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Toryn had woken during the night, convinced he had heard footsteps outside their shelter. He had left Hamar to sleep and ventured out onto the ledge alone, but the impatient waters below had drowned out any other sounds of the night. The moon had gone and no matter how hard he peered out of the corners of his eyes, he could see nothing. A whole nest of droogs could have slithered along the ledge and he would have been none the wiser.

‘Not too far to go now.’ Toryn looked up to see Hamar pointing ahead. ‘See.’ They had reached the fork in the ravine in good time that morning, despite the heavy rain drenching the path. The ledge had finally widened as the slopes had retreated and opened up the sky. Hamar turned. ‘This will take us down to the bridge where we can cross the river.’

‘Be good to get out of this rain.’ Toryn shivered as another trickle ran down his back. ‘I’m soaked through.’

‘We’ll soon dry off in front of a roaring fire.’ Hamar winced as he rubbed his back. ‘Looking forward to sleeping on a bed again.’ He groaned. ‘If there’s one thing I miss when I’m on the road, it’s a comfortable bed, and it seems more desirable as the years pass.’ Hamar tightened the straps on his backpack and set off.

‘Will we find a bed?’

‘My old friend, Jacken will put us up at his place.’

‘Comes from being an Archonian, never forget your fellow guards who’ve stood by your side and had your back in sticky situations. Mind you, it’s been a good few years since I last saw him, but once a brother-in-arms, always a brother-in-arms.’

Toryn’s stomach rumbled. ‘It's been a while since we've had a decent meal.’

‘Now there we’re in luck. The pasture is good in the valley. Explains why it’s the best tasting meat in the land.’ He licked his lips. ‘Could murder a nice bit of roast beef.’

With a spring in their step, they soon reached the lane leading to the bridge. Toryn tapped his foot. ‘Good to be on a proper road. Feels like we’re back in the land of the living again.’

Hamar laughed. ‘We’ve not been gone two weeks yet. You should try living in the wilds for six months at a stretch.’

Toryn sniffed the air. ‘I can smell the roasting beef on the spit.’

Hamar frowned. ‘I can smell something, but that ain’t my dinner cooking.’ They hurried on and rounded the bend. Toryn’s heart sank; the pall of thick, black smoke billowing high into the air, and the anguished mooing of cattle, dashed any hope of sleeping in a comfortable bed. Hamar’s shoulders sagged. ‘Oh no, not here, not this place.’ They hastened across the bridge and passed a small fenced field. Hamar glanced at the cows. ‘That’s odd. The raiders have left them alone.’ He squinted at the gate. ‘Come on, there must be survivors in need of help.’

Toryn felt for his sword as they passed beneath the shadow of the smoke. ‘Is it safe?’

Hamar tilted his head. ‘It’s quiet. If the raiders were still here, they’d be singing their rotten throats raw, and taunting the poor souls chosen for their games.’

‘But we’re many leagues from the border. Do they usually come this far?’

Hamar stared back down the road. ‘Not to a settlement of this size. No, this is troubling. I hear they’re bolder of late, but I can’t think how they came to be this far south and, in such numbers to do this.’ He stopped and kneeled to examine the road. ‘I don’t get it.’

Toryn spat out the acrid taste of the smoke and wiped his mouth. ‘Get what?’

‘There’s no sign of a struggle. This is the only way into the place, but all I can see is tracks from wagons.’ He held out a hand. ‘Help me up, lad.’

Toryn took Hamar’s arm and pulled him to his feet. ‘Could they have hidden in the wagons?’

‘They would’ve searched wagons coming through the gate, and if they’d found any brigands, there’d have been a skirmish.’ He scratched his head. ‘If only a dozen Ruuk came through, you’d see signs of their rough-shod boots in the dirt. But they’d need more than that. This place may be a backwater, but the old guards living here could easily handle raiders. Unless…’ Hamar turned back to the entrance. ‘We need to find Jacken. Perhaps he can shed light on what happened here.’

Toryn could not take his eyes from the smoldering buildings. The thatched roofs had gone, leaving open shells with blackened struts jutting up to the sky. He gawped at the senseless destruction — this could have been his own village. And what had happened to the people?

Hamar coughed. ‘I’d say this took place late yesterday judging by the embers.’ He pointed to the pall of smoke hanging over the village. ‘But something still burns.’

Toryn searched the gaps between the buildings. ‘Where is everyone?’

Hamar shook his head. ‘This is strange. You’d expect to find the dead and injured from both sides lying where they fell. They wouldn’t have had time to bury them yet.’ He took a deep breath and stuck his head inside the door of the nearest house, then walked to the next, returning while shaking his head. ‘Both empty.’ He pointed down the street and strode with a purpose. ‘We’ll try the square. If there was a last-ditch attempt to save the place, that’s where they would’ve rallied to stand any—’ He stopped. ‘What the…?’

A few paces ahead, a blackened hole several feet deep obliterated the path. Toryn walked to the edge. His stomach churned as he peered at the bottom. ‘It’s like a giant rock landed on this spot.’ He turned to Hamar. ‘Have you seen anything like this before?’

Hamar stared over the rim. ‘Never. Can’t think what could have done this. We have trebuchets at the gate, but they couldn’t hurl a shot as large’ — he turned back towards the stockade — ‘or as far. Besides, I doubt you’d drag an enormous war machine to this place. It’s hardly a fortress.’

Toryn paced around the perimeter of the hole. He steadied himself as his head spun. ‘It’s still hot. And look at the ground, it’s like glass.’

Hamar staggered across the earth, thrown up at the edges. ‘Let’s check the square. It seems to be where the smoke is coming from.’ They found their way to the opposite lip of the hole and walked the short distance to the center of Greendell. The square was twice the size of Toryn’s village, but no bunting brought color to the scene. Long gouges lined the charred ground as if torn up by huge clawed hands. At the center, a smoking mound marked where the flagpole would have flown the colors of the village.

Hamar put his hand on Toryn’s shoulder. ‘You wait here.’

He clenched Toryn’s arm. ‘Stay put.’ He watched as Hamar’s hunched figure made its way to the mound. He stopped at the edge; his hand went to his mouth. Hamar moved to the other side and kneeled. He reached forward and took a small object from the smoldering heap. He held it up to the light, then staggered forward. Toryn took a step to help him. Hamar’s voice croaked. ‘Stay there! Don’t come over.’ He stood and shuffled back to Toryn. As he neared, Toryn could hear Hamar muttering to himself. ‘This is evil, they didn’t deserve this…’ He stopped a few paces away — his eyes wide; his head shaking. ‘Get me to the other side of the bridge please, Tor.’

Toryn looked over his shoulder to the square. ‘What is it, Hamar? What did you see?’

‘Please, get me away from this place.’

Toryn took his arm and felt Hamar shake. He helped him out of the settlement, over the bridge, and lowered him to the soft, grassy bank. Hamar stared at the ground. Toryn lit a small fire and heated a mug of water from the river, while Hamar sat muttering to himself. Toryn added a shot of their emergency liquor from his flask. ‘Here, drink this.’

Hamar gladly accepted the mug and gulped it down. He wiped his lips. ‘Sorry about that, lad. It’s been many years since I’ve seen anything so grim.’

‘What was on the bonfire?’

Hamar choked. ‘They didn’t deserve that.’ Tears brimmed. He opened his hand. The object from the ashes glinted in the pale sunlight.

Toryn took it. ‘You have one of these.’ The old man’s hands went to his face as he sobbed. Toryn sat beside him and rested his hand on Hamar’s shoulder and said nothing. He watched as a light wind picked up and lifted the smoke, sending it down the valley as if washing the evil away.

Hamar cleared his throat. ‘It’s a long service medal.’ He held out his hand and Toryn placed it back in his palm. Hamar turned it over to reveal a name. ‘We joined at the same time and went through training together.’ He wiped his face. ‘Jacken survived many skirmishes, including Wyke Wood. He was injured a dozen times but always fought back, only’ — his jaw clenched — ‘only for some coward to throw him onto a bonfire when he deserved a quiet end to his life. My old friend didn’t even get to die with his sword in his hand.’ Hamar turned to Toryn. ‘That’s no way for a man like him to go, or the others. These were good, hard-working, honest folk.’

Toryn's mouth soured with the taste of the dead. He spat. ‘Was every poor soul from the village on the mound?’

‘No’ — Hamar took a deep breath — ‘mainly the older folk from what I could tell. I hope the rest fled, otherwise the scoundrels would’ve snatched them for some foul purpose.’

Toryn stood. ‘The Ruuk do this?’

Hamar raised his hand to the village. His arm dropped. ‘This isn’t the work of the usual brigands.’ He struggled to his feet. ‘Yes, the Ruuk burn and pillage, but they wouldn’t destroy the place, they’d leave it so they could come back the following year when their bellies are empty. And they wouldn’t murder the elderly.’ He held his chin. ‘It don’t make sense. The livestock are still in the field. You’d need a small army to overwhelm the place and cause this much havoc. There must be sixty head of cattle in the meadow, but they haven’t touched them. The gate is still secured. An army would have taken them for the road, or at least slaughtered and roasted a few after their victory.’

Toryn looked back to the charred village. ‘Do you have an idea who might—?’

‘Norgog.’ Hamar’s lips curled. ‘From the far north. The Ruuk differ from one clan to the next. Those close to the border are much like us, except they don’t have a decent bone in their body. Farther north, on the other side of the Trench, the clans become more troll-like, perhaps related in ways to cobtrolls but bigger. While many of the Ruuk clans can be a handful, they’re nothing like the Norgog. They’re from the places well beyond the boundaries of our maps. We had another name for them: Hammerskulls.’

Toryn’s shoulders bunched. ‘Wouldn’t want to meet them on a dark night.’

‘You’re not wrong, lad. The hammer is their weapon of choice, and their heads sort of look like one.’ He winced. ‘Flat faces, elongated skulls, and they have a tough, gray skin that requires a keen blade to pierce. But you need a thick skin to survive in the frozen lands.’ His hand gripped the hilt of his sword. ‘They’re shorter than other Ruuk, but broader, stronger, and aggressive. It takes a lot more force to bring down one of those beasts. But I’ve only ever seen them across the border, and never this far from their lands. Too warm for them, you see.’

Toryn shivered. ‘Too warm? Here?’

Hamar nodded. ‘And lucky for us it is. And hopefully, if it was them, they’ve gone back whence they came.’ He reached into his jacket and took out his pipe. He pointed the tip to the north. ‘But if this is the work of the Norgog, who’s commanding them? What’s driving them this far south?’ He scratched his head. ‘But there’d still be footprints.’ Hamar took out his tobacco, grimaced, and replaced it in his pocket. ‘Had enough smoke for one day.’ He waved his empty pipe across the valley. ‘We must report this. The Archon needs to hear of this right away. Greendell has always kept to itself, only trading with a few places in the autumn. If we don’t tell anyone, it could be months before anyone discovers the atrocity.’

‘I thought we had to keep out of sight.’

Hamar exhaled. ‘Not after this. Change of plan. This is serious. Hand me the map, lad.’ Toryn unpacked the map and laid it on the grass. Hamar stooped and ran a blackened finger across the cloth. ‘Drunsberg, yes, the mines at Drunsberg. It’s about four days from here, maybe three if we stride out. We can take the proper road now, seeing as there’s no need for stealth. They have messenger birds at the mines. They’ll get word to Archonholm in under two days. If we see guards before then on the road, that will be all the better. Whoever did this will do it again. They have to be stopped.’