The dust storm lasted the rest of the day and all the night. The blinding flashes of lightning and the titanic thundercrashes that followed made it difficult to get any sleep, but they did eventually drift off to find, when they awoke the next morning, that the main fury of the storm had passed. There was still a stiff wind that was blowing stray grains of dust around, but there was clear sky to the west and so they emerged from the hole, eager to make up some of the time they'd lost.

  The shoveleusks were still crouched down in their holes and the four humans threaded their way carefully between them and the huge piles of loose soil they'd created. The storm had left a light dusting of sand on everything, including the spring plants that had been beaten down flat by the onslaught. The land all around looked like the desert it would soon become, and only the sponginess of the ground under their feet betrayed the truth.

  They soon left the shoveltusk herd behind them and set off north, but Tarvos looked down in dismay at the tracks they were leaving in the dust. "The moment they cross our path, they'll see exactly which way we've gone," he said.

  "The wind will erase our tracks before long," said Daphnis.

  "The wind up is dying down. Soon it'll be gone completely. There's no way Skoll can fail to find us now."

  "Then maybe we should prepare to meet him," said Fornjot. "Lay a trap for him. Lead him to a place where we can ambush him."

  "There are six of them," Tarvos pointed out.

  "Then we need to whittle down their numbers with the first salvo. It's the only chance we've got."

  "They'll be expecting an ambush," said Daphnis. "They won't fall for it."

  "The alternative is to just keep on walking and wait until we see them on the horizon behind us," Fornjot replied. "Then it'll be too late to think about ambushes and tactics. It'll be just the four of us against the six of them out in the open with no cover. Nowhere to hide."

  "Which is why they'll be expecting an ambush," Daphnis repeated.

  "So what's your idea?" asked Fornjot.

  Daphnis could only shake her head, though. "I can't think of one," she said. "I think we're dead whatever we do,"

  "Theh let's make sure they pay a high price for our finger bones," said Fornjot. He looked across at Tarvos. "What do you say, Chief? You wanted to be our leader."

  Tarvos looked back at him. Then he looked at the trail they were leaving in the newly fallen dust. "They'll guess we used shoveltusk holes to hide from the storm," he said. "And shoveltusks are big. When they emerge from their holes they'll be visible from miles away. Skoll and his new friends will head straight for them. They'll backtrack the herd and look for our trail leading away from it. They'll follow our trail, but they'll walk a few dozen yards to the side because they'll know we'll be waiting in ambush somewhere along the way. They'll want to avoid the ambush."

  "So we put our ambush a few dozen yards to the side," said Geirrod, looking at each of the other three in turn. "When they try to avoid it, they'll walk right into it." Then a look of doubt appeared on his face, though. "But do we put it a few dozen yards to the east or the west?"

  "Well, that's the question, isn't it?" said Tarvos. "Which side will they take? If we guess wrong we die, but if we guess right we only might die."

  "East," said Geirrod with sudden decisiveness.

  "Why east?" asked Tarvos.

  "Why not east?"

  Tarvos grinned and nodded. "Anyone got a problem with east?" he asked.

  Neither of the others did, and so they talked as they walked, working out exactly what they were going to do.

  ☆☆☆

  They walked on for a few miles more until they saw a clump of tanglebushes on the horizon. "That's where they'll think we'll lay the ambush," said Fornjot. "Using the bushes for cover."

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  "So we lay the ambush here," said Tarvos. "They'll have their attention fixed on the area around the bushes. They won't be paying proper attention to what's right beside them."

  "Are you sure of that?" asked Fornjot, though. "Skoll is said to be a brilliant warrior. He might guess what we're doing."

  "He got captured by the bandits, remember," Tarvos reminded him.

  "He wanted to make contact with the bandits," Fornjot reminded him. "He allowed himself to be captured." He shook his head unhappily. "Twelve of us set out from Festival City. That's how many people we thought it would take to take him down safely. Now there are only four of us. One of us, forgive me Daff. One of us a woman."

  "I can throw a sling as well as any of you," Daphnis replied with a scowl.

  Fornjot nodded his acceptance of her words. "And Skoll is no longer alone. He has allies. More of them than there are of us. I wish there were another way."

  "So do I. If you think of something, please share it with the rest of us."

  Fornjot said nothing, though, and stared down at the ground in front of him as they walked.

  When they'd gone another couple of hundred yards, Tarvos led them a short distance to the east, and then they backtracked south until they were east of the path they'd left heading towards the tanglebushes. Then they lay down on the ground, using slight depression in the ground for cover. Tarvos and Fornjot lifted up their tunics to cover their dark hair, which would have been clearly visible against the sand. Fortunately Geirrod and Daphnis had sandy-coloured hair, and their clothes were also the same colour as the sand. Hopefully the four of them would be virtually invisible and their enemies would go right past them as they carried on to where they thought the ambush would be.

  Laying their spears on the ground beside them, they took the slings from around their necks and fitted one of the rocks they'd been carrying in their tunics. "In the Robin Hood clan, we're trained to use slings while lying flat on the ground," he said.

  "So are we," Geirrod replied. "We also hunt fleethorns from time to time."

  Tarvos flushed with amused embarrassment. "Yes, of course," he said. Fleethorns were famously shy and would never allow a standing human to come within sling-throwing range of them. The only way to hunt them was to hide and wait for them to come close.

  "We still have to whirl the slings up to speed," Geirrod told them. "They'll see us before we're ready to throw the stones. They'll scatter and dodge."

  "We'll wait until they're a little way past us," said Tarvos. "We'll have to hope they're not paying attention to what's behind them."

  "They'd be fools not to be," said Fornjot. "There's all kinds of creatures out here that might be hunting them."

  "Then let's hope they're fools," said Tarvos.

  "I suppose they are still following us," said Geirrod. "What if they all decided to just go home?"

  "Skoll will never give up," said Daphnis quietly. "He hates Tarvos, and he wants me back."

  "But what about the other bandits?" asked Geirrod. "They might want to give up."

  "Then Skoll will chase us alone," his sister replied. "If that happens, we might actually have a chance."

  "Shush!" said Fornjot urgently. He'd lifted his head a little to see back to the south and now he dropped again, pressing himself to the ground. "They're here."

  "East or west?" asked Tarvos.

  "Both."

  "What?" Tarvos felt his heart miss a beat with sudden fear.

  "I only saw three, but they were strung out in a line, one to the east, one to the west. One in the middle. The one to the east will walk right into us."

  Tarvos swore bitterly. They'd guessed where the ambush would be, denying the six-tribesmen their only advantage. The other three bandits, he guessed, would be even more widely spread, meaning that, whichever side of the trail the six-tribesmen were waiting, there would be bandits on either side of them. He grinned ruefully. If he were in their place it was exactly what he would have done, but that didn't make him feel any better. He, Fornjot and Geirrod were as good as dead, and Daphnis was destined to spend the rest of her life warming Skoll's sleeping furs.

  No, he promised himself, though. No matter what happens, Skoll dies today. Daphnis would still find herself the wife of a bandit, but it might not be a man as vicious and cruel as Skoll, and one day she would have children to love and cherish. He looked across at her, lying on the ground beside him. Her golden skin was dusty and dirty and her hair, tangled by the wind, was lying in an untidy mess, but she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. I'm sorry I can't do more for you, he thought with aching sorrow, but I can at least keep Skoll from getting his hands on you again. I can at least do that.

  "We've got no chance of spinning up the slings without being seen now, so there's no point trying," he called quietly to the others. "When the closest of them gets to about thirty yards away, we jump up and start swinging. They'll be doing the same, of course. We just have to hope we can get them before they get us."

  "I recommend Daff takes the man coming straight for us," said Fornjot. "He'll be the closest. No disrespect, Daff, but men practice with their slings every day."

  "So do I..." Daphnis replied, but she cut herself off. This was no time to have an argument. "Understood," she said.

  "Gyre takes the man to the east and Tar takes the man to the west," Fornjot continued. "I'll take whichever of the more distant men I see first. With no false modesty, I'm the best aim with the sling. If that's okay with you, Tar."

  "You're the oldest of us," Tarvos replied. "The most experienced warrior. We'll follow your lead."

  Fornjot tensed up visibly, and seemed to sag as if he was feeling a burden of responsibility settling on him . "Get ready," he said. "They'll be here any moment. Spirits of our ancestors, guide us."

  "Guide us," the others whispered, and they clutched their slings tightly as they waited for the moment to attack.