‘Can’t you sleep?’ asked Gaelen.
‘No, cousin. I wish you had brought Render with you. I feel uneasy.’
‘He’s well trained,’ said Gaelen, ‘but he’s still a hound, and his hunting might have alerted the Aenir.’
‘It is not the Aenir that concern me,’ whispered Layne.
‘You are still thinking about the wolves?’
‘Aye – and the beast which killed the Queen.’ The moon cleared the clouds and Gaelen looked at his friend. Layne’s hair glinted silver in the moonlight.
Gaelen shivered. ‘You think they might be demons?’
‘I hope not,’ said Layne. ‘But if they are – and they continued to follow the child – then I fear for Lennox.’
Gaelen put his arm around his friend’s shoulder. ‘If any man can survive against such beasts, Lennox will. I have no fears for him.’
Layne smiled. ‘He is uncommonly strong.’ For a time they sat together in silence, then Layne spoke again. ‘Did you propose to Deva?’
‘Yes. She spurned me.’
‘Me too. Some nonsense about birthing kings. I think she’ll grow out of it. Will you continue to court her?’
‘No, Layne.’
‘I shall. Once we have crushed the Aenir, I shall pursue her with such ardour that she will melt into my arms.’ He grinned, looking suddenly boyish again.
Gaelen smiled. ‘I wish you good fortune, my friend.’
‘I think I’ll get some sleep now,’ said Layne.
‘Layne!’ whispered Gaelen, as his friend rose.
‘What?’
‘I never really thanked you for standing up for me on that first day, when Agwaine drew his knife. You made me feel welcome among the Farlain and I’ll not forget it. And if ever you need me, I will be there for you.’
Layne said nothing, but he smiled and then moved back to his blanket. Gaelen kept watch for another two hours, then he woke Ridan.
‘You’ve have ruined a fine dream,’ muttered the clansman, sitting up and yawning.
Gaelen crossed the clearing and lay down. Sleep came instantly, but a faint rustling brought him awake. Was one of the others moving around? He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, and listened again.
Silence.
No! There was the sound again, away to the right.
An animal? A bird?
Gaelen curled his hand around the short sword lying next to him, gently easing it from the leather scabbard. He felt foolish, thinking back to the first night he had spent in the open with Caswallon, when the fox had terrified him.
A crunching noise, followed by a bubbling gurgle, brought him to his feet and the clouds above moved away from the moon. A scene of horror met his eyes. Five huge beasts were crouching in the camp. Ridan lay dead, his throat ripped apart, while another body was being dragged towards a screen of bushes.
Gaelen froze.
One beast, red eyes glinting, reared up on its hind legs and ran silently towards him. Gaelen shouted a warning and Onic rolled to his feet, his arm flashing back and then forward. His hunting-knife shot across the camp to plunge deep into the beast’s back; it howled then, rending the night silence. Gaelen leaped forward, ramming his sword into the beast’s chest. Talons lashed at him and he jumped back, releasing the blade. Then Gwalchmai ran forward and hurled his knife which thudded into the creature’s neck.
And the clouds closed, darkness blinding them all.
Gaelen dived for his pack, scrabbling at the canvas lip. Delving inside, he produced his tinder-box. There were only a few shredded leaves inside, but he was desperate for light. Twice the sparks jumped and then a tiny flame licked out. Holding up the box like a flickering candle, Gaelen turned. He could see Agwaine, Onic and Gwalchmai standing together with swords in hand. On the ground nearby lay the hideous corpse of the dead beast. Elsewhere there was no sign of the pack.
The others joined him, gathering twigs and branches, and they built a fire, heedless of any danger from the Aenir. Agwaine took a burning branch and moved to the spot where Layne had slept. The ground was wet with blood, and his body was lying some twenty feet away. Ridan’s corpse was nowhere in sight.