He turned back to study the land. To the east the undulating moors dropped and flattened, glistening as sun reflected on a marshy peninsula that continued into the horizon, patches of it darkened by woodland. Here and there pillars of smoke marked holds, farm-steads, a small village. None close enough to worry about, though. And I am supposed to lead this rag-tag band to Dun Crin, ruined fortress of the giants. Is it even out there, in those marshlands? During their voyage Edana had spoken of this with him, of how King Eremon had received word that a resistance was growing in Ardan against Evnis, and that it was based around the ruins of Dun Crin, in the marshes. Well, there are the marshes. And if there's a ruin out there, I'll find it. What happens then, I'm not so sure. One step at a time. Vonn climbed, panting, to stand beside him and they both looked northeast. Towards Dun Carreg.

It was too far away to see, but Camlin could make out a dark stain on the horizon. Baglun Forest. Been there. Not my best memories. That had been when he was part of Braith's crew, come to the Baglun to cause some mischief in Ardan. Little had he known at the time that it was all at Rhin's behest. He'd ended up with a knife in the back, put there by one of Evnis' sworn men.

And now here he was, a refugee on the other side, playing guide to the fugitive Queen of Ardan and the fugitive King of Domhain. He peered over the cliff, saw them labouring up the twisting path behind him. He'd followed his own twisted path to this spot. From bandit to shieldman. What next?

Warriors emerged from the path, Edana with Baird. Camlin saw she was grinning.

'The cry of gulls, it sounds like home,' Edana answered his questioning look.

'Home is fifty leagues that way,' Camlin said, pointing along the coast. Dun Carreg was there somewhere, and between them a host of Rhin's sworn men, led by Evnis, the man who had slain Edana's father.

Edana's smile evaporated as she stood staring into the distance. Men crouched, drank from water skins. Warriors in a strange land, thought Camlin. They were all hard men in Roisin's company, battle-tested and loyal, hand-picked by Rath.

'Why have we landed here?' Roisin said, frowning at the countryside. She was no longer dressed in her fine velvet dresses, instead wearing dun breeches, a linen tunic and leather vest, over it a dark cloak, but to Camlin she looked just as beautiful as when draped in her court finery. And as dangerous.

'We are too exposed here, too close to Dun Carreg,' Roisin continued. 'We should have landed in the marshes. Less likely for us to run into Rhin's followers, and it would be harder to track us. This is a mistake.'

Is this intentional? Undermining Edana?

Edana gave Roisin a hard look. 'There are reasons why we are here. Dun Crin is our destination, a ruin somewhere in those marshes. We don't know exactly where it is. It could be twenty leagues to the south, or one league east. Camlin is a masterful scout and he will find it, I have no doubt.'

I am? I will?

'He suggested we begin from higher ground. Once we are in the marshes the travelling will be slow going. It will be easier to cover ground on better terrain, skirt the marshes and choose a point of entry.' She paused and gave a moment to look at each one of them.

'This is my land,' Edana said, looking at the warriors gathered about her. 'It's been taken from me. My parents murdered. My people scattered and oppressed.' She looked at the gathered warriors, meeting each eye. 'You are all brave faithful men, and I thank you for your courage and your honour. Do not think that Lorcan and I are beaten. We have yet to begin the fight. We will win back our rightful thrones, with your help, and that starts here, today. That starts now.'

Warriors nodded, muttered their approval. Even Camlin felt his blood stirred at her words. She's growing up.

'Camlin,' Edana said to him. 'Take us to Dun Crin.'

Camlin sped through the village, his bow strung and arrow nocked. He kept to the shadows as much as possible.

They had walked all day, steadily descending from the moorlands towards the marshes. Now they were in a kind of borderland, the terrain dry enough for scattered woodland and roads, but dissected by a thousand streams and middling rivers. Camlin had spied the village and planned on circling around it, but something had drawn his eye. The lack of sound or movement. And there were no signs of normal village life, hearth fires, livestock, dogs nothing. Instinct told him he needed a closer look, and so did Edana when he informed her of his concerns.

Now he was starting to regret it, though.

Probably another bad idea to add to my long list of bad ideas, he berated himself. Why couldn't I just mind my own business and walk around?

He looked to the far side of the street, where Baird was keeping pace with him, his sword drawn. Camlin had also sent half a dozen men wide around the village, with orders to sit and wait for him and Baird. Unless they heard trouble then they were to come running. The rest of their crew were camped a quarter-league back, with Edana and Roisin. Lorcan had volunteered to come with them, but Camlin had told him to sit tight; he'd received a sulky glare in return.

The village was small, built on the banks of a river. Camlin had seen the tips of willow rods in the river, the tell-tale ripple of a current around submerged salmon traps, nets left out to dry along the bank. A dozen coracles, a.s.sorted river craft and flat-bottomed marsh boats were pulled out of the river. There were no more than a few score homes, and so far he had not seen a single person, had not heard a single voice.

He crossed a gap between buildings, paused to look around a corner, saw a crow picking at the carca.s.s of a dog. He walked past it, almost certain now what he would find.

Camlin smelt it first. Death. The metallic hint of blood, mixed with rot and excrement. He hung his head, readied himself before he went on.

The street spilt into an open area, what would have been a market square. A roundhouse stood on its far side. About halfway between Camlin and the roundhouse a gallows had been erected, a dozen or so small figures hanging in the still air. A fury rose within him.

Bairns. He took a step forward and then halted abruptly.

The ground between Camlin and the gallows was black, uneven, and moving.

Crows. Hundreds of them. And flies.

Camlin and Baird shared a look and they both moved into the square. Crows rose up before them like a wave, cawing and screeching their protests.

Part-eaten bodies were everywhere, the stench verging on over-whelming. Men, women, children, seething with flies and maggots. Over a hundred. The whole village? Camlin saw the glint of iron and checked a body. A warrior in a shirt of mail. His cloak was tattered, torn to pieces, splattered with blood, but Camlin could still make out the black and gold of Cambren.

Rhin.

He felt suddenly vulnerable and turned a slow circle, scanning the surrounding buildings, the dark shadows of the roundhouse. Baird appeared in the shadow of a doorway, shook his head.

Nothing. They are all dead, or fled to the marshes.

Camlin carried on searching amongst the dead, making his way deeper into the courtyard. He found three more in Rhin's cloaks of black and gold. Reaching down he unclasped one, pulling it free, stirring up a cloud of flies in the process.

Then he heard a noise, looked over at a building with wide, open doors. He heard it again, coming from within. The whicker of a horse.

Stables? Why are there horses alive, when every other man, woman, child and beast has been slain?

More movement, this time from the roundhouse at the far side of the square. Figures emerging. Warriors five of them cloaks of black and gold, swords in hands. Eyes fixed upon him, they were striding purposefully towards him.

He dropped the cloak in his grip and drew an arrow, nocked and released in less than a few of their strides. It took the first warrior through the eye, dropping him like a felled tree. The others began to run at him.

Not the effect I'd hoped for.

He drew and released again, the arrow hissing between warriors as they spun out of its way.

Camlin cursed as he released the next arrow, this one punching low, into a man's belly. He dropped to his knees.

Then a figure crashed into the three still running at him. Baird, sword rising and falling. One of their enemy screamed, his belly open and guts spilling about his feet. Another had grabbed Baird, whose head lunged forward, b.u.t.ting the warrior's nose even as his sword stabbed into the warrior's side. Camlin stood and stared a moment, frozen by the ferocity of his companion. Then his eye was drawn to the roundhouse. Three more men burst from the doorway, two running towards Baird, the other sprinting around the edge of the courtyard, making for the stables.

Before Camlin realized it he had another arrow nocked and was sighting at one of those charging at Baird. It slammed into the warrior's shoulder, spinning and dropping him. The other was too close to Baird for another shot. Camlin glanced between Baird and the warrior sprinting towards the stables, drew his sword and ran to Baird's help.

He almost didn't need to. By the time he reached them Baird had put one man down and was trading blows with the other, backing the warrior up. A panicked glance from the warrior at Camlin was all Baird needed, his sword opening the man's throat.

Hooves thudded and the last warrior burst from the stables, kicking a horse hard into a gallop. Camlin dropped his sword and drew an arrow, tracked the warrior, who was bent low in the saddle, almost hugging the horse's arched neck. Camlin's arrow took him in the throat; the warrior sagged, slumping from the saddle to be dragged by the still-galloping horse.

Camlin and Baird just stared at one another, chests rising and falling.

They both turned together to the sound of footsteps approaching from behind.

Edana and a dozen others, including Roisin and Lorcan. Quickly, Camlin moved to intercept them. She doesn't need to see this.

'You were supposed to wait for my signal,' Camlin said, hurrying forward to stop her reaching the square.

Some truths are best not seen.

'We heard screams, the clash of iron. I was worried for you,' Edana said with a wave of her hand as she pushed past Camlin into the square.

She stood there a moment, eyes scanning about her, body rigid. Then she stuttered into motion, picking her way through the square, eyes sweeping the ground until she reached the gallows. She faltered, looked up at the children, their bloated corpses swinging in a gentle breeze. Ropes creaked.

She saw the black and gold of Cambren upon the dead warriors' cloaks. 'Rhin, even here.'

Camlin came and stood beside her, saw tears running down her cheeks.

Lorcan pushed forward and took her hand. 'Come away now,' he said.

'These are my people,' she snapped, yanking her hand out of his grip. 'I am not some innocent girl . . .' She trailed off. 'Not any more.'

'But, why do you stare so? You do not need to be here. We have seen, now let us go.'

'I stare so that I will not forget. This is my land, these are my people. Rhin and her ilk have slain them. Slaughtered children. They will not be forgotten. There will be a reckoning.'

Lorcan looked into Edana's face, then nodded.

'What happened here, Camlin?'

Good question. And why were there warriors still here? He glanced at the roundhouse where the enemy had appeared from. Something's wrong. We need to get out of here.

'What happened here, Camlin?' Edana repeated.

'Hard to say. Rhin has warriors down this way, for some reason. Maybe the word that there is a resistance based in the marshes is true? Looks to me like they were making some kind of example.' He nodded to the gallows. 'My guess is it didn't go down too well, got out of-'

'Over there,' Edana blurted, pointing behind Camlin. To the stables. 'Something moved . . .'

I'm an idiot. These buildings need checking.

'You should leave,' he muttered to Edana as he set his bow down and drew his sword, Baird following him as he entered the stable. Camlin waited a moment for his eyes to adjust, then started skewering the straw in each stable. He got to the last part.i.tion, saw a lump in the straw.

'If you don't want an extra hole in your body, you'd best be standing up now.'

There was a moment's silence.

'All right, I warned you,' he said, stepping in.

The straw exploded upwards. He saw a flash of red hair as a small figure darted past him.

'Got it,' Baird shouted, hoisting the figure into the air. 'I mean her,' he suddenly bellowed as the child squirmed in his arms and bit his hand.

'Enough, girlie,' Camlin said. He made a point of sheathing his sword for her to see. She slowly calmed, then went limp in Baird's arms.

'We're not going t'hurt you. What's your name?' Camlin asked. She just looked at him, big dark haunted eyes in a dirty face. She can't be more'n eight, nine summers old. What's the poor little mite had to witness to put such fear into her?

When Edana saw the child she held her arms out, but the child only stared, her face full of fear and suspicion. Baird put her on the ground.

'We're not going to hurt you,' Edana said, crouching down to look her in the eye. 'We're friends, not enemies. What's your name?'

More silence.

'If we were going to put a blade in you, we'd have done it by now,' Camlin told her.

The child looked at him. 'Meg,' she whispered.

'How old are you, Meg?' Edana asked with an encouraging smile.

Just a silent stare.

Camlin's eyes were raking the buildings around the courtyard, his skin p.r.i.c.kling. He wanted to take a look inside the roundhouse, but he also wanted Edana out of the village.

'You need to get away from here,' he said.

'Soon,' Edana said with a frown, stooping close to the girl. 'It's all right,' she said. 'We'll not hurt you.'

Meg just stared at her.

Need to hurry this along.

'How old are you, Meg?' Camlin asked.

'Eight.'

'How long ago did this happen?' Camlin gestured at the square.

She frowned, as if unsure. 'Two nights?' she said hesitantly. Then her bottom lip trembled and she started sobbing.

'We know it was Rhin's men,' Camlin said, feeling sorry for her no child should have to go through this horror. 'They wear the black and gold. Don't know why they did it, though. And it'd be real helpful if you could remember how many.'

'That's enough for now,' Edana said to him as Meg continued to sob days of pent-up emotion and fear obviously released.

'There were lots,' Meg suddenly blurted. 'And their chief was called Morcant.' She spat his name.

'Morcant,' Edana whispered. Camlin sucked in a breath as they shared a look. Back when Camlin had been part of Braith's crew in the Darkwood Morcant had joined them and led the raid that had captured Edana and her mam, Alona, Queen of Ardan. Soon after Camlin had found himself drawing a blade against Morcant and switching sides. Camlin loathed him.

He looked at the square, at the bodies swinging from the gallows. Not a surprise that he's behind this. But what's he doing this far west. Hunting rebels?

Something nagged at Camlin and he looked about, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

Then he saw Vonn and the others burst into the far side of the square, Vonn waving desperately. Camlin crouched down, placing a palm flat on the ground. A slight vibration. Steady, rhythmic.

Horses.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.