Mongoose pulled up alongside him. ‘Don’t fancy knocking on the front door, then? Pity, you lot had all the fun back at the town.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Brann reassured her. ‘I’m not ruling out any fun here too.’
They led their horses into the outcrop, great angular rocks jutting at angles but with space to pass easily between.
Brann looked around. ‘We are far enough in to be hidden. Marlo, watch the horses while we have a look.’
For once, Marlo’s face was missing his smile. ‘Why am I always the one to stay behind?’
‘You have a way with the horses, and it is important to keep them quiet.’ He didn’t want to say that the real reason was his reluctance to place the boy in any greater danger than was ever necessary, but relented at the disappointment written across Marlo’s face. ‘Fine. Gerens, show Philippe how to keep the horses quiet but ready for a quick departure if necessary.’ He looked at Marlo. ‘Grumpy, you come with us.’ The smile returned.
They crept through the rocks, reaching the highest point of the small hill. They crawled the last few yards, rough ground scraping beneath them but otherwise silent. The whole group, bar the two at the horses, eased their heads in unison to look at what lay beyond.
Brann gasped slightly. The sight that greeted him was familiar, similar in so many ways to the village he had seen in the mountains of Konall’s homeland. The squalor, the hovels, the impalement stakes that were almost like religious focal points and, most of all, the people, with their air of belligerence and degradation and, no doubt, the same dead eyes. Similar in so many ways, but different in one: here there were no women or children, leaving the scene both more tense and less horrific. For Brann, worse than any other aspect of the previous village had been the acceptance of casual brutality and torture as commonplace and routine by children who knew no other way of life.
They slid away from the edge and moved back to the horses before anyone spoke. Brann saw Konall, Hakon, Cannick, Grakk and Gerens, who had also travelled south with Einarr from Halveka, look at each other, the same grimness in each gaze.
Breta growled. ‘What in the darkest hells was that?’
‘We have seen such before,’ Brann said, ‘in the North.’
‘Ach, shit.’ Gerens spat in disgust. ‘When that fool dangling from the window mentioned a camp, rather than town or village, I had suspected such but hoped for different.’
Brann realised that Breta, Mongoose, Sophaya, Marlo and Philippe were looking at him intently. He shook his head at the memories that filled it. ‘In the mountains of Halveka, near the home town of Konall and Hakon, a camp had been secretly established by Loku, and populated by the worst in society: those who glorify in inflicting pain and torture, who feast on suffering; the scum of every society brought together and with their basest and cruellest features encouraged and fed.’ He looked at Hakon and Gerens, his eyes flitting from them to Grakk. ‘Some of us were taken there and subjected to their degradation.’
Hakon stood from where he had been scratching meaninglessly in the dirt with a dagger, knuckles white where he gripped the hilt. ‘And two of us went there voluntarily to bring the three imprisoned in it to safety.’ He looked at Brann and Konall. ‘Some things are not forgotten.’ He sheathed the knife and slipped an axe from his belt. ‘I also do not forget that we gave those bastards a beating, and we can do the same to their cousins here.’
‘Easy, big man.’ Cannick put a hand on Hakon’s shoulder. ‘No use in all of them and half of us getting killed.’
Brann nodded, thoughts competing as he weighed what he knew with what might be possible. ‘If Loku is still here—’
‘We net two fish on one hook,’ Konall said. ‘So we go in fast and hit them before they realise they are under attack.’ Like Hakon, his weapon was drawn.
Brann held up a hand. ‘You Northmen will be the death of me! Literally.’
Grakk said: ‘What if Loku is killed in the confusion? Or is not there at all and we have wasted time when we could be on his trail?’
Brann paced, options being dismissed or compared. ‘Indeed.’
‘Still, if the bastard dies,’ Hakon was not deterred, ‘how is that in any way a bad thing?’
Konall sighed. ‘They are right. His death will be a thing of great joy, but our vengeance, and the service such an occurrence will bring to the world in general, is secondary. First, we must determine the greater threat posed by the conspiracy he serves, whether it aims to sow discord, topple rulers or anything in between, and he must be able to talk to lead us further on that path.’
‘The young lord is correct, my friend,’ Grakk said, patting Hakon on his broad back. ‘We need to catch him, to learn what we can of this enterprise, of his superiors. If we know there is activity in the Green Islands, in Halveka and now here also, this is even more widespread than we envisaged. We must find Loku, and learn what he knows, whatever it takes to do both.’
Hakon grumbled and kicked a stone. ‘Can we at least kill some of his little friends down there?’
‘Actually,’ Brann said, ‘it would be a good idea, I think.’ Hakon brightened immediately, and there were signs of enthusiasm from several of the others. ‘We need to know if Loku is there or not, and quickly, for if he is not we can’t afford any further distance growing between us. But we cannot live with any sort of conscience if we leave this nest of death behind us.’
Cannick walked across. ‘So, what are you thinking?’
Brann saw every pair of eyes upon him and pushed aside the discomfort of wondering why his opinion should be decisive to let his thoughts gather. ‘Well…’ He spoke slowly as the leaves grew on the branches of the plan that was forming in his head. ‘We cannot kill them all without sustaining casualties ourselves, and in the most practical sense, that would slow us down further. But we can disperse them. And such people tend to cowardice, so remove the bravado of the crowd and all they have is the life they lived before this. A cut-throat thief is not something I would wish on any community, but they exist already in every town and city, and better that than the slaughter and terror these are gathered to wreak, whether the murder of innocents we heard of in the South Island or the attempt to wipe out Konall’s entire ruling family in Halveka.’ He looked at Hakon. ‘And we can kill a few of them in the process.’
‘Fine,’ said Konall. ‘Kill a few, disperse the others, that’s the idea. So how?’
‘I always find,’ Brann smiled, his confidence in his ideas growing as they flowed, ‘that panic is an excellent weapon. Especially amongst those who enjoy the suffering of others but fear their own. So we make them think they are doomed. Sharp weapons and confusion should do the trick.’ He pointed at Marlo and Philippe. ‘You two take half the horses each: one of you to this side of the hill at the path into the settlement, and the other slightly further along this hill. Keep below the skyline and, at our signal, run them round in circles to make as much dust as you can. Feel free to shout a lot, too.’
‘Sounds fun,’ grinned Marlo. ‘But what will the signal be?’
‘Screams,’ said Brann.
The rest of them were in place in minutes. Creeping close to the edge of the camp was not difficult when danger was not anticipated and standards were slovenly at best. He looked in both directions. They were in pairs – Gerens protectively beside him, Cannick with Grakk, Konall with Hakon, and Breta with Mongoose – spread wide to give the impression of a large attack. He glanced back where elements of the rocky outcrop broke out from the slope that led down towards the camp, and saw Sophaya with the vantage point she needed, placing arrows ready on the top of a slab.
He