They did not know what to say. Men like Hywel were set apart from the rest by their skills. Sharp eyes had defined him, made him a great tracker. Now he had lost his life’s calling along with his sight. It was as cruel a fate as losing his sword arm would be for Dodinal.
“Don’t despair. I have seen this before. The loss may not be lasting.” He hoped he sounded more convincing to Hywel’s ears than to his own. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Either way, you’ll go on without me.”
“I carried you from the forest. I’m not leaving you now.”
Hywel blinked slowly. “You carried me here?”
“What did you think? You flew?” Emlyn jabbed a finger into his friend’s shoulder. He was trying hard to sound cheerful.
“Then you have my thanks, Dodinal. Even so, surely you can see there is nothing to be gained by taking me with you.” He raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I will only slow you down. And what if those things attack again? I couldn’t see them coming, let alone fight them off. I’d rather take my chances. Just turn me towards the west. If I can walk in a straight line I’ll find the river eventually.”
“And then what?” Emlyn demanded bitterly. “You’ll jump in?”
“I’ll have a spear to fish with. What was it you said last night, Madoc? You just shove the spear in and hope for the best? Doesn’t sound that difficult to me.” His sightless eyes creased as he grinned. “I can light a fire by touch and I’ll have plenty of water. I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll be fine until you get too close to the edge or some hungry beast comes looking for food,” Emlyn snapped back.
Dodinal looked around at the men, his expression clear. They nodded without a flicker of hesitation and began to gather up their belongings as, saying nothing, the knight stooped and lifted Hywel to his feet, ignoring his protests.
“You’ll walk in a straight line, my friend. Except you’ll be heading north, not west, and you will not be walking alone.”
“But this is insane. Leave me. Find me on your way home.”
“Shut up,” Dodinal said pleasantly. “And start walking before you feel the point of my sword in your arse.”
Muttering curses, Hywel did as he was told, but he had no sooner taken a few steps than he stumbled and almost fell over some hidden tummock. Before Dodinal had a chance to react, Emlyn brushed past him and took hold of Hywel by the elbow. Dodinal was glad to see the tracker made no effort to push his friend away. He might not like it, but he must have come around to the fact that they were not going to leave him behind. Instead, the two continued on their way together, heads close, talking quietly as they walked.
They followed the trail of broken grass, cloaks tossed over their shoulders, weapons stowed. There was no danger of being caught in an ambush, not with open land all around them. As they walked, the mountains, stern grey and featureless with distance, seemed to grow steadily higher. Their peaks would have been lost in the clouds, had there been any.
Dodinal felt rested after his long sleep, but his empty stomach gurgled and rumbled. He wished they were close to the river. He would willingly break off the pursuit for a while if that meant they could find something to fill their bellies with.
The afternoon wore on, and the sun began its slow descent. They began to feel the strain as the ground rose, the gradient so gentle at first that they had scarcely noticed it. They had left the lush grassland behind and now followed an ancient path leading up towards the hills. The earth was firm and rocky, with hardly a tree to break the monotony of the landscape; with the dying of the light, it had become hard to make out the creatures’ trail.
Even with Hywel to slow them down, they moved at a brisk pace that would take them well into the foothills before dusk, where they would have to find a place to pitch camp. Somewhere defendable. Dodinal’s fingers stole to his sword hilt. By now he had come to expect trouble. It was more a question of when than if.
They pressed on until the sun dipped low enough to ignite the horizon and suffuse the air with a soft golden light, and Dodinal called a halt. It would be dark in less than an hour. Turning back, they could see the great forest spread out like a slumbering serpent below them. Ahead, the land rose steadily upwards, the great mountains already lost to shadows, harbingers of the encroaching night.
Dodinal gathered the men around. “I don’t like the idea of sleeping out in the open, but there’s no shelter that I can see. I say we continue on uphill for as long as the light lasts. If we’re lucky, we’ll find a cave. If not, we’ll have to get to higher ground. We’ll have a better chance if they come after us.”
“I don’t think we need worry too much about that,” Madoc said. He was gazing uphill, towards the shadow-clad mountains, and sounded distracted.
“Why not?” Dodinal said, a little irritably. He was tired and hungry, in no mood for games.
Madoc stretched out an arm and pointed. “Look.”
Dodinal saw a flickering glow, carrying a pillar of smoke out of a hidden fold in the hills.
They were not alone. Someone had started a fire.
“That’s settled, then,” Emlyn said. “Those creatures seem to be afraid of fire. If there are people up there, we’ll be safer with them than making camp out in the open. You never know, they might even have food going spare.”
“There’s no guarantee they’ll be friendly,” Madoc observed.
Dodinal nodded. “Quite so. We know the creatures passed this way. There’s every chance these people, whoever they are, will have been attacked. They may not welcome strangers in their midst.”
“I wasn’t suggesting we should just go charging in.” Emlyn looked offended. “I’m not an idiot. But we should at least go and check out the lie of the land.”
Dodinal considered this. They would have to skirt the fire in any event. It would do them no harm to find out who had started it, and they would be foolish to turn their backs on what could prove to be a safe haven for the night. Tiredness and hunger had left them snapping tetchily at each other. The chance of a decent night’s sleep was too good to pass up.
“Sound thinking,” he said, speaking directly to Emlyn. “We’ll get as close as we can without being seen. If it looks dangerous, we keep going and find someplace else to make camp. And listen out. It’s nearly dark. Those things could have killed us all, last night. They might try to do so again.”
The gradient became steeper, and he slowed the pace for Hywel’s sake. Before long, they were all puffing like a smithy’s bellows.
They halted briefly to catch their breath and to rest their aching legs, then continued upwards. The air turned chilly as the sun dropped out of sight and dusk turned to full dark, but their exertions screened them from the cold. Each man walked with his cloak draped over one shoulder. The fire, though still unseen, drew them in like moths. Dodinal sniffed at the air. Wood smoke. Encouraging. A lot more encouraging than the acrid stench of burning flesh.
Then he felt the ground levelling off, and sensed they were close to cresting the hill. He drew his sword; he did not need to turn around to know that each man save Hywel would have his own sword and spear at the ready. His stomach knotted, as it did in the final moments before battle. A warrior who felt no fear did not last long. The skill was not in disregarding the fear but in learning how to control it.
He pushed on until he reached the summit, where he waited while the men fell in beside him. They stood in silence and stared down at the village nestled in the narrow coomb below them, lit up by the fires that had been set around its perimeter. The fires aside, the place appeared deserted. Nothing moved. Even from a distance they could see most of the buildings were in disrepair, gaping holes in their roofs, walls half collapsed, fallen timber scattered haphazardly across the ground.
“What can you see?” Hywel hissed.
“A village,” Dodinal answered with quiet urgency. “Looks abandoned, but obviously someone’s about.”
“You think they’ve been attacked?”
“Hard to say. Stay here. I’m going down to find out.”
“You’re not going alone,” Madoc said. “Too dangerous.”
“That’s why I’m going alone. No sense putting all of us at risk. Besides, if they have been attacked, they’re less likely to be hostile if they only see one of us.” Dodinal raised his sword. It flashed amber with reflected firelight. “And if they’re still hostile, well, I can look after myself. Be patient. I’ll signal as soon as I’m sure it’s safe.”
He left his spear and shield with them, not wanting to look any more threatening than his bulk already made him appear. Then he began to descend, treading carefully for there was no path now, the valley wall falling steeply towards the village. Slender trees somehow managed to cling to the thin rocky ground, and Dodinal in turn clung on to them as he slipped and slid down the slope.
By the time he made it to the valley floor, he was breathing hard; he was not getting any younger. It was just as well Arthur had brought peace to the land when he did.
He remained concealed in the trees while he considered his options. There was nothing except open ground ahead of him, and fires lit up the entire area. Other than edge his way around the valley to approach the village from behind, there was no way for him to avoid being seen. With that in mind, he judged it would be better to make no attempt at stealth and instead to walk openly into the village, sword sheathed and hands in sight to show he had nothing to hide. He could have the blade drawn in seconds if he came under attack.
He felt a familiar churning in his guts as he stepped out from under the trees. He counted half a dozen fires around the village’s edge. Close up, the bonfire stacks were smaller than they had appeared from above. These fires would not keep the creatures out. They might serve some other purpose. A beacon, perhaps. Or a warning.
Dodinal could feel the heat from the nearest fire as he approached. The skin on the back of his neck prickled and the hair on his arms stood on end. He sensed he was being watched by someone or something unseen. It took a conscious effort to resist reaching for his sword.
He stopped when he reached the first building, an indistinct structure twice his height. A barn, he supposed. Most of the wall boards had fallen from the frames and lay like broken bones on the ground. He peered inside and saw only shadows dancing in the firelight. Moving on to the next building he found it had fared no better. He stepped inside, his boots kicking up dust and clumps of dried thatch. Even with the roof and walls mostly gone, the air was musty and stale; it must have been abandoned a long time ago. Suddenly uneasy, he hurried outside and looked around for some sign of life, anything to suggest he was not the only soul around. Surely whoever had started the fires had not lit them and then left the village? What purpose would that have served?
Fighting the urge to give up and return to his friends, he drew his sword — to Hell with appearances — and forced himself to head further into the village. He passed between huts that were all in such a ruinous state he was certain they would collapse if he so much as brushed up against them. Little fear that the creatures had attacked the place. There was nothing left to attack, and certainly no children to steal. Dodinal had a distinct feeling there had been no children here since before he was born.
That was when he stumbled across the graveyard.
At first he did not recognise it for what it was. In the glimmering light it resembled nothing more than an uneven common, that had perhaps been worked for crops in the past, but had since been left to grow over until brambles and weeds had choked the life out of it. Yet as he closed in on it he saw otherwise. The grassy mounds of the graves, four dozen or so at a rough count, were laid so close together they almost touched. A stone had been placed at the head of each grave; they were inscribed, but Dodinal had no intention of lingering to read them. They were weathered, some more than others, but even the most recent must have been put there a generation or two ago.
It was a dead village in more ways than one.
Almost dead, he thought, eyes flicking towards the fires.
Blowing air from between his lips, he turned away and resumed the search, relieved to be putting the graveyard behind him.
Only a few huts remained. He hurried past two that were obviously dilapidated, before he came to a third that was more or less intact. His stride became measured and cautious and he held his sword at the ready as he approached in absolute silence.
He was close enough now to see a soft amber glow spill out from under the door. Amidst the flames that burned around the village he had not noticed it before. For the same reason, he had neither seen nor smelled the smoke rising from the hole in the thatched roof. Questions jostled in his mind, but he silenced them at a stroke. It would not be long before he had all the answers he needed.
Dodinal crept up to the door and stood with one ear pressed to the wood, but heard nothing from within save the muted crackle of a fire, like hundreds of tiny bones snapping. He waited, but still nothing. He sighed. There was nothing else for it. Reaching down with his free hand, he took hold of the latch and eased it up, then pulled the door open hard enough that it smacked against the outside wall. Even before the thudding crash had done reverberating around the dead village, he was inside, sword clasped two-handed.
There was a man sitting on the floor by the fire, or rather, there had been right up until the moment that Dodinal flung the door open. As the knight filled the open doorway, the man let out a piercing shriek and leapt to his feet, only to get tangled in the moth-eaten cloak he had draped around his shoulders. The fire danced hectically and the man, arms flailing, let out another yell as he lost his balance and landed heavily on his arse, recovering quickly to scurry backwards away from Dodinal, his eyes bulging with fear.
The knight sheathed his sword and stood by the door with his palms raised, showing he intended no harm. The man cowered against the far wall, shaking like a beaten dog. He was older than any man Dodinal had ever seen. His body, clearly visible through the tattered rags that passed for clothing, was thin to the point of skeletal, and the hair on his head was sparse and a lacklustre grey. His mouth was parted in a grimace of fear, revealing blood-red and largely toothless gums.
“It’s all right,” Dodinal assured. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
The man said nothing. His chest was heaving and his breath came in gasps.
“I swear, you have nothing to be afraid of. I am a traveller. I saw the fires and came here in the hope of finding shelter for the night.”
The man licked his lips and swallowed loudly. “Traveller?” He frowned, as if unused to hearing his own voice, which was dry with age and fear. “No travellers ever come this way. So what could bring you here, eh? Tell me that, damn your heathen hide.”
And with that he let out a high-pitched cackle.
Dodinal’s shoulders slumped. Whatever answers he had hoped for, he doubted he would find them here.
“It’s a long story,” he said tiredly, wondering why he was bothering to answer at all. “I am travelling with friends. Some of their kin have been taken. We are going to get them back.”
The man’s jaw dropped. “You’re going up into the mountains? After those black-hearted bastards?”
Dodinal nodded. He was not in the least surprised the man knew about the creatures. Of course he would, living here in these hills. Who was to say what misery he had endured over the years? Perhaps the reason there were so many dead and only one living was because the creatures had wiped the village out long ago. It would explain the man’s strange manner. To be the only survivor…
“Why didn’t you say so!” The old man suddenly clapped his hands together and hurried to his feet, beaming a gap-toothed grin. “Do you have any idea how long I have waited for you?”
“Waiting for me?” Dodinal found himself backing away as the man stumbled barefoot towards him. “But you couldn’t have known I was coming this way.”
The man waved impatiently. “Not you, oaf. Not you in particular. All these years I’ve waited for someone with the balls to go after those things. I was starting to think I would not live to see it. And yet here you are. At long last.”
Dodinal flinched as the old man held out both arms as if to embrace him. This close, he smelled as though he had recently risen from one of the grass-covered graves. The stink was enough to bring tears to anyone’s eyes. “Well, then, that’s good,” he said helplessly.
The man’s eyes suddenly widened and he flung up his hands as though suddenly remembering something. “Travelling with friends, you said? Quickly, go fetch them. Bring them to me. You will be safe here. I have food. We’ll eat, and talk. Oh, I have such a story to tell.”
Dodinal suspected the man’s story would amount to little more than deranged raving, but was persuaded to stay by the prospect of food. None of them had eaten anything since the fish from the river, and they had walked a long way since then. Now his stomach was so used to being empty it no longer gurgled in protest.
That aside, the man could possess information that might help them. He knew about the creatures. Perhaps he knew where to find them. The mountain range was huge, and they could be anywhere.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said, turning on his heel and setting off into the darkness, breathing deeply to clear the graveyard stench from his nostrils. He retraced his steps to the steep slope of the coomb and called out to the men waiting above. Having assured them the village was safe, since the old man, as crazed as he was, could not present a threat, he waited patiently while they negotiated their way down through the trees. With Hywel hampering them, it took them twice as long as it had taken him.
While Dodinal waited, the aroma of cooking meat began to drift across the valley floor towards him. At once his mouth was awash with saliva. The old man had not lied about having food. Dodinal suspected it would be better for their peace of mind that they did not question him too closely as to its provenance.
Finally the men had made their way down, and crowded around him, wanting to know what he had found. “A crazy old man who might just be able to help us,” was all he would tell them before he started back towards the hut. They wanted to hear more, but then they, too, caught the waft of roasting meat. They would have devoured any food set before them, but fresh meat was like a gift from the gods.
Before they reached the hut, Dodinal stopped and gathered them around him. “Don’t do anything that might frighten him.”
“We’ll be on our best behaviour,” Madoc promised. “Any man who can get his hands on fresh meat deserves our respect.”
“I don’t know about respect, but we need to be careful. I think he knows where we will find those creatures. It could save us days of searching. We need him to trust us; if he gets scared or takes a dislike to anyone, for whatever reason, he might refuse to talk.”
“There are other ways,” Madoc growled.
“He is a helpless old man who has done nothing to harm us,” Dodinal answered levelly. “Anyone who lays a finger on him will answer to me. Besides, he has been through so much, I doubt we could do anything to break him if he did turn against us. But it won’t come to that. He seemed eager to help.”
He went into the hut first so as not to startle the old man. The others followed hesitantly behind.
“Come in, come in,” the old man urged them. He was crouched by the fire where a half-leg of meat was spit-roasting over the flames. His eyes widened when he saw Hywel, who was almost dead on his feet and would have collapsed had Emlyn not taken him by the elbow to support him. “What happened to your friend?”
“We were attacked,” Dodinal said. “It’s a long story, which I will tell you later. For now, though, we would be grateful for the chance to rest. It has been a long and tiring day.”
“Of course! Make yourself at home. Not that it’s much of a home, but you’re welcome to it.”
Gerwyn rolled his eyes at Dodinal, but he knew enough to say nothing. They sank to the ground, groaning with relief to be off their feet at last. Hywel sat with his back resting against the wall. The swelling on his forehead was going down, but the bruise was even more livid than it had been. It would get worse before it got better.
“What meat is that?” Gerwyn asked. Dodinal wished he hadn’t. They might not be so eager to eat on hearing the answer.
“Goat.”
Dodinal blinked. “Goat?”
“Yes, goat. Haven’t you ever heard of goat before?”
“Yes,” Dodinal said, not wanting to offend. “Of course. But… well, there hasn’t been any fresh game around for many months, with the winter we’ve had. I was surprised you had managed to get your hands on any.”
“It has nothing to do with the winter.” The man turned the meat with one hand and waved vaguely in the direction of the mountains with the other. “It’s those black-hearted devils up there. They’ve been on the move. I’ve heard them, going down to the forest, screeching and yelping like mad things. Heard them come back, too. Wherever they go they frighten everything away. They scared off the goats for a while. But that was a long time ago, and the goats came back. They learned it was safer up here than down there, even with the creatures on the prowl. Bears and wolves eat goat. They don’t.”
He nodded towards a small stash of swords and spears, all of them faded with age, piled against the wall in one corner. There was a bow and a quiver of arrows too. “The goats know all about me. I still have good eyes, even if the rest of the me is slowly falling apart. But I only ever take what I need, so they’re wary of me and no more than that.”
Dodinal cast his senses out. He had become so used to the empty world he had not thought to do so until now. Sure enough, there were life-lights in the hills around and above him. Whatever else happened, they would not go hungry. Goats were nimble and fast on rough terrain, but if a frail old man could bring them down, seasoned hunters like them should have no trouble doing so.
“Do you know what the creatures are?” Emlyn asked. Dodinal winced. So much for the subtle approach.
“All in good time,” the old man said dismissively, and devoted his attention to the meat. “Eat first, then talk. We have all night.”
They sat in silence, eyes closed, only the tantalising smell of the goat keeping them from falling asleep. Finally the old man judged the meat to be cooked, and he let it cool for a few moments before taking an ancient knife to it, slicing thick chunks away from the bone and handing them around. The men were too hungry to worry about his grubby fingers and snatched the meat off him, scarcely managing to utter their thanks before cramming their mouths full. They chewed like ravenous hounds, swallowed and held out their hands for more.
Once the last scraps had been prised from the bone they sat back with hands resting on bellies, picking their teeth.
“I’d offer you more, but that’s the last for now.” The man’s voice was muffled. It took him longer to chew because he had so few teeth. “I’ll be out with the bow come morning. Don’t suppose there’s any point asking you along. You’ll be wanting to be on your way.”
“That we will,” said Dodinal. “Perhaps you’d be good enough to tell us where we can find what we seek. And the quickest way to get there.”
The man nodded. Something about him had changed. The manic intensity had vanished from his eyes. Perhaps that had only been an act to scare away strangers. He looked almost sad. “You can leave your injured friend here if you like.” He nodded at Hywel, who had fallen asleep sitting up, head tilted to one side. “He is no use to you blind. Oh, don’t look so surprised. I’d have to be blind myself to miss it. Don’t worry, I’ll look after him until you return.”
He did not say if you return, but he might just as well have.
Dodinal looked at Emlyn, Hywel’s closest friend, and was more than a little relieved to see the bowman nod his approval.
It made sense. As much as they liked him, there was no denying Hywel was a dead weight. He would hold them back when they needed to hurry. He would be no use in a fight, and could not defend himself from attack.
No, it would be better this way. At least they knew one of them would survive the journey. Maybe one day, if his sight recovered, he would make his way home and tell the villagers what had happened.
“We accept your kind offer,” Dodinal said. “Seeing as we will be away with the dawn, perhaps you will tell us now where to find the creatures, to save us having to disturb you before we leave.”
“You first,” the old man said. “Tell me what brought you here. Not just you, Dodinal, though I sense you’re different from the rest. All of you. What happened to bring you to this cursed place?”
Dodinal saw no reason to complicate matters by telling of his own past. So he began at the point where Ellis had arrived in their village and recounted the tale from there on as quickly as he could. The old man listened intently. His eyes clouded with pain when he heard how they had found the missing boy’s body in the snow. His face twisted with anger as Dodinal described the attack on the village and the ensuing slaughter, followed by the taking of the two children.
When the story was told, the old man sat in silence. Then he slowly shook his head. “Dear God, it’s worse than I thought.” His words were thick with emotion. “And it’s all my fault. All our fault.”
“Don’t blame yourself.” Dodinal failed to see how one frail and elderly man could have been responsible for any of it. “Please, just tell us what you know so we can sleep. They are so far ahead of us we will have to leave as soon as it is light. Even then, I fear we might be too late.”
“I’ll stand first watch,” Madoc volunteered.
“And I’ll stand second,” said Emlyn.
“No need,” the old man answered wearily. “The creatures will not trouble us. They have not bothered me for so long now, I suspect they have forgotten I even exist. No, they will be long gone now.”
“Then why light all those fires?” Gerwyn asked.
“Because I don’t want to be alone in the dark, that’s why, not with the restless spirits of the dead haunting these hills.” He looked deep into Dodinal’s eyes. “You saw the graves, didn’t you? Have you not asked yourself why one man is alive when so many are dead?”
Dodinal nodded, feeling an icy trickle down his backbone. “The creatures did this to you?”
The man’s laugh was brief and harsh. “No, we brought it upon ourselves. This village died of shame. You want to know what those things are and where to find them? I will tell you. Then you will understand why I am the last man alive, here in this place of ghosts.”