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Orisian’s horse baulked at the steep, rocky slope plunging down into the huge gully. He did not blame it. The hillside fell away, swooping down into a wide band of trees that curved west like a broad, dark river. Looking on it from above, it was impossible to see the stream that had cut this valley, only the tangled, leafless canopy of the countless trees that clustered about its course. Orisian leapt to the ground and led his horse over to Ess’yr. The Kyrinin was crouched down, ru
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“Wait.” Aeglyss lifted a single hooked finger. His cracked tongue flicked over his lips. “I… hear. Movement. Movement. I catch the scent of…” His head tipped back. A long sibilant hiss escaped him. “Ah. See? The great beasts come out to play. They don’t fear me enough yet, then. Not yet.” His eyes went glassy, their bloodshot grey overlaid with a wet film. A string of saliva ran from the corner of his mouth. There was the faintest whisper from his lips before they went slack: “We’ll see, then. We’ll see what I’ve become.” “What’s happening to him?” whispered the man crouching down beside Shraeve. Aeglyss swayed, and for a moment might have overbalanced and tumbled from the bench. He steadied, and sat there, sunken down onto his bones. His eyes closed. “He reaches out,” the Inkallim said flatly. There was a clearing of sorts, and at its furthest edge lay K’rina, curled into a little hollow between the roots of a great tree. One hand was clasped to her shoulder; blood spread across the skin. The spear that had wounded her lay by her side. There were bodies scattered across the grass: warriors of the Black Road. Some had Kyrinin arrows in them. One of Orisian’s own men was going from one to another, ensuring that they were dead. To one side, Ess’yr and Varryn stood motionless, staring at the scene before them. For once, their blue-lined faces betrayed powerful emotion: awestruck fear. All of this Orisian saw as soon as he stepped into the pool of cold light falling through the gap in the canopy. None of it held his attention, for he saw the same wonders as the Kyrinin, and was similarly awed by them. Beneath his feet, and spreading out in every direction, lush green grass covered the ground, and he could smell its newness and the earth it had broken in bursting forth. Every tree wore a verdant cloak of leaves, every fern had unfurled bright new, fragile fronds. The scattered clumps of moss all but glowed with the vigour of fresh spring growth. Life, in delirious, impossible abundance, had come to this place. And death, too. One of the men lying in the centre of the clearing was all but obscured by the mat of long, binding grass that had overgrown him, and by the coil of briars that had engulfed his head, tearing the skin away from his face, pushing down into his mouth, his throat, so violently that his jaw was forced u