You must make him show himself for a killing shot.
How?
Give him a target. Let him see you. Finn risked a glance to the killing ground now ahead to the right. Yes, that is where I would order a man to walk. Which would mean that Finn would have to rise in order to aim. He flicked his gaze back to the undergrowth behind him. There were only two possible places for an assassin to wait: by the gnarled beech, behind the thick silver trunk, or behind the rounded boulder leading to the cave mouth. Or perhaps both? Finn began to sweat.
The only sensible course was to retreat. The enemy had all the advantages. But to give ground would mean fleeing to the cave and that would bring him into the open. Even if he made it to the rock-face, he would then be trapped inside. And Maggrig would be stranded. Gently placing his bow on the ground, he raised his hands to his face with thumbs pressed together and gave out the low hoot of a night owl four times.
The grunting cough of a badger came from ahead.
Maggrig was still safe. Better still, he knew the danger and had spotted one of the enemy.
Finn dropped below the bushes and edged back, making no sound.
A man carrying a bow moved out into the open ahead of him. For Finn to make the shot he would have to stand. The man angled towards his hiding place and Finn took a deep breath and rose, drawing back on his bowstring. Suddenly he swivelled. Another attacker appeared from behind the boulder twenty paces to the rear; Finn sent an arrow which hammered into the man’s skull, then dived to the earth. Two shafts sliced the air where he had been standing. Pushing his knees under him Finn sprinted from his hiding place, hurdling bushes and boulders to drop behind a fallen tree. From here he could see the body of the man he had killed.
Now the game was more to his liking. They had hunted him with great skill, arrogantly confident of their talents. Now one was dead and the others would be nervous. Dropping to his belly once more he crawled back from the tree and, staying flat, notched a second arrow to his bow.
The hunters had to attack from the front now. Was there an edge? They had seen Finn was right-handed; therefore they should come from his right. It would give them an extra fraction of a second in which to make the kill. He angled his body to the right and waited.
A warrior carrying a long spear hurdled the fallen tree and Finn shot him in the chest. The man staggered. A second attacker came from the left . . . discarding his bow Finn rolled, came up with his hunting-knife, swerved away from the lunging spear and rammed his blade home into the man’s belly. He held the dying man to him and scanned the undergrowth. He could see no one. With a curse he let the body drop and ran to his bow, scooping it into his hand. Just as he straightened he saw a bowman rear up. Finn was dead, and he knew it …
An arrow from Maggrig took the bowman high in the shoulder. The man screamed and loosed his own shaft, but it flew to the left of Finn who scrambled back into the bushes.
‘The cave, Finn!’ shouted Maggrig, breaking all the rules. Finn swung to see three men running across the open ground. He sent an arrow after them, but the distance was too great and his shot was high and wide. Hurling aside his bow, he drew his knife and raced after them.
But they vanished within the cave, and he knew he would be too late.
*
‘Stand firm, or we are all lost,’ said Okas. Kiall took a deep breath and watched the swirling smoke.
It vanished to reveal a glittering landscape of stark mountains and tall, skeletal trees devoid of leaves. There were six scaled creatures, their huge mouths rimmed with sharp pointed fangs. They shuffled towards him with arms extended and Kiall recoiled in horror. They had no hands or paws. Instead bloated faces hung from the ends of their arms, sharp teeth gnashing and clicking inside the hollow flesh. Each of the demons was more than seven feet tall, and their horned skin appeared impervious to Kiall’s own slender sabre. He glanced to his right, seeking encouragement from Chareos.