‘No,’ I said gently, not taking my gaze from Wulf. ‘It was made for a man. Take it, Wulf.’Why me?’I don’t know,’ I admitted, ‘but the spirit of this man is here with us. He chose you.’My hands are bigger than Mace’s. No way it will fit.’Try!’I can’t!’ he screamed, backing away. ‘It’ll be the death of me. I know that! I can feel it in my bones. And I hate sorcery!’ For a moment only he was silent. ‘Why did he choose me? Ask him that? Why not Mace?’I don’t need to. He told me. Because you have the heart, and when you give your word it is like iron.’He swallowed hard. ‘He said that? Truly?’Truly.’Wulf stumbled forward and took the ring from Mace. It slid easily over his middle finger, sitting snug and tight. ‘Do I have to make an oath?’ he asked.
‘You already did,’ I told him, and the whisper in the wind became a fading sigh. ‘And he is at peace.’We prised loose the poniards with which Gareth’s arms were nailed to the tree and buried his body in the shade of a spreading oak. We were silent as we returned to the ruined cabin, but as we
came in sight of the building Mace pulled me aside, leaving Wulf to walk on to where Piercollo and the women sat in the sunlight.
‘What else did he say?’ asked Mace.
‘What makes you think there was anything else?’Ah, Owen! Some men are born to be liars. Others are like you. Now tell me.’He said there were forces of evil gathering. Very powerful.’ I turned away but Mace caught me by the shoulder, spinning me.
‘And?’He said we couldn’t stand against them. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you satisfied now?’He smiled grimly. ‘He said we were going to die, did he not?’I looked away and nodded. ‘What now?’ I asked him.
He hawked and spat. ‘We fight,’ he said. ‘Where can we run?’You will fight on, even though you cannot win?’Of course I can win, Owen. Azrek is only a man, but I am the Morningstar!’ He chuckled, then slapped me on the shoulder.
‘You are mocking me,’ I said, sternly.
‘Just a little, Owen. Just a little.’The skull of Golgoleth was in the canvas sack where Kaygan had left it, his spear buried in the earth beside it. Wulf swung the sack over his shoulder and sat down away from the others, his face set, his eyes distant.
Mace wandered into the shelter, idly stirring the fire to life, adding wood though the day was warm. Piercollo approached me. ‘What happened, Owen?’ I told him of the spirit conversation, and of Wulf s decision. He nodded glumly. ‘I think the good God is having big joke on us.’If he is I fail to see the humour.’ I took out my harp and tuned the strings. I did not feel like playing, but I idly ran my fingers through the melody of Marchan, a light stream of high notes like the bird-song of morning. Piercollo walked away towards Wulf and Ilka came to sit upon my left, Astiana beside her.
‘Ilka has a question for you,’ said the sister. I stopped playing and forced a smile. ‘She wishes to know why you kissed her hand.’It was the wrong time for such a conversation, for my heart was heavy and my mind filled with the death of Gareth. I looked into
Ilka’s sweet, blue eyes and I sighed. What could I say? To talk of love at such a time was, I felt, beyond me. The silence grew and I saw Ilka’s eyes cloud with doubt, uncertainty, perhaps dismay. I tried to smile, then I reached out and took her hand once more, raising it to my lips, and wishing that I could talk with her as Astiana did. But I could not.
I walked away from them to be by myself in the sunlit forest.
A few months before I had been but a bard, earning a poor living in the taverns and halls of Ziraccu. Now I was an outlaw, a wolfshead, a hunted man. And I walked in the company of a legend. Sitting down on a fallen log I glanced around me and saw a leg close by, the body hidden by bushes. Rising, I walked towards the corpse; it was Kaygan, his dead eyes staring up at me, his men lying close by heaped one upon another. Piercollo must have thrown them here while Mace, Wulf and I were burying Gareth.