“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 five grey men,” Bradan said. “When they took off their hoods.” He explained what had happened as Astrid listened. “Remember the grey men stared at us? That must have been when they put us under an enchantment. Nothing from that time onward was real.”
“I've seen these men,” Astrid said. “They are from somewhere else, somewhere outside our world.”
“When did they appear?” Bradan asked.
“About a year ago,” Astrid said.
“The same time as the other evils,” Melcorka said. “They are connected – kill the head, and the rest will die, or go back from where they came.”
“Where is the head?” Astrid asked.
“We do not know,” Bradan said. “All we know that a man who lives in a house built on human bones may have the secret. Halfdan's last words were Dun Dreggan, which may be the place.”
“Dun Dreggan?” Astrid looked up. “The dun of the dragon? I know where that is.”
“Tell us,” Melcorka sat on the ground, leaning on a handy rock.
“It is in Caithness, the land of the cat people,” Astrid said. “Dun Dreggan is a stone-built castle, probably one of the most inaccessible castles in Alba or the Jarldom.”
All the time Astrid spoke, her eyes were on Bradan. She hardly looked in Melcorka's direction.
“I think we know these cat people,” Melcorka said grimly.
“Is this dragon castle built on human bones?” Bradan asked.
“In more ways than one,” Astrid said. “The site is ancient, so old it is beyond the memory of man. I have heard it was built on human sacrifice, although I have no proof.”
“Human sacrifice seems to be very common this season,” Bradan said. “We are returning to the bad old days.”
“Evil is in charge,” Melcorka murmured.
“You said Dun Dreggan was built on bones in more ways than one,” Bradan reminded Astrid.
“The present castle was built on the old foundations,” Astrid said. “It is on the site of a massacre where the Norse cleared the local Picts. There was a Pictish monastery there, a colony of monks, and Harald the Tall had them killed. The Pictish priests returned when Maelona was the queen, but only last year the Norsemen, my people, raided again and massacred the entire population.”
“Built on human bones indeed. Tell us where we will find this castle,” Melcorka ordered.
Astrid's smile was mocking. “You will never get there alone. You'll need a guide.”
“Bradan and I have been to places in this world that are beyond your comprehension,” Melcorka said. “We have seen lands of perpetual ice and snow, rivers so vast you cannot see the far bank and lakes as big as seas. We have seen empires so extensive you cannot comprehend the scale, and armies of tens of thousands of men. We have travelled over lands and seas…” Melcorka stopped as she realised that Astrid was not paying any attention.
“You will need a guide,” Astrid repeated. “However far you claim to have travelled before, you are not doing very well so far, are you? Falling under the influence of the evil eye, defeated by the Butcher on the Bass Rock, seeking help from the People of Peace and the Druids.” She looked at Melcorka for the first time. “I know of your failures, Melcorka the Swordswoman. You have needed help since you set out on your quest, and you need help now.”
Bradan watched the interplay between the two women. “Do you know of anybody that can guide us to Dun Dreggan?”
“Me,” Astrid said.
Melcorka felt a surge of emotion she never thought to experience. “You? You would be better tending the pigs rather than venturing with us.”
“How are your scars, Melcorka?” Astrid asked sweetly. “I hope they are healing now.” She stood up, smiling. “We are of the same age, Swordswoman; I have lived all my life with warriors, and yet my body is unblemished. Shall I show you?”
“There is no need,” Bradan wondered how he could keep the peace betw
een these two women. “We believe you.” Taking a deep breath, he faced Melcorka. “We may need Astrid's help, Mel. If she knows where Dun Dreggan is, then we may finish this quest quickly and rid Alba of the evil.”
“Not only Alba,” Astrid said. “The evil extends all over Thorfinn's jarldom of Orkney as well and may well have spread further.”
Drawing Defender, Melcorka began to polish the blade in what was an unmistakeable warning to Astrid. She glanced at Bradan, wondering if she could trust him with this attractive blonde Norsewoman. In all the years they had travelled together, Melcorka had never felt so uncomfortable with their relationship. Knowing the decision rested with her, she forced a smile.
“You are welcome to come, Astrid,” Melcorka said. “I must warn you that it will be dangerous. Bradan and I never know what sort of enemies we will come across.”
“I am Norse,” Astrid said. “Adventure and danger are in my blood.”
“Good.” Melcorka slid Defender back into her scabbard. “Bradan and I always come through,” she paused for a significant second, “together. I kill anybody or anything that tries to stop us.” Melcorka's smile would have chilled the stone blood of a gargoyle. “Or who tries to come between us.”
Astrid gave a little nod of her head. “Then that is settled.” She stood up and stepped toward the pass that rose behind them, with her hip nearly brushing against Bradan's head. “Before we go further, you'd both best be secured against the evil eye in case our little grey friends return.”
“That seems sensible,” Bradan glanced at Melcorka who gave a reluctant nod.
“Come with me.” In seconds, Astrid had regained the initiative. Walking in front, with her back straight and her hips swinging enticingly, she led them to a small burn that chuckled beside the ruins of an old stone building.
“That was once a Pictish church,” Astrid said, “and this stream formed the boundary between the Christian Picts and the Norse until we killed the holy man and took control of the entire area.”
“Is that significant?” Bradan asked.
Astrid favoured him with a smile. “Yes. To protect you from the evil eye, I require water from a boundary burn, and water beside a holy site is best of all. Now, I must gather sufficient water to wash you both.”
“Wash us?” Melcorka said. “I can step into the burn if that helps!”
“There is a proper procedure to these things,” Astrid said. “If you wish I could only wash Bradan and leave you to the grey men. I am sure you would enjoy floundering in the mist again.”
“You do what you need to do,” Bradan said, as Melcorka glowered at them both.
“I removed the curse, but the evil remains,” Astrid explained. “Unless I complete the ritual, you will remain vulnerable, and one sight of the grey men may again unhinge your minds.” She gave a small, bitter smile. “When people speak of evil demons and dragons and such like, they think of monsters that you can defeat with a blade. Evil does not come merely in a physical form; it inhabits the demons of doubt, confusion, distrust and depression. It enters your mind, so you do not know who you are or why you are here. That is the effect of a spell, of the evil eye, which is as potent as any fire-breathing monster.”
“We have experienced such evil,” Bradan said, “and I don't want any more, thank you!”
Astrid smiled. “I don't blame you, Bradan. Come on then. I need some sort of receptacle to put the water in.”
They found an old wooden bucket under a thicket of nettles, and as Melcorka watched, scowling, Astrid filled it by hand, scooping water from the burn and chanting an invocation to herself.
“Words are critical,” Astrid said. “Words have more power than the blade of any sword.”
“I will remember that next time I am in a battle with the Norsemen,” Melcorka said. “Rather than drawing Defender, I will shout at them, loudly.”
Having filled the bucket, Astrid looked at both Bradan and Melcorka. “Who is first? Who is not scared of cold water?”
“I will be first,” Melcorka stepped forward.
“Lie on the ground and remove your clothes,” Astrid spoke without emotion. When Melcorka obeyed, Astrid bathed her, chanting all the time. When she was finished, she nodded to Bradan. “You next, Bradan.”
Glancing at Melcorka, Bradan followed her example, lying with his eyes closed as Astrid took her time washing his body.
“That's you safe, Bradan!”
Dressing hastily, Bradan nodded his thanks. “I don't feel any different.”
“It's not how you feel that matters,” Astrid said. “It's how you are.” She smiled. “Now we'll see if I was successful.” She shook the bucket. “This is the water with which I washed you. I'm going to throw it against that rock,” Astrid pointed to a rounded white boulder. “Watch.” Stepping back, she tossed the water. For a moment, nothing happened, and then the boulder exploded into a hundred fragments.
“What in the name of the wee man?” Melcorka half drew Defender until she realised that Astrid was nodding her head in satisfaction.
“Good,” Astrid said. “That shows that I was successful. I removed the evil from you and threw it on to the rock. That's why it exploded.”
“Thank you, Astrid.” Bradan said.
“I'll collect a little more of this holy water,” Astrid dipped her flask into the burn, “in case we need it.”
Melcorka stamped her feet on the ground in impatience. “Are we going to move? I want to find this Dun Dreggan.”
“Over the pass then,” Astrid said, “without any mist this time.” Ignoring Melcorka”s glare, she stepped close to Bradan.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Finleac looked upward, where the two ravens were circling against a bright sky. “These birds have been with us for days,” he said cheerfully.
The men and women at his back laughed with him. “They are making sure that we don't get lost,” a red-haired woman named Breana said.
“That may be true,” Finleac said. “I feel that we've been riding around these blasted hills for ever, Breana.”
“Yes, my lord,” Breana said. “And it has been such a tiresome journey.” She laughed again, tossing her hair over her right shoulder.
“I suppose there have been compensations,” Finleac said.
“You suppose!” Breana pouted. “I shall remind you of your supposition later, Lord Finleac, when you crave my company tonight.”
Finleac turned away, hiding his smile. “There are other women,” he said.
“Perhaps so, my good lord.” Breana rode close, brushing her thigh against Finleac's. “But none as good as I am.”
“Good?” Finleac barked his laughter. “I would never call you good, Breana. Skilled perhaps, agile certainly, but never good.”
“Would my lord prefer me any other way?” Breana asked.
“Your lord would prefer you any way you choose, as long as you remain skilled, agile and undoubtedly not good!” Finleac said, to the renewed laughter of the Picts behind him.
“As your lord pleases,” Breana said. “Are we stopping for the night soon?”
“Breana is desperate for your company, Finleac!” One of the male riders shouted, which encouraged a barrage of lewd remarks that had Finleac laughing nearly as loudly as Breana.
They camped beside a copse of elder trees near a small lochan, with granite heights frowning all around and black-headed gulls screaming at them. With sweet water for horses and humans and trout from the loch, they feasted that night before Breana dragged Finleac behind the trees.
“You are insatiable,” Finleac said.
“Are you complaining, my lord?”
“Come here, and I'll show you.” The trees provided a slightly more secluded spot away from the amused eyes of the company, although Breana's giggles and gasps told them all they needed to know. With their lord providing an example, other couples made similar arrangements, so it was a happy gathering as a harper played soft music that echoed around the walls of the corrie. After
a while, they settled to slumber with only the ripples from the lochan as accompaniment.
“Finleac!” The name broke their exhausted sleep at midnight. “Finleac of Fidach!”
“What the devil?” Finleac pushed Breana away and rose, naked as a baby, from his blanket. “I am Finleac of Fidach! Who calls my name?”
“I do! The one you know as the Butcher!”
Finleac stepped to the shore of the lochan where the starlight gleamed from his slender body. “Where are you, Butcher? It is as well that Black Duncan did not find you, for I wish to kill you myself.”
“Finleac!” The Butcher”s voice came again. “Here!”
By now all Finleac's company was awake, with the men scrabbling for weapons and the women watching, enjoying the drama as much as the sights of naked men.
The object fell from a great height, landing in the lochan with a mighty splash. Waiting until the ripples died away, Finleac waded into the loch and retrieved the spherical thing within its linen covering.
“That water must be cold,” one of the women said. “Look what it has done to Finleac.”
A second woman laughed. “No matter – Breana will soon revive him. I've heard that she is skilled and agile.” Their laughter ended when Finleac unwrapped the object he had retrieved.
“So here is Duncan's head,” Finleac held it up by the hair so that everybody could see. “As black in death as he was in life.”
Breana turned her head sideways as she studied the gruesome remains of Duncan. “Aye, even in death, he cannot smile.”
“That will be you, tomorrow Finleac.” The voice echoed around the corrie.
“Let tomorrow's cares be for tomorrow, and the pleasures of tonight be for tonight,” Finleac shouted back. “Back to bed, lads and lassies. We won't let some disembodied head and a boaster disturb our rest – or whatever you were doing.”
As Finleac hoped, his words raised a laugh among his people, but all the same, he posted two sentries to watch the perimeter of the camp. Breana was waiting for him, even more animated than usual.
“Come on, my sweet lord. This night may be your last alive. Let us make it worth our while.”
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