That first night, the patrol made camp at a place the soldiers called 'The Loop'. Here, an incised meander of the Southwater made a narrow-necked peninsular which was almost as good as an island in terms of being surrounded by running water. Sergeant Curran explained to Horyse that this was one of a number of bivouac sites that were used regularly by Ancelstierran patrols, and that contained hidden caches of emergency supplies.
The patrol made camp quietly and efficiently, excavating shell-scrapes and hunting for firewood, which they piled onto the blackened remains of a previous fire. Horyse wondered about this, given the lengths they had gone to in order to remain hidden on the way here.
"We'll cast a Diamond of Protection and that will hide the flames, sir," explained Curran, leaving Horyse not much the wiser. "Besides, a fire is extra protection against the Dead."
A fragment of rhyme came to Horyse's mind, something he had chanted as a small boy, playing hopscotch or skipping games.
If water fails thee, fire's thy friend;
If neither serve, it will be thine end.
He had always thought it nonsense, a mere children's skipping rhyme. But could it have some truth in it, like the one about the Ring of Roses which one of his history masters at school had told him was based on the Great Plague.
His thoughts were diverted by the sight of one of the soldiers who was lying face down on the riverbank. The man had removed his tunic and rolled up his sleeves, and one arm was plunged into the icy water.
"What on earth is that man doing, Sergeant?" he demanded. Curran grinned at him.
"Just watch, sir."
A moment later, there was a flurry of water and the man flicked a fat trout onto the bank. Another soldier grabbed the fish, dispatched it neatly with his knife and began to gut it. Curran turned to Horyse with a smile.
"Private Rowland, sir. He's from Westwale and one of the best woodsmen on the Perimeter."
That explained it. Westwale was an isolated region, much of it forest; and its woodsmen and forresters were renowned for their ability to live off the land. By the time the camp preparations were finished, dusk was beginning to fall, and Horyse saw Curran talking quietly to Corporal Woods, the patrol's other member of the Crossing Point Scouts. Both men drew their swords. Horyse's hand went to the hilt of his, but he noticed that none of the other soldiers had even looked up from their various tasks. Curran went to the eastern edge of the camp and Woods to the west. Both stood facing outwards; swords pointing towards the ground. As Horyse watched, fascinated, light began to flow along the blades of their swords, growing in intensity. Then at the exact same moment, the light left the two blades and struck the ground, forming a strange, glowing mark that reminded Horyse of the strange tattoos worn by the Scouts.
The two men moved, Curran going to the northern side of the camp and Woods to the south. Again, they cast that strange light into the ground, and again, mysterious glowing symbols appeared. This time, Curran waited until Woods had cast his mark before casting his own. When he did so, glowing lines like fire appeared on the ground, joining the four marks.
"Diamond of Protection, sir," explained Curran, seeing Horyse's puzzled expression. "We cast marks east, west and south. Then the North Mark joins them together. It's a good casting," he nodded approval at Woods. "It'll keep out Dead Hands, Shadow Hands and lesser Free Magic creatures. Won't keep out anything powerful, like a Mordicant, but it'll delay them. And it'll conceal us from prying eyes. Means we can have a fire."
The fire was welcome for its light and warmth, and the four large trout caught by Rowland provided a welcome addition to army rations. The Diamond of Protection explained much, Horyse thought. Normally, patrols would never use the same bivouac site repeatedly; and they would conceal all traces of their presence before leaving. It seemed that the concealing power of the Diamond negated the need for such precautions.
Horyse woke instinctively as dawn broke, to find Curran already re-awakening the embers of the fire. The breakfast menu was utterly familiar to Horyse: porridge made from an oatmeal, milk powder and sugar mix, which could be eaten cold but was so much better hot; and hot tea with plenty of sugar. As the men broke camp, dousing the fire and refilling the shell scrapes, Curran outlined the day's itinerary to Horyse.
"We'll head north to Kallnesh and check out the village. It's been used by Necromancers in the past to gather Dead Hands for an attack on the Wall by hiding them in the ruins. Then work our way eastward along the Southwater and camp at Terchere's Island. Tomorrow we'll strike south-east, meeting the Wallway a mile or so north of the Crossing Point. Then work our way up the eastern side of the Wallway to Last Bridge."
The patrol made ready to depart. Curran nodded to Corporal Woods, who raised his right hand with the first two fingers outstretched, pointing them at the North Mark. He spoke a single word and the North Mark vanished, the line of fire retreating back to the East Mark, which disappeared in its turn. When all four marks were gone, Curran nodded.
"Alright lads, let's go. Anshye, take point. You stay close to me, sir."
Horyse nodded his agreement, very much aware of his ignorance and inexperience in this strange country. Unobtrusively he checked yet again that his sword and dagger were loose in their scabbards; and that he had throwing stars to hand.
As the morning drew on, Horyse became aware of a feeling of unease that pricked at the back of his mind. He put it down to the strangeness of being in the Old Kingdom, until Woods, now on point, made a signal with his hand. Immediately the patrol halted and went into all-round defence, facing outwards on all sides, weapons drawn and ready. Curran took out a pair of field glasses and scanned not the horizon, but the sky; then beckoned to Woods and pointed almost directly overhead. Woods looked through the glasses and nodded, then handed the glasses to Horyse.
Horyse looked through them at the area of sky indicated by Curran, unsure of what he was supposed to see. What he did see almost made him drop the glasses in amazement. Circling high above the patrol were two black birds. At first glance they appeared to be large crows or maybe ravens; but their flesh was rotting and every so often, one would shed a feather. Their empty eye sockets glowed from within, and Horyse got the impression of some sort of malevolent intelligence. He handed the glasses back to Curran with a questioning look.
"Gore Crows, sir." Curran explained briefly how a Necromancer would trap and kill the birds, infusing them with a Dead spirit to use as spies, or in large numbers to attack from above. "Probably means there is someone, or something, in Kallnesh. Whoever they are, they're not very intelligent though. If they were, they'd put the Gore Crows between us and the sun, where they'd be harder to spot."
"Or could be, they think they're strong enough not to care, Sarn't," opined Corporal Woods.
"Good point, Corporal. We'll loop round and approach the village from the west, where there's more cover."
An hour or so later, the patrol lay prone on the low ridge that overlooked the ruins of Kallnesh from the north. Horyse scanned the village with his field glasses and saw no signs of activity, but he was beginning to realise that this did not necessarily mean all was safe. He looked enquiringly at Curran.
"I can't see anything moving, sir, and I don't detect the presence of the dead. Corporal?"
"Me neither, Sarn't," Woods replied in a low voice, "and it looks like we've lost the Gore Crows."
Curran nodded, thoughtfully. "I still don't like it. What were they doing following us in the first place?" he asked, rhetorically. "We'll move in for a closer look. Move down in pairs, one to move while the other covers. Corporal Woods, Private Anshye, you go first. Re-group on the edge of the village."
The cover and manoeuvre routing was very familiar to Horyse, although he noticed that the pairs kept much closer together than normal, since they were armed with swords rather than rifles. He himself moved down with Curran, sword drawn and staying as low as possible while they moved from one area of cover to the next before regrouping on the edge of the ruins. Then Curran made a signal to Anshye, who dashed across the waste ground to take cover in the ruins of the first house, Corporal Woods following close behind.
The patrol worked their way from one ruined building to another, towards the centre of the village. In many ways it was no different to searches Horyse had carried out of villages on the Frontier. But he was amazed at the level of devastation. Only a few walls remained standing, and those were blackened as if by fire. It looked, Horyse thought, as though a heavy artillery bombardment had been let loose; but hadn't Tindall told him that artillery did not work north of the Wall?
As they approached the centre, Horyse felt a growing sense of nausea and dread, reminding him of that day at Dockey Point. He could not help noticing that both Sergeant Curran and Corporal Woods were looking white and drawn. The patrol emerged from a narrow alley between two ruined houses and into what was once the village square. The sun was now high in the sky, but Horyse felt a deep, bone-aching chill and despite all his efforts began to shiver. In the centre of the square was a large stone, blackened and broken. Fighting the nausea, he approached it, sword drawn; but before he could reach it, the sickness overcame him and he fell to his knees, retching violently.
"Easy, sir, you're alright now." Strong hands under his arms, pulling him into his feet and half guiding, half carrying him back to the cover of the ruined alleyway. Then Sergeant Curran pushed something between his lips and he felt a burning sensation as he swallowed the harsh army issue rum.
"You alright, sir? Can you walk?" Curran's voice was low and urgent. "The village is clear, but we shouldn't hang around here."
"Yes, sarn't, I can walk," Horyse answered. And indeed, as they moved further away from the village square, he felt better and better. By the time they were on top of the ridge to the east of Kallnish, he felt entirely well again, just like that day at Dockey point.
"What was that?" he asked Curran, when they took a short break undercover of some woods overlooking the Southwater. Curran shook his head.
"Not now, sir. We'll reach Terchere's Island well before sundown. We can talk there."
Terchere's Island turned out to be a low bank of shingle, topped with some sparse turf and scrubby bushes and surrounded on both sides by shallow, but fast, channels of water. By the time darkness fell, the camp was prepared and the men relaxed a little, guarded by fire, running water and a Diamond of Protection.
Sitting slightly apart from the rest of the patrol, Curran spoke quietly to Horyse, telling him of the Charter Stones that protected every settlement in the Old Kingdom; and how they could be broken by a Necromancer or Free Magic adept, to unleash Free Magic or open a way into Death. He explained that Horyse's illness was almost certainly a reaction to the evil of the broken stone.
"It affects every Charter Mage like that, sir," Curran said.
"I noticed you and Woods looked pale," Horyse observed.
"Yes," answered Curran. "In the Scouts we are trained to deal with it, to master the sickness." Then he frowned. "I never knew it affect someone like that who wasn't a Charter Mage. You ever feel anything like it before?"
Briefly, Horyse told him of the incident at Dockey Point. Curran frowned again.
"Never heard of Free Magic that far into Ancelstierre, sir. You're probably right about it being some sort of strange influenza. But if I might be so bold, sir, you should mention it to Captain Tindall, seeing as it was so similar to what happened today."