He moaned in his sleep, his legs kicking out as his hands clenched. He could feel those tight ropes holding him back – could hear the women screaming as they clutched their children and begged for mercy – could see Hakim clinging to his mother, his little face contorted with fear as they leaned out of the window and implored their new friends to help.

He’d urgently strained against the ropes and cursed his captors. But their bonds were too tight and there was nothing he or any of his men could do. He was not the only one who wept with frustration and horrified anguish as they were forced to watch this wicked slaughter of innocents.

The longhouse was now consumed in the flames, the screams were fewer – and the last he saw of Hakim was his pathetic small arm reaching through the window in desperate supplication. And then even that was gone.

The sickening stench of roasting flesh mingled with the suffocating smoke and the fetid stink of the jungle – and, in that moment, he’d known he would never be free of that smell, or of the memories of that evil day.

He woke suddenly, jolting upright, fighting to breathe as tears of anguish streamed down his face. Still trapped in the dark clutches of his nightmare he blindly sought the light – redemption – freedom.

But the light was a fiery red glow in the darkening sky, the smell of smoke was filling his nostrils, and he could still hear the screams of a small boy calling for help.

14

Sal and Max had been riding along the almost dry river bed for hours, but still the sides were too hazardous for the ponies to climb. They had stopped to let them drink from the shallow pools that lay in the deeper, more sheltered parts of the river and rested while they cropped at the grass before moving on again.

Brandy had no difficulty in running up and down those precipitous banks, and dashed back and forth, nose to the ground, tail going like a windmill as he followed the scents of the animals that burrowed in the undergrowth.

Max could see that Sal was tiring but, as usual, she was being stoic, keeping up a stream of bright chatter in an attempt to make light of their situation and boost their morale. But he could hear the quaver in her voice, had noticed the way she kept glancing over her shoulder, and knew she was frightened.

He was frightened too, but not for the same reason. Sal was depending on him to get her to safety, and he hadn’t been totally honest with her when he’d said there was nothing much wrong with him.