Nightchild

'And The Raven?'

'He'll bring them. If I know Denser, he's already contacted them.'

'You sound very sure.'

Erienne shrugged. 'They're all such different people but when one is troubled, they all do the same thing.' She smiled, a little surprised by another surge of longing. Not for Lyanna but for them. The Raven. To stand among them once again. Should that happen, she knew they'd be all right. After all, The Raven never lost. Erienne suppressed a laugh at her own ludicrous arrogance and looked back to the beautiful blue sea.

Chapter 10

Hirad's meeting with Denser was never going to be warm but the devastation he saw at Thornewood and then Greythorne took much of the venom from the barbarian's mood. Ilkar had watched him brood ever since they'd left the Balan Mountains, unwilling even to entertain the thought of cordial relations with the Xeteskian. He had grumbled about leaving the Kaan who were all but shovelling him from the Choul and his temper had remained frail for the entirety of the three-day ride.

But Thornewood had changed him. The three original members of The Raven's first ride, almost fifteen years before, had seen signs of wind damage while they were over a day from the forest. Flattened grassland, bushes uprooted and drifts of broken twigs, leaves and dirt, all told of a powerful gale.

But nothing could prepare them for Thornewood itself. It was gone. Just a tangled mass of twisted and shattered trunks, scattered debris and piles of foliage covered in dirt. It was as if some giant claw had gouged across the forest, scooped it up, crushed it and then let it fall once again. Where once a stunning landscape had been, there was now just a smear on the face of Balaia.

T can't even see where the farms might have stood,' whispered Ilkar. 'There are no borders to the wood. Nothing at all.'

The Unknown pointed north and east. 'There's the trail though it's mostly hidden now. We should see if there's anything we can do.'

But close to, it was clear that what little could be done, had been done. A few foundation poles from one of the farmsteads that had lived off the forest could be seen snapped off low to the ground and, here and there, a piece of treated hide was wedged in a shallow crack in the earth. All other signs of life had been swept away.

Hirad stared into the havoc that had been visited on Thornewood and voiced the fear they all felt.

'Thraun?'

'We just have to pray he escaped,' said The Unknown quietly. 'But even he would have been hard pressed to survive a falling tree.'

'And as for the pack…' Ilkar left his words hanging. Though he was a wolf, Thraun would always retain vestiges of humanity in his mind. It was the way of all shapechangers, even those lost to their human form, and Thraun had already experienced more sadness than most of his fragile kind could bear. The Gods only knew what he would do if he lost the pack.

'What caused this?' The Unknown shook his head.

'I'm scared to even think about it,' said Ilkar.

'What do you mean?' asked Hirad.

'Let's get to Greythorne,' said Ilkar by way of reply. 'Find Denser.'

They rode on, expectations of finding the town undamaged dismissed. But as they travelled the decimated lowlands surrounding the wrecked forest, it became clear that their worst fears were liable to be realised.

It was like a journey through a foreign landscape though they all knew the land well. So many landmarks and waypoints had gone. Trail posts, cairns, copses and spinneys, all had been scratched from the face of Balaia. Any remote homestead had been destroyed, timbers scattered wide and even the topsoil had been ripped away on the exposed slopes, bringing rock to the surface for the first time in centuries.

The wind, if such it was, had been utterly indiscriminate and totally ruinous.

They were under a day's ride from Greythorne with the morning all but over when The Unknown turned in his saddle for the third time in as many miles. He dropped back slowly before shifting in his seat and pulling up.

'Hey!' he called, dismounting and scrutinising the girth buckle and strap. 'Wait up.'

Hirad and Ilkar wheeled their horses and trotted towards him, slipping off as they approached.

'Girth slipping?' asked Hirad.

The Unknown nodded. 'No,' he said. 'Don't look up. We're being followed. Tell you what, get out your waterskin and let's have a break, all right?'

Hirad shrugged. 'Sure.'

The Unknown unbuckled the strap and tugged it back to the same position before joining his friends sitting at the side of the trail. The horses grazed a few feet away.

'How many?' asked Hirad, handing him the waterskin.

'Impossible to say.' He took a swig and rinsed his dry mouth, handing the skin back. 'I've seen metal glint and shapes moving against the background.'

'Distance?' Ilkar pushed a hand through his hair and lay out on his back.

'Three miles, maybe a little more. Certainly horse-borne. I think they've been trailing us since the Balan Mountains.'

'But you didn't want to worry us, eh?' Hirad's tone was only half joking. The Unknown's lips thinned.

'No, Hirad, I just wasn't sure. You know how it is,' he said. 'It's of no importance anyway. They haven't attacked us so we have to assume they're just trailing us for information. That also means they'll probably have a mage to communicate with whoever.'

'Dordover,' said Ilkar.

'Most likely,' agreed The Unknown. 'And suffice to say, we can't let them find out any more than they can already guess.'

'So where do we take them? The forest?' Hirad nodded at the wrecked woodland. They had been skirting it to the south having ignored the north-east trail through the farmsteads as they headed for Greythorne.

'Yes. At the rock.'

Whatever the state of the forest, the crag at its centre would still be intact until the earth opened up to swallow it.

'Assuming we can persuade them to follow us in there.'

Thornewood was a mess, just a shamble of dying vegetation and twisted wood. The birds had returned and their song could be heard above the wind that was gusting stronger again, clouds bubbling across the fast greying sky.

'I don't think they have any choice,' said The Unknown. 'They can't simply watch the hunter trails because there are none, not any

more. We can pick our way in and out anywhere. And they can't go on to Greythorne and risk us not stopping there.'

'But they'll assume our decision to go in means we've seen them, won't they?' queried Ilkar.

The Unknown shrugged. 'Possibly. But it hardly matters. It'll make them wary perhaps but it doesn't change what they're doing. And if we lose them, then so much the better.'

'So, Unknown, any ideas about how to get in?' Hirad smiled. The Unknown blew out his cheeks. The force of the hurricane had snapped off almost every tree at a height varying between eight and a dozen or so feet. Tangled foliage was knotted across the forest floor and banked up in huge drifts against close-packed stands of trunks and, further in, no doubt against the rock itself. It had left no obvious entry point and the Raven trio would have to pick or hack their way through the least dense obstructions.

'We'll find a way. C'mon, break over, no time like now.'

They mounted up and trotted gently to the borders of the forest, indistinct now with debris scattered so widely. Making their way inside, the destruction was brought into stark focus. In places, the forest floor had been swept clean, the mulch and dust of years, the loose topsoil and every plant, flower and shrub scoured away. No tree was undamaged and everywhere arches of fallen boughs crisscrossed just above their heads or were impenetrable, forcing a change of direction, as if they wished no living thing to see the death of Thornewood.