“Always roaring, never silent,” quoted Gwalchmai. “Whenever I hear it I feel the hairs rise on the back of my neck.”
Layne hitched his pack into a more comfortable position. “No sign of the beast, anyway,” he said, leading them on down the slope to cross a narrow stone bridge and on to a winding trail through gorse-covered countryside. Layne bore right down a rock-strewn slope and on, at last, to a narrow strip of black sand nestling in a cove below the falls. Here they loosened their packs and settled down for breakfast. The jutting wall of rock deadened the thunder of the falls, but the wind carried the spray high into the air before them, and the sun made rainbows dance above the camp.
“It occurs to me,” said Gwalchmai as they ate, “that we have not come across a single clue. No pouches. No stones marking the trail. It is an unpleasant thought, but we might be wrong.”
“I’ve been thinking that,” said Layne, “but then the rhyme is clear. Perhaps the clues are all at the falls.”
After the meal they gathered at the water’s edge to indulge in the age-old sport of stone-skimming, at which Gwalchmai excelled, beating Layne by three jumps. Refilling their water canteens, the boys picked their way up the slope and into the timberline above the falls.
Lennox prepared a fire in the afternoon and Layne suggested a quick search of the woods for clues. Leaving their packs by the fire they set off to scout, traveling in pairs-Lennox and Layne moving south, Gaelen and Gwalchmai north.
From a highpoint on the hillside Gaelen gazed once more at the majesty of Attafoss, watching the churning white water thunder to the river below.
“That, my friend, is the soul of the Farlain,” said Gwalchmai.
Gaelen turned to his comrade and grinned. “I can believe it.”
Gwalchmai’s face shone with pride and his green eyes glittered.
“Everything we are is contained there,” he said. “All the poetry, the grandeur, and the strength that is Clan.”
Gaelen watched him as he soaked in the sight. Gwalchmai was not built on the same powerful lines as Lennox or Layne-he was slight and bird-boned, his face almost delicate. But in his eyes shone the same strength Gaelen had come to see in all clansmen-a sense of belonging that rooted them to the land, allowing them to draw on its power.
“Come on, Gwal, let’s find the clues,” he said at last, and the two of them reentered the timberline.
By midafternoon they had found nothing, and then Gwalchmai discovered a set of tracks that set him cursing loudly.
“What is it?” asked Gaelen. “Hunters?”
“No,” snapped Gwalchmai. “It’s Agwaine. They reached here this morning. That’s why there are no clues; he’s taken them. Curse it!”
“Let’s follow them,” said Gaelen. “We have nothing to lose.”
The trail led south and was easy to follow. After less than an hour they reached a gentle slope, masked by thick bushes. Here Gwalchmai stopped.
“Oh, my soul!” he whispered. “Look!”
Overlaid upon the moccasin tracks was a huge print, six-toed, and as long as a man’s forearm.
Pale-faced, Gwalchmai looked at Gaelen. “Are we going up the slope?”
“I don’t want to,” answered his friend. “But is there a choice?” He licked dry lips with a dry tongue.
Slowly they made their way to the top of the slope and entered a grove of pine. The sun was sinking slowly and long shadows stretched away from them.
“The beast was upon them here,” hissed Gwalchmai. “Oh, Gods, I think it killed them all. Look at the tracks. See, they scattered to run, but not before one was downed. Look there! The blood. Oh, God.”
Gaelen could feel his heart racing and his breathing becoming shallow: the beginning of panic. Caswallon had told him to breathe deeply and slowly at such times, and now he did so, calming himself gradually. Gwalchmai was inching his way into the bushes, where he stood and covered his face with his hands at what he saw lying there. Gaelen joined him.
His stomach turned and bile filled his throat. He swallowed hard. Inside the screen of bushes were the remains of three bodies, mutilated beyond recognition. A leg was half-buried in rotting leaves, and a split skull lay open and drained beside it.
Everywhere was drenched in blood.
Gwalchmai stumbled back from the sight, and vomited onto the grass. Gaelen forced himself to look once more, then he rejoined Gwalchmai who was shivering uncontrollably.
“Gwal, listen to me. We must know where the beast has gone. Check the tracks. Please.”
There was no indication that Gwalchmai had heard him.
Gaelen took him by the shoulders and shook him gently. “Gwal, listen to me. We must find out; then we’ll tell Layne. Can you hear me?”
Gwalchmai began to weep, slumping forward against Gaelen, who put his arms around him, patting his back as with a child. “It’s all right,” he whispered.
After a few moments Gwalchmai pulled away, breathing deeply. “I’m sorry,” he said, drying his eyes on his sleeve.
“That’s all right, cousin,” said Gaelen. “They were your friends.”
“Yes. All right. Let’s see where the swine went.”
For several minutes Gwalchmai circled the scene of the massacre, then he returned.
“The beast waited for them, hidden at the top of the slope. It reared up and killed the first as he cleared the top. The second, it was Ectas I think, turned to run and he too was slain. The other two ran west. The beast overtook one of them, but the fourth-Agwaine-got clear. The beast has followed him now. But first it… it ate.”
“So,” said Gaelen, “the creature is in the west. Now let’s find Layne.”
Gwalchmai nodded and set off in a loping run, his green eyes fixed to the trail. Gaelen ran just behind him, eyes flickering to the undergrowth around them. Fate was with them and they found the brothers within the hour. They were sitting by a stream. Swiftly Gaelen explained about the slaughter.
“How long ago did this happen?” Layne asked Gwalchmai.
“This morning, while we sat on the beach. I think the beast was following us, but when we cut away down to the waterside it picked up Agwaine’s trail.”
“Do you think Agwaine survived?”
“He certainly survived the first attack, for the beast returned to the bodies. But then it set out after him once more. What kind of creature is it, anyway? I mean, it’s fed. Why hunt Agwaine?”
“I don’t know, but we must help our cousin.”
“We will not help him by dying, brother,” observed Lennox. “Gwal says the beast has gone west. If we follow the wind will be behind us, carrying our scent forward. And we will be walking straight toward it.”
“I know that’s true,” said Layne. “Yet we cannot leave Agwaine.”
“Would you mind a suggestion from a Lowlander?” Gaelen asked.
Layne turned to him. “You’re not a Lowlander, cousin. Speak on.”
“Thank you. But I am not as wise in these things as the rest of you, so my plan may be flawed. But I think we should find a hiding place where we can watch the… food store. Once the beast has returned, unless the wind changes we should then be able to travel west without it picking up the scent. What do you think?”
“I think you are more clan than you realize,” said Layne.
They left the stream at a brisk run and headed for the line of hills less than half a mile distant-Layne leading, Gaelen and Gwalchmai just behind, and Lennox at the rear.
Once on the hillside they settled down on their bellies to watch the trail. From their vantage point they could see clearly all the way to the lake above the falls and beyond, while to the northwest a range of rocky hills cut the skyline. Above them the sky was red as blood as the sun sank to the level of the western mountain peaks.
“I hope it comes back before nightfall,” said Layne.
Luck was with them for, in the last rays of the dying sun, Gwalchmai spotted the beast ambling on all fours along the trail. It moved carefully, hugging the shadows before disappearing into the bushes where the corpses lay.
The companions wormed their way back down the slope, cutting a wide circle around the beast’s lair before
