‘I know, but they are new to their bodies and this world. I remember the wonder when I first became flesh. And the taste of it . . .’ He paused, eyes wistful. ‘And besides, they have had only brot for a ten-night. A little indulgence, one last time.’

‘They are animals,’ Salach muttered beside Uthas.

‘As are we all,’ Calidus said flatly. ‘Creatures of flesh and blood that must consume flesh and blood to live.’

Uthas saw a Kadoshim leap from a rooftop, land running and dive onto a fleeing bairn, roll with it, biting and wrenching. The child’s high and terror-filled scream suddenly cut short.

Nathair and his draig thundered into the village. Someone burst from a shuttered window, falling into the street: a woman, a Kadoshim peering out from between the broken shutters behind her. Nathair viewed the carnage with a flat stare, his lips twisting briefly in distaste.

‘There is no need for this,’ Nathair called over his shoulder to Calidus. ‘They are slaughtering innocents.’

‘The unfortunate casualties of war,’ Calidus called back.

Nathair just stared at him.

‘I have neglected to teach the Kadoshim the code of combat,’ Calidus said. ‘They are fresh to this world. I shall rectify that soon.’

‘Not soon enough for these,’ Nathair said.

‘Aye, but not all here are innocents,’ Calidus answered. ‘Look ahead.’

Other villagers were making a stand by the roundhouse, clutching weapons -– spears and axes bristling. Some of the Kadoshim were learning to use their weapons, harnessing the memories of their hosts. With a last shake of his head Nathair whispered to his draig and led a handful of the Kadoshim at the villagers, the Kadoshim with swords drawn, swinging with greater speed and strength than any human could possibly manage, even the Jehar. The draig crashed into the knot of warriors, Kadoshim behind, and then limbs were spinning through the air, blood spraying and in moments the resistance was shattered.

‘We shall make camp here,’ Calidus declared, looking at the sun sinking into the hills to the west. Screaming drifted about them, the stench of blood and excrement thick in the air. Uthas and Salach shared a look and marched on, through the village and out the other side. Survivors were running through the fields, Kadoshim hunting them like hounds chasing down hares. A group of villagers reached woodland to the south, disappearing into the shadows, but a handful of Kadoshim saw them and followed.

‘You’d better call your kin back in, before they get lost in the woods.’

‘They are like bairns,’ Calidus said fondly.

More screams drifted from the woods.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CORBAN

Corban snapped awake, jerking to one elbow. Instinctively he reached for Storm, but she was not there.