Halfway across the lake, the glow of the tree was replaced by a lower, richer smolder of fire in the west. It seethed beneath a belly of low cloud and clotted in a fog across the water, thick with bitter smoke and the stink of wood and reed, flesh and oil.
I’d smelled that particular kind of smoke only once before, when a house had burned down with a family and their livestock trapped inside. But this was stronger and thicker, and it was no stretch for my sickened heart to realize what it meant.
The Hask settlements were burning.
We rowed north, hushed and grim. Berin and I didn’t speak of Ursk, but I saw the burden on his shoulders, growing heavier and heavier the closer we came to shore.
“He would have run,” I finally murmured to him, unable to keep silent any longer. I shivered in my wet clothes, and spent magic ached in my veins. “Fate would not send him this far only to let him die in the fire.”
He continued to labor at his oar. “Maybe. This is bigger than any of us now.”
At long last, our boat bumped into the lakeshore. Thray and Berin stepped out, hauling the boat further into the mud, and I joined them onshore.
There was a light in Berin’s eyes as he gazed toward the nearest burning settlement. I knew that look from watching him spar—a thrill and a haze that flushed his cheeks and turned his squint a little feral. But there was preoccupation too, and calculation.
Thray, I noticed, was also watching him. How strange this must be for her, I thought. To her we were still the children she’d left in Albor, and her last waking memory was of being struck down by Logur seven years ago.
Her thoughts must have followed a similar path, because suddenly she came to us, her expression crumpling. She pulled me into her arms and reached for Berin, tugging him close. Through the press and the rush of emotion I heard Arune arrive with some half-hearted complaint, then yelp as Thray dragged him into the crush.
The embrace was momentary, our words few, but when the four of us disentangled, we remained close together.
Isik hovered, his eyes scanning the miasma around us, but I didn’t miss the discomfort in his posture. And, perhaps, the loneliness in his eyes.
I stepped out and snagged his arm, turning him toward me. He opened his mouth to speak—some practical observation I didn’t care to hear—but stopped short when I wrapped my arms around his chest and buried my face under his beard.
He held out for a moment, then wrapped his arms around me in return. I felt his breath in my damp hair, felt the tension ease from his muscles, and couldn’t bring myself to care that the others saw.
Our journey to the forest was cautious, Arune keeping us concealed in a veil of snow. We heard Hask or Fith several times, screams and shouts and cautions, but they were always in the distance. We passed tracks, wide-spaced and interspersed with drag marks. Signs of flight. A few lifeless bodies. But we saw none living, and no one saw us.
Moments turned to hours. The light of the Binding Tree and burning village receded. The forest surrounded us, layered with white and pulsing with foxfire—not as strong as on the island, but present. The snow muffled all sound and softened our footsteps, shielding them from foxfire-laden roots. But it could not muffle a newer, stranger sound.
Every so often I heard a crack or a creak, and saw a tree shudder. At first, I thought it was the wind and the deepening cold, but as our march stretched long, I realized it was more than that.
“Imilidese is connected to the forest,” I murmured to Berin, striding at my side as much as the thick forest allowed. “Whatever happened to the Binding Tree, its effect is spreading.”
“The lake is between us,” he replied, worry in his eyes. “How is that possible?”
I shrugged. “Its branches reach from shore to shore. Why not its roots?”
My brother touched the back of one hand to his lower lip, split and bleeding—one final wound I hadn’t managed to heal before we made our getaway.
I considered healing it now, but the thought passed without rooting.
You will pay the price for your magic, at each turn of the moon. Use it sparingly.
Dread awoke inside me, compounding as I tried and failed to count the injuries I’d healed—not least of which had overflowed into the tree and awoken its light.
I could not say what my price would be. But I knew in a distant, hushed way that when the next moon came, I would be lucky to survive it.
* * *
When we could go no further, we rested. Arune disappeared to the wind, and when he returned we clustered in to hear his report, our breaths misting in the cold.
“The Revenants attacked my hold as well. It’s surrounded,” Arune said without preamble. “But I’ve already spoken to the elders. We will break through the line and make for the gate. It will open for us.”
He spoke so casually, I was ashamed at my hesitation. “But then we’ll be trapped inside.”
Arune snorted. “Trapped within safe walls with food, shelter and the rest of your companions. This storm is only going to worsen, and neither I nor Isik can stop that.”
Isik nodded grudgingly. He stood close to me, and his nearness softened the edges of my anxiety.
Berin nodded. “Shelter, rest, and fight another day.”
“We’ll have to run for it,” Thray warned, the head of her spear glistening sharp, her eyelashes speckled with snow. “Are we ready?”
When no one protested, she gave us a bracing smile. “Then let’s move.”
My world became one of simple images, shallow feelings. Snow, ceasing to melt on my cold skin. My knife, warm in my hand. The forest parting and shapes appearing—Revenants watching, startling, moving, converging.
We ran. The hold came into sight, heralded by abandoned outbuildings, churned snow, and buried paths. Enemies gave chase. Some were cut down, others fell behind. Arrows flew through the air and blood mist burst at Thray’s command.
Then the stockade wall rose above us and its doors cracked open. Berin slid through, I sprinted after him and Thray came last, the other two immaterial.
The gates slammed closed behind us. I dropped my knife and doubled over, breathing raggedly, muscles trembling and vision sparking red. I heard Aruth voices on all sides, saw blurs of archers on the walls and people rushing to welcome Arune and Thray with shouts of joy and shock and hope.
Then, through my sweat-blurred vision, I saw Seera. She shouldered through the crowd with Esan in her wake. Askir and the others came from another direction, fighting their way through the massing Aruth.
Seera threw herself at Berin, tears streaming down her face. He enfolded her in his arms and hefted her off the ground, laughing and crushing her until she squawked. Esan came next, the two men barreling one another into laughing, back-thumping embraces and a brush of foreheads, tears in Esan’s eyes.
Seera turned to me and pressed her lips together for a moment, as if preparing what to say. I didn’t give her time to decide. I threw my arms around her neck, nearly losing my footing. She laughed and hugged me in return.
“Welcome back, cousins,” she said, parting from me and looking at Berin, eyes glossy with tears and gratitude. “Welcome back.”