Nightchild

T know, Mummy.' The little girl had clung to her. 'The darkness monsters came but the old women chased them away.'

Erie

'The who, Lya

'The old women. They will always save me.' She had snuggled closer. 'If I'm near them.'

Erie

'Go back to sleep, sweet,' she had said, resting her back on her pillow and smoothing her hair down. 'Mummy has some things to do in the study. Then perhaps we can go on a little trip away.'

'Night, Mummy.'

'Good night, darling.' Erie

back but Lya

'We're co-ming. We're co-ming.'

Their night-time flight from Dordover soon after still made Erie

The ship, Ocean Elm, was a tri-masted cutter, just short of one hundred feet from bowsprit to rudder. Sleek and narrow, she was built for speed, her cabin space below decks cramped but comfortable enough. Kept spodessly clean by a crew of thirty elves, Ocean Elm was an attractive ship and felt sturdy underfoot, her dark-brown stained timbers preserved against the salt water and her masts strong but supple.

Erie

And so they had rested, drinking in the fresh air, the complex smells of ship and sea, and seeing their guides at last smile as Balaia was left behind them. Ren'erei, their erstwhile driver, had found her voice and introduced her brother, Tryuun. Tryuun had done little more than bow his similarly cropped black hair and flash his deep brown eyes, the left of which, Erie

was determined to ask Ren'erei about it before they reached their destination.

Her opportunity came late one night, four days into the voyage. Supper was over and the cook pots had been stowed, though the ship's carefully netted fires still glimmered. Above them, the sails were full, the wind chasing up cloud to cover the stars. Lya

'Mesmeric, isn't it?' she said.

'Beautiful,' agreed the young elf. She was ta

'How long until we get there?' asked Erie

She shrugged. 'If the winds stay fair, we should see the Ornouth Archipelago before sundown. Then it's a couple of days to shore, no more.'

'And where is "there"? Assuming you can tell me now, that is.' Erie

Ren'erei smiled. 'Yes, I can tell you now,' she said. 'It is an island deep inside the archipelago, which we call Herendeneth, which means "endless home" in your language. I don't know if it has a common name. There are over two thousand islands in the Ornouth, many not even on a map. To chart the whole area would be the job of more than one lifetime, which is to our benefit. Herendeneth isn't much to look at from the sea, I'm afraid, all cliff and black rock where so many are all sand, lagoons and trees; but it serves our purpose.'

'Sounds lovely,' said Erie

'Don't get me wrong, it's beautiful inland. But if you want to get there you have to know the way. The reefs show no mercy.'

'Oh, I see.'

'You don't, but you will.' Ren'erei chuckled. 'None can reach us that don't know the cha

'They can fly.'

'It is just barren from the sky, though appearances are deceptive.'

'Got it all sewn up, I see,' said Erie

'For three hundred years and more now, yes,' returned Ren'erei. She paused and Erie

Ren'erei's words startled her but there it was. However subconsciously, she'd held out the hope that Denser would be able to follow them eventually but now… Gods falling, he wasn't a sailor and with the island's identity apparently disguised from the air as well… she supposed she shouldn't be surprised.

But the truth was, she felt isolated, away from everything she knew and she missed him despite the delight that was Lya

Ren'erei helped. She was a friendly face. Respectful and understanding. Erie

'You know we would welcome him but there are others who have less sound motives for wanting to find us besides those who have already tried,' she continued, sparing her the need to answer. 'They hunt us day and night and have done so for more than ten years. They and their enemies would all see us fall.'

Erie

'Who?'

'Witch Hunters,' said Ren'erei. 'Black Wings.'

The strength went from Erie

clutching at the rail. With astonishing swiftness, Ren'erei moved across the deck and caught her. Erie

She saw it all again. Tasted the atmosphere of the Black Wings' casde, the stench of fear in her twin boys' room, the hideous torture of separation from the sons she loved and the sneer of Captain Travers, the leader of the Witch Hunters. Again and again she saw the blood from their slit throats spattered over the bed clothes, their faces and the walls. Her boys. Her beautiful boys. Slaughtered for a risk they didn't pose, by men who were terrified of magic because they could not understand it. Again, she felt their loss, just like it was yesterday, just like every day.