Leading the way into the tunnel beneath the Wall that afternoon, Horyse paid more attention than he had before to the strange, elusive symbols. He found that by looking just to one side rather than directly at them, the symbols became a little clearer, appearing to glow slightly with a faint, golden light. They seemed strangely familiar, and Horyse realised that they resembled the strange forehead tattoos or scars worn by the Scouts.
Emerging from the tunnel, Horyse was unsurprised to find that there was no fog; only a hint of dawn mist, of the sort that would burn off in the warmth of the morning sun. It was late spring in the Old Kingdom, and the day promised to be sunny and mild, without being too hot.
"Anshye, take point," Horyse commanded. "Corporal Razoul, bring up the rear. The rest of you, patrol formation. Corporal Hedge, with me."
"With respect, sir," Hedge said, in a voice that was anything but respectful, "As the only Scout in this patrol, I should take point."
"Negative, corporal." Horyse made his voice crisp and firm. He knew that he had to stamp his authority from the beginning. "Anshye, lead off. Due north until we pick up the Southwater, then we will follow it east and make for Last Bridge." Hedge made as if to speak, but Horyse held up a hand. "Until we have a better idea of what is happening, I want running water close at hand for as long as possible."
Anshye set off purposefully, the others falling into a loose diamond formation that allowed them to cover one another. Razoul, covering the rear, was a Korovian; a tough, experienced soldier with several long-service stripes who. He reminded Horyse of Sergeant Kalil, the Frontier Ranger who had taught him to use the throwing stars, and it was reassuring to have him along. It was clear that the men respected Razoul and that if it came to a confrontation with Hedge, Razoul's backing would ensure that it was Horyse they would follow.
The day was uneventful and they made good progress, reaching the Southwater in the late afternoon. As the sun began to sink towards the western horizon, Horyse felt a growing sense of unease. Halting the patrol briefly, he scanned the horizon and sky with his field glasses. There they were; three circling black dots, almost directly overhead. Wordlessly, Horyse handed the glasses to Hedge and pointed upwards.
"Gore Crows, sir," Hedge said, confirming what Horyse already suggested.
"Terchere's Island is nearby," Razoul said. "I recommend we make for there and bivvy up for the night."
"Terchere's is 5 miles away," objected Hedge. "And who wants to start a patrol with wet boots? Sir," he turned to Horyse, "they're only Gore Crows."
"Where there are Gore Crows, there may be other things nearby," answered Horyse. "Terchere's is a good suggestion, corporal." He nodded approval at Razoul.
"But sir," said Hedge, continuing his objections, "I can't feel the presence of any other Dead between here and the Wall. We can camp on the banks of the Southwater and have it between us and any Dead approaching from the north."
Horyse pretended to consider this suggestion for a moment, then shook his head, firmly. "No, corporal," he said. "We don't know what or who is behind this fog, and I'm not taking any chances. Terchere's Island it is. Corporal Razoul, you take point; Private Rowland bring up the rear. Forced march pace."
Razoul led off at crisp pace. Stealth and camouflage were pointless now, with Gore Crows overhead, and Horyse wanted to reach the island while the sun was still in the sky. Out of the corner of one eye he noticed Anshye falling in unobtrusively behind him, covering his back. Horyse knew now for certain that Hedge was not to be trusted. A Charter mage of Hedge's rank should have sensed the Gore Crows long before they were directly overhead. That meant one of two things. Either, Hedge's power had been lost, and with it his ability to sense the dead; or, more likely, he had sensed them a long time ago and neglected to warn Horyse. Probably, thought Horyse grimly, he had hoped that the Gore Crows would go completely undetected. Even grimmer was the knowledge that there could easily be Dead between here and the Wall. Had Hedge been trying to lure him into a trap?
The sun had just touched the western horizon when they reached Terchere's Island; and Horyse was relieved to see the familiar low bank of shingle with its sparse turf and straggling bushes. Without complaint, the men forded the freezing water. The RSM had chosen the patrol well, Horyse realised. A few quiet words of direction from Corporal Razoul had the men hard at work preparing a laying-up position for the night. Some dug shallow shell-scrapes; others cut down some of the scrubby bushes or scavenged along the island's shore for firewood; Rowland went straight to his favourite trout-tickling spot and soon had three good-sized fish to supplement their iron rations. The arrival of the Gore Crows had one benefit, Horyse realised; with no need for stealth, a fire would provide welcome warmth and protection. Hedge watched the preparations sullenly, taking no part. Horyse considered asking him to cast a Diamond of Protection, but rejected the idea. He did not trust Hedge to do it properly. Better, he decided, to rely on keeping a good watch. He gave orders to mount a double-guard throughout the night, giving Hedge the dawn watch, when there was the least risk from the Dead.
Sunrise brought with it the sound and smell of bacon cooking over the last of the fire, which was welcome. It also brought the return of the gore crows, which was not. Conferring with his NCOs over mugs of hot tea, Horyse outlined his plan for the day.
"We'll strike eastwards, along the southern bank of the river. We'll aim for Last Bridge, and camp there tonight. Keep a sharp lookout for anything at all out of the ordinary."
It was a trying day. The southern bank of this stretch of the Southwater was wooded and thick with undergrowth, making the going hard. Private Rowland was on point now, using all his skills as a Westerall woodsman to navigate the dense underbrush. His ability to find easier paths through the undergrowth saved them much toil, but progress was still slow. Several times, Hedge suggested that they go further south, beyond the woods, where the terrain was easier, or even head for the Wallway; but Horyse was reluctant to lose the protection of running water. Plus, the thick woodland offered cover from the prying eyes of the Gore Crows.
It was already late in the day when they emerged from the forest onto the grassy plain to the east. Ahead of them in the distance they could see Barhedrin Hill. Closer at hand was the wide, paved expanse of the Wallway.
"Anshye, Rowland," whispered Horyse, "scout ahead." The two men moved off, swift and silent, swords drawn and faceguards down. For a moment they disappeared into the ditch at the side of the road, then Rowland reappeared and came doubling back.
"All clear, sir," he reported.
"Alright, let's go," whispered Horyse. "Move in pairs, one covers while the other goes. Regroup at the road."
The patrol moved off in pairs. Hedge, for once, seemed to have nothing to say; he had become more and more sullen as the day went on. Dumb insolence, Horyse realised; when they made camp, he would have to take the man aside for a serious talking-to.
When they reached the edge of the road, Horyse turned to Hedge.
"Corporal Hedge, Corporal Razoul, scout as far as the mile marker, check for Patrol Sign."
Reluctantly, Hedge set off, Razoul keeping close to him. In a few minutes, they were back.
"No recent Patrol Sign, sir. Last one is from two weeks ago and reports all clear," reported Hedge.
Horyse nodded; he hoped that Razoul's close scrutiny would have been enough to ensure Hedge made the check properly. He began to suspect that Barhedrin was under some sort of attack, though he could not decide whether the purpose of this was to destroy the guard post, or to force Captain Karim to withdraw patrols, making the Wall and the Crossing Point more vulnerable. More than ever, he was glad that he had insisted on travelling through the woods, and had not succumbed to the temptation to take the easier option of the Wallway. Now, however, speed was needed if they were to reach Last Bridge before sunset. At least, he thought optimistically, there was no Patrol Sign indicating danger.
Once on the Wallway, the patrol moved swiftly and with swords drawn. The sun had barely touched the horizon when they crested a low rise, and saw ahead of them the Southwater, gleaming golden in the last of the setting sun. And there, to Horyse's relief, was the sanctuary of Last Bridge. They were going to make it, he thought. An overnight bivouac on Last Bridge, then they would strike north-east, beyond the normal patrol limits, in the hope of either reaching Barhedrin or meeting an Old Kingdom patrol.
His relief was cut short by a loud cry and a volley of curses. He turned to see Hedge sprawling in the roadway, clutching an ankle.
"What is it, corporal?" Horyse asked, masking his impatience with difficulty.
"Turned an ankle, sir," Hedge answered, grimacing. "These blasted loose stones." The road's surface was paved with stone, rather than the tar-gravel used in Ancelstierre; and for the most part it was well-maintained and smooth. Nevertheless, in some places a stone had cracked or worked loose and could easily trap an unwary ankle. Still, Horyse wondered if this was some ruse to prevent them reaching Last Bridge before sunset.
"Can you walk on it, corporal?"
"Just about, sir."
"Rowland, help him along. Let's get moving again."
The pace was now painfully slow and as the sun sank lower, Horyse realised that something drastic would need to be done.
"Rowland, Anshye, carry him. One on each side," he snapped. "Corporal Razoul, scout ahead to the bridge." That was better, but it was still going to be a very close thing. They stumbled down the slope, Rowland and Anshye half carrying and half dragging Hedge. Razoul had just set foot on Last Bridge when several things happened at once. The sun dipped below the horizon, and at that instant, a flock of Gore Crows appeared seemingly out of nowhere to dive down on the patrol, screaming and raking at their faces with sharp talons. Hedge threw himself clear of Anshye and Rowland, running on legs that were all too obviously sound, to get between Last Bridge and the rest of the patrol. Razoul barely had time to take in what was happening before Hedge, screaming with murderous rage, ran him through with the point of his cutlass.
Horyse began to charge at the renegade corporal, his own cutlass raised to strike. He sensed Anshye at his left shoulder and Rowland at his right, the rest of the patrol behind. Hedge turned to face them on the threshold of the bridge, and as he did so he ripped away the blanket roll that was wrapped around him diagonally from shoulder to waist, revealing what looked like a leather bandolier with sticks of dark wood hanging down from it. Before Horyse could react, other figures emerged from the shadowy woods to the east of the bridge. A robed figure with a bronze mask and a bandolier similar to that worn by Hedge, surrounded by dead hands. A metallic taste filled Horyse's mouth and a wave of intense nausea forced him to his knees, retching. Hedge drew what appeared to be a bell and rang it in a commanding chime. The other soldiers halted, transfixed. Horyse felt fixed to the spot, as though his limbs were made of lead; he tried to fight but the nausea was too strong. Then the cloaked figure, white smoke pouring from the mouth and eye holes of its mask, drew and rang a different bell.
Now, far from being rooted to the spot, Horyse felt the urge to walk, to dance, to run, to go joyfully wherever the masked figure commanded. But something deep inside his mind was telling him that wherever the masked figure was sending him, he did not wish to go. He fought with all his being against the bell's command, but still his feet began to move of their own accord.
Then, with a roar, Anshye broke free of whatever was holding him and charged at Hedge, plunging a cutlass deep into the other man's chest. It should have been a mortal wound but Hedge merely staggered. Nevertheless, as he staggered, the bell's chime faltered and the other men began charging, some towards Hedge and some towards the masked figure. The masked figure turned, and Horyse felt his legs relax as its attention and power were momentarily focussed on the charging soldiers. It rang the bell in a complex figure of eight pattern and the soldiers turned to run the other way, floundering and stumbling as they fought against the bell's command. Then the masked figure turned the bell once again on Horyse, and he felt the last of his resistance give way.
Horyse was within reach of the masked figure's sword when a trumpet call cut across the sound of the bell. Boots clattered on the stones of Last Bridge, as a band of Old Kingdom soldiers in the red and gold of the guard charged across. Hedge gave a scream and fled, pursued by the unmistakable figure of Captain Karim as the other soldiers attacked the dead hands. The masked figure drew its largest bell and lunged at Horyse, plunging the point of its sword into his shoulder. Before it could ring the bell though, another chime sounded. A man in a blue surcoat stood on the threshold of Last Bridge, ringing a bell that had an authoritative and commanding tone.
"Chlorr of the mask!" he called in an equally commanding voice. The masked figure's arms fell to its sides. The bell gave the merest hint of a chime, but that was enough that Horyse felt as though his life force was draining away. He was dimly aware that Anshye had lifted him and was holding him propped against one knee, trying to staunch the blood from his wound.
"Stay with me, sir, come on, you've got to stay with me!" Another bell sounded, and Horyse saw the masked figure vanish in a cloud of billowing white smoke. The blue-clad man was now motionless, sheathed in frost and ice, but the lingering chime of his bell, along with Anshye's desperate pleas, seemed to be urging Horyse to cling to life even as darkness overcame him.