It seemed to him that they’d been walking for hours when they found Rosie nonchalantly cropping grass in a clearing. Their reunion was not the joyful coming together he expected after their sudden separation. Still, he hoped that when the day came, she would recognise him and give him his due.

  From collecting the animal to arriving at the cave Upthog knew took another while, and the sky had started to lighten in the east. He thought the hunt would soon be afoot and wondered if they’d gone far enough.

  “You think it’ll be safe?” he asked. “Caves ain’t been great up to now.”

  “Aye. I reckon yer little game with the witch bought us time. They’ve more to be thinking on. King declared all witches to be outlaw. If it happens King’s chief advisor is one, makes Volt into a right bodalán to my mind.”

  When they went in, and Upthog lit a torch just inside, he couldn’t help but laugh. “How many hideouts have you got?”

  “A few.”

  Scamp lit the fire by the entrance while she hobbled the donkey in the rear. It wasn’t long before they settled down, and she handed him some bread and cheese. He ate with gusto despite an initial queasiness. Finally, he took a swig of water and let out a satisfied sigh.

  “They didn’t feed ye?” Upthog asked. He shook his head and took another swig of water. Gazing at him across the flames, she said, “I gave me oath, Scamp. I said I’d tell ye what’s happened since I left ye.”

  “There’s more?” he asked, thinking she’d already told him.

  “Well, I’ve a confession. I left ye hoping it would draw out the witch. He killed me brother,” she concluded, lamely, he thought.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “He told you what would…” he hesitated, wondering how she would react. If he knew something about this woman, it was her strength. If she reacted badly, he had no doubt she could snap his spine without a moment’s thought.

  “But I didn’t see it,” she finished for him, staring into the cave’s rear.

  “Anything could have happened,” he said, taking a chance.

  “Me brother wouldn’t have—”

  “But you would say that,” he interrupted. Upthog gave him one of her glares.

  After a few moments of making sure he knew his place, she continued, “Anyway, I followed ye. After the witch ran and they locked ye in that shed, I went to move Rosie, intending to free ye in the wee hours. When I got back, the guards were dead. More’n dead, really.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “I know what you mean. What d’you think did that?”

  Upthog shrugged and started to stoke the fire with a stick.

  “Whatever it is, I hope it’s on our side,” she said as a sudden chittering exploded at the back of the cave, causing Scamp’s heart to leap into his throat. He swung around, but there was nothing except a flash of red in the deeper shadows he took to be a mote in his eye.

  “Bats, boy. Ye’re skittish.”

  “Sorry.”

  ***

  Mid-morning saw Volt sitting on the dais in the drinkery. He had vague memories of strange theories poking through his mead-soaked fugue. He had vivid memories of anger at his First Warrior, although he couldn’t remember why.

  Despite a sore head, he was keen to get the hunt heading after the murderer of the White Cloaks. He would lead the First Leathdhosaen but first needed to preside over the rites, saying a few words and lighting the pyres when they’d completed the preparations. Already mid-morning, and preparations were nowhere near complete. Usually, it wouldn’t take so long, but this time was anything but usual. Once daylight arrived and he’d studied the guards’ remains, he realised the killer had been bestial. Events were testing his convictions. One word kept springing to mind: shape changer. He’d heard of witches who could change into monstrous wolves capable of similar atrocities. All stories to scare young children, he’d thought.

  Can it all be true? Is Kathvar’s disappearance other than smoke and tricks?

  Whatever the truth, he would rather be crouched outside the granary searching for spoor than waiting to burn the remains of two of his best warriors.

  Reading the sign wouldn’t be easy. Rubbing the bristles on his head, Volt guessed Mesroeda’s boots would have destroyed some of the spoor, but there should be enough to track. Oisín and Ruairí would have been able to track with ease, but there were others.

  Mes, for one.

  But Mesroeda had overstepped his place somehow. He would no longer be First Warrior after his… whatever it was. He would be lucky if Volt didn’t flog and expel him from the troop. Just because he had no accurate recollection, it didn’t lessen the gravity.

  A commotion beside the door broke into his thoughts. White Cloaks outside were laughing and flinging banter at each other. After a few moments, the door opened, and two warriors walked in. He watched as Mesroeda stalked up the hall in the company of a black-cloaked man he didn’t know. Judging by the mud splatters on his clothes, he’d travelled hard and fast.

  “Ah, Mesroeda, come to apologise, I hope.”

  “Fomorii cac on you, Volt, I’m resigning—”

  “What do you mean, resigning? You can’t resign.”

  I need you.

  “You’re wrong. I have been waiting for a reason to resign. You gave me one earlier.”

  Volt glared at his ex-First Warrior and opened his mouth to berate him, tell him he needed permission to resign, or beg him not to go. Before he could, the man beside Mesroeda stepped forward and said, “Message from the King, Lord.”

  “What?”

  “You’re to get to Murias immediately. King wants ye.”

  Volt looked from one to the other of the men. “I’ve business to attend.”

  “If you don’t come voluntarily, Connavar said we’re to drag you behind a horse.”

  So, my missing the witch is to be my demise.

  And then he realised why Kathvar went straight to the King. It wasn’t such a strange idea, after all.

  “Who’s we?”

  “Me and my Second Warrior, here. I think you’ve met. Mesroeda.” Only then did Volt notice Mesroeda wearing a sable black cloak with gold trim. “We are in command of the newly formed King’s Guard.”