not shifted.”

“Where are we, Bradan?” Melcorka asked.

“Wherever it is, it's not where it appears to be,” Bradan said. “We can try going up the hill again.”

“Into the mist? Perhaps. Let's hurry along here first.”

Lengthening their stride, they moved on, with the valley as pleasant as ever around them and women singing the same song.

“Welcome strangers,” the woman could have been the twin of the first to whom they spoke. “We are the people of the Grey Glen. Come and rest for a while. I will relieve you of the burden of your sword.”

“I will keep hold of my sword, thank you,” Melcorka said, pushing Bradan in front of her.

“These people are too interested in your sword,” Bradan said.

“They are,” Melcorka agreed. “I will keep it safe, despite their interest.”

“I cannot see an end to this glen,” Bradan said.

“Nor can I.” Melcorka looked behind her. “Nor a beginning.”

The road behind them seemed identical to that behind, long, straight and stretching for ever past pleasant farmland. Women worked in the infields and men in the outfields, cattle lowed and there was an occasional burst of laughter.

“We're not here,” Bradan said. “I don't know where we are, but we are not in a glen.”

“Up the hill, Bradan, and damn the mist!”

They marked their route, eyeing a gully in the granite that led to a small corrie, where a burn gushed near perpendicular from a cliff.

“That's our way out,” Melcorka said. “If we keep to the gulley and the corrie, the mist should not confuse us.”

“There's no mist yet,” Bradan said.

“Oh, it'll come,” Melcorka said. “Are you ready?”

“Ready,” Bradan said.

Turning abruptly to the right, they powered over the fields, ignoring the waves of the men. The cattle did not move or even look up as they passed them, and within moments they clambered over the grey dry-stone dykes that marked the end of the pastureland and the beginning of the granite slopes.

“Here comes the mist,” Melcorka said as the familiar grey tendrils rose from the ground and snaked from above.

“Ignore it,” Bradan said. “Remember our route and keep close to me. We can't get separated.”

The grey men appeared, mere shapes in the mist, sliding before them without a sound. The woman was behind them, watching, with her hair now more blonde than grey.

“Ignore them,” Melcorka advised. “Pretend they do not exist.”

The gulley was rougher than it had appeared from below, with ridges of rock running at right angles to the cutting, and a foaming white burn on the floor.

“Follow the burn,” Melcorka said. “We know it leads to the corrie.”

Although easy in theory, following the burn was difficult in practice. With the rushing burn filling the floor of the gulley in alternate steep falls and pools of uncertain depth, Melcorka and Bradan had to clamber along the side, balancing on slippery, moss-furred boulders as they fought their way ever upwards.

Supporting himself with his staff pressed against the bed of the burn, Bradan looked ahead. “I can't see the corrie at the top of the burn.”

“Nor can I,” Melcorka said. “Keep going. We know it is there. We traced the route from the floor of the glen.”

Mist surrounded them, lying thick above the burn, swirling around the boulders, distorting their voices, so they had to strain to make out what they were saying.

“The grey men are back,” Melcorka murmured.

“I see them.”

The figures loomed like shadows, each one elongated, huge in the mist.

“Halloa!” Melcorka called. “Who are you?”

There was no response.

“I'm getting angry,” Melcorka said and raised her voice again. “You'd better go away before I come for you.”

“He's waiting.” The words came through the mist. “He”s waiting!”

“Keep moving.” Bradan pulled Melcorka further up the gulley. “They are trying to delay us.”

“I'll catch you yet,” Melcorka yelled, bowed her head and moved on.

“Where's the corrie?” Melcorka looked up, flapping her hand in a vain attempt to clear away the mist.

“Up here somewhere,” Bradan said. “We should have reached it by now!”

“Something is very wrong,” Melcorka said.

“Things are not what they seem,” Bradan said. “This is not right.”

“You are right, Bradan.” The voice was female and familiar. “Things are not what they seem, and you are not where you think you are.”

“Who said that?” Lifting his staff in a gesture of defence, Bradan looked around. “I know that voice!”

“You know me.” Astrid stood before them, standing in the gulley as if there was no burn foaming and roaring around her. Her blonde hair gleamed in the sunlight.

“Astrid? How did you get here?”

“I followed you,” Astrid said. “Where do you think you are?”

“In a place called the Grey Glen,” Bradan said. “Or Glen Tacheichte.”

“You're not.” When Astrid shook her head, her hair flowed around her shoulders.

“We are,” Melcorka contradicted Astrid.

“You have never left the ridge where Halfdan defeated the Headhunter,” Astrid said. “Let me approach you!”

“Come,” Bradan said.

“Stay!” Melcorka ordered. “I do not believe you.”

“Come,” Bradan repeated, gesturing Astrid forward.

Astrid advanced at a slow walk, passing through the water that churned creamy-white around her legs. “Stand still.”

Bradan stood still, wondering how Astrid came to be here. Pulling a small flask from beneath her ragged cloak, Astrid pulled out the leather stopper and splashed the contents into the palm of her hand. Without any warning, she threw the liquid into Bradan's face, stepped closer and rubbed it into his eyes.

“You…” Melcorka had half drawn Defender before Astrid did the same to her, passing the ball of her thumb over Melcorka's pupils.

At once, the landscape altered. The burn dried up, the gully levelled out, and the mist cleared. Melcorka and Bradan stood on the ridge where Halfdan had fought the Headhunter, with both bodies lying as they had fallen.

“I've tried to get you out of there,” Astrid said.

“What happened?” Melcorka asked, looking around her as much in anger as confusion.

“The evil eye.” Astrid said. “Somebody has put the evil eye on you. I watched you walk in circles. I could do nothing to help until I fetched some holy water.”

“The evil eye?” Still suspicious, Melcorka retained her grip on Defender.

“The

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