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Delum said, ‘There will be such a foment of anger pursuing us, Warleader, that they will follow us into the valleys of the Sunyd.’
Karsa flipped the blade on his thighs to begin work on the other side. ‘So I hope, Delum Thord. Answer me this, when last have the Sunyd seen an Uryd?’
‘Your grandfather,’ Bairoth said.
Karsa nodded. ‘And we well know the Rathyd warcry, do we not?’
‘You would start a war between the Rathyd and Sunyd?’
‘Aye, Bairoth.’
The warrior slowly shook his head. ‘We are not yet done with the Rathyd, Karsa Orlong. You plan too far in advance, Warleader.’
‘Witness what comes, Bairoth Gild.’
Bairoth picked up the bear skull. The lower jaw still hung from it by a single strip of gristle. He snapped it off and tossed it to one side. Then he drew out a spare bundle of leather straps. He began tightly wrapping the cheek bones, leaving long lengths dangling beneath.
Karsa watched these efforts curiously. The skull was too heavy even for Bairoth to wear as a helm. Moreover, he would need to break the bone away on the underside, where it was thickest around the hole that the spinal cord made.
Delum rose. ‘I shall sleep now,’ he a
‘Karsa Orlong,’ Bairoth said, ‘do you have spare straps?’
‘You are welcome to them,’ Karsa replied, also rising. ‘Be sure to sleep this night, Bairoth Gild.’
‘I will.’
For the first hour of light they heard dogs in the forested valley floor below. These faded as they backtracked along a high cliffside path. When the sun was directly overhead, Delum found a downward wending trail and they began the descent.
Midway through the afternoon, they came upon stump-crowded clearings and could smell the smoke of the village. Delum dismounted and slipped ahead.
He returned a short while later. ‘As you surmised, Warleader. I saw eleven elders, thrice as many women, and thirteen youths-all very young, I imagine the older ones are with the hunt. No horses. No dogs.’ He climbed back onto his horse.
The three Uryd warriors readied their swords. They then each drew out their flasks of blood-oil and sprinkled a few drops around the nostrils of their destriers. Heads snapped back, muscles tensed.
‘I have the right flank,’ Bairoth said.
‘And I the centre,’ Karsa a
‘And so I the left,’ Delum said, then frowned. ‘They will scatter from you, Warleader.’
‘I am feeling generous today, Delum Thord. This village shall be to the glory of you and Bairoth. Be sure that no-one escapes on the other side.’
‘None shall.’
‘And if any woman seeks to fire a house to turn the hunt, slay her.’
‘They would not be so foolish,’ Bairoth said. ‘If they do not resist they shall have our seed, but they shall live.’
The three removed the reins from their horses and looped them around their waists. They edged further onto their mounts’ shoulders and drew their knees up.
Karsa slipped his wrist through the sword’s thong and whirled the weapon once through the air to tighten it. The others did the same. Beneath him, Havok trembled.
‘Lead us, Warleader,’ Delum said.
A slight pressure launched Havok forward, three strides into a canter, slow and almost loping as they crossed the stump-filled glade. A slight shifting to the left led them towards the main path. Reaching it, Karsa lifted his sword into the destrier’s range of vision. The beast surged into a gallop.
Seven lengthening strides brought them to the village. Karsa’s companions had already split away to either side to come up behind the houses, leaving him the main artery. He saw figures there, directly ahead, heads turning. A scream rang through the air. Children scattered.
Sword lashed out, chopped down easily through young bone. Karsa glanced to his right and Havok shifted direction, hoofs kicking out to gather in and trample an elder. They plunged onward, pursuing, butchering. On the far sides of the houses, beyond the refuse trenches, more screams sounded.
Karsa reached the far end. He saw a single youth racing for the trees and drove after him. The lad carried a practice sword. Hearing the heavy thump of Havok’s charge closing fast-and with the safety of the forest still too far in front of him-he wheeled.
Karsa’s swing cut through practice sword then neck. A head thrust from Havok sent the youth’s decapitated body sprawling.
I lost a cousin in such a ma
Havok slowed, then wheeled.
Karsa looked back upon the village. Bairoth and Delum had done their slaughter and were now herding the women into the clearing surrounding the village hearth.
At a trot, Havok carried him back into the village.
‘The chief’s own belong to me,’ Karsa a
Bairoth and Delum nodded, and he could see their heightened spirits, from the ease with which they surrendered the privilege. Bairoth faced the women and gestured with his sword. A middle-aged, handsome woman stepped forward, followed by a younger version-a lass perhaps the same age as Dayliss. Both studied Karsa as carefully as he did them.
‘Bairoth Gild and Delum Thord, take your first among the others. I will guard.’
The two warriors gri
Karsa watched with raised brows.
The chief’s wife snorted. ‘Your warriors were not blind to the eagerness of those two,’ she said.
‘Their warriors, be they father or mate, will not be pleased with such eagerness,’ Karsa commented. Uryd women would not-
‘They will never know, Warleader,’ the chief’s wife replied, ‘unless you tell them, and what is the likelihood of that? They will spare you no time for taunts before killing you. Ah, but I see now,’ she added, stepping closer to stare up at his face. ‘You thought to believe that Uryd women are different, and now you realize the lie of that. All men are fools, but now you are perhaps a little less so, as truth steals into your heart. What is your name, Warleader?’
‘You talk too much,’ Karsa growled, then he drew himself straight. ‘I am Karsa Orlong, grandson of Pahlk-’
‘Pahlk?’
‘Aye.’ Karsa gri
‘I was a child, but yes, he is well known among us.’
‘He lives still, and sleeps calm despite the curses you have laid upon his name.’
She laughed. ‘Curses? There are none. Pahlk bowed his head to beg passage through our lands-’
‘You lie!’
She studied him, then shrugged. ‘As you say.’
One of the women cried out from one of the houses, a cry more pleasure than pain.
The chief’s wife turned her head. ‘How many of us will take your seed, Warleader?’
Karsa settled back. ‘All of you. Eleven each.’
‘And how many days will that take? You want us to cook for you as well?’
‘Days? You think as an old woman. We are young. And, if need be, we have blood-oil.’
The woman’s eyes widened. The others behind her began murmuring and whispering. The chief’s wife spun and silenced them with a look, then she faced Karsa once more. ‘You have never used blood-oil in this fashion before, have you? It is true, you will know fire in your loins. You will know stiffness for days to come. But, Warleader, you do not know what it will do to each of us women. I do, for I too was young and foolish once. Even my husband’s strength could not keep my teeth from his throat, and he carries the scars still. There is more. What for you will last less than a week, haunts us for months.’
‘And so,’ Karsa replied, ‘if we do not kill your husbands, you will upon their return. I am pleased.’