His senses returning, Tinuva struggled back into his trousers, boots and tunic, the spasms of shivering finally passing.
Asayaga was standing by the edge of the water, still naked, reaching out and pulling each of his men in as they staggered to the shore, urging them up to the fires to dry out.
Brother Corwin started into the river, modesty demanding that he keep his habit on, though he did cinch it up around his waist. In spite of his portly build he was still strong enough to help two of the wounded, aided by young Richard.
Gregory was still on the far shore, fully clothed, bow out. A crow rose up from a tree on the far bank squawking loudly. Tinuva saw Gregory tense.
‘They’re here,’ Tinuva hissed.
Dennis was at his side at once, tossing over a bow and quiver and Tinuva bent the weapon, notching the string which he had carefully wrapped up inside an oiled cloth before the crossing.
The last of the men were in mid-stream. Gregory suddenly cut the rope secured to the tree on his side of the river then sprinted for the water and dived in, still holding his bow. Surfacing, he started across, half-swimming, half-running clumsily through the chest-deep water.
Tinuva saw a flicker of reflected light, which resolved itself as a mounted man, burnished shield strapped to his left shoulder. Without hesitation, he drew and fired a shaft at the glint. Even if he didn’t hit the target, he might hold the man away from the shore for an extra second or two, gaining those still in the water a safe crossing.
Another man, this one a mounted archer, came out of the woods, bow drawn, aiming at Gregory.
Tinuva raised his own weapon again, but this time he didn’t fire as soon as the bow was fully drawn. He hesitated, feeling the breeze on his cheek, judging the range and the drift of the arrow, and then released. The mounted archer fired first. Gregory dived down and the shaft struck the spot where he had disappeared. Then Tinuva’s arrow streaked in, hitting the rider’s horse and the animal reared up, screaming with pain.
More riders emerged, spreading out along the river bank. Gregory was at mid-stream now, up with Brother Corwin, urging him on, arrows hissing about their ears. A crossbow bolt struck one of the wounded in the back and with a cry he collapsed. Richard tried to grab the fallen man but Gregory pushed him on, pulling Richard under as another bolt snaked in.
Dennis’s most experienced archers positioned themselves along the river bank next to Tinuva, carefully took aim, and shot their bow-shafts high in the air.
With the rope on the far shore cut away, the men in the middle of the stream were gradually being swept down by the current. A Tsurani let go, disappearing into the torrent. Asayaga jumped into the river and started to wade back out and Dennis, cursing angrily, followed him in.
Together they reached Corwin, Richard, Gregory and several of the others. Another went under hit by a crossbow bolt.
Stepping into a hole, Dennis suddenly disappeared. Tinuva, who had been taking careful aim on what he suspected was one of the human leaders on the far shore, lowered his bow, ready to go into the water yet again. Cries of alarm rose up and half a dozen men jumped into the icy torrent, ready to flounder back out.
Dennis finally surfaced, held up by Asayaga, and the two regained the shore. His bow gone, Gregory, cursing and gasping, hauled in the priest and Richard.
Asayaga pushed Dennis up the embankment even as the Tsurani swarmed around their leader.
Looking around, Dennis cursed wearily, then half-crawled back up the icy slope.
‘Noble gesture,’ Tinuva offered.
Dennis held up a hand to silence him. ‘Not another word,’ he gasped, teeth chattering. He shouldered his way past Tinuva to stand by the fire.
A dozen mounted men were on the far shore, several of them venturing long shots, but the wind was brisk and the arrows arced down harmlessly. Taunts echoed back and forth across the river as the two sides glared at each other, unable to come to blows.
More fires had sprung up, and knots of men stood around them, stamping their feet, dressing, wolfing down hunks of barely-cooked meat.
Gregory, clothes steaming, came up to join his friend. ‘I had that bow for nearly half a score of years. I’ll miss it.’
‘For that you saved the priest.’
‘I know. It still needs to be proven if it was a fair exchange.’
Tinuva looked at him quizzically.
‘Nothing yet. Just wondering, that’s all.’
‘He’s proven his value so far.’
‘I know.’
Gregory nodded to the far shore.
‘It’ll take them an hour to get back to the main column. Two hours, more like three, to reach the bridge and then another couple hours to here. We leave a dozen archers to hold here, just in case they are crazy enough to try and rush across. I think we can get this lot moving in an hour or so.’
‘Better dry yourself out first. The temperature will drop today now that the storm is past.’
Gregory, features turning blue, nodded and returned to the fire.
One of the riders had already turned about and disappeared back into the woods. The others drew back to the edge of the wood line and dismounted, and within minutes a fire had sprung to life.
He saw Asayaga standing by the fire, shivering violently, hands extended to the heat. Tinuva went to the second fire where the venison was charring in the flames, poked out a piece with a stick and went back to the Tsurani leader and offered him the meat, which he accepted without comment.
‘Why did you do it?’
‘I thought it was someone else, one of my men.’
Tinuva chuckled softly.
‘Hard to mistake Hartraft for one of yours.’
‘It was a mistake, I tell you.’
‘A mistake to save him or a mistake in knowing who you were saving?’
Asayaga took a bite of half-cooked venison. ‘He hates me.’
‘Do you hate him?’
‘It is my duty to kill him. And yes, he has been a thorn in our side for years. Killing him would bring honour to my clan.’
‘Would you have let him drown?’
Asayaga hesitated.
‘Would you?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘When I kill him, I want it to be a fight of honour. Letting him drown would not bring honour to either of us. And it would be a waste. He’s right. We need every sword if we are to survive.’
‘Know this, Asayaga: Dennis is a brilliant warrior, among the finest of your race I think I have ever known. He, too, has honour, though perhaps not as your people define it. I think he would have done the same for you. In fact it will rankle with him now because he owes you a blood debt.’ Tinuva chuckled softly. ‘You’ve presented him with a paradox. In order to kill you he first must settle the blood debt of life.’
‘There is nothing funny about it.’
Gregory approached them. ‘Funny about what?’ he asked.
‘Dennis owes Asayaga his life, but wants