The sun hit its zenith and the land wilted beneath it. No birds sang and the trees hung silent and still in the hot, damp air. Eirik took a swallow of water, mindful of Ruefin's advice, and wiped his face with his kerchief. A smear of fine, brownish dust mixed with sweat streaked the cloth and Eirik shifted uncomfortably in his armour, feeling the sweat seeping into his clothes. His shirt clung to his back and he knew he would have red marks where his armour pressed the sweaty cloth against his flesh.

The dusty scrub land on the immediate outskirts of town had given way to low trees and bushes which eventually became the forest the column of soldiers now passed through. To begin with, Eirik had silently given thanks for the shelter of the trees, but the further he went, the more regrets he started to have.

The quiet of the forest coupled with the eerie green light of sun through leaves started to play on his nerves. Little could be seen through the gnarled and ancient trunks, and they began to press closely on the edges of the road. Eirik found himself straining his eyes to see any signs of life, anything to show that the small troop of men weren't the only living creatures in this silent, steaming place. He found himself longing for the chilly winds of his homeland, the bright, sharp days of winter when the sun warmed your face while the wind froze your bones. No wolf howled here, nor did the eagle shriek. All was quiet except for footfalls on earth and the occasional mutter of discontent.

"This place is creepy," Eirik whispered to Ruefin. He didn't know why he was whispering. Perhaps the trees were listening. "Why is it so quiet?"

"It's the heat. The people of this land usually sleep through the hottest part of the day, and it seems the wildlife does too. Enjoy the peace while you can, the noise comes up again at dusk."

They walked on in silence for mile upon mile, and Eirik began to feel a tightening in his back and shoulders. He shrugged and rotated the joints but the sensation didn't leave him. An itch came at the back of his head, just where the base of his skull joined his neck. He scratched vigorously, suspecting one of the biting insects he's been warned of, but the itch didn't go. There was a sense of it being on the inside of his scalp and he gave his head a brisk shake before returning his attention to the crowding vegetation.

As he turned to his left, the itch seemed to intensify. He moved his head and the feeling rose and fell until he found the point where it was most annoying. In shock, he stared at a tiny face with large eyes peering at him from a low branch.

"What's that?" he hissed, nudging Ruefin and pointing. After a moment of two of squinting, Ruefin's face split into a grin.

"A monkey. That's a monkey, Eirik." The tone of his voice was that of a kindly teacher speaking to a slow-witted child. "There are many monkeys here, and those are the small ones."

Eirik stared at the creature, his mouth hanging open. The grey-furred creature was the size of a human baby of perhaps six months of age. The head was crowned by a tuft of white fur to match a pair of extraordinary white eyebrows. Tiny hands clung to the bark for support as the enormous eyes followed the group moving past. Its curiosity satisfied, the monkey chattered briefly and vanished without a sound.

"You said it was a small one. Just how big do they get?" Eirik's imagination began to run riot, conjuring up images of towering grey shapes with long flowing crests.

"Don't worry, that type doesn't get any bigger. There are monkeys on the mainland as big as a man and as strong as an ox, but the islands only have the smaller kinds. Don't tell me you're afraid of one little monkey?"

"No," said Eirik slowly, "but I don't fancy meeting any of the big ones."

He looked at Ruefin for a moment and broke out laughing. Ruefin joined in, as did several others who had been listening in. A little embarrassed by his ignorance, Eirik fell silent and continued walking. It was now that he realised the itching sensation had gone. He rubbed the back of his head, puzzled, and kept moving.

A parched earth clearing on the eastern side of the road now played host to Eirik's unit. A halt had been called as the sun approached the horizon, and the tired, dusty men sighed with relief.

"Get your tarps up quickly before the light goes," the commander shouted.

Eirik and Ruefin worked quickly with experienced hands to set up their temporary overnight shelter.

"Damn, it gets dark fast here," Eirik muttered, scouring the undergrowth in the fading light for firewood. He dumped his findings in a pile next to Ruefin who had already ignited a bundle of small sticks and dried grass.

"Go and get some leafy green stuff," Ruefin said, adding larger chunks to the burgeoning fire, "we'll need it for the insects,"

"Insects?" Eirik said, one eyebrow raised. He felt a sharp pain in the region of his ear and slapped at it. A drop of blood left a smear on his palm.

"Yeah, the biting kind. They don't like smoke, so let's make some."

Grumbling under his breath, Eirik returned to the forest's edge and used his axe to cut a good armful of leaves. As he worked, he felt an itch niggling at his scalp again and jerked his head to the right, straining his eyes in the dimness. At first he saw nothing, then, as he concentrated, two yellow eyes became visible a foot or two above the ground. He froze in place, axe in hand, and stared back. The eyes regarded him for a moment, then vanished. For a full minute Eirik stayed where he was, the sweat cold on his skin. He took a deep breath and returned to the campsite.

The darkness was complete and the soldiers clustered around their campfires, filling their bellies and playing dice. Around them, the forest came to life.

A strident screech came from the canopy above. Another answered it and in the space of a few minutes, the air became full of raucous wails and screams. Eirik stared up into the darkness and listened, every hair on his body standing on end. Whistles and chirps burst from the lower branches and, to his rear, a harsh yowl followed by ominous hissing sounded uncomfortably close. He remembered the eyes he'd seen in the forest that stared at him before moving away.

"Are there wild cats here?" he asked.

Ruefin swallowed an enormous chunk of bread and brushed the crumbs from his beard.

"Sure. Some of them are pretty big but they won't come near a group this size,"

"They're dangerous, then."

"Can be. If you're out alone, they'll try their luck. If you're sick or injured, they'll kill you."

"You're winding me up," Eirik said with a grin. The grin faded when he saw Ruefin's face.

"I'm not. Came to these parts when I was a youngster like you, and two of our guys were taken at night."

"From camp?"

"Course not, idiot! Wild animals stay away from the fires. One guy was pissed as a pudding one night and stumbled off on his own. Found him next day with a leg missing along with most of his internal organs. The other went into the trees for a shit. We only found half of him. The bottom half. Damned cat didn't even let him finish his dump."

Eirik fell silent and tried to concentrate on eating, but his mind's eye showed him mauled bodies and he put his ration pack away.

"I'm not on watch tonight. I'm going to get some sleep."

Ruefin grunted in response. "Remember, if you need a piss, just do it by the roadside. The pussy out here in the forest isn't the kind you should chase."

Chuckling to himself, Eirik retreated under his tarpaulin and lay down on his bedroll. The humour quickly evaporated as the creatures of the night went about their business with noisy enthusiasm. The smoke from the campfires rasped in his lungs and the humid air clung to his body like a damp sheet. After an age, he finally fell asleep.

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A commotion brought Eirik to his senses and he leaped from his bedroll, axes at the ready. In the early morning light, he saw a group clustered around a man lying on the floor, while Dane appeared to be beating the earth with her sword.

"What's going on," he asked, his eyes darting quickly from one face to another.

"Silly sod forgot to check his boots before he put them on," Dane called, picking up something long and limp with her blade.

Eirik inspected the snake. A brown zig-zag ran down the back of its greyish-beige body, except where Dane's blade had scarred it. The head lay on the ground in the dust.

The bitten soldier lay shivering on his bedroll, blood dripping from the sole of his foot. He rolled to one side and vomited loudly, his face a greasy white and fixed in an expression of terror.

"Please, help me," he pleaded.

The medic pushed through the gathered crowd with a large leather bag in his hand. From it he pulled a pot and began to smear a thick black salve on the puncture wound before binding the foot with a bandage.

"Cut this man a staff," the medic snapped, "and someone take his pack."

Eirik moved back toward Ruefin, his eyes not leaving the groaning soldier.

"Is he going to die?"

Ruefin finished pulling the tarpaulin down and stuffed it into his pack. "Maybe, maybe not. If he makes it to our next stop there'll be medics that are better than ours." He put his pack on, pulled a metal flask from his pouch and took a swig before passing it to Eirik. "Moral of the story - always check your clothes before putting them back on."

Eirik took a swallow of plum brandy and returned the flask, unable to hide the trembling of his hands. He glanced around him, at the soldiers getting ready to move on, the injured man dragging himself to his feet, and the mangled snake lying dead on the ground. The forest waited, the thick greenery rustling softly in the early morning breeze, and a chorus of birds twittering above. He shrugged in his armour, pulling his sweaty clothes away from his damp skin. He made a last scout for any stray possessions before shouldering his pack and sliding his axes into his belt with a rasping sigh.

The column moved on through the forest following the earth road. The trees thinned a little, giving way to long grasses that waved in gentle ripples. The sun rose high, its rays beating through the canopy on the men below.

Eirik scanned his surroundings as they marched on, still a little shaken by the events of the morning. He'd expected to need all his concentration for avoiding human hazards, not turning over every stone to protect himself from the wildlife. The hazards of his homeland did not hide in boots. The wolves and wild cats were stealthy for sure, but would always look you in the eye when they killed you. How did the natives of this land sleep at night with creeping, crawling creatures lurking in every corner?

The itch hit him again and his hand flew to the back of his head to scratch it. He looked to the left as he did so and the feeling grew stronger. Narrowing his eyes, he stared into the brush and, while he did so, the tension in his neck and shoulders intensified.

Someone or something was watching.

Eirik kept moving, his eyes not moving from the softly waving grass at the edge of the trees. He saw what appeared to be a group of stumps just behind the tree line. The itch became a tingling that filled his head as he focused on the damaged wood, and details slowly became clearer. His heart began to beat faster and he snatched his axes from his belt.

"What's up?" Ruefin asked, his sweaty brows knitted.

"There's someone in the trees. CONTACT LEFT!" Eirik shouted the warning, catching the troops' attention mere seconds before a piercing ululation came from the tree line.

For a brief moment, the line was thrown into chaos as heads turned towards the shout and weapons were drawn. Eirik hadn't moved. His body thrummed with energy and every sense became sharpened to a degree almost painful.

A flight of arrows sped through the air. Eirik twitched his head and dodged a missile that he felt more than saw. He heard some shouts to his rear but paid them no mind.

A pack of bodies launched themselves from cover and tore through the grass, splitting the sweltering air with their war cries. Eirik charged, heedless of his comrades’ confusion, raising an axe to chop at the leading figure racing at him. The blade sliced through his attacker's spear and thudded into the man's chest. He fell with a wail and Eirik pulled his axe free, blocking a jab at his face with the other. Dimly aware of his fellows charging behind him, Eirik forged onward, his axes flashing right and left, blood splashing his face and arms. A jab in his left side tore a cry from his lips and he turned to see a young warrior pulling his spear back and readying himself for a second strike.

Ignoring the pain, Eirik struck at the warrior's head with his right. The spear spun and blocked the blow, and a bare foot lashed out at his groin. Eirik dodged the kick and swung with his left. Again, the spear deflected his blade. This time his turned the weapon in his hand and caught the spear on the pick on the back of the axe-head. The warrior tugged but Eirik was stronger. He yanked the spear from his opponent's hand and swung his right in a murderous arc that split the warrior's skull to the teeth. Breathing hard, he checked the wound in his side before running through the grass to the nearest group of skirmishing bodies.

Ruefin's claymore sliced through the air, carving flesh right and left. Eirik gave a signature whistle and ducked under the sword as he arrived on his friend's left side. Ruefin glanced at him.

"You're bleeding," he said, breaking off to dodge a spear-thrust.

"I'm fine," Eirik replied, leaning in and chopping an arm from the spear wielder.

The attack ended almost as quickly as it began. With a sudden squeal, the remaining spear-men scampered off into the trees, leaving their dead behind. Eirik wandered through the grass to look over the bodies, one hand pressed to the bleeding gash just below his ribcage. None of the bodies wore armour. Instead, they were dressed in tanned hides mixed with lengths of fabric all dyed in shades of green and brown. A cursory check revealed that these people carried nothing of value, at least, nothing worth taking. Even the spears looked simple and rustic, designed more for hunting than fighting. For this group, an assault on a column of armed men had proved to be a great mistake.

Eirik looked into the trees as the adrenaline ebbed, becoming aware that the itching tension in his head and back had vanished. He had seen no signs that the attack was coming, no shifting shadows beneath the leaves or gleam of weapons held in readiness. No sounds had drawn his attention, and yet he'd known those warriors lay in ambush.

"Wilder! Get over here!"

Eirik snapped out of his reverie and hurried over to the commander with his hand still pressed to his drying wound.

"You saw them first. Which direction did they come from?" The commander had a few splashes of blood on his face but didn't appear to be injured. He wiped the blade of his sword and sheathed it before giving Eirik his full attention.

"I didn't see them, so I've no idea which way they came from. I just -" Eirik broke off, unsure how to explain. He moistened his lips and took a breath. "I saw nothing. I heard nothing. I just knew there was someone watching us, waiting for the right moment to strike."

The commander didn't answer right away. He stared intently into Eirik's eyes before heaving a sigh.

"Well, you were right. And you probably saved some lives today. We've lost eleven but it would have been worse if you hadn't sung out. Get that wound cleaned up, we'll be moving out shortly. I'd prefer us to take a break, but this road isn't safe."

The wounded men groaned under the forced pace of the afternoon's march. The hot, humid air pressed down upon them, sapping their energy and their spirits. Eirik didn't care about the heat anymore, not now he knew what hid beyond the green veil of the forest. On edge, his eyes darted from one patch of shadow to the next. Every rock and tree became a refuge for spies and he felt his heart thudding in his chest. Beads of sweat formed on his brow and began to drip down his temples onto his armoured shoulders. His feet wanted to move faster, to break into a run and reach some kind of safety before night fell.

Shortly before the sun began to set, Eirik got his wish. The trees thinned out and then ceased entirely. Ahead of the column, a high wooden palisade came into view and an audible murmur of relief filtered down the line. As they drew closer to the gate, Eirik realised that all of the trees had been deliberately cut down leaving an open space around the perimeter of the settlement. This town gets attacked regularly, he surmised, well aware of the value of a good field of fire.

The gates swung inward without a sound and a group of guards came forward to help bring in the wounded men. The commander stood at the gate until the last of his men were inside, then hurried over to greet an armoured soldier who appeared from what looked like a barracks.

Ruefin gave a huge, groaning sigh and pulled out his flask.

"Here's to our very good health," he declared, taking a slug and passing the flask to Eirik

He took a good swallow, savouring the plum brandy and relieved that his hands no longer shook. A herbalist in a white robe appeared at his side.

"Your leader tells me you are wounded. May I assist you?" she said, her voice low and gentle.

"Yeah, please do," Eirik sat heavily on a wooden crate, unstrapped his cuirass and pulled up his stained shirt. The wound wasn't as deep as it seemed, but it had bleed profusely and a strange burning sensation permeated the discoloured flesh around it.

The medic poured a thick liquid onto a cloth and began to clean the wound. The burning feeling began to subside and Eirik remarked on it.

"It is not unusual for the forest people to urinate on their weapons before they attack. They know it can cause a wound to become infected if it is not immediately fatal. They are not mindless savages. You should remember that."

Eirik nodded in agreement. "They're stealthy devils though. They nearly had us,"

"They would have had us if you hadn't spotted them," Ruefin interrupted, offering the flask again.

"I didn't see them," Eirik replied, "I just knew someone was watching us. You know that feeling, right?" He drank a little of the spirit, drawing a frown from the healer.

"Yeah, I do. But I didn't have it when they came at us. Don't know how you did it, but I'm damn glad you did."

Eirik didn't answer. The pain of his wound had faded to mere discomfort, so he let out a long breath and turned his attention to his new environment.

The palisade appeared to be built from new green wood and had the look of something put up both recently and hastily. Inside the gate lay a small open area with a circle of wooden stalls and stands bearing various wares for sale. Beyond this miniature market lay the settlement itself.

Only one edifice had a second storey and Eirik guessed it to be some kind of civic building judging by the flagpole on the roof. The other structures were adorned largely with strings of laundry and bunches of drying herbs. As he observed the villagers going about their business, he saw his commander disappear into the larger building and almost immediately reappear in the company of a tall, dark haired man dressed from head to toe in deep crimson robes. Eirik sucked in a breath. He was looking at a member of the Order of the Sacred Hand. Whatever mission they had been sent to accomplish, it had to be important.