THEIR PATH WOUND THROUGH THE FOREST for a quarter of a mile before the trees began to thin. Erik began to catch glimpses of some kind of building through the trees ahead. It looked like a hut.

He caught up with Bjorn.

‘What’s that ahead?’ he asked.

Bjorn glanced in the direction Erik was indicating.

‘Oh, that’s old Katla’s hut,’ he said. ‘An old woman who lives alone in the woods. We haven’t seen much of her this week.’

‘Isn’t it dangerous, living out here, away from the village?’ Halldor asked from nearby.

‘Katla was always a stubborn old woman,’ Bjorn rumbled ruefully. ‘I did come out here to suggest she came to stay with us, when the hauntings began, but she refused, in no uncertain terms as I remember. But she can look after herself. Folk say she’s a witch.’

The path left the trees at this point, and they could see the hut clearly now. A stretch of cropped grass surrounded it, and an overgrown vegetable patch. Beyond the clearing the path led towards a stream. In the shade of the hut, a goat was contentedly munching.

Bjorn called the old woman’s name. There was no reply.

‘Perhaps we’d better see if she’s alright,’ suggested Gudrun. ‘She might have fallen, or something. She might need help.’

‘I’ll go and take a look,’ said Erik. He headed over the grass towards the hut, giving the goat a wide berth. It looked almost as old and senile as its owner.

The others congregated in the clearing.

‘Which way are we going next?’ asked Halldor. Bjorn pointed in the direction of the stream.

‘That way. It leads through the trees to the moor. Beyond that is the barrow.’

Erik peered in through the doorflap. He had always nursed a secret interest in the dark arts, but he’d never met a real witch before.

‘Is anyone there?’ he called. The hut was dark within, but he heard something rustling in the gloom.

‘Who speaks?’ croaked an old, decrepit voice.

‘My name is Erik Sigurdsson,’ Erik replied. ‘I’m with Bjorn Axehand. We were wondering how you were, what with these hauntings and all.’

‘I’m fine, dearie,’ came the voice. ‘Which is more than can be said for you!’

Curious, Erik pushed back the leather curtain covering the door. A beam of daylight pierced the musty gloom within. Erik glanced around, startled.

The hut was empty.

Frowning in bewilderment, he turned to go. And found the goat standing immediately behind him, staring up at him. He frowned uneasily, looking at its eyes. The creature was unlike the goats he was accustomed to back home. Those eyes glowed like hot coals, and yet seemed almost… human.

He was about to edge round it, when suddenly it reared up, its eyes flashing, and its mouth parted to reveal teeth like a shark’s.

With a roar, it leapt at him.

The others heard the noise, and a cry of dismay from Erik. Halldor and Gudrun ran round the hut and stopped in amazement to see their fellow under attack from the goat. It gnashed at him with its teeth. Erik drew his sword and slashed desperately at his attacker.

Halldor drew his own sword and charged, followed by Gudrun. But before they had a chance to attack it, it froze, eyeing the cold steel in Erik’s hand. Suddenly, it broke and ran, charging through the crewmen in the clearing and bolting towards the trees.

‘What was that?’ demanded Halldor.

Erik shrugged.

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘Its eyes seemed... manlike. But it didn't like cold steel. Maybe… Quick - let’s get after it!’

They splashed hectically across the stream and headed into the dark trees. As they did so, a sudden chorus of cries and calls echoed eerily from the woods on either side.

Darkness fell suddenly.

‘What’s happening?’ said Halldor.

‘Where’s the goat?’ asked Bjorn. He stared out into the trees, and suddenly shouted; ‘Look!’

In the shadows of the forest, too far off to be properly discernable, many things were creeping towards them, shapes almost like men. Erik glanced to left and right. The story was the same on both sides.

‘What’s that?’ shouted Gudrun. They all turned, hearing the sound of hoofsteps from behind them.

A dark horse reared at the entrance to the trees. On its back sat a figure - a headless corpse.

‘Run!’ shouted Halldor, and he led the crew at high speed towards the far side of the trees, where the cold light of day gleamed through the swirling mists.

‘No, wait!’ yelled Erik. ‘It’s just trying to scare us! Don’t let it…’

But it was too late. He was in the woods. with only Gudrun and Bjorn at his side. He glanced over his shoulder.

The headless horseman was slowly approaching.

‘I hate to say this,’ said Gudrun, ‘but I think Halldor’s idea is not a bad one.’

‘Come on,’ muttered Erik. ‘But cautiously.’

They hurried up the path.

Coming out of the trees, they found Halldor and the others waiting at the base of a heather-clad hill. Erik marched straight up to Halldor.

‘Is this the bold warrior?’ he demanded. ‘Halldor! You ran away!’

‘I told you to run as well,’ Halldor replied angrily. ‘We had to get away.’

‘But you ran off and left us, oaf!’ snapped Gudrun.

‘What am I supposed to do, if you stay there when I say run?’ Halldor complained.

‘We had nothing to fear,’ replied Erik. ‘The drow was trying to frighten us, not kill us. But you ran away!’

‘Are you calling me a coward?’ snarled Halldor.