He knew that, from any more than five metres away, he would be virtually invisible to the human eye, thanks to the cloak, the shadows and the shape of the bush around him. But he wondered if the Kalkara depended on sight alone. Perhaps they had other senses that would tell them that there was an enemy concealed in the bush. Perhaps, even now, they were moving closer, concealed by the long shifting grass, ready to strike …
His nerves, already stretched beyond endurance by the Stone Flutes’ dismal song, urged him to spin round and identify the source of each new sound as he heard it. But he knew that to do so would be to reveal himself. He forced himself to move slowly, turning carefully until he faced the direction from which he thought the sound had come, assessing each new risk before discarding it.
In the long hours of tense watching, he saw nothing but the racing clouds, the fleeting moon and the undulating sea of grass that surrounded them. By the time the moon reached the preordained elevation, he was physically and mentally drained. He woke Gilan to take over the watch, then rolled back into his cloak again.
This time there were no dreams. Exhausted, he slept soundly until the grey light of dawn.
They saw the Stone Flutes by midmorning – a grey and surprisingly small circle of granite monoliths that stood at the top of a rise in the Plain. Their elected course took the riders a kilometre or so to one side of the Stones and Will was content to go no closer. The depressing song was now louder than ever, ebbing and flowing on the tide of the wind.
‘Next flute player I meet,’ said Gilan with grim humour, ‘I’m going to split his lip for him.’
They continued on their way, the kilometres passing behind them, hour after hour, one the same as the next, with nothing new to see and always with the faint howl of the Stones at their back, keeping their nerves on edge.
The Plainsman rose suddenly from the grass some fifty metres away from them. Small, dressed in grey rags and with long hair hanging unkempt to his shoulder, he glared at them through mad eyes for several seconds.
Will’s heart had barely recovered from the shock of his sudden appearance when he was off, bent double and running through the grass, seeming to sink into it. Within seconds, he had disappeared, swallowed by the grass. Halt was about to urge Abelard in pursuit but he stopped. The arrow he had selected instantly and laid on the bowstring remained undrawn. Gilan was also ready to shoot, his reactions every bit as sharp as Halt’s. He too held his shot, looking curiously at his senior.
Halt shrugged. ‘May mean nothing,’ he said. ‘Or maybe he’s off to tell the Kalkara. But we can hardly kill him on suspicion.’
Gilan let out a short bark of laughter, more to release the tension he felt as a result of the man’s unexpected appearance.
‘I suppose there’s no difference,’ he said, ‘whether we find the Kalkara or they find us.’ Halt’s eyes fixed on him for a moment, without any sign of answering humour.
‘Believe me, Gilan,’ he said, ‘there’s a big difference.’
They had abandoned the forced march pace now and rode slowly through the tall grass. Behind them, the sound of the Stones began to fade a little, much to Will’s relief. Now, he realised, the wind was carrying it away from them.
Some time passed following the sudden appearance of the Plain dweller, with no further sign of life. A question had been nagging at Will all through the afternoon.
‘Halt?’ he said experimentally, not sure if Halt would order him to silence. The Ranger looked at him, eyebrows raised in a sign that he was prepared to answer questions, so Will continued. ‘Why do you think Morgarath has enlisted the Kalkara? What does he stand to gain?’
Halt realised that Gilan was waiting for his answer as well. He marshalled his thoughts before he replied. He was a little reluctant to verbalise them, as so much of the answer depended on guesswork and intuition.
‘Who knows why Morgarath ever does anything?’ he answered slowly. ‘I can’t give you a definite answer. All I can tell you is what I assume – and what Crowley thinks as well.’
He glanced quickly at his two companions. It was obvious from their expectant expressions that they were prepared to accept his assumptions as ironclad fact. Sometimes, he thought wryly, a reputation for being right all the time could be a heavy burden.
‘There’s a war coming,’ he went on. ‘That much is already obvious. The Wargals are on the move and we’ve heard that Morgarath has been in contact with Ragnak.’ He saw the puzzled expression flit across Will’s face. Gilan, he knew, understood who Ragnak was. ‘Ragnak is the Oberjarl, or supreme lord, if you like, of the Skandians – the sea wolves.’ He saw the quick flash of comprehension and went on.
‘This is obviously going to be a bigger war than we’ve fought before and we’re going to need all our resources – and our best commanders to lead us. I think that’s what Morgarath has in mind. He’s seeking to weaken us by having the Kalkara kill our leaders. Northolt, the supreme army commander, and Lorriac, our best cavalry commander, have gone already. Certainly there will be other men who will step into those positions but there will inevitably be some confusion in the changeover period, some loss of cohesion. I think that’s what’s behind Morgarath’s plan.’
Gilan said thoughtfully. ‘There’s another aspect as well. Both those men were instrumental in his defeat last time. He’s destroying our command structure and getting revenge at the same time.’
Halt nodded. ‘That’s true, of course. And to a twisted mind like Morgarath’s, revenge is a powerful motive.’
‘So you think there’ll be more killings?’ Will asked and Halt met his gaze steadily.
‘I think there’ll be more attempts. Morgarath has sent them out twice with targets and they’ve succeeded. I don’t see any reason why they won’t go after others. Morgarath has reason to hate a lot of people in the Kingdom. The King himself, perhaps. Or maybe Baron Arald – he caused Morgarath some grief in the last war.’
And so did you, Will thought, with a sudden flash of fear for his teacher. He was about to voice the thought that Halt might be a target, then realised that Halt was probably well aware of the fact himself. Gilan was asking the older Ranger another question.
‘One thing I don’t understand. Why do the Kalkara keep returning to their hideout? Why not just move from one victim to the next?’
‘I suppose that’s one of the few advantages we do have,’ Halt told them. ‘They’re savage and merciless and more intelligent than Wargals. But they’re not human. They are totally single-minded. Show them a victim and they’ll hunt him down and kill him or die themselves in the attempt. But they can only keep track of one victim at a time. Between killings, they’ll return to their lair. Then Morgarath – or one of his underlings – will prime them for their next victim and they’ll head out again. Our best hope is to intercept them on the way if they’ve been given a new target. Or kill them in their lair if they haven’t.’
Will looked for the thousandth time at the featureless grass plain that lay before them. Somewhere out there, the two fearsome creatures were waiting, perhaps with a new victim already in mind. Halt’s voice interrupted his train of thought.
‘Sun’s going down,’ he said. ‘We may as well camp here.’
They swung down stiffly from their saddles, easing the girths to make their horses more comfortable.
‘That’s one thing about this blasted place,’ Gilan said, looking around them. ‘One spot is as good as another to camp. Or as bad.’
Will woke from a dreamless sleep to the touch of Halt’s hand on his shoulder. He tossed back the cloak, glanced at the scudding moon overhead and frowned. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour. He started to say so, but Halt stopped him, placing a finger to his lips for silence. Will looked around and realised Gilan was already awake, standing above him, his head turned to the north-east, back the way they had come, listening.
Will came to his feet, moving carefully to avoid making any undue noise. His hands had automaticall
y gone to his weapons but he relaxed as he realised there was no immediate threat. The other two were listening intently. Then Halt raised a hand and pointed to the north.
‘There it is again,’ he said softly.
Then Will heard it, above the moaning of the Stone Flutes and the soughing of the wind through the grass, and the blood froze in his veins. It was a high-pitched, bestial howl that ululated and climbed in pitch. An inhuman sound carried to them on the wind from the throat of a monster.
Seconds later, another howl answered the first. Slightly deeper in pitch, it seemed to come from a position a little to the left of the first. Without needing to be told, Will knew what the sounds meant.
‘It’s the Kalkara,’ Halt said grimly. ‘They have a new target and they’re hunting.’
The three companions spent a sleepless night as the hunting cries of the Kalkara dwindled to the north. When they first heard the sounds, Gilan had moved to saddle Blaze, the bay horse snorting nervously at the fearsome howling of the two beasts. Halt, however, gestured for him to stop.
‘I’m not going after those things in the dark,’ he said briefly. ‘We’ll wait till first light, then look for their tracks.’
The tracks were easy enough to find, as the Kalkara obviously made no attempt to conceal their passing. The long grass had been crushed by the two heavy bodies, leaving a clear trail pointing east-north-east. Halt found the trail left by the first of the two monsters, then a few minutes later, Gilan found the second, about a quarter of a kilometre to the left and travelling parallel – close enough to provide support in case of an attack, but distant enough to avoid any trap set for its brother.
Halt considered the situation for a few moments, then came to a decision.
‘You stay with the second one,’ he told Gilan. ‘Will and I will follow this one. I want to make sure they both keep heading in the same direction. I don’t want one of them doubling back to come behind us.’
‘You think they know we’re here?’ Will asked, working hard to keep his voice sounding steady and disinterested.
‘They could. There’s been time for that Plainsman we saw to have warned them. Or maybe it’s just coincidence and they’re heading out on their next mission.’ He glanced at the trail of crushed grass, moving irrevocably in one constant direction. ‘They certainly seem to have a purpose.’ He turned to Gilan again. ‘In any event, keep your eyes peeled and pay close attention to Blaze. The horses will sense these beasts before we will. We don’t want to run into an ambush.’
Gilan nodded and swung Blaze away to return to the second trail. At a hand signal from Halt, the three Rangers began riding forward, following the direction the Kalkara had taken.
‘I’ll watch the trail,’ Halt told Will. ‘You keep an eye on Gilan, just in case.’
Will turned his attention to the tall Ranger, some two hundred metres away and keeping pace with them. Blaze was only visible from the shoulders up, his lower half masked by the long grass. From time to time, undulations in the intervening ground took both rider and horse out of sight and the first time this happened, Will reacted with a cry of alarm as Gilan simply seemed to disappear into the ground. Halt turned quickly, an arrow already at half draw, but at that moment, Gilan and Blaze reappeared, seemingly unconscious of the moment of panic they’d caused.
‘Sorry,’ Will muttered, annoyed that he’d allowed his nerves to get the better of him. Halt regarded him shrewdly.
‘That’s all right,’ he said steadily. ‘I’d rather you let me know any time you even think there’s a problem.’ Halt knew only too well that, having called a false alarm once, Will might be reluctant to react next time – and that could be fatal for all of them.
‘Tell me every time you lose sight of Gilan. And tell me again when he reappears,’ he said. Will nodded, understanding his teacher’s reasoning.
And so they rode on, the keening cry of the Flutes swelling in their ears again as they approached the stone circle. This time, they would pass much closer, Will realised, as the Kalkara seemed to be heading straight for the site. As they rode, their passage was marked by intermittent reports from Will.
‘He’s gone … still gone … All right. I see him again.’ The dips and rises in the ground were virtually invisible under the waving cover of tall grass. In fact, Will was never sure whether it was Gilan passing through a depression or he and Halt. Often it was a combination of both.
There was one bad time Gilan and Blaze sank from sight and didn’t reappear within the customary few seconds.
‘I can’t see him …’ Will reported. Then: ‘Still gone … still gone … no sign of him …’ His voice began to rise in pitch as the tension grew within him. ‘No sign of them … still no sign …’
Halt brought Abelard to a stop, his bow ready once again, his eyes searching the ground to their left as they waited for Gilan to reappear. He let go a piercing whistle, three ascending notes. There was a pause, then an answering whistle, this time the same three notes in descending order, came clearly to them. Will heaved a sigh of relief and just at that moment Gilan reappeared, large as life. He faced them and made a large gesture with both arms raised in an obvious question: What’s the problem?
Halt made a negative gesture and they moved on.
As they approached the Stone Flutes, Halt became more and more watchful. The Kalkara that he and Will were trailing was heading straight towards the circle. He reined in Abelard and shaded his eyes, studying the dismal grey rocks intently, looking for movement or any sign that the Kalkara might be lying in wait to ambush them.
‘It’s the only decent cover for miles around,’ he said. ‘Let’s not take the chance that the damn thing could be lurking in there waiting for us. We’ll go a little carefully, I think.’
He signalled for Gilan to join them and explained the situation. Then they split up to form a wide perimeter around the Stones, riding in slowly from three different directions, checking their horses for any possible sign of reaction as they came closer. But the site was empty, although close in, the jangling moan of the wind through the flute holes was close to unbearable. Halt chewed his lip reflectively, staring out across the sea of grass at the two undeviating trails left by the Kalkara.
‘This is taking us too long,’ he said finally. ‘As long as we can see their trails for a couple of hundred metres ahead, we’ll move faster. Slow down when you come to a rise or any time when the trail isn’t visible for more than fifty metres.’
Gilan nodded his understanding and resumed his wide position. They urged their horses on now in a canter, the easy lope of the Ranger horse that would eat the kilometres ahead of them. Will maintained his watch on Gilan and whenever the visible trail diminished, either Halt or Gilan would whistle and they would slow to a walk until the ground opened up again before them.
As night fell, they camped once again. Halt still refused to follow the two killers in the dark, even though the moon meant their trail was easily visible.
‘Too easy for them to double back in the dark,’ he said. ‘I want plenty of warning when they finally come at us.’
‘You think they will?’ asked Will, noticing that Halt had said when, not if. The Ranger glanced at his young pupil.
‘Always assume an enemy knows you’re there and that he will attack you,’ he said. ‘That way, you tend to avoid unpleasant surprises.’ He dropped a hand on Will’s shoulder to reassure the boy. ‘It can still be unpleasant but at least it’s not a surprise.’
In the morning, they resumed the trail once more, moving at the same brisk pace, slowing only when they had no clear sight of the lie of the land ahead of them. By early afternoon, they had reached the edge of the Plain and rode once again into the wooded country to the north of the Mountains of Rain and Night.
Here, they found, the two Kalkara had joined company, no longer keeping the wide separation they had maintained on the open ground of the Plain. But their chosen path remained the same, just east of north. The three Rangers fol
lowed this course for another hour before Halt reined in Abelard, and signalled the others to dismount for a conference. They grouped around a map of the Kingdom that he rolled out on the grass, using arrows as weights to stop the edges re-rolling.
‘Judging from their tracks, we’ve made up some time on them,’ he said. ‘But they’re still a good half day ahead of us. Now, this is the direction they’re following …’
He took another arrow and laid it on the map, orientating it so that it pointed to the direction the Kalkara had been following for the past two days and nights.
‘As you can see, if they keep going in this direction, there are only two places of any significance that they could be heading for.’ He pointed to a place on the map. ‘Here – the Ruins of Gorlan. Or further north, Castle Araluen itself.’
Gilan drew in breath sharply. ‘Castle Araluen?’ he said. ‘You don’t think they’d dare try for King Duncan?’
Halt looked at him and shook his head. ‘I simply don’t know,’ he replied. ‘We don’t know nearly enough about these beasts and half of what we think we know is probably myth and legend. But you’ve got to admit, it would be a bold stroke – a masterstroke – and Morgarath has never been averse to that sort of thing.’
He let the others digest the thought for a few moments, then traced a line from their current position to the north-west. ‘Now I’ve been thinking. Look, here’s Castle Redmont. Perhaps a day’s ride away – and then another day to here.’
From Redmont, he traced a line north-east, to the Ruins of Gorlan marked on the map.
‘One person, riding hard, and using two horses, could make it in less than a day to Redmont, and then lead the Baron and Sir Rodney here, to the Ruins. If the Kalkara keep moving at the pace they are, we might just be able to intercept them there. It’ll be close, but it’s possible. And with two warriors like Arald and Rodney on hand, we’ll stand a far better chance of stopping the damn things once and for all.’