‘And seven of your strongest men slain tonight.’
‘My men?’
‘Yours. And I’ll need your war-dogs. Bring them to the woods in an hour.’
Asbidag’s carles roamed the camp until the seven men had been chosen, bound and gagged. Together with the Aenir Lord’s Hunt Master Donic, and his seven hounds, they were taken to a circular clearing within the woods. Asbidag was waiting there with Drada, Morgase and Tostig; the woman, Agnetha, sat close by on a round boulder.
The bound men were forced to kneel before the woman and she waved away Asbidag’s carles who returned, relieved, to the camp. Agnetha called Donic forward, ordering him to set each dog before a bound man. He did so, then ran back to his blankets and the guttering fire behind Asbidag’s tent.
In the clearing the kneeling men were sweating freely as they stared into the eyes of Asbidag’s hounds. Agnetha glanced at the Aenir lord and nodded.
‘Kill!’he shouted.
The hounds lunged forward, ripping at the exposed throats before them.
Agnetha ran along the line of dying men, hurling a grey misty powder over them and chanting. One by one the dogs sank to the earth, their teeth embedded in the flesh of the slain men. The witch-woman lifted her arms to the night sky, screaming the name of the Grey God over and over again.
‘Vatan! Vatan! Vatan!’
By her feet the hounds began to writhe and swell, while the Aenir corpses twisted and shrivelled. Morgase turned away. Drada swallowed hard, flicking a glance at his father. Asbidag was grinning. Tostig squeezed shut his eyes.
Within seconds the dead warriors were bone-filled husks, while the hounds had grown to treble their size. Their front paws had stretched into taloned fingers, and their dark fur-covered forms parodied men – long muscular legs, deep powerful chests and round heads ending in elongated maws and sharp fangs.
Agnetha danced around them, bidding them rise. Releasing the empty husks, the beasts pushed themselves to their feet, red eyes scanning the clearing. Their gaze fell upon Asbidag and their howling rent the night. Tostig stepped backward in terror and fell. Morgase gripped Drada’s arm.
‘Is this what you wanted, Asbidag?’ said Agnetha.
‘Yes.’
‘Once unleashed they can never be brought back. They will follow no one. They are created out of hate and they will kill any man they find, be he Aenir or clan. Is this what you want?’
‘Yes, curse you! Just send them north.’
‘They will go where they will. But I will send them north. Have you done with me now?’
‘I have.’
‘Remember your promise, Asbidag. One hundred maidens by midsummer. Or the Werehounds will hunt you.’
‘Don’t threaten me, hag,’ thundered Asbidag.
The woman cackled and turned to the silent beasts. Lifting her arm, she pointed north and the ghastly pack loped away into the darkness.
Asbidag walked forward, pushing his boot against a shrivelled corpse. A dried bone split the skin and fell to the grass. He shook his head and began to laugh.
Agnetha stopped him, placing her bony hand upon his arm. ‘What is so amusing?’
This,’ he answered, pushing the corpse once more. ‘This was Anias, son of my brother Casta. Only yesterday I told him he was empty-headed. Now his body matches his head.’
Drada approached Agnetha. ‘How can those things live?’
‘In the same way as you, Lord Drada. They breathe and they eat. It is an old spell, and a fine one, taught to me by a Nadir shaman in another age.’
‘But what are they now, hounds or men?’
‘They are both – and neither.’
‘Do they have souls?’
‘Do you?’
‘Not any more,’ said Drada, gazing down at the corpses.
The pack made their first kill that night, drifting silently through the pine forests in the north-west. The leader’s head came up, nostrils flaring in the breeze. His red eyes turned to the north-east and he led the group deeper into the trees.
A young Haesten clansman and his two daughters were hidden in
a cave. Having escaped the assault on their valley, they had met a
Farlain scout who told them to head for Vallon. The clansman
travelled by night carrying his youngest child, a girl of six years. His