Intosh remained silent, merely walking beside his lord and absorbing his words. Finally exhausted, Maggrig stopped and sat by the water’s edge, staring into the torrent. ‘Well, what do you think?’ he asked.
‘Of what?’ answered the swordsman.
*Where can we go?’ ‘There is nowhere.”
*We could go north,’ said Maggrig.
‘And fight the Dunilds, the Loda and the Sea Clans?’
‘Then what do you suggest?’
‘Agree to serve Caswallon.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘He has done well.’
‘I know that – and all credit to him. But to serve my own son-in-law . . .’
‘He has the power,’ said Intosh, shrugging. ‘It makes sense.’
‘He demanded I swear the vassal oath.’
‘You would have done the same.’
‘That’s not the point,’ snapped Maggrig.
‘No, Hunt Lord?’
An hour later Maggrig swore the vassal oath and was amazed his tongue did not fall out.
That same afternoon Caswallon and Maggrig led the women and children of the Pallides into the Druids’ Hall entrance and down into the broad underground chamber housing the Middle Gate.
Maggrig blinked. At the end of the hall was a black marble archway. Yesterday a solid wall of stone had stretched between the pillars. Now that wall was gone and the Pallides Hunt Lord gazed down on the first valley of the Farlain, where already men and women were pitching tents and felling trees for shelter. The archway was twice the height of a man and ten paces across. The two men stood in the Gateway looking down on the valley. Within paces of them a tall pine was waving in the breeze, but no breath of wind touched their faces.
‘Where are the Aenir? asked Maggrig as his people bunched behind him, looking down in wonder.
That is the Farlain ten thousand years ago,’ said Caswallon.
Maggrig’s eyes widened. ‘This is sorcery, then?”
‘It most certainly is,’ Caswallon told him.
Maggrig stepped through the Gateway, flinching as rushing colours blinded him momentarily. Caswallon walked through behind him, waving the women to follow.
On the other side the breeze was cool, the sunlight warm and welcoming.
‘It is not possible,’ whispered Maggrig, watching his people materialise from the air. From this side there was no sign of the Gate, only the rolling green countryside.
Caswallon led the Pallides down into the meadow where Leofas was supervising the building work. ‘I’m glad to see he survived,’ said
Maggrig. ‘He always was the best of the Farlain.’ The old warrior grinned as he saw Maggrig, stepping forward to grip the Hunt Lord by the hand.
‘So you got here, you dog,’ said Leofas.
‘Did you expect a few lowlanders to stop me?’
‘Certainly not. I expected you to chase the swine from our lands, leaving nothing for the Farlain to do.’
‘I was tempted,’ said Maggrig with a broad grin.
Caswallon left the men talking and sought out Gaelen; he found him chatting to Deva by the river’s edge. Apologising for disturbing them, Caswallon led Gaelen up into the timberline and they sat beneath the pines.
‘I want you to do something for me,’ said Caswallon, ‘but it is hazardous.’
‘Name it,’ said Gaelen.
‘Don’t make hasty judgements. I want you to take some men and head back into the Haesten, gathering as many warriors as you can. I want you to bring them to Axta Glen in three weeks.’
‘Why the Glen?’
‘It is there we will tackle the Aenir.’
‘But that is open ground.’
‘I know. Have faith in me. I am hoping there will be upwards of a thousand clansmen still in hiding. I have sent messages to the Dunilds, the Loda, and many other smaller clans, but I don’t know if they will come to our aid. But we must get more men; you must find them.’
‘I’ll do the best I can.’
‘I know that, Gaelen.’
‘Why me?’
‘Because you are known as an outsider. You are accepted within the Farlain, there is no doubt about that. But similarly you are not Farlain; the Haesten may follow you.’
‘Even if I did add a thousand to our army, we would still be outnumbered five to one. And on open ground …’
‘I am also going on a journey,’ said Caswallon. ‘If it is successful, we will have another ally.’