He drew his sword in a rush. “Ware!” he shouted. “Ware!”
The words had barely left his mouth when a group of hooded and cowled figures burst from the thicket. They clutched swords, which glinted dully in the overcast. Oskar responded on instinct, slipping without thought into the forms he’d practised all his life. His sword took the first low in the stomach, he kicked the second out of the way, and was onto the third in the blink of an eye. In the tangle amongst the trees, he couldn’t make out how many there were. Where had they come from? And how had he missed them?
Stupid, stupid, stupid,he berated himself as he sliced the hamstrings of one, parried the wild swing of another, and then spun, dropping low. Magnus and Emeric were fighting now too, Magnus swinging his great broadsword, while Emeric shot arrow after arrow into the pressing throng.
Suddenly he heard a strangled cry from the trees.
Lily!
A surge of adrenaline burst through him and he sprang away, sprinting across their camp and plunging into the undergrowth, ignoring the branches that scratched at his arms and face.
He came out onto the banks of the burn to find Lily backing away from two hooded figures who were closing on her with drawn swords. Fury exploded through his veins, hot and biting. He heard himself howling as he crashed into the first one, stabbing him through the neck in a shower of blood. The second slammed into Lily, sending her thumping to the ground, and then spun to advance on Oskar. He couldn’t make out any details of his attacker. He wore a long black cowl that hid his face but itwas clear from the way he handled a blade that he was good with a sword.
Oskar charged, blade snaking out in quick blows that the figure was hard-pressed to deflect. The snick of metal on metal filled the air and his opponent was forced back, away from Lily. Oskar placed himself between them.
His opponent suddenly jabbed at him, aiming for his belly, and as Oskar took a step back, the man seized his chance to disengage. He turned and fled into the trees. Oskar didn’t follow. Instead, he spun, searching for any more attackers, but could see none. He hurried to Lily. She was lying on her side, clutching her hip.
“Are ye all right?” he asked breathlessly. “Did they hurt ye?”
“No,” she replied. “I’m fine. Maybe a little bruised is all.”
Still clutching his sword in one hand, he held out his other and pulled her to her feet. She cried out in pain and her face went white as she staggered up, clutching at him for support.
“Can ye walk, lass?”
She nodded and he took her arm as they pushed through the undergrowth and returned to camp. The fight, it seemed, was over. Oskar counted at least five bodies lying in the damp grass, not counting the one he’d dispatched by the burn. Magnus was cleaning his sword on the tunic of one. A moment later, Emeric emerged through the trees.
“They’ve gone,” he announced grimly. “They’d hidden horses in a dell on the far side. Looks like they were well prepared for this ambush.”
“Wait a minute,” Oskar said suddenly. “Where is Alfred?”
“Taken,” Emeric said. “This was clearly about him, not us. Otherwise I dinna think they would have left quite so swiftly.”
A hot burst of fury swept through Oskar. “No!” he bellowed at the sky, hammering his fists against his thighs.
“Who were they?” Lily asked in a small voice.
“Alfred’s friends, clearly,” Oskar grated.
“I never saw the Disinherited as being the particularly loyal type,” Magnus said. “In my experience, when one of their lot is caught they usually leave them to rot. Seems they went to a great deal of risk to rescue Alfred who, after all, isnae that important in their organization. It doesnae make sense.”
“It does if ye know who it was who did the rescuing,” Emeric said. He looked at Magnus and then over at Oskar. “I recognized one of those waiting with the horses over on the far side of the trees. I think the two of ye would have recognized her too. She’s an old friend of ours.”
Magnus inhaled sharply. “Alice?”
Emeric nodded. “The very same.”
Lily looked at the three of them. “Alice? Who’s that?”
Oskar turned to her. “Alice Brewer, Alfred’s wife. She’s been a thorn in our sides for a long time, but the last reports we had were that she was dead, drowned off the coast up north.”
“But they never found her body,” Emeric pointed out.
“And I, for one, never believed her dead,” Magnus said. “People like that have a habit of turning up where they are least welcome.”
Oskar pinched the bridge of his nose. “How could we have let this happen?” he snapped. “We have to go after them! We have to get Alfred back!”
“Aye, we do,” Magnus agreed. “But they have horses and a head start.”
