They were riding at a walk, the Great Forest pressing in on them from both sides. Although the road was wide, Volt felt enclosed by the thick vegetation and threatened by the animal noises squawking and hooting, snuffling and snarling, noises echoing from all sides. He wasn’t ordinarily afraid of forest animals. Still, Upthog’s earlier warnings had struck him in what had become a sensitive area, making him wonder again if he had what was necessary to be an effective leader. Surely, to lead well, a person needs to know about the environment where they intend to lead.

  Again, my knowledge has let me down.

  Volt had no idea clans with able warriors and leaders lived in the Great Forest. Having seen the forest dwellers during the witch hunts, he’d taken their ragtag appearance to mean they were incapable, deciding they were poorly led, ill-armed, and disorganised. If he’d been facing them across a battlefield such a misconception could well have been catastrophic. Never underestimate an enemy—a rule good captains learn very early. Perhaps that is why Maga had beaten him so easily at Caer Usk; he underestimated her. He supposed it was easy because he had no idea of her origins. At least Upthog was beginning to change him for the better.

  She’s a good teacher. I have learnt much in our short time together.

  And then another revelation struck him.

  “You seem sure Kathvar has disguised himself as Mesroeda,” he whispered in Upthog’s ear as they rode.

  “Aye. As sure as I can be.”

  “Where did that come from?” he asked.

  He suspected his First Warrior had fallen victim to some scheme of Kathvar’s but thought himself the only one. Of course, Upthog was sure she had reason to hate the witch—she believed he killed her brother—explaining her willingness to blame Kathvar for everything. Something in the cold way—to the point of iciness—she said it to Maga, though, made Volt think it was not her motive. The statement had been so matter of fact, he felt sure her hatred would have given her more fire, not more ice. Despite the short time he’d known the woman, he had already discovered she was extremely passionate and not the best at keeping it in check.

  “Ye told me how ye were suspicious of Mesroeda. When Fachta said the guard was here and delaying their journey south, it all fell together. Ye might not have noticed, but when telling the tale, ye said Mes was changed when he got back from chasing Kathvar, which made me think the witch is maybe a shape changer, explaining some things I’ve been struggling with.”

  “Such as?”

  Upthog hesitated before saying, “The guards at the granary. There was something savage about it, something a shape changer might do. Ye said yer Mes wasn’t himself?”

  Volt wondered briefly if her hesitation was indicative of more secrecy. He dismissed it because there was little he could do to change it.

  “Yes,” he said. “Something about him was off. I couldn’t decide what at the time. After Maga convinced me shape-changing is real, I suspected Kathvar killed Mes and took his place.”

  “And then Fachta said yer man Mes is commanding the demon, meaning he must be Kathvar—only witches can command demons.”

  “Unless Mes was always a witch, only I hadn’t suspected.”

  Volt thought about it for several moments before deciding it wasn’t possible. He’d failed to notice Kathvar was a witch, but he hadn’t known the man, not really. They hunted The Coven together, but Kathvar always remained aloof and derisory, so Volt kept his distance. On the other hand, Mes had always been an affable horse warrior, good with the other warriors, as quick to follow orders as he was to have a laugh in the hostel with his comrades.

  Right up until he returned from hunting Kathvar.

  “Mes was no witch,” he said. “My guess is he’s mouldering somewhere in the forest between Caer Droma and Murias. But does that mean it’s Kathvar? Could it not be some other witch?”

  “There are no others. As far as I know, we’re the last. No. Kathvar killed yer man.”

  “And if I know the witch, probably with a dagger to the back. No magic, you said, so backstabbing preferred.”

  “Aye, that’d be my guess, too. Although, shape-changing requires a lot of power, so he must have some.”

  “Could he be drawing that power from the earth?” Upthog shrugged. “You think he’s going to challenge Dhusonos, and that might explain how.”

  “Aye, it might.”

  She’s not telling me everything.

  “I don’t understand why anyone would want to do it. What would they gain by taking over from Dhuosnos? Eternity in Tech Duinn waiting for a boy like Scamp to free him?”

  Upthog didn’t say anything for a long time. Volt also said nothing, allowing her to respond when she was ready. He knew the gravity of his question would require a similar gravity in its response. As far as he could tell, there was no benefit to usurping the Lord of Darkness’s power. No one would want to act as the Creator’s enforcer unless the moon Goddess, Rhiannon, had her hand on their shoulder.

  “I think Kathvar is quite possibly deranged,” she finally said.

  Ah, that would explain some things.

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  “Being moon blessed might explain some of it but not the motive.”

  “Under Rhiannon’s thumb, would he need a motive? Anyway, I suspect he’ll also challenge the Creator.”

  “How could he possibly succeed? The Creator is a God.”

  “I told ye witches ain’t human.” Volt nodded. “That’s because we’re—”

  “Well, now, what have we here?”

  Leaning over Upthog’s shoulder, Volt saw a slender man wearing leather armour over a mail shirt stood in the middle of the road with his arms crossed. The man carried a long scar down the left side of his face, which gave him a menacing aspect. There had been no sign of the warrior only moments before and Volt assumed he’d been hiding in the shadows at the side of the road.

  “Stand aside, man, before I run you down,” Fachta said from behind Volt.

  Volt was surprised the Tuatha gave any warning. Rather than comply, the man put his thumb and index finger in his mouth and whistled, which prompted a rustling from the forest. Within moments they were surrounded by hundreds of warriors, Volt’s ragtag army.

  “You were saying?” the man asked.

  Volt felt all the tension flee from Upthog’s body.

  “Sainreth, am I glad to see ye. How’ve ye been?” Upthog asked, lifting her leg so she could drop down from Volt’s mare.

  “Upthog,” the man said and nodded. “Haven’t seen you since the hunts.”

  “Aye, ten summers and more.”

  “You ain’t changed a jot.”

  “Yer too kind,” Upthog said as she ran to him, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him on both cheeks.

  Volt was surprised Maga and Fachta had said and done nothing since Upthog greeted the man in the cuirass. It was surprising because they didn’t strike him as the type of beings who would use restraint when faced with a difficult situation. He suspected Fachta in particular would be prone to tackle each problem with the edge of his blade. Then again, with the hundreds surrounding them he supposed any violence would be counterproductive. Undoubtedly, Fachta could take many with him, but eventually, he would fall. Seeing this ragtag band from close by, he realised they would not stop until they achieved that end. They were the hardened men and women Upthog said they were and not the ill-disciplined-organised-and-led he’d thought them to be.

  “Where’s Bairrfind?” Upthog asked.

  “Whitehead has gone east. There are rumblings, Upthog. War is coming, and she’s gone to gather her warriors.”

  “Good. We parted on bad terms. She threatened to kill me if I returned.”

  So, that’s why she was worried about entering the forest.

  “Upthog, what’s going on?” Maga finally asked.

  “This is Sainreth, Captain of the Whitehead’s warriors, currently surrounding ye. Sainreth is my friend and will protect me if I ask.”

  “Protect you from us, woman?” Fachta demanded, edging his horse forward. “I would have your heads before any of this band of tramps could bare their weapons.”

  Maga leant over and grabbed his horse’s bridle. “So, what is it you propose?”

  Volt watched Upthog turn away from the man and put her hands on her hips. There was a glint in her eye as she said, “A truce. I’m going to The Point. I’d rather get there without Volt’s pommel up me arse the whole way.”

  ***

  When they reached the unnamed pass, Scamp felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. It seemed to be a narrow ledge halfway up a cliff on the side of the mountain. The bridge over the chasm had been bad but this appeared to be worse. Much worse.

  “Is that the pass?” he asked with a shiver.

  “Yes, Master.”

  Now it’s calling me master.

  There was a slope leading to the initial outcropping where the path began. From below, it appeared very narrow and very high. Scamp felt a bead of sweat break out on his forehead and tickle the edge of his nose as it ran down his face.

  “Is it wide enough for horses?”

  “It’s wide enough,” Mesroeda said. “Are you afraid of narrow paths?”

  Are you afraid of narrow paths, Scamp mimicked in his head.

  “No. I already told you I’ve got a healthy fear of falling.”

  Scamp couldn’t imagine how Mesroeda might know the path’s width because, only a little while before, he hadn’t known the pass’s location. He wondered if the statement was in hope rather than any genuine conviction. However, when they reached the start of the ledge, he saw it was wide enough for two horses and so relaxed.

  “You lead, Mac. Scamp in the middle. I will follow.”

  So I can’t escape backwards or forwards.

  They rode cautiously. The path might be wide enough for two horses but if anything spooked one of them, it could be the death of them all. The gorge to the side of them was the deepest Scamp had encountered on his travels so far. He wondered how long it would take to reach the bottom, trying not to look over the edge as they rode. He could feel that tingling sensation he got in his feet when he dreamt of falling and wondered if it would be the same were his horse to throw him over the ledge. After all, the sea was genuine in his dreams.

  But that was because Marbh was creating those dreams. Dreams of falling are all mine.

  Despite his fears, the ride through the unnamed pass turned out to be easy and uneventful. In no time at all, Scamp was surprised to find himself on a broad plateau staring over the plains of South Kingdom. The weather was glorious. The sun, soon to set behind them, was bathing the plains below in a red wash. Some would read it as a bad omen to have the place they were about to cross bathed in such an evocative colour, but all Scamp saw was the scene’s beauty.

  From their elevated position, he could see for leagues. Eterscel’s Dyke continued south from where it escaped the Great Forest and ran towards the sea as though it was happy to get away from the forest’s darkness and shadow. From his vantage point, even though elevated, the forest was just a dense black and threatening smudge with mists rising over the canopy. A mountain peak pointed out through the mists, maybe five leagues from where he sat.

  Looking south, he could see a tall, flat-topped hill with a massive stone fortress at its summit, so large he could see it even from this distance.

  “What’s the name of that place?” Scamp asked, pointing at it.

  “Donn’s Needle. The fortress that guards the headland of Crobh Sicín, the chicken’s talon.”

  Scamp shook his head, wondering why there was a need to guard the headland.

  “It must be home to a huge army.”

  “It is deserted, except some say the shades of the warriors who died there occupy it. I’m not sure if that’s true.”

  “Why would such a castle be abandoned?” Scamp wondered aloud.

  “There hasn’t been a need for several hundred summers.”

  “A need for what?”

  Mesroeda shrugged, twitched, and spat. “A need to guard the chicken’s foot.”

  A need to keep foes in or foes out?

  “And where is Scéine’s Cove from here?”

  “South of the fort, ten leagues or so. It will be a full day’s hard ride, so we camp here tonight.”

  Scamp nodded and climbed down from his horse, glad to give his buttocks a rest from the saddle.

  “Shall I light a fire?” he asked.

  “No fire tonight, Scamp. We’re right on the edge of the forest. Like I told you, there’s lots of nasty people in there.”