DOM

       Eleventh moon, seventeenth year of the reign of King Rastoth

       Scout camp, Final Falls, Wolf Lands, Rilporian border

      They’d climbed out of the forests cloaking the foothills and into snow and ice, isolated copses of stunted firs and pines providing scant but welcome cover. There was nothing to stop the wind up here and its constant keening set Dom’s nerves on edge, kept the pain in his head thrumming. It would help if he knew what he was looking for, but that hadn’t been made any clearer over the last day.

      The scout camp was perched just above the Final Falls on the River Gil, a shelter cleverly disguised with snow and rock so it was invisible from above. If the Mireces ventured down the treacherous Gil-beside Road, the scouts would spot them and run ahead to the village with the warning. It was a miserable posting, but there hadn’t been a surprise attack in the years since they’d implemented it.

      They were met with enthusiasm and Dom was grateful for the distraction. Lim and Sarilla were soon absorbed into the group and it took little effort to slip out when everyone was occupied. Ash had the forward post, sitting a hundred strides further upriver, and Dom slapped his fur-covered shoulder as he passed.

      ‘Where are you going?’ Ash asked.

      ‘Crossing over and a bit of a wander,’ Dom said.

      Ash stood up. ‘On your own?’

      ‘On my own,’ Dom confirmed. ‘Had a knowing. Said to come looking.’

      Ash chewed his lip. ‘That’s not the best idea, and I’ve heard you come up with pretty bad ones over the years.’ He hefted his bow. ‘Let me come?’

      Dom looked up at the white and black of the mountain. ‘I’ll only be a few hours,’ he said. ‘If I’m not back by then, come looking, all right? And keep an eye on the path,’ he added as something tugged inside him.

      ‘Stay safe,’ Ash said and Dom could see his reluctance. Dom nodded and hopped from rock to rock across the river. His wolfskin jerkin cut much of the wind but it was still bitterly cold, and he hunched his shoulders and walked until he was out of sight and sound of the river.

      ‘All right, then,’ he muttered, closing his eyes. ‘Where am I supposed to go? Whatever this key is, I could do with some help to find it.’

      Nothing.

      Dom huffed a plume of breath into the air and picked a direction at random, northeast uphill. The Dancer’s messages were often obscure, but this was ridiculous. Go and wander about in enemy territory looking for something, but I can’t tell you what it is. You’ll be fine.

      He had a sword, a short bow and quiver, and a knife. Oh, and a tendency to fall down and commune with the gods at the most inopportune moments, don’t forget. He snorted, wiped his nose, and kept walking. No doubt Lim would be apoplectic when he returned, so he’d better make sure he found whatever it was he was looking for. Returning empty-handed would be even worse.

      ‘If this goes wrong, I’ll never live it down,’ he breathed. His inner voice pointed out he might not live at all and he grimaced, but kept trudging. It was stupid, he knew, yet it felt right. The key was out here somewhere, the message that could confirm or deny the start of something that would change the world.

      A squall blew in and ice crystals filled the air, making everything hazy and soft, so it took a few seconds to make sense of what he was seeing. A copse of pine, a movement of red like fox fur near the ground. But any foxes this high up would have turned white by now. Dom squinted and took a few more steps, and the thing moved, stood up, started to run. Red hair. Blue dress.

      Mireces.

      The wind dropped and the noises that had been concealed by it echoed across the mountain. She saw him and veered away, then jinked back again when men appeared from behind an outcrop. Mireces hunting Mireces.

      ‘This is not helpful,’ Dom muttered as he dropped into the snow and snatched an arrow, aimed low and took the first hunter in the belly. The second shaft hit the next hunter in the shoulder and he kept coming; the third was a mistake. The third took the man with the dogs in the throat and he let go of the leads as he died. Two dogs, big, with lots of teeth. One sprinted for the girl, the other came straight for him.

      Two dead and one injured, but there were four more now and they had bows too, and Dom had no choice but to hunker down as arrows rained around him. The girl was screaming and the sound triggered a rush of light in his head. It was her. He was here for her. ‘Balls,’ he said as the dog barrelled into him and sent him over on to his back.

      Dom jammed his right forearm into its mouth, the heavy leather armguard just about protecting his flesh. The dog shook him and Dom’s punches missed. He thrashed, dragged his knife free and stabbed the dog’s belly. It squealed, but didn’t let go. He stabbed it again, trying not to look in its eyes. Sorry. Not your fault. Sorry.

      The dog collapsed and Dom struggled from beneath it, scrabbling for his bow. The other dog had the girl by the calf and she was screaming louder as it shook her like a rabbit. The Mireces were closing in on them both when three were dropped in less than a second with arrows Dom hadn’t fired. The man with the arrow in his shoulder turned and fled, and Ash popped up from behind a rock and killed the dog savaging the girl.

      ‘Thanks,’ Dom said. ‘Good to see you ignored me.’

      ‘Don’t I always?’ Ash asked, quartering the mountains with an arrow on the string.

      ‘Let’s get her.’

      ‘Her?’ Ash asked, frowning. The girl was dragging herself away, her blood a bright trail in the snow. ‘Let the Wolves do for her. Mireces scum.’

      ‘No,’ Dom said, ‘she’s why I’m here. She’s the key. The message.’ The harbinger. He shook away the thought.

      ‘Oh, gods,’ Ash muttered. ‘Are you sure? I mean, really sure? Because we’re going to be leaving sign all the way back. We’re bringing them right to us.’ Dom spread his hands but didn’t answer. Ash sighed. ‘Fuck. Fine, then let’s be