The cart shifted and rocked as it made its way along the old road through the Carpathian Moors and down towards Drauth. Like a ship on the sea, I would have thrown up from the nausea, but I had barely eaten for two days, so there was little to give. Looking down at my wrists, I could see the silver threads of Weft-runes tracing through the silk ribbon that bound them. I had already studied the runes, hoping for some flaw, some broken strand to set me free. But alas, they were well made, simply written and as strong as shackles of iron.

Only the creaking of the cart and the hooves of the horses broke the stillness of the Moor. Occasionally a muffled sob came from the corner where Mari was huddled. Nurse’s strong wrinkled fingers worked their way along a rosary, over and over, with her lips moving in silent prayer. I didn’t dare look at my third companion in this miserable vessel. He lay splayed out across the floor where they’d dragged him into the cart, a smear of blood trailing behind him.

Looking about, I couldn’t find a single landmark to tell how far we’d come. There was a tree off to the side of the road. I wasn’t sure if was the same one that I’d spotted in the distance an hour earlier, or if I’d missed that one and was now looking at a slightly different twisted trunk trying to struggle out of the swampy ground.

Driving the cart was a short stocky man, face covered with a dirty looking dark cloth. He hadn’t uttered a word since I’d met him. Behind us were a pair of riders. One was a young looking man with eyes that seemed at least a decade older then he was. He had a whiff of Weft about his person, not a full mage, but something beyond an ordinary hedge-witch. The other was a middle aged woman, with a permanent scowl. She looked like she could wrestle an ox to the floor, or more likely stare it down so it retreated with its tail between its legs.

Ahead of us was our captor, astride a pitch black charger with hooves as large as dinner plates. His clothing was warn and unornamented, but for the silver runes that served as his armour. When I had seen is face earlier, it looked like it had been carved from granite, with a slash for a mouth, and dark eyes that seemed to suck the light from the room. A longsword was strapped to the side of the horse, whose rune etched blade I’d seen him wield with skill and finesse.

I shivered at the rememberance, and how dead his eyes had seemed after that final cut. After my brother…

“How much further until we reach Drauth?” I asked our captor, hoping to break his stony contemplation and distract myself from the horror lying at my feet.

“That implies we’re going to Drauth,” came the unhelpful reply.

“This is the road to Drauth, is it not? There are few other towns on this side of the Moor, and the Usurper was sitting his fat arse in Drauth by what I heard.”

Silence.

“The Usurper wants all of my family dead. You are in the employ of the Usurper, are you not? So it stands to reason that we are going to Drauth so you can deliver us to him, he can cut off my head, and he can crown himself king.”

At this Mari let out another crying sob at this and started a kind of ugly hiccuping into her handkerchief.

“Oh hush girl,” Nurse said, finally looking looking up from her prayers, “you’d think it was your own head getting cut off instead of her ladyships.”

“The Duke,” came the gritted reply from the rider in the front, “is not ‘sitting his fat arse’ in Drauth, he has been marching with his men and is at camp near Haustenveld, a day’s ride from here.”

“And he’s just sitting there? Lord Fraut and Lady Domile must be just south of him, they’ll completely envelop him if he’s not careful.” I smiled, “I don’t know if he’ll still be there in a day’s time.”

The cart driver chuckled, the first sound I’d heard him make this entire journey.

“Didn’t you hear?” Our captor laughed, “Fraut made peace with the Duke a week ago and they say Domile’s been in talks with him for twice that time. Peace by Mistarmas is the word on everyone’s lips.”

At this the two riders behind us cheered.

“So it’s done then.”

“Aye, its done.”

I looked at the sorry mess of flesh and bone that stretched across the floor at my feet.

“Well brother. That’s that then,” and I vomited over the side of cart.