“Do you know where in the Province of the Cat this strange warrior has his den?”
“I do not,” the chieftain said.
Melcorka sheathed Defender. “Thank you for your advice and knowledge,” she said. “And for your hospitality. We will head north to seek this house built on bones.”
“On your return,” Lachlan said, still rubbing at himself. “We can spar again, and you can teach me that trick.”
“We can do that, young warrior,” Melcorka said.
* * *
“There's a settlement ahead.” Bradan pointed with his chin as they crested yet another ridge. In that part of Alba, the glens ran east to west, so they were continually climbing or descending hills, with the lower slopes of the valleys swathed in open woodland and the bottoms boggy or flooded around peaty rivers. The glen they looked down upon was surprisingly dry, with fertile soil and a straggle of rowan and elder trees beside a small river.
“That's a welcome sight,” Melcorka said.
The roundhouses were clumped together behind a timber wall, with heather ropes holding reed-thatch secure against the winds. The small fields around had been painfully won and showed signs of recent activity in the shape of plough furrows.
“I can't see any life,” Melcorka said, increasing her pace at the thought of a kindly welcome at the hearth of a bright peat fire.
“Perhaps everybody is indoors,” Bradan said.
They hurried down the slope, shouting their names to warn the people of the settlement that they were coming. There was no response – not even the barking of a dog or the call of a cockerel.
“That's odd,” Bradan said.
“That would be odd at any other time,” Melcorka said. “Just now, odd is normal.” She unsheathed Defender. “Let's have a look at this empty settlement.”
Circling the wooden palisade before they entered, they saw the fields were bare of livestock, while a plough lay abandoned on its side. Melcorka was first through the wooden gate, looking around her cautiously, with Defender balanced on her right shoulder.
“Halloa!” She shouted a greeting. “I am Melcorka Nic Bearnas and with me is Bradan the Wanderer.”
Nobody replied. A single rat scurried from the nearest house, its tail flicking Melcorka”s ankle as it passed.
All the doors gaped open, gently creaking as they swung to the tune of the wind. “There's nobody here,” Bradan reported as he entered each house, one by one. “The entire place is deserted.”
“Not even a dog or a cat,” Melcorka said. “Only the odd rat.”
“The Norsemen have been here.”
“No,” Melcorka shook her head. “If the Norse had raided, they'd have left dead bodies. There is nothing, no trace of life. Nothing.”
“There is food in the pots,” Bradan said, “and clothes on the beds. Whatever happened was quick. The people had no time to gather their belongings.”
Melcorka swatted at the flies that clustered on the cooking pots. “Time to go,” she said. “There is nothing here for us.”
They left the settlement as quickly as they had arrived until Melcorka stopped to crouch on the ground outside. “Somebody has been here,” she indicated the marks of feet. “Many people – 20, maybe 30, of all ages. See?” She pointed to a small footmark, quite distinct on the hardened mud. “That is a child's print, moving away from the village in the direction we are taking.”
“Something scared them.” Bradan rubbed his thumb on the Celtic cross on his staff.
“Aye.” Melcorka stood up. “Something.” She looked up and down the length of the shallow glen. “I doubt we'll ever know what, Bradan, but I'll wager that the evilness is all connected.”
“Erik Egilsson?”
“Aye, that man, or whatever is within him, this Cu-saeng creature.” Replacing Defender in her scabbard, Melcorka led them on again, now moving more slowly as they looked around.
There was another deserted village in the next glen, again clear of all life except insects, mice and rats.
“If there were dead here, the carrion crows would be here to feast,” Melcorka said. “I have never seen the like before. This place is deserted as if something swept the people away with a huge brush.”
Bradan looked up. “The ravens are back.”
“Poor pickings for them here,” Melcorka said.
The next glen had two more deserted villages, with neglected fields and the heather thatch falling into the interior of the houses. “These have been empty for some time,” Melcorka said. “Longer than the others – weeds are growing in the plough furrows and birds are nesting in the thatch. Whatever happened, it struck here first and moved further out.”
“A plague perhaps?” Bradan hazarded. “Some form of moraine?”
“With no bodies and no graves?” Melcorka shook her head. “It came quick and sudden, with no warning and no time to alert the people in the neighbouring glen.”
“I'll be glad to get away from this area.” Bradan said. “Each glen is secluded, secret even, so evil can strike without being seen.”
Melcorka forced a smile. “Evil likes dark and lonely places. We shall bring light to Alba yet, Bradan.” She touched the hilt of Defender. “Come on.”
They lit a small fire that night, and moved 100 paces away, knowing that the light would attract any predators.
“One of us will remain awake,” Melcorka said, “while the other sleeps. I will take first watch.”
“Aye,” Bradan said. “Wake me if you need me.”
Resting in the lee of a rounded granite rock, they spent an uneasy night, with the stars brilliant above and the constant wind setting the heather to rustle. Twice they heard the howl of a wolf, and once the snuffling as a wild boar padded close by, but these were the usual sounds of nature and did not disturb them. In the morning, they returned to the fire.
“Footprints,” Bradan said. “Somebody visited our fire last night.”
“About a dozen people,” Melcorka said. “Barefoot; men and women together.”
Bradan scanned their surroundings. They were north of the area of shallow glens, with the wind scouring a bleak landscape of lochans – small lochs – and rocks. A few miles ahead stretched a dark belt of forest, the next barrier
