to the bridge and struck one of the greffyns just behind the head. It screeched and flopped over with its back plainly broken, and a tremendous cheer went up from the men.

The manticore charged.

Once again Aspar was startled by its speed. Sir Evan and his first and second ranks were trotting now, and as the thing neared the end of the bridge, they went to a gallop, ten lances with the weight of ten horses and ten men behind them.