‘Like brother, like brother,’ said Denser. He paused. ‘And how are you?’

Erienne didn’t answer immediately, just lay silent, listening to his heart beating and the sound of the rain hammering on the leaf thatch above.

‘I miss her,’ she said, her voice trembling but controlled. ‘Every quiet moment her memory floods me.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t quite what I meant though. How’s your head, the One?’

‘It hurts more every day,’ admitted Erienne. ‘Sometimes a pulsing pain, sometimes a dull ache. But it never lets me forget it’s there.’

‘And have you thought of opening yourself to it? And seeking the advice of the Al-Drechar?’

Denser expected an angry response and was pleasantly surprised.

‘Every day,’ she said. ‘When the pain is bad and Lyanna fills my mind. Then I wonder if I shouldn’t get started.’

‘Then why don’t you?’

‘Because they are causing the pain,’ said Erienne, tensing suddenly. She pushed herself up on her arms and looked at him. He could just see her face in the dark, surrounded by her mass of long curls. Gods, but she was beautiful. ‘I know it’s them. Somehow, they’re putting pressure on me and I will not dance to their tune.’

‘If it is them, you’d think they’d have realised that by now,’ said Denser. ‘Didn’t take me long, did it?’

He saw the flash of a smile. ‘But they’re old and fearful of dying before they can ensure the One survives. I’m just not ready and I wish they’d respect that. I could handle the learning; I just can’t handle them inside my head. Not yet.’

‘I understand. Just don’t do it on your own,’ said Denser, his hand rubbing her upper arm. ‘I’m here. We’re all here.’

She lay back down, her fingers running up and down his chest and stomach. His gut muscles tensed.

‘That tickles,’ he said.

‘I know.’ She carried on. ‘It’s good to have something approaching a proper bed again, isn’t it? I bloody hate hammocks.’

Denser laughed. ‘Can’t say I got used to them either.’

‘This feels great though.’ She raised herself up on her arms again. ‘Want to put it to some proper use?’

He didn’t answer, just dragged her face to his, kissed her deeply on the lips and let the mana cocoon them and their passion sweep them away.

Chapter 24

The Raven, led by Rebraal and flanked by the mysterious painted elf and his companion panther, set off towards Aryndeneth as first light began to pierce the morning’s heavy cloud cover. Just before dawn, they’d witnessed a deluge harder than any they’d seen before, accompanied by a spectacular lightning storm and splitting reports of thunder.

There was something indefinably powerful about the pair that Ilkar had named ClawBound. They were linked in mind, he’d said, and utterly dependent on each other. The panther had sized up and dismissed The Raven immediately. All bar Thraun. Shapechanger and panther had stared deep into each other’s eyes, Thraun crouching to stroke the animal’s head, the panther responding by licking his hand and face. An understanding passed between them, that was certain. And when Thraun had stood, Hirad saw the painted elf nod at him. Very slight, but there nonetheless. Thraun showed no emotion bar the slightest of smiles.

Crossing the log bridge, they could see the trench had claimed the lives of many small rodents while the lizards and snakes kept their heads above water while they searched for a way out.

Rebraal led them south, occasionally pausing to look over his shoulder, shake his head and offer prayers to whichever God he thought was listening before slipping away again through the dense forest, leaving almost no mark. The same couldn’t be said of The Raven. Rebraal had given Hirad and The Unknown a short, angled chopping blade each and told them in halting and very rusty Balaian that they should only use it when they ran out of room.

Through the morning, the heat grew and Hirad finally understood what Ilkar had meant by the sapping conditions in the forest. Sailing and rowing upriver, they’d been outside the oppressive heat-trapping weight of the canopy and a light breeze had kept conditions tolerable. Now though, only a few hours into their walk, he could see the wisdom of the light leather Ilkar had insisted they buy for armour.

Sweat beaded and ran on his face, it dripped down his back and soaked the backs of his legs. He felt as if he’d dipped his head in a hot stream, and the more he wiped it away the more it came. They were plagued by clouds of flies the magnitude of which they certainly hadn’t seen when camping on the way to the village. For a brief moment, Hirad wondered if he shouldn’t wear the fine net that covered his hammock at night. Imagining himself dressed in it brought the only smile to his face the whole morning.

Holding aside a draping plant, Hirad looked behind him. Denser and Erienne walked together, faces set and anxious, eyes darting everywhere, following every noise. But they’d drawn closer again and for that Hirad was grateful, even if the sounds of their love-making had kept him awake last night.

Darrick looked miserable, waving incessantly at flies or scratching at his legs and arms, while Aeb betrayed nothing and Thraun, bringing up the rear, was smiling, loving every moment of it. He still hadn’t said much but Hirad could see in his eyes that he was coming back to them. And the way he’d formed up in The Raven’s line outside the village had set Hirad’s heart singing. There was still pain there, though. The pain of the loss of his pack and of his friend Will Begman’s death, for which he blamed himself so unfairly.

‘Come on, Hirad, keep up,’ called Ilkar from up ahead.

Hirad turned to see Rebraal, Ren and Ilkar watching him. He held the plant aside until Denser reached it and then strode on, scowling.

‘God, I hate patronising elves,’ he muttered at The Unknown’s broad back.

‘Just don’t let it get to you too much,’ said The Unknown over his shoulder.

‘Too late. Just because they’re bloody born to it. I don’t have to be here, you know.’

‘Of course not, Hirad,’ said The Unknown. ‘After all, I’ve never heard you mention how The Raven never works apart.’

‘Some rules you live to regret, don’t you?’ he said.

‘No, you don’t,’ replied The Unknown. He upped his pace a little, Hirad responding. ‘What a place.’

Rebraal kept up a hard pace all day. The going was difficult and in the afternoon they tired quickly. A brief stop for food after the third rain of the day hadn’t brought much respite. Interrupted by having to move smartly away to avoid a foraging mass of inch-long ants, the meal of cold dried meat and bread was as tasteless as it was hard to eat.

Hirad had heard the sounds of water for some time before Rebraal brought them to a stop on the banks of a wide sluggish river. He could see the dirty brown water through the bankside vegetation and could just about make out the opposite bank some hundred yards away. Light was fading fast and he didn’t know about anyone else but he was exhausted. Soaked by sweat and rain and with blisters irritating in his boots, he was ready to string up his hammock, confident that nothing would keep him awake once he got his head down.

‘Which way?’ he asked.

They’d gathered under the branches of a huge tree which soared up into the canopy and leaned out over the river.

Ilkar pointed across the river. ‘That way.’

‘How, by boat?’

Ilkar smiled. ‘No, a bridge.’

‘Really?’ Hirad peered through the leaves and branches again. ‘Where is it?’

‘Hirad, this isn’t Korina. You’re not going to find a stone arch across the river. You’re not even going to find lashed logs. You’re looking in the wrong place.’