025

Moments passed in silence, with no sounds except for the creaking of saddle leather and the breath of men. Gregor could feel his heart beating in his chest. It was the sound of a woman screaming but he had no idea from where. They were in the open, but would someone attack a Censor and his lictors? It had happened before, men were known to do worse when desperation took hold. But that was when the Censors were carrying large sums of money. It was obvious from the lack of a coach that they were not collecting tax. Besides, they were not being attacked, it was the woman that had screamed.

"Censor?" Antio asked.

"Could anyone tell where the screams came from?" Gregor's hand still held the hilt of his sword.

Barath shook his head. "The woods Sir, they mask the sound. They send it all around us. I...I couldn't tell."

"All right. We head on then, slowly. Everyone keep their swords loose and at the ready. I want eyes in every direction."

"Could be that they're in the woods Sir." Antio said flatly, sill scanning the tree line.

"Could be that they're behind us, or beside is, or planning to attack us if we stay here much longer. Or it could be one man, who's long gone. I don't know what happened. If we had seen anything, anything," Gregor added emphasizing the word, "where we could have helped we would. But I have order, and so do you. Let's move."

The Censor and his six lictors slowly began moving down the road. They road nervously, but as the road passed beneath them, the men began to relax. They kept they eyes on all directions, their training was too good for that to stop as quickly.

The roar of men erupted behind the group. All heads turned to the North-West as riders burst from the trees of Moss-Head.

"Ride!" Gregor yelled. "Make for the trees."

They were outnumbered, three to one, Gregor looked to the riders as his horse lurched forward into a gallop. "Beran's cup!" He swore, it was closer to four to one. If they could make the trees they might have a chance, but out here in the open if the riders wanted it none would survive.

"If we make the trees we separate."

"Censor!"

The riders were gaining on the. Gregor watched as the riders closed the gap between him and his men. By all that was holy they were traveling at unnatural speeds, they would never make the trees in time. Something was wrong, the horses the riders rode were massive, half again as large as the horse beneath Gregor, and their clothes. They were like nothing Gregor had ever seen before.