‘You have heard?” asked Maggrig, rising and gripping the old man’s hand.
‘Yes.’ Leofas was grey with fatigue and he slumped to the ground beside the crackling fire. ‘How could it happen?’ he asked.
‘Damned if I know. Druid magic. Taliesen was found dead in his chambers; they’d run to him to report the disappearance of the Gates. Metas tells me they’ve tried all the words of power, but none work any more.’
‘All our women and children gone. Caswallon trapped in another land. Gods, it’s hopeless,’ said Leofas.
The druids are searching through Taliesen’s records. So far they’ve achieved nothing.’
Leofas rubbed his face, scratching at his iron-streaked beard. ‘It seems as if the gods are riding with the Aenir.’
‘Let them,’ said Maggrig. ‘I’ve never had a lot of time for them. A man stands alone in his life; if he stops to rely on some invisible spirit, then he’ll fail.’
‘Luck has a way of changing,’ said Intosh. ‘I don’t believe we should do anything rash. We must proceed with the original plan.”
‘And commit suicide?’ asked Maggrig. ‘The whole point of the Axta strategy was so that Caswallon could bring the Queen’s army down on the enemy. Without that we will be wiped out within the morning.’
‘They could still re-open the Gates,’ said Lennox.
‘I wouldn’t trust those druids to open a pouch,’ snapped Maggrig. ‘It’s hard to have faith in a group so prone to panic. Metas doesn’t know his buttocks from a lump of cheese. And as for the rest, they’re running around like headless chickens, so I’m told. If they re-open them in time, we’ll stay with Caswallon’s plan. If not – we must think again.’
‘There’s worse news,” said Lennox. The three men turned to him. ‘We caught an Aenir scout last night. He told us that Laric and his Haesten launched an attack on Aesgard. They were repulsed and trapped in Southwood by Orsa and two thousand Aenir, and were all slain. Lane’s head was left on a spear. There will be no help from the south.’
‘Well, that’s about it,’ said Maggrig. ‘All we need is a plague in our ranks and the day will be complete.’
The four sat in silence round the fire, the burden of despair weighing them down.
A young Pallides warrior entered the cave. The Loda Hunt Lord has arrived,’ he said.
‘Bring him to me.’
‘I need no bringing!’ said Dunild, pushing past the young warrior. The newcomer was short, but powerfully built. He had no beard, and his yellow hair hung to his shoulders beneath a woollen bonnet edged with leather and decorated with an eagle’s feather.
Maggrig stood and forced a smile. ‘Well met, you poaching rascal!’
Dunild laid his round shield on the ground and gripped Maggrig’s wrist. ‘You look fat and old, Maggrig,’ said the Loda Hunt Lord.
That’s because I am old and fat. But still a match for most men -including you. How many follow you?’
Three hundred.’
‘Good news.’
‘I hear you’ve been suffering.’
‘I’ve had better days,’ admitted Maggrig. ‘What of Grigor?’
‘I know nothing of the thieving louse,’ hissed Dunild.
‘Now that is not the whole truth, my friend,’ said Maggrig, ‘for you’d not have brought your clan and left your own valley unprotected.’
Dunild grinned. ‘He says he will come and fight alongside you – as long as he doesn’t have to fight alongside me’
‘How many will he bring?’
‘He’ll match me man for man, so I told him five hundred.’
‘I trust neither of you will leave any behind to raid each other’s lands?’
‘On the contrary. We’ve both done just that.”
‘I think you might be right, Intosh,’ said Maggrig. ‘Perhaps our luck is changing.’ The swordsman grinned and the newcomer joined them round the fire.
The discussion carried on into the night, and the men were joined by Patris Grigor, a skeletally-lean, balding warrior and Hunt Lord to the Grigor clan. There were few better sword-killers in the mountains than this taciturn clansman. He sat as far from Dunild as he could, and the two men exchanged not a word during the discussion, all comments directed at Leofas or Maggrig. The atmosphere was tense.