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Havok and the other two destriers had quietly flanked the warriors during the conversation, and now all faced upslope, ears pricked forward.
After a moment’s hesitation, Delum shrugged and, crouching, set off into the woods. Karsa followed.
The slope grew steeper after a score of paces. There was no path, and fallen tree trunks made traverse difficult and slow, though thick swaths of damp moss made the passage of the two Teblor warriors virtually noiseless. They reached a flatter shelf perhaps fifteen paces wide and ten deep, a high crack-riven cliff opposite. A few trees leaned against the rock, grey with death. Delum scanned the cliff side, then made to move towards a narrow, dirt-filled crevasse near the left end of the cliff that served as a game trail, but Karsa restrained him with a hand.
He leaned close. ‘How far ahead?’
‘Fifty heartbeats. We’ve still time to make this climb-’
‘No. We position ourselves here. Take that ledge to the right and have your knives ready.’
With baffled expression, Delum did as he was told. The ledge was halfway up the cliffside. Within moments he was in place.
Karsa moved towards the game trail. A dead pine had fallen from above, taking the same path in its descent, coming to rest half a pace to the trail’s left. Karsa reached it and gave the trunk a nudge. The wood was still sound. He quickly climbed it, then, feet resting on branches, he twisted round until he faced the flat expanse of shelf, the game trail now almost within arm’s reach to his left, the bole and cliff at his back.
Then he waited. He could not see Delum from his position unless he leaned forward, which might well pull the tree away from the cliffside, taking him with it in a loud, probably damaging fall. He would have to trust, therefore, that Delum would grasp what he intended, and act accordingly when the time came.
A skitter of stones down the trail.
The dogs had begun the descent.
Karsa drew a slow, deep breath and held it.
The pack’s leader would not be the first. Most likely the second, a safe beat or two behind the scout.
The first dog scrambled past Karsa’s position in a scatter of stones, twigs and dirt, its momentum taking it a half-dozen paces out onto the flat shelf, where it paused, nose lifting to test the air. Hackles rising, it moved cautiously towards the shelf’s edge.
Another dog came down the trail, a larger beast, this one kicking up more detritus than the first. As its scarred head and shoulders came into view, Karsa knew that he had found the pack’s leader.
avok and the other two destriers had quietly flanked the warriors during the conversation, and now all faced upslope, ears pricked forward.
After a moment’s hesitation, Delum shrugged and, crouching, set off into the woods. Karsa followed.
The slope grew steeper after a score of paces. There was no path, and fallen tree trunks made traverse difficult and slow, though thick swaths of damp moss made the passage of the two Teblor warriors virtually noiseless. They reached a flatter shelf perhaps fifteen paces wide and ten deep, a high crack-riven cliff opposite. A few trees leaned against the rock, grey with death. Delum scanned the cliff side, then made to move towards a narrow, dirt-filled crevasse near the left end of the cliff that served as a game trail, but Karsa restrained him with a hand.
He leaned close. ‘How far ahead?’
‘Fifty heartbeats. We’ve still time to make this climb-’
‘No. We position ourselves here. Take that ledge to the right and have your knives ready.’
With baffled expression, Delum did as he was told. The ledge was halfway up the cliffside. Within moments he was in place.
Karsa moved towards the game trail. A dead pine had fallen from above, taking the same path in its descent, coming to rest half a pace to the trail’s left. Karsa reached it and gave the trunk a nudge. The wood was still sound. He quickly climbed it, then, feet resting on branches, he twisted round until he faced the flat expanse of shelf, the game trail now almost within arm’s reach to his left, the bole and cliff at his back.
Then he waited. He could not see Delum from his position unless he leaned forward, which might well pull the tree away from the cliffside, taking him with it in a loud, probably damaging fall. He would have to trust, therefore, that Delum would grasp what he intended, and act accordingly when the time came.
A skitter of stones down the trail.
The dogs had begun the descent.
Karsa drew a slow, deep breath and held it.
The pack’s leader would not be the first. Most likely the second, a safe beat or two behind the scout.
The first dog scrambled past Karsa’s position in a scatter of stones, twigs and dirt, its momentum taking it a half-dozen paces out onto the flat shelf, where it paused, nose lifting to test the air. Hackles rising, it moved cautiously towards the shelf’s edge.
Another dog came down the trail, a larger beast, this one kicking up more detritus than the first. As its scarred head and shoulders came into view, Karsa knew that he had found the pack’s leader.
The animal reached the flat.
Just as the scout began swinging his head around, Karsa leapt.
His hands shot out to take the leader on the neck, driving the beast down, spinning it onto its back, his left hand closing on the throat, his right gripping both flailing, kicking front legs just above the paws.
The dog flew into a frenzy beneath him, but Karsa held firm.
More dogs tumbled in a rush down the trail, then fanned out in sudden alarm and confusion.
The leader’s snarls had turned to yelps.
Savage teeth had ripped into Karsa’s wrist, until he managed to push his chokehold higher under the dog’s jaw. The animal writhed, but it had already lost and they both knew it.
As did the rest of the pack.
Karsa finally glanced up to study the dogs surrounding him. At his lifting of head they all backed away-all but one. A young, burly male, who ducked low as it crept forward.
Two of Delum’s knives thudded into the animal, one in the throat and the other behind its right shoulder. The dog pitched to the ground with a strangled grunt, then lay still. The others of the pack retreated still further.
The leader had gone motionless beneath Karsa. Baring his teeth, the warrior slowly lowered himself until his cheek lay alongside the dog’s jawline. Then he whispered into the animal’s ear. ‘You heard the deathcry, friend? That was your challenger. This should please you, yes? Now, you and your pack belong to me.’ As he spoke, his tone soft and reassuring he slowly loosened his grip on the dog’s throat. A moment later, he leaned back, shifted his weight to one side, withdrawing his arm’entirely, then releasing the dog’s forelimbs.
The beast scrambled to its feet.
Karsa straightened, stepped close to the dog, smiling to see its tail droop.
Delum climbed down from the ledge. ‘Warleader,’ he said as he approached, ‘I am witness to this.’ He retrieved his knives.
‘Delum Thord, you are both witness and participant, for I saw your knives and they were well timed.’
‘The leader’s rival saw his moment.’
‘And you understood that.’
