Ilvani knew her part now. She kneeled before the witches-Elina sat with her knees tucked up to her chin-and reached over to lay her hand on the child’s arm.
“The connection is sealed,” Agny said. “We will not leave this circle until our task is complete, or until death takes us.”
“The circle is complete,” the witches echoed.
“The circle holds me,” Ilvani murmured. Power surged through her limbs, the combined strength and magic of the wychlaran. She gasped. Agny, Sree, and the rest were suddenly in her thoughts and she in theirs. The whispers were deafening; she couldn’t tell one voice from another or hear her own thoughts in the barrage of sounds and secrets.
Throwing her head back, Ilvani sucked in the cold night air and watched the stars whirl above her. The owl soared high and called out to her, but she couldn’t answer him. The wychlaran chants grew louder. All the barriers, not just those erected in her mind, were breaking down.
The Veil, Ilvani thought. The Veil between the worlds dissolves in this small, protected space. She had no choice but to walk the dark roads with these unfamiliar women and pray that they did not intend her death.
The last sound Ilvani heard before oblivion was the sound of trees ripping themselves from the earth.
In the darkness, and with only one eye, Cree still saw them first. He waved his katar to get the others’ attention and pointed to the darkness beyond the ice-encased torches. The swaying motion of the trees wasn’t caused by the wind, but by a spirit walking the earth on two legs, thick gnarled trunks covered in ice and pine needles woven like sinew. The weight of the tallest branches bent the treant over so that it walked stooped, its branches dragging the ground and picking up snow and dirt.
“They’re bigger than I thought,” Cree told his brother, who stood beside him.
“I still think burning them is the best way,” Skagi said. “What do you think, Ashok?”
When Ashok didn’t reply, Cree turned to look at him. Ashok stared out over the lake, watching the ritual. He held a small metal vial in his left hand. It was empty. He wiped his mouth and threw the vial in the water.
“Are you ready, Ashok?” Cree asked. He didn’t know what had been in the vial-perhaps a healing draught given to him by the witches. Many of Ashok’s wounds in the fight with the winter wolves had been slow to heal.
“I’m ready,” Ashok said. He braided his chain around his hands and stood beside Skagi.
The second treant, the smaller Needle, came behind its older mate. Its legs were more spindly and fragile-looking. Cree thought one good slice with his katar would drop the creature. He waited for the Rashemi berserkers to act first, but the warriors didn’t move. They simply stood their ground by the lake, blocking the path to the witches’ raft.
“What are they doing?” Skagi hissed. “Are we going to fight them or aren’t we?”
One of the warriors stepped forward, and to Cree’s surprise, held up his hand in a formal greeting as the fey creatures approached.
“We beg you, children of the pinewood, to turn back,” he said. “Accept our offerings of peace. We mean you no harm this night.”
Skagi cursed under his breath. He shifted his falchion from hand to hand. Cree shared his brother’s impatience. He’d never encountered a treant before, but he knew how the creatures would behave in Ilvani’s presence. They would not listen to reason.
“Please, spirits, turn back,” the warrior said. The larger treant was almost upon him.
“Get back, you fool!” Cree shouted, but his warning came too late. The treant swept its needle-thin upper branches down and impaled the warrior through the chest.
“Looks like they’re not in the mood to talk,” Skagi said. “Eh, Ashok?”
Skagi cursed again, but this time there was true fear in his voice. Cree turned just in time to see Ashok collapse on the lakeshore.
“Cover me!” Cree shouted to his brother. He kneeled next to Ashok as the berserker warriors ran up to flank their fallen comrade and fight the treants. Skagi positioned himself in front of them.
“Looks like the whole damned forest is moving out there,” Skagi said. “Tell Ashok this is no time for sleeping.”
Cree bent over Ashok’s chest, his ear pressed against his breast to listen for a heartbeat. He sat back, stunned. Distantly, he heard a sound like dozens of trees ripped from the earth by their roots. More of the pine trees stirred to life and moved toward the lake. He tried to speak but couldn’t.
Skagi turned, saw his face, and barked, “What is it? What’s wrong with him? Tell me, godsdamnit!”
“He’s dead,” Cree said.
Ashok stood on the battlefield and waited for the treants to come to him. Something didn’t feel right. The sky was immense, the light of the stars so bright, it looked like daylight. He looked around, but the Rashemi berserkers were gone. So were Skagi and Cree.
Dread washed over Ashok. He turned to face the lake. The raft was empty except for a single figure huddled in a brown cloak. Her back was to Ashok. He couldn’t tell the figure’s identity.
Gripping his chain, Ashok walked out onto the dock. “Where is everyone? What’s happened out there?” he shouted. The figure didn’t move. When he looked down at his feet, Ashok realized that the dock had vanished. He walked suspended upon the water’s surface.
The vial. The sky was too big, the stars too bright-he’d crossed over into some other realm, the place of the ritual. If that was true, where were the other wychlaran and Ilvani?
He hurried across the water to the raft. When he stepped onto the edge, the craft rocked ever so slightly, and the figure whirled to face him.
Ashok didn’t recognize the woman at first. Beneath her cloak hood, she wore no mask. He’d grown used to identifying the witches by the markings on their masks, and it was only when he looked at the woman’s eyes that he felt the flash of familiarity.
“Sree,” he said, “where are we?”
The witch’s eyes widened when she looked at him. Now that her face lay bare before him, Ashok easily read the fear and confusion in her expression.
“This isn’t right,” she said.
Dread turned to panic inside Ashok. “Where are the others?” he demanded.
“Dead,” she said.
“What?” he cried.
Her expression hardened then, and Sree drew a curved knife from her belt. “You. You’re supposed to be dead,” she said, and came at him with the brandished knife.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
On the lakeshore, Cree fended off a swipe from one of the animated trees. As far as he could tell, the treants directed the whole forest to attack them, but the animated creatures looked very different from the pines they’d walked among earlier that day. They were taller than man height, their branches and needles twisted and bent to assume a vaguely human shape. Their knobby heads had no eyes or mouths, yet they descended upon the Rashemi in swarms, rough limbs tearing through the warriors’ armor and clawing at their eyes.
“Careful, Brother,” Cree said as he sliced off one of the stabbing limbs before it could land a blow to Skagi’s face. “We can’t afford to lose any more eyes between us.”
“Just keep them back,” Skagi snarled at him, “and check him again.”
“I tell you, he’s gone,” Cree said. He went down on one knee under two of the flailing creatures, but Skagi hacked them away with his falchion. “We need to fall back to a more defensible position, or they’re going to overwhelm us.”
“I’m not leaving him.” Skagi stomped on the animated tree when it fell and hacked at its limbs until it lay in pieces on the ground. “Damn the witches, but I’ll set the whole place on fire before I leave his body to them.”
Cree glanced at Ashok, who still lay prone on the lakeshore. The other Rashemi fought the animated trees, but the treants were breaking through their lines toward the water.
“The torches,” Cree said. “If we can free them from the ice-”