They buried the bodies of the Fidach men with all the ceremony they could, with solemn words and anger mingling with the grief in their hearts. And all the time, sentries were glaring into the Dava Moor and up toward the Monadhliath Mountains, hands edgy on their weapons and hearts hopeful of meeting the Norse. Lynette looked bored, while Loarn stifled a yawn and watched a skein of geese flying northwards far overhead.
Aharn stood over the graves of his men. "Now we march south," he said. "Now we go to the Dun of Ruthven." He looked at his assembled army. "Keep alert," he ordered, "and if you see anything you are not sure of – anything at all – inform your captain." He sent twenty horsemen in advance, with a linking force of another twenty so at no time were men isolated from support.
"A
