After a disrupted night with very little sleep, the diminished unit of soldiers ploughed on along the northern road. The sun showed them no mercy and glared down as they marched at an uncomfortable pace toward their next stop. Now missing another four men, those that remained were forced to press on while carrying three injured soldiers on stretchers. Morale wasn't high, but those who remained were heartened by Eirik's presence at the head of the column.

The landscape had changed from thinning forest to a dry, rocky area of low scrub and brownish, faded grass. Eirik raised his head and surveyed the area as he walked, but it was more from habit than from any real need. Whatever strange sense lurked in the back of his mind had subsided without a trace, and now he felt nothing but strangeness and confusion.

He also felt the gaze of the other soldiers. The realisation that they were now looking to him for their safety brought with it a crushing sense of doubt. It was one thing to protect himself by feeling the approach of danger, but it was an entirely different matter to be responsible for the whole group. So far, success felt good but the consequence of failure was a thing he didn't want to experience.

At his side strode Ruefin, his usually jovial features set in a mild frown of concentration and beads of sweat rolling down his face.

"Got any booze left?" Eirik asked. He didn't really want a conversation but he really wanted a drink.

"Enough for a couple of swallows," Ruefin replied, taking his mouthful and passing Eirik the rest. "We'll get a top-up in Canthia. If we ever bloody well get there."

Swallowing the last of the plum brandy, Eirik returned the flask and glanced at the landscape to the west. "We're fine for now and there's no cover for our forest friends to make use of. We should make it to the campsite okay."

"If the sun doesn't roast us first. And I've got sand in my boots,"

Eirik managed to raise a smile and carried on walking.

The last rays of the sun painted the land with a bloody shade of red. Exhausted, the soldiers followed their leader into a ring of stone with the remains of an old campfire at the centre. Holgrim immediately began barking out orders, anxious to get his men set up for the night before they ran out of steam. In addition to the usual tents and sentry points, he ordered a ring of burning brands to be placed twenty feet out from the stone wall.

Eirik helped with the brands, hammering shards of splintered driftwood into the parched earth and wrapping oil-soaked cloth around the top. He worked without thinking, his hands going through the motions and the rest of his body begging for rest. When the circle was complete, he dragged the rest of the driftwood to the fireside and hoped it would get them through the night.

"Do you need those wounds looking at?"

Eirik turned on his heel to see Greenwood standing behind him. His hood rested on his shoulders and a few streaks of blood and dirt were smeared through his untidy hair. He ran a hand over the bandage on his forearm and shook his head.

"I'm fine," he replied.

The silence deafened him and Eirik stared at Greenwood expectantly.

"Walk with me a minute," the agent said, gesturing at the break in the circle they had entered through.

They wandered back to the road to a point where a weathered rock sat on the eastern roadside. Both men sat, their eyes trained on the whispering shadow that was the ocean.

"If I were a superstitious man, I'd say there was a little beast-blood in you."

Eirik turned sharply to Greenwood, his eyes narrowed. Even in the low light he could see the beginnings of a smile on the man's face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" The words came out sharper than he intended and he saw a hand raised as if in apology.

"Forgive me, it wasn't meant as an insult. I saw you fight and defeat a man with your eyes closed last night, and that's a pretty rare sight. It reminded me of the myths and legends I studied during my training, and I can understand why people sometimes believe such things."

"I still don't know what you're talking about," Eirik said, shaking his head.

"It doesn't matter. What does matter is that you appear to have talents that could help keep this group alive, as well as assist me with what I've come here to do. They need you alive and so do I," Greenwood paused to drink from his canteen. Eirik followed suit but found his was empty. When he cursed, the agent offered his.

"What are you saying to me?"

"I've seen how quickly you charge into combat and I'm suggesting you reel yourself in a little. You're strong and you're quick, but hurling yourself straight in without thinking can still get you killed. I know you want the rest of the men to know you're reliable in a fight, but rest assured they already know that. Now they're relying on you to keep them aware of danger, and you can't do that if you're dead."

"I didn't sign up to be a glorified guard dog," Eirik said, bristling slightly.

"Just listen to me for a minute before you lose your temper. Can you manage that?"

Eirik nodded in the gloom.

"Great. In the first instance, you're not taking watch tonight. That's why Holgrim had the torches set out, so we have an extra ring of defence. In the second instance, I want you on point with myself and Holgrim tomorrow as we approach Canthia. I'm telling you now that I don't know what we're walking into and I believe we may have trouble. Given what I've seen so far, I'm hoping you'll be able to pick up on any signs of danger as we approach the town."

In the pause that followed, Eirik felt a slight tickling behind his right ear.

"You know more than you're saying,"

"Yes, I do," Greenwood admitted, "or, to be more accurate, I suspect more than I'm saying. And the reason I'm not saying it is because I don't want to act on a mere suspicion. I like to have facts before I make choices, and at the moment I don't have all the facts."

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

"What do you know?" Eirik grudgingly admitted to himself that not only was he intrigued, he was also coming to like Haarlan Greenwood.

"I know that evidence I've collected on the mainland points to this island as the hub of the smuggling operation that has been troubling the government. I also know that the individual I suspect of organising the operation came to this island some time ago. He came on a ship that has been linked to smuggling rackets in at least six major ports on the mainland."

"And you think he's in Canthia?"

"Yes. Or somewhere nearby. There have been mines in the northern reaches of the island for a long time and many are no longer in use, so there are plenty of obscure places for him to hide. I just hope there's going to be enough of us left to deal with this."

Eirik looked over his shoulder at the men bedding down in camp. After the previous night's attack, the number of able-bodied men had dropped to thirty and morale had plummeted. A handful sat huddled close to the fire, their shoulders slumped as they passed a bottle around the circle in silence. The sight was a far cry from the noisy evenings Eirik had witnessed and partaken in back home, and he began to wonder if this was how the rest of his life would be as a soldier. Would it be an eternal round of hurrying from place to place in constant fear of attack, the only break from it to be found vomiting in a bucket in the hold of a transport ship?

"Go and get some sleep," Greenwood said, breaking Eirik's chain of thought, "because I don't know what tomorrow has in store for us."

Dust kicked up from the parched ground grated in eyes and throats. The relentless rays of the sun heated armour to an unbearable degree and burned every scrap of skin to a livid red. The soldiers marched on, carried forward by dogged determination. As the rocky terrain gave way to more long grass and trees, the men began to move faster in their eagerness to reach a safer haven than a ring of stones in the middle of nowhere.

Eirik walked at the head of the column and could hear the worries of his comrades in the speed of their footsteps. Holgrim had made it clear that the distance they needed to cover was relatively short and picked up his own pace, showing he took their fears seriously.

The rocky section had passed without incident but, as the vegetation reappeared and the trees began to crowd in on the road, Eirik began to have misgivings. A gentle breeze blew in his face but did nothing to soothe him. The sensation was different this time and didn't have its roots in the rustling greenery on either side. He squinted in the sun, staring along the road ahead with a cold feeling creeping over his scalp.

"Somethings wrong," he said under his breath.

Both Greenwood and Holgrim turned towards him without breaking step.

"What is it?" Holgrim demanded, his sweating brow furrowed. "Another ambush?"

"No. At least, I don't think so. But something isn't right and we're going towards it." Eirik shook his head, trying to understand the physical sensations he was experiencing that were both alien and familiar at the same time.

Holgrim called a halt and held an arm in the air. "Alright people, take a drink and make sure your weapons are ready. We're closing in on Canthia and we don't know what to expect. The distance is short now, and I want to move at a rapid pace."

A low murmur passed through the troops but they did as they were asked. At the signal, they moved off at a brisk pace with adrenaline bolstering their flagging enthusiasm. Eirik kept his eyes fixed on the road in front of him, trying to fathom the source of the strange ability that had so far kept him alive. Maybe the strange new land he'd come to was drawing some latent talent to the surface, a talent that hadn't shown itself back in his homeland. Maybe it was simply a response to the reality of how sudden and unexpected death could come at any moment. He didn't know and, if he was honest, he didn't much care as long as he came through the trip alive and made it to the mainland.

In the distance the trees began to thin and retreat from the road as Canthia drew nearer. Eirik drew his kerchief to wipe his face and saw his hands were shaking. Sweat sheathed his body in a clammy shroud and his armour was almost too hot to touch, but still the cold inside his head grew stronger. Shivers ran through him and he tucked his thumbs into his belt to hide the trembling.

Greenwood leaned closer, seemingly aware of Eirik's discomfort. This one doesn't miss a thing, he thought.

"You're worried. What do you think is wrong?"

"I don't know,"

"Guess, then."

Eirik looked askance at Greenwood, a smirk on his face. "I thought you preferred proof rather than suspicion,"

"I do, but I'm open to suggestions,"

Eirik took a deep breath and released it slowly, concentrating on the swirling impressions in his head.

"I don't feel threatened," he said, "I think the threat has gone. Something happened up ahead, but it's over now. There's danger, but not the kind we've faced so far." He shrugged and rubbed dust from his eyes. "That's it. That's all I know and I can't even explain where it's coming from. I don't know what you want from me."

Haarlan gave him a tired slap on the shoulder, "I want you to keep moving and keep your eyes open."

Through the shimmering heat haze, shapes began to appear at the side of the road. Tall, malformed shapes. Eirik's spine froze as the objects became clearer and his ethereal fears took physical form.

Lining the path into Canthia stood rows of rough tripods built from recently-hewn trees. Every twenty paces they stood and, from each one, hung a corpse. Grim silence settled over the marching column as they passed between the rows of bodies roasting in the sun. As they passed, clouds of flies rose briefly into the air before landing once again to lay their eggs in the decomposing remains.

"What the fuck happened here?" Holgrim muttered, his face stoic but his knuckles whitening around the hilt of his sword.

The slaughter had been indiscriminate. Men and women, adults and children, all hanging in disarray and death. The bodies bore wounds Eirik had only seen on the battlefield and dried blood stained the earth below each victim. Some bristled with arrows, others with broken spear-shafts. Many were missing limbs, some were missing their heads. All wore the tattered remnants of clothes styled in the Northern manner and Eirik understood that these were the people of Canthia.

The cloying stench of recent death settled on Eirik's stomach. He swallowed hard, determined not to show weakness. To his rear he heard the other men cursing and vowing vengeance against the perpetrators of the atrocity before them. Internally Eirik was laughing. Worry about yourselves first - we're not safe yet.

The wooden walls of Canthia came into view on the horizon and spirits began to rise. Holgrim pushed the group harder and they gladly increased the pace until the sound of laboured breathing accompanied their footsteps. Armour clanked and gravel crunched as the column of soldiers carried themselves, their equipment and their wounded forward in a race toward a safe haven. Eirik had his doubts about Canthia as a place of refuge, but anything would be better than making camp along the road for another night.

"Stop here," Greenwood said abruptly. They were still a hundred paces or so from the closed gates of the town. So far, they had seen no-one manning the walls and heard no signs of activity within. After a minute or two of scrutiny, Greenwood rested his hand on Holgrim's arm. "I'll check the gate. Stand ready."

Eirik drew both axes and glanced back at his comrades. Ruefin stood a few rows back and gave him a quick nod as he took the claymore from his back and brought it to rest on his boot. The hiss of unsheathed steel and rattle of arrows in quivers bolstered Eirik confidence, and he returned his attention to Greenwood's back as he approached the tall wooden gates.

Haarlan Greenwood stopped at the gate, paused for a moment, then struck the wood with the pommel of his sword.

Silence.

Eirik watched him move to strike again, then freeze and place his palm against the gate.

Eirik raised his axes, ready to charge.

The gate swung slowly inward, sand grating in the hinges with a blood-curdling screech. Cautious and quiet, Greenwood peered around the woodwork. His head tilted on one side and he took a step forward.

Time stood still until the sound of voices came from beyond the wall. The voices sounded fearful at first and Greenwood's hand made a gesture to Holgrim while the rest of him was obscured by the second door.

"Weapons down," Holgrim called down the line. The soldiers sheathed their blades, confusion on their faces.

Eirik narrowed his eyes and concentrated on what he could hear from the other side.

"Who are you? What do you want?" A male voice, high-pitched and fearful.

"Reinforcements. There are soldiers with me and we're here to help you. Don't be afraid. I'm going to open the gates.

With that, Greenwood applied both hands to the gate and pushed it wide, signalling an advance.