‘Believe me, there is no time. I will give you twenty silver pieces for the crossing, but if you don’t move fast I’ll make a try at swimming the river.’
‘You won’t make it – the current is too strong. Wait here.’
The man walked back into the house and Way-lander swore at his lack of speed. Several minutes later he emerged leading three children; one held a rag-doll clutched to her face. He led them to the ferry, lifting the bar to allow Waylander’s horse to scramble aboard. The assassin dismounted and locked the bar in place, then unhooked the ropes from the jetty as the ferryman moved to the front, took a firm hold on the lead rope and pulled. The ferry inched forward and the man leaned harder into the rope as Waylander stood at the stern, watching the hillside.
The creatures came into sight and burst into a run.
The ferry was still only yards from the jetty.
‘By all the Gods, what are they?’ shouted the ferryman, letting go of the rope.
‘Pull if you want to live!’ screamed Waylander and the man seized the rope, throwing his full weight against it. The creatures plunged down the slope and on to the jetty, in the lead a giant with glittering eyes. Talons outstretched, it reached reached the end of the jetty and sprang. Waylander tugged on the first trigger and the crossbow bolt flew into the beast’s mouth, punching through the bone above the throat and skewering the brain. The creature crashed against the bar, snapping it in two. Waylander’s horse reared and whinnied in terror as a second beast leapt. A second bolt bounced from its skull and it hit the ferry and staggered. Waylander ran forward and leapt feet-first, his boots hammering into its chest so that it catapulted from the ferry into the swirling water of the river.
The other beasts howled in rage as Waylander came to his feet and snapped two bolts into place. He loosed one across the twenty-foot gap, watching it thud home in a fur-covered chest. The creature roared in anger, then plucked the bolt free and hurled it into the river.
A taloned hand fastened on Waylander’s ankle. Dropping the crossbow, he dragged his sword from its scabbard and sliced downwards with all his strength. The blade bit deep into the creature’s arm, but did not break the bone. Three times more Waylander hacked at the limb, until at last the talons loosened. Dragging his foot clear, he jumped back.
The creature rolled to its back, the crossbow bolt jutting from its mouth and blood pumping from its mutilated arm. It was lying on the edge of the ferry and Waylander ran forward and kicked it clear; the body sank like a stone.
‘Where else can they cross?’ asked Waylander
‘About twenty miles upstream, fifteen down. What were they?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t want to know.’
The children were huddled in the far corner of the ferry, too frightened for tears.
‘You had better see to them,’ said Waylander. I’ll pull for a while.’ The man left the rope and knelt by his children, talking to them in a low voice, taking them into his arms. Opening a chest fixed near the front of the ferry, he removed blankets and the children lay down on the deck, cuddled together.
It took just over an hour to cross the river, and Waylander was deeply grateful that he had not been forced to swim it. Out in the centre the current was too powerful for human endeavour.
The ferryman moved to the front, lifting a mooring rope as the jetty loomed. A second shack was built beyond the jetty and he and Waylander carried the now sleeping children inside, laying them on two beds pushed together by the far wall. The man prepared a fire and the two of them sat together as the blaze crackled to life.
‘It’s bad enough with the tribes,’ said the ferryman suddenly, ‘but now I think I’ll move.’
‘The beasts are hunting me. I do not think they will return to trouble you.’
‘All the same, I have the children to think of -this is no place for them.’