Outside, Waylander, suddenly free of the spell, threw himself to the left as the sword hissed down. Hitting the ground on his shoulder he rolled and let fly the first of his bolts. It took the swordsman under the right armpit, cleaving through to the lungs.

A dark shadow fell across him. Waylander rolled again – but not swiftly enough! A black sword flashed for his face. The hound sprang across the fallen man, its great fangs closing on the swordsman's wrist. Belash took one running step then launched himself feet-first at the knight, cannoning the man from his feet. The Nadir landed lightly and hurled himself on the assailant, driving his knife under the chinstrap of the black helmet and up into the man's brain.

The hound's angry growling panicked the horses. They reared, and – save for one gelding – bolted.

Free of the spell, Senta brought up his sabre, barely blocking the blade thrusting for his throat. He parried a second cut and, twisting his wrist, sent a vicious return that clanged against the knight's neck gorget of reinforced chain mail. Senta shoulder-charged the warrior, spinning him from his feet. A second man attacked, but this time Senta swayed aside from the killing thrust and rammed his sabre up under the man's helmet, the point slicing through the soft skin beneath the chin, and on up through his mouth. The knight fell back. Senta lost hold of the sabre and drew his second blade.

Angel, his back to the cabin wall, was battling against two knights, the former gladiator desperately blocking and parrying. Waylander sent a bolt through the thigh of the first assailant. The man grunted in pain and half-turned. Angel's sword smashed against the knight's helm, cutting through the chinstrap. The helm fell loose. Waylander's sword clove through the man's skull. Angel sidestepped a lunge from the second knight, grabbed the man's arm and hauled him, head-first, into the wall. Dropping to the man's back Angel took hold of the helm, dragging it back and sharply to the left. The knight's neck snapped with a stomach-wrenching crack.

'Look out!' yelled Senta. Waylander dropped to one knee. A sword-blade sliced the air above him. Waylander flung himself backwards, hammering into his attacker and hurling the man from his feet. Senta leapt at the man. His opponent reared to his feet, then lunged. Senta swayed aside, ramming his elbow into the man's helm. The knight staggered. Senta leaned back and kicked out, his booted foot cracking against the knight's knee. The joint gave way. The knight screamed in pain as he fell. Belash threw himself on the fallen warrior, pulling back the neck-guard and driving his knife deep into the knight's throat.

Miriel, the crossbow loaded once more, stepped from the cabin. The last knight ran to the one horse that had not bolted and leapt for the saddle, grabbing the pommel. The horse reared and began to run, dragging the knight with it. The hound bounded after it. Miriel brought the crossbow to her shoulder and sighted the weapon. The bolt sang clear and flashed across the clearing to punch home into the knight's helm. For several seconds he clung to the pommel, but as the horse reached the rise the man's fingers loosened and he fell to the earth. Instantly the dog was upon him, fangs ripping at the dead man's throat, but unable to pierce the chain mail. Waylander called to the hound and it loped back across the clearing, standing close, its flanks pressing against Waylander's leg.

Slowly the swirling dust in the clearing settled back to the earth.

One knight moaned, but Belash sprang upon him, ripping the man's helmet clear and cutting his throat. Another – the first to attack Senta – reared up and ran for the trees. The hound set off in pursuit, but Waylander called out to it and it paused, staring back at its master.

Miriel slowly turned the winding arms of the crossbow, then, with the weapon strung, walked back into the cabin to fetch a bolt.

'He's getting away!' shouted Senta.

'I don't think so,' said Waylander softly.

Miriel reappeared and offered the bow to Waylander. He shook his head. The knight had reached the rise and was scrambling up the slope.

'Allow for the fact that you are shooting uphill,' advised Waylander.

Miriel nodded. The bow came up and, apparently without sighting, she loosed the bolt. It took the knight low in the back. He arched up, then tumbled down the slope. Belash, his bloody knife in hand, ran across to the fallen man, wrenching off the helm and preparing for the killing thrust.

'Dead!' he called back.

'Nicely done,' said Waylander.

'What in Hell's name were they?' asked Angel.

The Brotherhood,' Waylander told him. 'They have hunted me before. Sorceror knights.'

Belash strolled back to where the others stood. He glanced at Miriel. 'One damn fine archer,' he said. 'For a kol-isha,' he added, after a pause. 'I'll fetch the horses.' Sheathing his knife he strolled away to the south.

Miriel dropped the crossbow and rubbed her eyes. All around her she could hear the buzzing of angry insects, but she could see nothing. She tried to concentrate on the sounds, separating them.

'. . . do that. . . witch. . . powers. . . Brotherhood. . .Kai . . . pain . . . escape . . . Durmast . . . Danyal . . .' And she realised she was hearing the fragmented thoughts of the men around her. Belash thought her possessed, Waylander was reliving his last battle with the Brotherhood when the giant Durmast had died to save him. Senta was staring at her, his passion aroused.

She felt Angel move behind her, and a wave of emotion swept over her, warm and protective, strong, enduring. His hand touched her shoulder.

'Do not concern yourself. I am not injured,' she said. She felt his confusion, and turned towards him. 'You remember my Talent, Angel?'

'Yes.'

'It is back!'

'You have very powerful enemies,' said Senta, as Waylander retrieved his bolts from the two dead knights.

'I'm still alive,' Waylander pointed out, moving past him and into the cabin, where he slumped down in the wide leather chair. His head was pounding and he rubbed at his eyes. There was no relief. Miriel joined him.

'Let me help you,' she said softly. Her hand touched his neck. Instantly all pain flowed away from him. He sighed, his dark eyes looking up to meet her gaze.

'You saved us. You destroyed their spell.'

'It broke their concentration when I killed the leader,' she said. Miriel knelt before him, her hands resting on his knees. 'Why did you lie to me?' she asked him.

'What lie?' he replied, averting his eyes.

'You said we were going north to escape the assassins.'

'And we are.'

'No. You are seeking Bodalen. Hewla told you where to find him.'

'What else do you know?' he asked wearily.

'Too much,' she answered.

He sighed. 'You found your Talent. I thought it was gone forever.'

'It was given back to me by the man who stole it. You remember when Mother died and you began to drink strong wine? And how you woke up one morning and there were bloodstains in the clearing, and a shallow grave with two corpses? You thought you'd killed them while drunk. You couldn't remember. You asked Krylla and me about them. We said we didn't know. And we didn't. It was your friend, Dardalion. The men were coming to capture us, perhaps to kill us, because we had the Talent. Dardalion stopped them – killed them with your crossbow.'

'He swore never to kill again,' whispered Waylander.

'He had no choice. You were drunk and unconscious, and the weapon carried so much death and violence that it swamped him.' Waylander hung his head, wishing to hear no more, but unwilling to stop her. 'He closed off our Talent. And he took away the memories of the demons and the man who tried to capture our souls. He did it to protect us.'