“The dun of the dragon built on human bones.” Bradan peered into the rain. “That is not a cheerful prospect. I thought I saw movement there, away on our left.”
Melcorka did not look in that direction. “Human or animal?”
“I'm not sure. Human, I think.”
Melcorka yawned, stretching. “All right. Someone is shadowing us, then. Keep moving; don't rush and watch out for the cat creatures.”
The drizzle increased as they ascended the path, with each step now more treacherous on wet ground. The pass magnified the sound of the burns that descended from the granite, making a thin trickle sound like a torrent, and when the voices came, they echoed in the mist.
“Come on, Melcorka. Come on, Bradan.”
“Come on, Melcorka. Come on, Bradan.” The words ended in low laughter.
“How many?” Melcorka asked.
“I am not sure. This mist distorts the sound.”
“I heard three at least,” Melcorka said. “They are inviting us on.”
“That is kind of them,” Bradan said.
The pass continued to ascend, dropping to nothingness on their left and the granite slope on the right.
“He is waiting,” the voices sounded again. “He is waiting.” The words again ended in laughter that echoed around the hill.
“He is waiting,” Bradan repeated.
“Good,” Melcorka said. “Let him wait, whoever he is.” She gave a sudden smile. “I doubt he is somebody we wish to meet, and I doubt he is somebody who wishes to meet us!”
“That's my Mel!” Bradan said.
The laughter sounded again, mocking, and faded away to nothing as they emerged through the mist to stand at the head of the pass. The cloud lay before them, a grey blanket covering the ground, pierced by the peaks of a hundred distant hills.
“It's like being on top of the world.” Bradan gave a bleak smile. “I wonder how many thousand people have said that when they stand on a hill summit.”
“More importantly,” Melcorka said. “I wonder what we'll find when we descend to the other side.”
“Cat creatures with slashing claws,” Bradan suggested, “ravens that do not feed on corpses and a dragon fort built on human bones.”
“I feel as if somebody is drawing us into something,” Melcorka said. “Enticed by challenges. The cat creatures could have attacked us as easily as they killed Halfdan. Why didn't they?”
“They want something else,” Bradan said. “What do we have alive rather than dead?”
“I don't know,” Melcorka said. “It cannot be our possessions. I own only the clothes I wear, and Defender. You have your clothes and your staff. We're not worth robbing.”
“Defender is valuable,” Bradan said.
“Only a few could use her power,” Melcorka said, “and then only for good. If anybody murdered me, they would have only an ancient sword.”
The ravens emerged from the cloud at their side to circle them. “We have company,” Bradan said.
“The ravens are always with us,” Melcorka said. “I just ignore them now.”
As they began the descent, the cloud shredded and disappeared, revealing the glen beneath. At first sight, it was fertile, with swathes of green beside a broad, slow river, and patches of woodland climbing the hill-slopes.
“It is a lovely place,” Bradan said. “I see houses and people and no sign of war. If this is Glen Tacheichte, the Haunted Glen, I wish there were more ghosts.”
“Aye, it's a place of peace amid devastation,” Melcorka said. “Would that all Alba was so fortunate.”
They descended into the valley, still with the ravens overhead and the mist shredding into mere wisps on the slopes of the surrounding hills. Women worked in the infields or stopped to give a wave, while men tending cattle in the outfields shouted greetings across the intervening land.
“This is Alba as it once was,” Bradan said, “before the Norse invasions. It is as if these people had never heard of the evil that has befallen the land.”
“Aye,” Melcorka looked around, too wary to accept things at face value. “Something seems to have protected this valley from the evil of war.”
“There is no dun here, no fort; nothing to deter any raiders.” Bradan looked around. “Only the hill pass and the Headhunter.”
“Perhaps he was doing more good than we thought,” Melcorka said.
“And them?” Bradan gestured to the five grey men who had risen from the slopes beside them. “What part do they play?”
“The men in grey,” Melcorka said. “I thought it was too peaceful.” She raised her voice. “Who are you and what do you want?”
The grey men said nothing as they kept pace alongside Melcorka and Bradan. They moved silently, their feet barely touching the ground. Slightly apart, the grey woman joined them, silent, watchful.
“There is something uncanny about them,” Bradan said. “As if they are not really here.”
“I'll go closer,” Melcorka turned abruptly to mount the slope. With every step she advanced, the grey men retreated, always keeping the same distance.
“Who are you?” Melcorka asked. Her voice echoed in the glen: “Who are you, are you, are you?”
As Melcorka increased her speed, so did the grey men.
“Mel! They're leading you away!” Bradan stood still, holding his staff in both hands. The people of the glen paid no attention to the grey men, continuing what they had been doing without comment or hurry.
“Mel!”
“Say something,” Melcorka said as the grey men withdrew in silence. When Melcorka looked behind her, she realised she had climbed halfway up the slope, and the mist was returning, sending long tendrils to the valley bottom, encircling her with damp fingers. She peered ahead into the greyness and heard the barking of a dog. It barked once, twice and then silence. Melcorka shivered, remembering the name of this place: the Haunted Glen.
She was in the Haunted Glen with a dog that barked twice. Melcorka was well aware of the threat of the Cu Sith, the massive fairy dog. Green in colour and the
