He was musing on all of that when he heard Walter say something behind them, breaking his train of thought.

He turned, saw the little scribe pointing away to the north, to the bridge that spanned the Steelrun River a little inland. On the eastern banks, the Wandering Wood spread out, the vast forest of many smaller woods and groves into which thousands of men had fled at the coming of the Dread.

The woods that Amron had entered, early that morning. With the hunter and the ranger for company.

“They’re back,” Walter said. “My eyes are nothing like either of yours, but I’m sure I see three men out there.”

Lythian took a grip of his godsteel dagger, enhancing his sight, the darkness receding. The Knight of Mists had excellent night vision with godsteel to grasp. He peered forward, and true enough, Amron, Whitebeard, and Vilmar the Black were returning. They made a fearsome trio, and all of them looked well and unharmed.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

Elyon did as well. “Well, his timing could not be better. Come, Lyth, let’s seek his counsel. I’d be eager to hear what he…” And he stopped, voice trailing off.

Lythian did not need to ask why. He, too, was staring. And even Walter Selleck, far away as they were, could see that the king and his companions were not alone.

“Gods,” the lucky little man whispered.

No, Lythian thought. Giants.

13

It was a place thick with memory. A place of love and life and death. Where a demigod had lain, in stasis, unwilling to awaken despite their toils. Where a long-lost prince had spoken to his followers with passion and pride of their mission.

To find the Fire Father, and raise him from the dead. So he might bring balance to the world.

Or end it, Princess Talasha Taan thought. Cousin Tethian was deceived by a lie.

The air was cool here, and fresh after the recent rains, redolent of the happier times that Talasha Taan had spent in these wooded hills in the wilds of the Western Neck. It was here that she had fallen in love with Lythian, her sweet captain. She remembered fondly the days when they would hunt together for game, walking alone in the forest where their love might blossom away from the glares and mutters of the men. One day she recalled with particular fondness. A day when a fearsome storm had rolled in from the west, and they had been forced to spend the night together beneath the cover of a rocky overhang, many miles from camp.

I broke him that night, she thought, reminiscing. I finally got him to abandon his oaths. To submit to his feelings. And to me.

She smiled, remembering the touch of his lips, the trace of his fingers down her skin. He had been nervous, even afraid, restrained by devotion to his long-dead wife. Yet he gave himself to me all the same. And I him. How she missed him so.

She reached out, gripping the spit, turning it over the fire. Wild game was hard to come by here, just the same as it had been back then, but there were still some fish in the nearest river, and Talasha had managed to spear a trout; one of meagre size, yes, but it would serve for now. She reached down to grab at a handful of dried kindling, feeding the fire. The flames leapt, licking at the fish’s skin, sizzling, fat popping.

Cevi licked her lips. “Is it ready yet?” she asked, breathless with anticipation.

“Soon.” Talasha’s stomach was rumbling as loud as her handmaiden’s, but she would not yield too early to her hunger. I have gone two days without a proper meal. Another few minutes will not hurt.

The skies were beginning to darken, a gloomy dusk setting in. Nearby, among the old fort ruins, the shadow of Neyruu was curled up, sleeping, recovering from the wound she had taken during the flight from Eldurath over a week ago. The wound was not life-threatening, though savage enough, several deep gouges torn into her flank from another, larger dragon. Talasha had felt the pain herself, felt the bright flare of agony in her right side, as Neyruu did. She had flinched, even screamed, as she felt the claws of Paglar rake across Neyruu’s scales and slice down into her flesh, tearing, felt the terrified thumping in Neyruu’s heart as the bigger dragon snapped forward with his great salivating maw, trying to kill her.

He had missed. Neyruu was quicker - the swiftest in all of Agarath, Kin’rar had always claimed - and Paglar was no match for her speed. As soon as he lost the element of surprise, Neyruu tucked her wings and dove, outmanoeuvring him, then lost him in the fume of smog that hung above Eldurath’s streets. The bigger dragon, a dark grey beast with touches of purple on his flanks, had continued to hunt them for a time, but soon enough his presence behind them waned and they escaped away south of the city, flying hard and swift across the Great Grasslands before veering east, into these hills.

That had not been by Talasha’s command. Wounded, suffering, Neyruu had sought comfort, like an injured cat seeking a familiar place to hide and sleep and heal. So she had flown here, to the Western Neck, to the place where Kin’rar Kroll had been killed, slain by Ashun Klo in his wild state of grief on that night that Tethian had died. The night that Eldur awoke, Talasha thought. The night of the parley at the Nest, when the whole world changed.

Cevi’s eyes were bulging, staring at the fish with a desperate yearning. A loud rumble filled the air, of thunder one might have thought, but no, it was only her stomach. “Surely…is it not ready yet, my lady? I don’t know if I can bear this any longer.”

Talasha smiled. She was glad to have her with her, more glad than she could say. “Go on then, Cevi. But be careful. The meat is very hot.”

The girl grinned, took the spit from the flames, and placed it down on a rock. She blew on it fiercely, eagerly. Touched it, cringed, drew back, blew some more. Talasha’s smile did not wane. “Calm, Cevi. Take your time. Give it a moment to cool.”

The girl nodded, fingers fidgeting, staring at the fish all the while, willing it to cool. To Talasha, a Fireborn, the fish would be easy enough to handle. But Cevi did not have the blood of Eldur in her veins, and would only blister her fingers and mouth if she tried to eat too soon.

A few more moments passed before the fish had cooled enough for them to eat. After that they reached forward, tearing away strips of fatty meat from the bone, sucking on the skin, licking grease off their fingers after every bite. Not a bit of it went to waste, not a morsel or a scrap. Cevi even ripped off the larger bones and sucked on them, extracting every last little ounce of fat and flesh she could. It had been long days since they’d eaten properly. Nothing had ever tasted so good.

“Will you catch another tomorrow, do you think?” Cevi asked, wiping her mouth. She had a large grin on her face, a thin length of bone in her grasp. It was amazing what a good meal did for one’s spirits.

“We’ll see,” Talasha told her. She had waited for hours to catch that one fish, exercising a patience learned during her youth hunting the delta. Talasha had always been a good huntress, though mostly with quiver and bow, not the three-pronged fishing spear she’d carved to hunt the river. Some of her fondest days in her youth had been spent around the Askar Delta, preying on duck and goose and sometimes larger birds as well. She would catch fish too, on occasion, and frogs and turtles and snakes. She even stalked and killed crocodiles, from time to time, when seeking a stiffer challenge. Though a princess by name, she’d always been a huntress in her heart. It was those skills that were keeping them alive.

The princess stood to stretch her legs, shaking out her long jet hair.

“Are you going to sit with her, my lady?” Cevi asked, looking over at Neyruu.

“Not today. She wants to be alone.” Talasha could feel that well enough, and it hadn’t changed for days. She understood. Neyruu and Kin’rar had been a bonded pair for long years, and their bonding had been natural. She flew from the Wings to the Nest, and chose him, as he climbed up the Stair to the Stars, and chose her. They were bonded by tradition, by natural law. They chose one another. But us…

It was different with them. Eldur had brought them together. The Fire Father had forged the bond. Their souls were still entwined, of a sort, but the fetters that bound them were not so strong. I will never understand her as Kin’rar did, nor her me, she lamented. Our bond will never delve so deep.

The fire was beginning to gutter out. Cevi picked up more kindling, preparing to throw it on. Talasha stopped her. “No. The fire was only for the fish. To cook. We don’t need the warmth, and the light…”

Cevi’s youthful face curdled. “You think we’re in danger here?”

We’re in danger everywhere. There is no safe place anymore. She said none of that. Cevi had been through a lot already and didn’t need to hear her doubts. “It’s just a precaution,” she told her. “The light of a fire can be visible from miles around at night. Best we put it out.”

The princess stamped down on the dying flames, kicking dirt to choke the smoke. Then she picked up her waterskin, gave it a shake, felt that it was almost empty and said, “I’ll go and fetch some water from the river.”

The girl stood at once. “I should come with you.”

“No need. The river is not far.”

“But…”

“Stay, Cevi. Neyruu is near. No harm will come to either of us, I promise.” She smiled, cupped the handmaid’s soft tan cheek, showed strength to stymie her fear. “I’ll be back soon.” She picked up her fish spear, fist closing about the haft. “And who knows…maybe I’ll catch another trout for breakfast?”

The girl raised half a smile at that, then sat, nervously looking around. She doesn’t like being here alone, Talasha knew. There are ghosts here in these woods.

“Move closer to Neyruu, if it makes you more comfortable. She may look like she’s sleeping, but she’s a dragon, Cevi, and always alert. She won’t let anything happen to you.”

“It’s…you I’m worried about, my lady. What if you get lost, in the dark. Without firelight…”

“My eyes will adjust, and I’m used to stalking in the night. I will be fine, Cevi.” And I want to be alone.

Talasha turned and stepped away into the forest, over clumps of sedge and roots and sticks. The undergrowth here was thick and slick, damp from the rains, sprouting with bushes and thorns, and here and there were deadfalls from recent storms as well, tangled heaps of fallen trees around which she was forced to go. Talasha moved quietly, stealthily, passing beneath the branches and past the boles, letting her eyes grow accustomed to the deepening dark as the forest floor curved gently downward. Further off, she could hear the tinkling of the river, a shallow watercourse that would wend from here down through the hills toward Loriath in the west, and the great lake south of the city.

Loriath, founded by Lori, eldest son of Eldur who took the throne at his father’s death. Or disappearance, Talasha thought. Eldur had never died, only crept away to sleep. He feared death, as much as any man. It was his last life, without Agarath to resurrect him, and he chose to sleep instead.

“Craven,” she whispered, out loud, as she padded silently through the wood. “You were weak, Fire Father. And now look what has come of your cowardice.”