‘Why can you not tell me?’ Caswallon asked.
‘I promised the druids I would not.’
Caswallon asked no more. A promise was a thing of steel and ice and no clansman would expect to break such an oath.
‘All will be revealed to you, Caswallon. I promise you,’ Oracle had told him cryptically.
Now as the young clansman sat beneath a moon-lit sky his mind harked back to that conversation. He wasn’t at all sure he desired such knowledge. All he wanted was to find the boys and return them safely to the valley.
Badraig prepared a fire and the men gathered round it silently, fishing in their packs for food. Only Leofas slept.
Cambil pushed back the locks of blond hair from his forehead and wiped sweat from his face. He was tired, filled with the exhaustion only fear can produce. Agwaine was his only son, and he loved him
more than anything else the world could provide. The thought of the lad being hunted by a beast from beyond the Gates filled him with terror; he could not face the possibility that Agwaine might die.
‘We will find them,’ said Caswallon softly.
‘Yes,’ answered the Hunt Lord. ‘But alive?’
Caswallon saw the man’s angular, honest face twist, as if a sudden pain had struck him. Beneath the wiry yellow-gold beard Cambil was biting his lip hard, seeking to prevent the collapse into tears of frustration.
‘What did you think of the pack incident?’ asked Caswallon suddenly.
‘What?’
‘Gwalchmai dropping his pack and outstripping Agwaine.’
‘Oh, that. Clever move. Agwaine did not give up, though. He ran him to the end.’
‘Bear that in mind, Cambil. The boy is a fighter. Given half an opportunity he will survive.’
‘The thing will probably seek to avoid Man,’ said Badraig. ‘It is the way with animals of the wild, is it not? They know Man is a killer. They walk warily round him.’
‘It didn’t walk too warily around the Pallides scout,’ said a balding bearded clansman from the west.
‘True, Beric – but then, from the tracks, the Pallides was stalking it, though I can’t see why. Still, it is well-known the Pallides are long on nerve and short on brain.’
Slowly, as the night passed, the men drifted off to sleep until at last only Cambil and Caswallon remained sitting side by side before the fire.
‘It’s been a long time since we sat like this, cousin,’ said Cambil, breaking a lengthy silence.
‘Yes. But we walk different paths now. You have responsibility.’
‘It could have been yours.’
‘No,’ said Caswallon.
‘Many would have voted for you.’
‘They would have been wrong.’
‘If Agwaine is taken I shall take my daughter and leave the Farlain,’ said Cambil, staring into the glowing ashes of the dying blaze.
‘Now is not the time to think of it,’ Caswallon told him. Tomorrow we will talk as we walk the boys home.’
Cambil said nothing more. He unrolled his blanket, curled it round his shoulders and settled down against his pack.
Caswallon stood and made his way slowly up the farthest slope into the deep, cool pine-woods beyond. From the tallest point he gazed to the north-east, seeking sign of a camp-fire, yet knowing he would see nothing. The boys were too well-trained.
Sixteen miles north-east the four companions were arguing over the choicest morsels of a freshly-cooked rabbit. Lennox, who had cooked the cony and served it, was protesting innocence, despite his plate bearing twice as much meat as any other.
‘But I am bigger,’ he said seriously. ‘My pack carries all the cooking equipment. And it was my snare.’
Gwalchmai broke from the argument for long enough to pop a small piece of meat in his mouth and begin chewing. He dropped from the discussion instantly, tugging surreptitiously at Gaelen’s cloak. Gaelen saw the expression on his face. He tried his own meat, chewed for a moment, then removed the offending gobbet. Lennox and Layne were still arguing furiously. ‘I think Lennox is right,’ said Gaelen suddenly. ‘He is the largest and he has the greatest burden. Here, take mine too, my friend.’
‘I couldn’t,’ said Lennox, his eyes betraying his greed.