Aethan tended the horses, Maddyn went to gather firewood at the forest edge. A crowd of Wildfolk went with him, darting around or skipping beside him, a gaggle of green, warty gnomes, three enormous yellow creatures with swollen stomachs and red fangs, and his faithful blue sprite, perching on his shoulder and running tiny hands through his hair.
‘I’ll have to play us a song tonight. It’s been a while since I felt like music, but maybe our luck is turning.’
Yet when it came time to play, Maddyn’s heart was still so troubled that he found it hard to settle down to one ballad or declamation. He got the harp in tune, then played scraps and bits of various songs or practised runs and chordings. Aethan soon fell asleep, lying on his stomach with his head pillowed on folded arms, but the Wildfolk stayed to the last note, a vast crowd of them stretching out beyond the pool of firelight across the meadow. Maddyn felt awed, as if he were playing in a king’s court, the great hall crowded with retainers. When he stopped, he felt more than heard a ripple of eerie applause; then suddenly, they were gone. Maddyn shuddered profoundly, then put the harp away.
After he had banked the campfire, Maddyn paced a little way into the meadow out of restlessness and nothing more. He could see the forest edge, looming dark not far from them, and even more, he could feel its presence, like an exhalation of wildness. He was sure that more than human fugitives lived there. It occurred to him that while the long wars were a tragedy for human beings, to the Wildfolk they were a blessing, giving them back land that men had once taken and tamed. As he stood there in the silent meadow, it seemed that he heard faint music, an echo of his own. Again he shuddered convulsively, then hurried back to his safe camp.
On the morrow the blue sprite woke him just at dawn by the expedient method of pulling his hair so hard that it hurt like fire. When he swatted at her, she laughed soundlessly, exposing her needle-sharp teeth. Nearby Aethan was still sleeping, but restlessly, turning and stretching like a man who’ll wake any moment.
‘Listen carefully, little sweet one,’ Maddyn said to the sprite. ‘Somewhere in that forest are a whole lot of men like me and Aethan, warriors with swords. They’ll have lots of horses, too, and they live in a stone house. Can you lead me there?’
She thought for a long moment, then nodded her agreement and promptly disappeared. Maddyn decided that either she’d misunderstood or had simply forgotten, but as soon as they were ready to ride, she reappeared, dancing and leaping on the riverbank and pointing to the north.
‘I don’t suppose that misbegotten tavernman gave you any directions to this place,’ Aethan said.
‘Well, he had a confused idea or two. I’ll try to lead us there, but don’t be surprised if it’s a bit roundabout.’
It was a good thing that Maddyn had put in his warning, because the Wildfolk’s idea of leading someone left much to be desired. As soon as the men started riding north, two grey gnomes appeared to join the sprite, but they kept pinching either her or each other and distracting her both ways from her task. Once they were all well into the forest, the Wildfolk disappeared, leaving the men to follow a rough deertrack for several miles. Just when Maddyn had given up on them, they flashed back into being, perching on his horse’s neck and saddle-peak and pointing off to the west down a narrow and rough track indeed. Although Aethan grumbled (and a welcome sign of returning life it was) Maddyn insisted on following it, and every time the path branched, he faithfully went the way the blue sprite pointed. By noon, Maddyn was hopelessly lost, with no choice but to follow where the Wildfolk led. Hopping from tree to tree, they grinned, giggled, and pointed in various directions, but Maddyn always followed the blue sprite, who threatened to bite the grey fellows whenever they contradicted her.
‘Maddo, I hope to every god and his horse that you know what you’re doing.’
‘So do I. I’ve got the ugly feeling I may have got us lost in here.’
Aethan groaned with a drama worthy of a bard. Just as Maddyn was thinking that he’d spoken the bitter truth, the sprite led them to a big clearing, ringed round with stumps of trees. Out in the middle was a hut built of logs, piled up whole to form a square structure – a house different from any that Maddyn had ever seen. The roof was neatly thatched with branches, and a wisp of smoke trailed lazily out of the smoke-hole in the roof.
‘What in the three hells have you found?’ Aethan sputtered. ‘That’s not big enough for a band of mercenaries.’
‘So it’s not. More likely it’s some of those runaway bondsmen the taverner mentioned.’
At the sound of their voices, a man came out. He was one of the shortest men Maddyn had ever seen, not more than five feet tall, but he had broad shoulders and heavy arms like a miniature blacksmith, and his legs were in perfect proportion to the rest of him. His long black beard trailed past the round collar of the wool tunic he wore over brigga. He carried a long woodsman’s axe like a weapon. When he spoke, his voice was rough with a heavy guttural accent. ‘And just who are you, lads?’
‘Naught but a pair of lost travellers,’ Maddyn said.
‘Thieves, more like.’ The fellow hefted the axe. ‘And what brought you into these wretched woods in the first place?’
‘We were looking for a mercenary troop,’ Aethan broke in. ‘A tavernman in Gaddmyr said there might be one quartered in this forest.’
‘All we want to do is see if they’ll take us on,’ Maddyn said. ‘I swear it, we’re not thieves, and I don’t know what a hermit like you would have that’s worth stealing, anyway.’
The man considered, his axe at the ready. When Maddyn noticed the blade, he nearly swore aloud in surprise. Although the metal gleamed exactly like silver, it had an edge as sharp as steel by the look of it, and it carried not one nick or bite.
‘Now here,’ Aethan said. ‘We’ll be more than glad to leave you alone if you’ll only show us the way out of these blasted woods.’
‘Go back the way you came, of course.’
‘Good sir, we’re lost,’ Maddyn said, and quickly, because he didn’t like the black look on Aethan’s face.
‘Indeed? You found me easily enough.’
‘Well, I was following one of the …’ Maddyn broke off just in time.
As if she knew he was thinking of her, the blue sprite popped into existence, settling on his shoulder and kissing his hair. The fellow frankly stared, and lowered his axe to lean on it like a walking-stick. Quickly he darted a conspiratorial glance at Aethan, who of course had seen nothing, and then gave Maddyn a grudging smile.
‘Well, perhaps I could take you to the old lodge after all, but your horses look worn out from all these wretched trees. There’s a spring over there, by that bit of stump. Give them a drink first. My name’s Otho, by the by.’
‘And I’m Maddyn, and this is Aethan. My thanks for your help. Do you know this troop?’
‘Somewhat. I did a bit of work for them this winter, fixing buckles and suchlike. I’m a smith, you see.’
It was Maddyn’s turn to stare. What was a smith doing out in the middle of a wilderness? Then it occurred to him that Otho might have some dishonour of his own behind him.
‘Now, Caradoc – that’s their leader – isn’t a bad man, considering what he is,’ Otho went on. ‘He wants me
