“Why?” said Landra.

“Because he could,” said Tobias.

“Half the army … half the army were from Ith. From Tyrenae. He forced them to do it,” said Landra. “He made them. He’d have killed them if they didn’t, maybe …”

Malth Salene falling in ruins. Marith shrieking, “Destroy it!” Following him, cheering him, breaking it down with their swords and their bare hands.

I followed him, Tobias thought. Cheered him. This shouldn’t be a surprise either, not to anyone. “Every soldier’s wet dream,” said Tobias, “a rich city, open gates, undefended. Your commander yelling at you to attaaaaccckkkk!!!!! Don’t suppose they cared, most of them, whose city it was. Easier, in fact, for the Ithish guys. Knew their way around. Knew where that girl who’d always spurned them was living. Knew where the people in their families keep the secret money stash.”

For three nights, the sky over Tyrenae was lit by red fire. For three days, the sky over Tyrenae was black with smoke. On the fourth night, the sky was dark.

“They’ll be heading back this way soon,” said Tobias. “Back towards Illyr. Suggest we possibly think about getting out of their way.” He turned away from them. Not going to let them see him cry.

They met a woodsman on the road. He knew nothing about what had happened to Tyrenae. Knew nothing about fighting, or a new King of Ith. But he had seen a party of riders, some days past, riding fast into the mountains, hooded and cloaked, richly dressed like great men.

“What in all hells is Marith doing? Where’s he going? He can’t be planning to conquer Illyr on his own?” Not expecting an answer.

Landra looked blank and puzzled. Raeta shrugged. “Making himself vulnerable.”

“Very considerate of him …” He just didn’t want to face it, maybe. Face seeing Tyrenae sacked and slaughtered. “It was nothing to do with me, I was miles away, I was drunk, I didn’t want it to happen, someone must have misunderstood.”

The forest grew darker. Thicker, less alive. Cutting out the light. The road went sharply upwards, into the mountains, there was no human life visible but they passed sometimes old marks where mine workings had been. The earth was dark and heavy, slimy underfoot. All poisoned, Raeta said, by the mine workings. Quicksilver was once mined here. And then the mountains themselves, their slopes forested with black pine trees, the track leading through high passes where the air was thin and cold. In dark sheltered places there were still patches of snow.

They came to the river Elenanen, that cut through the mountains. It had once flowed all the way across Caltath, the greatest river in Irlast. Flowed past the palaces of the Godkings There was a bridge over the river, the road running along its northern bank. The stones of the bridge were pale yellow, dry and crumbling. They did not look like the stones of the mountain. They did not quite feel like stone under Tobias’s hand.

Still no sign of Marith. No trace of a group of horsemen. They were walking through a landscape bigger than the whole of the bloody White Isles. He could have turned off the road. He could be anywhere. Doing anything.

Raeta, Tobias realized, was beginning to look afraid. Staring around her at the trees. She flinched and trembled, as they crossed the bridge.

“Elenanen,” Landra said, “means—”

“Quiet!” Tobias held up his hand. “Stop. Get down.”

Voices. Coming towards them.

“… not my fault …”

“… bloody stupid … tell him … tried … not …”

“… kill us …”

Not happy bunnies.

Three men came out of the trees. Armed. Dark cloaks. Dark red badges on their armour. Shapeless formless pool of colour, like a scab over where their hearts would be.

“He’s near,” Raeta whispered in Tobias’s ear.

Tobias nodded. “What do you think?”

Raeta sighed. “Yes. Do it.”

The three men came up to them. Hostile and curious. But swords not yet fully out. A man and two women lost in the mountains, what harm could they be?

About to find out, guys. Sorry. Bad luck. Nothing personal.

Music of iron and bronze! Hadn’t drawn his sword for a long time. Hack and smash. Smash and hack. Kill two. Take one alive. Easy. Yeah? Gods, this was tiring, his leg ached, his sides ached. Swung his sword aiming for one of the men’s chest, and felt his ribs scream. Sword in his face, stabbing, hacking, warded it off, drove his opponent back a few steps, the sword back in his face again. Driven back himself. Ward it off. Just ward it off. Hit and smashed and hit and missed and his ribs were killing him, and so was his arm, and gods he really didn’t want to mean that literally.

I used to be a good swordsman, me.

Hack and smash. Artless. Bloody hard. Just ward it off. Kill the bloke before he kills me. Taste of blood in his mouth.

This was a mistake. Should just have chatted to them nice. Asked leading questions. Never mind taking one alive. Just try to stay alive myself. My ribs fucking fucking fucking hurt.

Tobias only got his one down because the bloke stumbled on a rock. Landra was bloody useless, stood there staring with her sword in her hands like she was waiting for someone to be good and helpful and fall on it. Looked terrified. Raeta finally killed her one with a swing of her sword that took his head off. Rolled away, got up some momentum, went over the riverbank. Plop. The body lay there bleeding. Sword still in his hand. Looked really surprised by it, even despite not having a head.

Strong woman, Raeta. Possibly hadn’t realized quite how strong.

The last bloke looked at his friends’ bodies and howled and dropped his sword and got down on his knees gasping “please.”

Thank the gods. Tobias held his sword over him. “You surrendering?”

“Yes. Gods, yes.”

Landra said faintly, “You’re with Marith?” Let’s hope, eh? Tobias thought painfully. Bit pointless, all this, otherwise. Might be a bit late to apologize and wish them well on their way.

The prisoner stiffened. “I serve the king.” The way his voice said the word “king,” sweet in his mouth, sucking on it as if it was honey. Made Tobias want to puke.

“What are you doing here?” said Raeta.

Silence.

Tobias held up his sword. “What are you doing here?”

“One of the guides deserted, ran off over the mountains. We were sent to track her down.” The weak face looked helplessly at Tobias. “Are you going to kill me? Though I’m dead whatever, now.”

“Oh gods, man, don’t be so bloody melodramatic. And she meant, what’s he doing here? Your king?”

The poor bloke stared all round him. Stared at Tobias’s sword. At his mate missing his head. “I don’t know. We’ve been camped here for days now. But I don’t know what he’s doing here. I swear. Nobody knows.”

“What’s your name?” Landra asked the bloke.

“Graventh,” the bloke replied. “Grav. From Sel Isle. You’re from the Whites?”

“From Third Isle.” Landra turned away. Pretty sure she was crying. She made a choking sound. “Third Isle.”

“He’ll kill you,” said Grav.

“Yeah, yeah. What did I say about the melodrama? But before he kills us, you’re going to have to take us to him.”

Landra’s voice came up suddenly in a scream. “I’ve trained to use a blade! I killed a man, when the bandits had attacked outside Skerneheh. Stabbed him in the hand, knocked him down, I rode my horse over him. I didn’t even manage to hold my sword properly.”

Raeta said, “It was a good thing, Landra. He’s alive, he can lead us to Marith. You did a good thing, not killing him. Tobias and I … we failed, killing the other men.”

Raeta looked at Tobias. Shook her head at him. Failed. Yeah. That was it, definitely. He nodded back. “Raeta’s right, Landra. We needed one alive. Well done.” Just don’t tell that to my bloody ribs and leg.

The prisoner led them up along the bank of the river Elenanen. Whose name, Tobias had realized, must mean something like “Sorrow.” Or “Joy.” It rushed down in a torrent of snowmelt, ice cold, sharp and fierce. Well named, yeah, the way it rushed down. Kites and crows circled above. Watching them. They had come down in a cloud for the dead men. Raeta looked exhausted. Frightened. Landra was white faced, still mumbling about her knife. After a while, they turned off the road, scrambled up a narrow track like an animal track. The trees gave way to scrub grass and thorns and bare grey rock. Hard, bitter ground. Every step hurt the body, hard pain down into the bone.

Gods curse this bloody godsdamned bloody place. I’m a sellsword, I’m not a fucking mountaineer. The rock beneath Tobias’s feet slipped suddenly, twisting his ankle round. He stumbled, landed hard on jagged stone, scraped his hands on thorns. “Gods! This godsdamned place! What in all gods is he bloody doing up here? He’s supposed to be bloody well invading bloody Illyr. Not fucking around camped up a bloody mountain.”

“Treating the wife to a walking holiday? Taken up landscape painting? Heard about a particularly good hatha den hereabouts?” Raeta’s voice was harsh and drawn. She sounded so bloody afraid. “Think about it, Tobias. Think.”

Landra said quietly, “He’s looking for something.”

“Looking for what? Particularly viciously bloody rocks?”

Grav smiled like daggers. “I lied. I do know why he’s here. Clever girl, Landra. He is looking for something. But not rocks.”

An empty landscape. The Empty Peaks. The border between the world of cities and the wasteland where nothing lived. Why does nothing live here? Do you think?

Raeta moaned. Landra wept. With fear or with pity or with laughter. Tobias pissed himself.

From over the mountain came the sound of beating wings.