"Looks like a good place for an ambush," said Alvaldi doubtfully, looking at the path ahead.

  Alviorix nodded. "Lots of places in those rocks he could be hiding," he said. "And he could get a couple of us with slingstones before we can get him. That path is the shortest way to the Blood River, though. If we go around, chances are he'll get to the bandit camp before we can catch him."

  "We've got no choice then," said Alvaldi. "We can take precautions though. Who are the two best climbers among us?"

  The other elderly clansman took a long drink from his water skin while he thought about it. "Geirrod and Thrymr," he said, scratching his greying head. "You thinking of sending 'em up and over?"

  "One on each side," Alvaldi replied. "They can climb over the rocks while the rest of us take the path. From up there they should be able to see if he's hiding in the rocks and point him out to us."

  "We mustn't kill him," said Tarvos, though. "He may have left Daphnis tied up somewhere. We'll neen him to tell us where she is."

  "We'll take him alive if we possibly can," Alvaldi assured him, "but I won't risk men's lives to do it. Don't worry. If she's around here, we'll find her. She won't be too far away." Tarvos nodded doubtfully.

  Alvaldi called the two climbers forward. "One on the north side," he said. "The other on the south. As high up as you can. If Skoll's up there, his attention should be fixed on the rest of us, down on the path. You should be able to get the drop on him."

  "You can count on us," said Geirrod eagerly. The young man had only been declared an adult a couple of years before, and this was the first time he'd been entrusted with an important job. Also, if things went well, his sister could be safe and free in just a few more minutes. Thrymr just looked determined, though. He looked up at the rocks as if picking out the path he would use.

  "Off you go then," said Alvaldi. The two men handed their spears to the men nearest them and ran off, using both hands to clamber up the dusty, sand-coloured stone. They were good climbers, as Alviorix had said, and they moved silently with not even the slightest slip of moccasin on stone or fall of pebbles to give them away. Within a few moments they were out of sight.

  "Okay," said Alvaldi. "Let's go, and keep your eyes peeled. If you see anything, call out at once."

  "Right," said Tarvos and they set off along the path.

  ☆☆☆

  Geirrod hugged himself close to the huge, round rock as he eased himself gently around it, careful not to make the slightest noise. On the other side was a lower rock. Using it as a footstep, he was able to push himself up onto the boulder where he lay on his belly, staring out across the rocks ahead.

  He saw nothing, though, and so he slipped back down and eased himself between another two boulders. Below, he saw the other members of the rescue party walking warily along the path, staring up at the rocks above them. Geirrod increased his pace so as not to let them get ahead of him. Fortunately the path twisted and turned, and he was able to take a shortcut to get ahead of them again.

  So far he'd seen no sign of danger, but then he saw a round opening in the soil at the base of a massive lump of rock. It was the burrow of a sand welkie, but the creatures almost always lay with their heads in the openings, waiting for some small creature to pass by that they could snatch up with their long, sticky tongues. The burrow looked too clean to be abandoned, which meant that it had retreated back to the bottom of its burrow, something it did when it was disturbed by a large animal. Grirrod knew he hadn't made enough noise to disturb it, which meant that there was something else up here with him.

  He paused, keeping completely still, and listened. There was no sound but the steady footsteps of the men down on the path and the distant sound of rustling grass, reminding him that they still weren't far from the grasslands of his home. He gently raised his head to look above the boulder ahead of him and saw nothing. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and moved on.

  He passed a gap between two rocks that would have made a perfect spot for an ambusher to lie in, but it was empty. He leaned forward and saw Alvaldi, thirty feet below, looking almost in his direction without seeing him. Not surprising, as both the fleethorn hide Geirrod's clothes were made of and his sandy hair were almost the same colour as the rocks he was in. Geirrod grinned to himself and pulled back, out of sight, before moving on.

  He looked across to the rocks south of the path, looking for Thrymr, but there waa no sign of him. Good. If he'd been able to see him, so could Skoll, if he was there. He was beginning to doubt it, though. Skoll had clearly been this way, but he was long gone, hurrying to reach the bandit camp with his captive. They should be hurrying too, to catch up with him.

  He increased his pace a little, skirting a clump of rattleweed that he knew would make a giveaway sound if he disturbed it, and saw another rounded boulder ahead of him, larger than any other he'd seen so far. From up there he should be able to see everything. There was a pile of rocks at its base that he thought should make a good step up, but when he put his foot on it and tried to lift himself up they shifted under him with a noise that alarmed him with its loudness. He tried to stop a rolling rock with his foot before it could fall down the slope with even more noise, but his other foot slipped on a loose pile of gravel and he fell, hitting his head hard on an outcropping of rock...

  ☆☆☆

  Alvaldi heard the sound of tumbling rocks and looked up to see a rising plume of dust. He had no way of knowing if it had been made by Geirrod, Skoll or a bandit. "Ambush!" he shouted. "Take cover!"

  Fist-sized rocks began flying at them with deadly accuracy. He saw the Merlin clansman and one of the John Henry clansmen falling as rocks hit their heads with sprays of blood. Another rock hit Tarvos, but it was a glancing blow. As Alvaldi reached the rocks and took cover under them he had hopes that his clansman, lying prone on the path, might still be alive. Others were definitely dead, though, and he felt twinges of terrible guilt as another two of his men fell, their skulls caved in by the speeding lumps of rock.

  By then, though, all his surviving men had reached the cover of the rocks, but scrambling sounds and dusty falls of rock told him that enemies were climbing down to reach them. Alvaldi jumped to his feet, just in time to parry a spear thrust with his own spear. Hyrrokkin ran forward to join him and together they drove the bandit back, but then another bandit came scrambling down from the rocks to join the first and they paired off to fight separate opponents. Alvaldi stared in surprise to see that the second bandit was Skoll, but then the first bandit was attacking again and Alvaldi was forced to give him all his attention.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  In between parrying thrusts and searching for an opening in his opponent's defences he heard Skoll and Hyrrokkin talking to each other as they fought. "You are a disgrace to your clan," Hyrrokkin grunted as their spears clashed. "You bring shame upon the entire Hercules clan."

  "You are the disgrace," Skoll replied. "You are defending their right to insult us."

  "Do the words of an eighteen year old child really burn that much?" asked Hyrrokkin scornfully. "Are you that soft and fragile?"

  "The soft, fragile ones are the ones that swallow insults without answering them. The Hercules clan used to be strong. Now we make alliance with gooths, with those we once preyed on."

  "We are stronger as six tribes than we were as one," said Hyrrokkin, though. "Can't you see that?"

  "We should have made an alliance with the bandits," Skoll answered. "They are strong. They remember the old ways. Join me, Hyrrokkin, and we'll hunt the six tribes together."

  "You would hunt your own people?"

  "I am exiled now, remember? They aren't my own people any more. I have a new tribe now. With you and me hunting together the way we used to we'll be able to take whatever we want. Gold. Gems. Women."

  "I am loyal to your father."

  "I would have been the next clan chief. Your loyalty would have been to me."

  "You are not worthy to be clan chief. People were having doubts about you even before you were exiled. Even Greip had doubts about you."

  "You're lying!"

  Alvaldi heard the fight beside him intensifying as Skoll attacked with new fury, but before he could hear any more a slingstone struck him on the shoulder and his whole body was numbed with pain. He staggered back, and his opponent thrust forward with his spear into his heart.

  ☆☆☆

  Fornjot and Albiorix stood back to back as four bandits advanced on them, grinning with confidence. Apart from Hyrrokkin, they were the only ones still standing. Thrymr was lying dead a short distance away. A bandit had hit his head with a slingstone as he'd come down out of the rocks to fight beside his clanmates. A short distance away lay the other John Henry clansman, blood pooling around his body and soaking into the dry, dusty ground.

  Fornjot and Albiorix glanced at each other and gripped their spears more tightly. They knew there was no point in surrendering. Bandits only took male captives in order to torture them for sport. Better to die with a weapon in your hand. Their eyes met, and they shared a moment of silent camaraderie before screaming a battle cry and charging forward.

  At least there were no more stones being thrown, thought Albiorix as he thrust his spear in a wild attempt to find an enemy heart. The last bandit had come down to join the others on the ground. They couldn't throw slingstones without risking hitting their own men. He saw Tarvos stirring where he was lying on the ground and felt a moment of hope. If he could rise and join the fight, they had a chance. The Chief's son seemed barely conscious, though, and could only get an arm under him before slumping again.

  The two men edged to the side so that they had the wall of the canyon behind them. Now the bandits could only come at them from one direction. Defending against two spears at once was impossible, though, and as he turned one aside the other made it past and pierced his shoulder. He cried out as a lance of pain paralysed the whole side of his body and dropped his spear, and a moment later an enemy spear found his heart.

  ☆☆☆

  Fornjot now found himself facing four bandits, but instead of attacking they drew back, grinning in triumph, keeping him hemmed in with their spears. A few feet away Skoll and Hyrrokkin were still fighting, although both men were visibly tiring, their movements growing slower. Fornjot found himself unable to tear his eyes away from them, despite his own predicament, and the bandits were also dividing their attentions between him and them.

  "My gold's on the new recruit," one of them said. "He killed Mundilfan, a man twice his size."

  "Ten gold says Methone wins," another man said. "I fought with him in Palliaq village. I know what he can do."

  Fornjot thought about making an attempt to break out while their attentions were diverted, but their eyes turned back to him every couple of seconds, assessing the stance of his body to see if he was priming himself for action. He felt himself close to despair. They had him, and they knew it. Even if Hyrrokkin killed Skoll, the four bandits could kill him, Fornjot, in just a moment before turning their combined attentions to their last opponent. The only thing left for him to do was assure himself a quick, clean death, and so he braced himself for action.

  The bandits immediately noticed and gave him his full attention. Fornjot whispered a prayer to the spirits and charged at the small man standing in the middle. The man was surprisingly nimble, though, and dodged out of the way. Fornjot cursed his failure to take one of his enemies to the spirit world with him and tensed himself for the feet of a steel blade plunging into his heart...

  Instead, the moment his back was away from the wall of stone, one of the other bandits slipped behind him and, drawing his dagger, he brought the hilt down hard on his head.

  ☆☆☆

  Skoll felt himself growing tired. He needed to finish off his former clanmate before he was finished off instead. Having spent many years training and fighting alongside him, he knew all Hyrrokkin's moves, but the other man also knew all his moves and each of them easily countered every move the other man made.

  "I don't want to kill you," gasped Hyrrokkin as he parried yet another thrust. "I fondly remember our childhood adventures. The time we sneaked out of the village to hunt that hammerhorn. How furious Greip was when he learned we'd disobeyed him. The way his anger turned to joyful surprise when you showed him the tooth you'd taken from its corpse. Do you remember that?"

  "A pity you didn't remember it when I was being exiled," Skoll replied dryly. He blinked blood out of his eyes. Hyrrokoin's spear had grazed his scalp a few moments earlier.

  "Come, Skoll. Let us turn and face these bandits together. We will die side by side as brothers, the way it should be."

  "You first," Skoll replied. He knew he had to end this fight quickly, though, before Hyrrokkin killed him. They'd sparred together many times, but this was the first time they'd clashed blades in anger and he was learning that Hyrrokkin was more skilled with the spear than he was. In desperation, therefore, he did what he always did when he didn't have a clear advantage. He cheated.

  He gave a start and stared at something over Hyrrokin's shoulder, as if he'd seen the bandits coming to attack him from behind. Hyrrokkin clearly guessed it was a ploy, but there was enough doubt for him to be momentarily distracted and Skoll took the opportunity to lunge forward, brushing Hyrrokkin's spear aside and plunging his own spear deep into the other man's chest.

  As his former clanmate staggered back, a look of shock and disbelief on his face, Skoll ran forward to deliver the killing blow, but a pair of bandits ran forward to stop him. "He fights well," one of them said. "He will make good sport."

  "He's too dangerous," Skoll told him, his spear still aimed at his former clanmate's throat. "Better to kill him now."

  "He will die," the bandit assured him. "They will all die when we have had our sport with them." Behind him, other bandits had rolled Fornjot and Tarvos onto their stomachs and were tying their hands behind their backs. "It's been a long time since we've had male captives."

  "He at least must die," said Skoll, walking over to stand over Tarvos. "He is my enemy. You'll still have the other two. Have as much sport with them as you like."

  "Maybe we'll have sport with you as well," said one of the other bandits.

  "I am one of you," said Skoll. "We have fought together. Shed blood together."

  "Suttungr will decide that," said the bandit. "One does not simply declare oneself one of us. The Chief will decide. Until then you will surrender your weapons."

  "I will not," declared Skoll firmly.

  "You will, or we will kill you here and now."

  The bandits were gathering around him now, pointing their spears at him. Two of them had fitted stones to their slings and were whirling them around their head. Skoll gritted his teeth in anger, but then he dropped his spear. He took the knife from his belt and dropped that as well.

  A bandit came forward to take them while the others continued to keep him covered. Then another came forward to tie his hands behind his back. A third went off to where they'd left Daphnis to bring her back. Then they cut fingers from the bodies of the dead for their trophy necklaces.