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“It’s a miracle, my lord! God has delivered us from the Quman. This is the hill above Hersford Monastery, in western Saony. We can see into the duchy of Fesse from here.”
“Hersford Monastery?” Ermanrich came forward. “That’s impossible. We were in the marchlands—”
“It was summer!” cried Hathumod raggedly. “And he still walked among us.”
“All of our wounds are healed,” added Sigfrid diffidently, sliding up beside Ivar to examine his mutilated hand. “Look at your hand, Ivar. It looks as if you took that wound months or years ago.”
“I’m thirsty,” said Baldwin. “Haven’t we anything to drink?”
“Hush.” Ivar surveyed his six companions and then the clearing in which they stood. The low earthen mounds and the stone circle reminded him vaguely of the great tumulus with its embankments. Hadn’t there been a ruined stone circle at the top of that ancient hill? Yet obviously they no longer stood there. For one thing, Ivar had never before seen a stone circle in as perfect repair as this one was, each stone upright and all the lintels intact. Somehow, in the space of one night, they had traveled from the marchlands all the way to the center of Wendar. In the space of one night, they had traveled from summer into autumn.
Sorcery.
Shivering, he grabbed hold of Sigfrid’s hand and then Baldwin’s. “Come, friends,” he said, seeing that they had all clasped hands, clinging together in the face of so many things they could not explain. “Truly, I don’t understand what has happened to us except that our friend Gerulf must be right. God has saved us from death at the hands of the Quman, so that we can continue to do Her work here on Earth. Don’t forget the phoenix. Our task is just beginning.”
Hathumod burst into tears again, clutching the rusted nail to her chest as if were a holy relic.
“God be praised,” murmured Gerulf, and the others echoed his words, all except Baldwin, who was looking anxiously around the clearing.
“It’s going to be night soon,” said Baldwin, “and I don’t like to think of sleeping out next to these old grave mounds. I don’t like to think what might crawl out of them once night falls.”
“Nay, I don’t fancy sleeping near these old mounds either,” said Dedi with a nervous laugh, and they all laughed, swept up with relief and the release of all those hours of fear and struggle.
“Is there a path that will lead us to the monastery, Gerulf?” Ivar asked, because he’d had the same thought. Yet shouldn’t he trust in God to protect them from evil spirits and blood-sucking wights, given the miracle that had already happened? Still, it never hurt to help God’s design along when you could.
“It’s been a few years,” said the old Lion, scratching his beard, “but I think…” He pointed toward a narrow gap in the dense wall of trees. “I think that’s the path over there.”
They all stood there, then, waiting, looking at Ivar. Somehow, over the course of the battle and through that long and bitter night trapped underground, he had become their leader.
“We’ve got a long road ahead of us,” he said. “Come on.”
ry.
Shivering, he grabbed hold of Sigfrid’s hand and then Baldwin’s. “Come, friends,” he said, seeing that they had all clasped hands, clinging together in the face of so many things they could not explain. “Truly, I don’t understand what has happened to us except that our friend Gerulf must be right. God has saved us from death at the hands of the Quman, so that we can continue to do Her work here on Earth. Don’t forget the phoenix. Our task is just beginning.”
Hathumod burst into tears again, clutching the rusted nail to her chest as if were a holy relic.
“God be praised,” murmured Gerulf, and the others echoed his words, all except Baldwin, who was looking anxiously around the clearing.
“It’s going to be night soon,” said Baldwin, “and I don’t like to think of sleeping out next to these old grave mounds. I don’t like to think what might crawl out of them once night falls.”
“Nay, I don’t fancy sleeping near these old mounds either,” said Dedi with a nervous laugh, and they all laughed, swept up with relief and the release of all those hours of fear and struggle.
“Is there a path that will lead us to the monastery, Gerulf?” Ivar asked, because he’d had the same thought. Yet shouldn’t he trust in God to protect them from evil spirits and blood-sucking wights, given the miracle that had already happened? Still, it never hurt to help God’s design along when you could.
“It’s been a few years,” said the old Lion, scratching his beard, “but I think…” He pointed toward a narrow gap in the dense wall of trees. “I think that’s the path over there.”
They all stood there, then, waiting, looking at Ivar. Somehow, over the course of the battle and through that long and bitter night trapped underground, he had become their leader.
“We’ve got a long road ahead of us,” he said. “Come on.”
