Low clouds have descended to mist the road by the time they find somewhere to camp that Alex is happy with. Nowhere on the journey should be cold enough to need tents, but they have a few large canvas sheets and some poles that allow the creation of a shelter that, while not exactly enclosed, should keep the worst of the light rain off them overnight.

Now used to their regular routine, the camp is quickly assembled and a small fire lit. While Garvan busies himself with the cooking, Brion wanders off with his bow. He returns before the darkness descends, tossing a plump hare down beside the fire. “Too late for supper, but it’ll make a good breakfast,” he tells Garvan.

“It will. I’ll cook it now, over the cooling coals. It’ll be fine cold tomorrow morning.”

The weather makes for a subdued camp; little being said over the quiet sounds of eating. Soon enough they all retire to their blankets, Jamie curling up beside Alex under the protection of one of the canvas tarps. The mist gives way to a steady fall of more persistent rain as the night goes on, killing the fire and dampening spirits.

“Not much point getting another fire going, is there?” Garvan asks as everybody wakes and begins to pay attention. “There’s the hare and some flatbread left from yesterday.”

Jamie is last to stir, realizing that he’s substantially entangled with Alex who’s trying to get out from under his arm without disturbing him too much. He flushes in embarrassment, but none of the others seem to want to make anything out of his discomfort.

The rain is slowly easing into a light drizzle; the sort that gets you wet without you really noticing until you suddenly realize you’re soaked to the skin.

“Sounds good, Garvan,” Alex tells him. “Most of the wagons will be reluctant to come up or down the mountain after this much rain. We might get a fairly clear road for ourselves if we get going quickly.”

Everyone takes the hint, unstringing and shaking out the tarps before folding them and packing up as quickly as they can manage. Even Jamie is now getting keen to lend a hand. Packed and breakfasted, they move back towards the road which is, as Alex predicted, quiet.

“Going down is actually harder than coming up. Horses or oxen can stand and hold a load if they need to rest on the way up, but stopping something heavy that’s already moving downhill is hard,” Alex tells Jamie. “Add in a slippery wet surface and you’ve a recipe for a disaster. Make no mistake, this road is deadly. Wagons go over the side regularly.”

“So, you think the westward traffic will wait until later?”

“As much as they can. Most won’t want to lose a day and nobody will want to be caught only half-way down by night. It’s a delicate balancing act. If any are going down today, it will be mid-morning before they risk it.”

“What about coming up?”

“More will start out earlier, but it will be slow going for them and we will not meet any wagons for a couple of hours or more.”

As they round another corner, the road seems to vanish from view in front of them. The track takes a sharp turn to the left and slopes steeply down along the side of the mountain. Perhaps a quarter mile ahead is a sweeping turn that brings the road back towards them, but far below.

Almost directly below their starting point is another hairpin bend and this pattern seems to repeat for as many as a dozen turns, dropping probably well over two thousand feet down into the valley below. Much of the road is too narrow for wagons to pass, but there are numerous wider sections and the bends are broad.

Here and there, particularly in a zone about half-way down, there are numerous scars from small landslides and the tracks left by huge boulders where they have plunged down the road, loosened by some unseen force. Far down, towards the bottom of the mountain, a number of riders can be seen making their way up the pass.

“They’re moving quickly,” Peta points out when their pace becomes clear. “You don’t often see anyone coming up or down here at speed.”

“Not in the least suspicious then?” Brion asks.

“Well, whatever they are in a hurry for, we are too. Let’s be on our way. Jamie, trust your horse to keep his footing and relax.” Alex looks at the younger man and receives a terse, nervous nod of understanding.

They actually make good time and the footing isn’t quite as bad as had been feared from above, although it is easy to see how a wagon loaded with goods would struggle. Jamie tries not to look down, spending much of the first hour just looking out into the distance and admiring the incredible view of the valley and mountains that surround it.

Their first hold-up is caused by a monstrous boulder that has slid or rolled down a few feet and come to rest on the road. There’s enough room to get past on horseback, but Alex makes the decision for them to dismount and lead the animals around it. With the pack horses as well, this takes the best part of ten minutes.

“Will it be shifted?” Jamie asks when they are mounting back up.

“Yes,” Alex tells him. “The first wagons will have to move it. They’ll drag it to the edge if they can or spend the day breaking it with hammers and wedges. Most teams allow some extra time to make sure they can deal with these things.”

Just a few minutes further down, around another sweeping hairpin, they have to stop again. This boulder is about the same size, but there are also riders coming up to the other side of it. Alex notices that Jamie stiffens only a moment after he himself comes to full alertness. These are not people travelling with a destination in mind and this is obvious once more from the lightness of their loads and the lack of any pack animals.

There are ten in the group, all men and all heavily armed. Out of the corner of his eye, Alex notices Garvan move two of the horses to shield Brion slightly from view as he strings his bow down by the side of one of the pack horses. The first five of the approaching men are already riding around the boulder, stopping to block the path.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Alex says. “If you are in a rush, please go past.”

“Where are you going?” the one who is clearly the leader asks gruffly.

“Well, not that it’s any concern of yours, but we’re heading to Opania.”

“I’m making it my business. We are looking for some men. Tanerians.”

“Well, my colleague is a Tanerian,” Alex tells him levelly with a nod towards Brion who is still keeping the bow out of sight. “The rest of us, however are from further afield. I doubt we’re the men you seek.”

“I think otherwise,” the man tells Alex levelly, reaching to loosen the sword at his hip. One of the other men tries to do the same and, while it is a small movement, it’s more than enough to ensure that all hell breaks out.

Brion’s first arrow takes the leader squarely in the left eye, pitching him back out of his saddle and off the side of the mountain. The second, hand on sword-hilt but nowhere near to getting it out of the scabbard, takes an axe in the middle of his chest and slumps sideways.

One of Alex’s knives slams into the throat of another man who gurgles and pitches back onto the road. That’s enough time for Peta to take a few steps forward on his mount and slash the fourth man across the face at the same moment as the fifth is struck by another frighteningly accurate arrow.

Alex draws his sword as the remaining men try and force their way around the obstructing boulder, but it isn’t needed. Jamie, still beside Alex, but now maybe a step or two behind, as Alex is beginning to move forward, growls a low, rumbling “No…”. There’s that distant, almost imperceptible sensation of building power as Jamie’s magic takes control.

With a disdainful wave of his hand, the huge boulder is swept off the road in front of him, catching all but one of the men and their horses and plunging them off the mountainside and to their doom. Rock, riders and mounts plunge down the hillside in a melee of flailing bodies and grinding stone.

The remaining rider, now desperate to turn and flee is struck in the chest by yet another arrow. He tries to steady himself for a moment in the saddle, but then his throat fills with blood and he pitches from his mount and onto the now empty road.

All the remaining horses bolt past the group and off up the mountainside, galloping away from the horrific sound of their fellow steeds being torn apart on the rocks below. With another contemptuous wave of a hand, Jamie sweeps the remaining bodies off the road into the boulder-field below. Only when the road is completely clear does he relax back into his saddle with a deep sigh.

“That was my second-best bloody axe,” Garvan mutters. “I’ll be buggered if I’m walking down there to find it.”

“Sorry,” Jamie mutters with another long, shuddering sigh.

“Jamie…” Alex whispers. “Jamie. Are you okay?”

It takes the young man a moment to answer, but finally he looks up and manages a slight smile in Alex’s direction. “Yes. I’m okay. Just tired. It takes a lot of energy to move something that big so quickly. It would’ve been easier if I had time to ready myself.”

“That’s not quite what I meant, but it’ll do for now. Are you good to ride on?”

“Yes. The further away from this awful place, the better.”

While they talk, Cato has been studying the trail, both up and down the side of the mountain. “That’s a bit of a worry,” he complains, as much to himself as the others.

“Yeah, almost as if they had a description of us,” Peta mutters. “There are clearly squads out looking for us. Either they know who and what to look for or they’re going on an indiscriminate killing spree, attacking any likely group.”

“I hate to hope for the latter,” Cato groans, “but it would be better for us if that was the case. “For now, no one saw what happened here and it might take a few days for them to be missed. It gives us a slight opening to press on through.”

“Let’s make the most of the chance this offers, then,” Alex orders. “Mention a close escape from rolling boulders if we meet anyone more friendly.”