Chapter Thirty Six
Prestur rose to his feet and picked up their cups and bowls.
"I think you must sleep here tonight," he said. "This is the last altar before the Wall, and you must not try and reach it in the dark. Sleep for tonight, and in the morning your reem will carry you there."
"If Mr. Lefay hasn't got this far then I ought to go the other way," Susan said. "I can go back the way I came and try and meet him."
Prestur shook his head.
"If he does not reach us tonight then you should wait for him at the foot of the mountain," he said. "Until he reaches that point he will be being drawn ever onwards by the call which he cannot bear to ignore. Once there, at the final gateway, he will be weakened. He will be exhausted and within a heartbeat of his goal. Such men do foolish things. And this place was once the altar of Vanir himself, and it may be that a little of his strength still remains and perhaps you might draw upon it. I do not think you will have to wait for very long."
Susan hesitated, and then suddenly yawned.
"If you think that it might be best, then I will," she said, suddenly realising how tired she was, and feeling a rush of gratitude. "Thank you. It's kind of you."
"You are travelling on my master's Way," he reminded her, with a smile. "It is both my duty and my joy. In any case, your reem is asleep already. It would be unkind to disturb her, after she has come so far. You can sleep on my own mat, Fraya will accompany me. Together we will climb Vanir's altar and watch for your quarry, so that he does not creep up on us un-noticed."
"He might have crept past us already," Susan felt Evander murmur. Prestur smiled.
"Fraya would have heard him and given warning had he done so," he said. "You can sleep, son of Castor. I promise you may rest undisturbed until you are needed."
Susan stared at him.
"How did you know?" she asked.
Prestur laughed.
"He stands in front of your thoughts like a drawn sword," he said. "His eyes look out at me from yours, watchful as a wounded fenris, ready to seize a weapon at the least hint of a threat. I tell you, my lady, you have become easy and at peace at my hearth, but your companion has not. He would leap to your defence in a heartbeat. But there is no need. Rest and be at peace, Evander, Castor's son. None will harm you in this place."
"Thank you," Susan said, and she knew that the words were Evander's. "We are grateful to you."
The man bowed.
"It may be that this night was in the mind of the Great One even when he bid me watch and wait in this place," he said. "It is my honour. Sleep easily now. I will wake you if there is need."
He lifted down a fur cloak and hood which hung from a peg beside the archway and wrapped it about his shoulders. Behind them the great fenris rose to follow him, stretching her forelegs in front of her and yawning, before passing Susan with a disdainful sniff and bounding to his side. Prestur inclined his head to Susan, and they were gone, away into the darkness.
Susan was very still. Then she rose to her feet and unfastened her long knife from her waist.
"Keep it close," Evander warned. "If Lefay turns up in the night you don't want to be looking for it."
With another great yawn, Susan laid the knife beside the sleeping mat, which was covered with roughly-woven blankets. It was barely soft enough to offer a padding to the hard ground, but it was warm, and smelled, muskily, of the fenris. Her eyes had begun to close even before she had tugged the blankets over herself.
The first grey light was beginning to slip through the archway when she was awoken with a start, her face suddenly hot in a cloud of damp, unfamiliar-smelling breath. She opened her eyes and recoiled in fright.
The fenris was beside her, its sharp black nose almost touching her cheek, its yellowish-white teeth revealed in a soft growl. It took a step backwards as Susan struggled to sit up, shrinking against the wall in sudden fear.
It growled again, and looked over its shoulder at the open doorway, and then turned as if to leave, looking back at Susan expectantly.
Susan scrambled to her feet and tugged one of the blankets about her shoulders. Shivering a little, she followed the creature through the archway and outside into the pale morning, where the reem was standing a little way off, grazing unconcerned in a patch of yellow flowers at the roadside. Fraya, her job done, bounded across to the reem and nudged her in the ribs. The reem made a small sound which could have been either greeting or complaint, Susan could not tell which, and lifted her head, shaking her horn. The fenris retreated for a couple of steps before returning to nudge the reem again. She made a low, whickering noise, and sprang forward, prodding Fraya gently with her long horn and then cantering off a short distance, glancing back over her shoulder at the pursuing fenris.
Susan felt Evander's amusement.
"They're playing," he said. "The reem must be feeling very contented if she's able to play. They do it at home, you know, play with one another. Even the adults. It looks quite rough, but they don't hurt one another."
Prestur was standing in front of the tower, staring down the road.
"I think your quarry approaches, lady," he said, softly. "Perhaps you would like to accompany me to the top of the tower. I have seen him quite clearly."
Susan hesitated.
"I'd rather not," she said, honestly. "The - the steps are a bit difficult for me. I'm not as tall as your people."
Prestur seemed to understand.
"Then you must take my word," he said. "but I am certain. He is travelling on foot, and slowly, but still I think he will reach us here in an hour. He is almost at his journey's end. He will not dawdle. We will eat and drink, and then you must go to the gateway to await his coming."
"Do you really think so?" Susan asked, reluctantly. "Couldn't I just wait here?"
"The gateway is guarded by the mightiest of the veorldura," Prestur said. "It is the holiest and most terrible of places. If there is anywhere in this land where he might be able to hear your words then it is there. You will not be alone when you step into its shadow. The servants of the Great One will be at your side. Come and eat, we have eggs and cheese, and fresh milk. You will need to be ready for your meeting with him, and Fraya will watch for his approach."
Susan felt her stomach churn, and doubted that she would be able to eat anything, but she followed Prestur back underneath the archway anyway, and warmed herself slowly by the fire whilst he busied himself with eggs, and another large cup of the rich, thick milk.
She was unable to eat very much, as she had expected, but drank several cups of the milk, which seemed to steady her anxieties a little. Then she strapped the long knife to her waist.
"Do not harm him unless you must," Prestur warned. "This place has seen enough spilled blood. May the Great One look kindly upon your cause. I will await your return soon."
Susan nodded, feeling almost beyond speech, and set off in the direction of the great gate. The reem was nowhere to be seen, and Susan felt a little relieved at this, feeling that somehow she would prefer not to have witnesses, and that this was a time to be alone.
It took her only a very few minutes to reach the gates, for Prestur's tower was practically in their shadow. It was an uncomfortable walk. Her neck prickled as if many invisible eyes rested upon her, as if she were being scrutinised by a thousand spectators. She wanted to dip her head, to scurry along and hope to be unobserved, but then checked herself. She would not behave as if she were ashamed of what she had come to do. She made her shoulders straight and lifted her head, lengthening her strides and looking neither to right nor left.
She stood beneath the gates and gazed upwards. They were crafted of some kind of metal, not iron, she thought, raising her hand to touch them. They were silky smooth under her fingers, and icy cold despite the warmth of the day, and she withdrew her hand quickly. She turned to look back along the road, but could see no sign of any movement, and on an impulse, seated herself on the ground in front of the gates, settling herself cross-legged and holding her back straight.
She had hardly made herself comfortable when she was startled by a sound, and turned her head.
Somebody, someone very close to her, had whispered her name.
For a moment she looked wildly about her, but saw nothing. She was alone.
She bit her lip, hesitated, and the whisper came again, this time clearly, and in a voice so familiar that there was no mistaking it.
"Susan. Susan, it's me."
She gasped, and unable to help herself, jumped to her feet.
"It can't be. It can't be," she breathed, staring around. "Where are you?"
"Behind the gate," came the reply. "Help us, Susan. You have to help us. We're trapped."
She felt Evander's warning touch, and shook it off, her heart pounding.
"Please, Susan, please," the voice continued. "It's been awful. We've been stuck here since the accident. It isn't what you think. If we could just get out we could come home. We're all here, you know, Mother, and Father, and the professor, and the boys. You're our only hope."
Susan felt Evander's anguished pleading, and pushed it away. The voice, the voice, her sister's voice, silenced for so long and now suddenly, miraculously here, familiar and dear and sweet to her ears.
"Are you all right? Oh, of course I want to help," she promised, pressing both hands to the icy surface of the gate. "I can't tell you how much I've missed you, all of you. It's been so - so lonely without you all. I'm sorry I wasn't there. Of course I'll help. What do I need to do?"
"Stop it, Susan," Evander insisted, and Susan felt her hands tug themselves sharply away from the penetrating chill of the gate. "Stop it. Prestur warned you about this. It isn't them. It isn't anybody you love at all. It's the kvalara. They're trying to trap you."
"Don't listen to him," cried the voice, and Susan heard a desperate note in its tone. "What does he care about us, about our family? Don't you want to be all together again?"
Susan stepped backwards suddenly.
"You can't hear him," she said, evenly. "He isn't speaking aloud. He's in my thoughts. You aren't my sister. She couldn't be here. I don't believe you."
"You want to believe me," said the voice, and this time it was rasping, her sister's voice gone. Susan heard it snigger. "You want to believe your stupid sister didn't die after all, don't you? You'd like to spend all day just listening to her voice, because once it's gone you won't ever hear it again, and you've been longing to hear it, just another few words, haven't you? Well, it's going now, and you've lost it all over again, unless you follow it and come through the gate. You could listen to me all day, and your precious brothers if you liked." The voice changed, and her sister's voice spoke again. "Goodbye Susan. We never missed you at all."
There was a silence, broken by Susan's sudden cry of pain. She felt Evander's gentle warmth clasping her thoughts, and fell to her knees, tears spilling from her eyes.
There was another chuckle from behind the gate.
"You'll come to us soon enough," said another voice. "Nobody stays on the other side for ever. You'll be here soon, and then we'll make you sorry. You'll wish then that you'd helped when we asked you to. Don't imagine your Great Ones will care a hoot what happens to you then. Nobody will. It'll just be you and us when that day comes, and you'll wish you'd helped us when you had the chance. We'll make you wish. Listen to this. This is what happens to selfish disobedient people who won't follow their true masters. Listen."
The voice was cut off by a shriek of pain, rising higher and higher and then ending in a moan. A voice began begging, pleading with somebody to stop, to have mercy, followed by a ragged cry and then another scream.
"See," the voice said, complacently. "Time to start thinking. Our man is coming, our friend, our hero. He isn't deaf like you. He's been brave and fought his way here, and he's going to bring us all out. You'd better start wondering if you've chosen the right side, Susan Hamilton, because when we're free we'll find you, and we won't forget."
Another scream drowned the voice, and Susan backed away from the gate.
"It's horrible," she said aloud. "I can't bear to listen."
"It's all right," she felt Evander murmur. "They can't hurt you. Prestur said they'd try to do this. Concentrate on what you're going to say to Lefay. He has to be here soon."
Susan looked up at the huge gate.
"I can't imagine how he could get through it anyway," she said aloud. "It's all very well saying he might climb it, but he couldn't climb that, nobody could. I don't see how he could possibly get past it. It's just impossible."
"Nothing's impossible when the Master wills it," said a voice, and Susan spun around, her heart thudding.
There, at the far side of the road, standing a little way off in the shadow of the trees, was the familiar figure of Mr. Lefay.
He seemed to have grown taller since she had last seen him, although he was nowhere near Evander's great height. He still wore his battered tweed jacket, although his head was bare, and a water-skin and a knife were slung at his waist. He stepped forward into the daylight, limping slightly.
"Take your hand off that knife, now, miss," he said, slowly. "We don't want any upsets, do we? Put it down gently now, and we'll talk."
Susan clutched the handle of her knife, feeling slightly faint. She felt cold and dizzy, and swayed unsteadily. Mr. Lefay stretched out a hand towards her.
"Put it down, now," he said, coaxingly. "See here. I'll put mine down and you can drop yours. We're on our own in this strange land, you and me. We're the only ones of our kind in this whole country, and we don't want to be hurting one another, do we? Drop that blade, and it's time we had a talk together. I've been looking for you for a good while now."
As he spoke he reached down to his belt and tugged his knife free, dropping it to the ground with a clatter. He held his hands wide, indicating his harmlessness, and after a moment, Susan dropped the knife, and stepped forward.
"We need to talk, Mr. Lefay," she said, pleadingly. "I need to go home. I want my rings back."
He laughed.
"They aint your rings, missy," he said, chuckling. "They never were. They weren't your brother's neither. They belonged to my father's great aunt, and before her, to her grandfather. Your brother never even set eyes on them. Never had nothing to do with them. Somebody else altogether had a hold of them when train crashed, but they knew their business, them rings. They wasn't going to let themselves just get taken any old where. Them rings wanted to find me as much as I wanted to find them. They knew I'd see them right, and they've been trying to get to me in their own way all along. That's why they finished up with you. You was the last step. Them rings was always going to make their way back to here one day, and they knew I'd bring them right enough. That's what they wanted, and now here we are."
Susan stared at him, not sure what to say.
"I've come to ask you not to do it, Mr. Lefay," she said, trying to hold her voice steady. "I know what you're planning to do. You want to go over the wall to the mountain, and bring out the kvalara that are in prison there. You're going to bring them back home with you, except you can't. The veorldura are going to stir the river up. You won't be able leave that way. You'll be trapped here for ever if you even try it. Please, please, stop it. If you go over the wall you won't ever be able to leave here again. You'll be a prisoner here for - for all of time. Vanir won't let you out. You won't ever escape. I've come to warn you, to try and help you. Let's just stop it all, and we'll go home together. It isn't too late."
Mr. Lefay laughed again.
"You don't need to worry about me," he said, and his voice was almost kindly. "Don't you think the Master knows better than that? He isn't going to be put off by your friend Vanir. He was always greater than Vanir was, always wiser and stronger. You ask your Vanir, he'd tell you. I'm not frightened of Vanir. The Master's been planning this since before you and me was born. He knows what he's about."
"You won't be able to cross the river," Susan said, desperately. "We'll both be trapped here. Please, Mr. Lefay. You don't even need to give me the rings. You can keep them yourself. Let's just go home. Let's get this all over."
Mr. Lefay looked down at her, something almost close to pity in his eyes.
"Now why would I want to be doing that?" he asked, softly. "Why would I want to be going back there with you? Think I might like to spend the rest of my life sawing up your firewood, do you? No, I don't think so, little lady. When I go back there it'll be at the Master's side, and we'll see then who's sawing up firewood. We'll make things happen. He won't forget who helped him, who's been loyal all along."
Susan gulped. Desperately, she reached her hands out towards him, her fingers touching the rough wool of his jacket.
"Please," she said again. "You said it yourself. We're the only ones of our kind here. Let's not disagree. Let's go home. We've got families there. People who love us. This thing - the wall - the things on the other side of it - it isn't for people like us. Let them work it out together. Vanir, and the Great One, and the Others. Let's not interfere. They don't want us here anyway. It isn't our war."
Mr. Lefay looked down at the small hand on his sleeve, and then back at Susan. Their eyes met, and as she gazed into his, the oddest sensation passed over her. She would like to please him, she knew, this was kind Mr. Lefay, and she smiled.
Slowly, almost tenderly, he raised his hand, his fingers twisting in a peculiar, fluid movement, drawing her eyes towards them, pulling her gently inwards. She wanted to rest her head against his jacket, wanted to feel the rough familiar sensation of tweed against her face. She would close her eyes and give him what he liked, there could be nothing nicer.
A gentle sighing seemed to drift past her ears, trembling and musical, and yet it jolted her out of her reverie.
She shook herself and stepped back.
"I don't think so," was all that she said.
For a moment he grimaced, his face crumpling in an expression almost of fear. It was gone in a heartbeat, but Susan saw it, and felt her resolve stiffen.
He shrugged.
"We ain't got nobody, not either of us," he said. "There isn't a single soul'd break their hearts with crying if we never came back again, and you knows it. Well they'll see what's what when I do go back. They'll see who's master then, all of them."
He patted her shoulder, a gesture that seemed almost affectionate.
"You don't want to be thinking about going back," he said. "You aren't going nowhere. The Master wants you right here."
An unexpected gleam had entered his eyes, and his lips began to curve in a smile. Susan took a step back.
"You think you've been able to get all this way because you're so clever?" he asked. "You think you've managed to get here all by yourself? The Master said you was conceited, said just to let you get along with it, and you'd bring yourself here all right. Some kind of mercy mission, was it, poor old Mr. Lefay?" He laughed. "You've saved me a lot of effort, bringing yourself here. Got yourself to right where the Master wanted you, and he hasn't needed to lift a finger. Good job, too, you'd have been heavy to carry."
He looked down at her, his eyes bright.
"You're here because he's called you," he said. "You've come to right where he needs you, and all under your own steam. He's your master as well, didn't you know that? You didn't know how much you was pleasing him, coming all the way across that river, but you have. You're just what he needs, and he's called you, and you've come."
Susan took another step backwards.
"I don't know what you mean," she said, and for the first time her eyes drifted towards the knife where it lay on the ground a few paces away. She could reach it before he reached her, she was sure of that, certainly before he reached his.
He followed her glance, and laughed again.
"Don't bother yourself, missy," he said, kindly. "You aren't going to need that. You see, I've been ready to come here for a long time. Expecting it every day. Then when your husband called me in to fix his door, I knew the time had come, so I made sure I was prepared, see." He snorted. "Fix his door, as if I wasn't fit to walk through his gateway. He'll know what it's like to kneel and be sorry, that he will." He laughed again, and then with a sudden, unexpected movement, thrust a hand behind him, reaching into his belt at his back.
A second later, Susan found herself staring down the barrel of a gun.
Chapter Thirty Seven
Mr. Lefay walked towards the place where Susan's knife lay on the ground, and kicked it, so that it spun away along the dusty road surface and landed a little way off. Susan watched it go, feeling slightly sick.
He grinned at her, and waved the gun towards the tower.
"Now then, we're going to go and speak to your friend," he said. "We're going to shoot that big ugly wolf, and we're going to make sure he doesn't start interfering with us while we're busy. We've got things to do now, you and me, important things. The Master's business, and we don't want to be interrupted."
"Please, don't," Susan begged, suddenly afraid. "Please don't hurt them. They haven't done you any harm."
She would have reached out to him again, but was stopped by Evander's voice, icy and calm in her head. He had been so silent during the last few moments that she had almost forgotten he was there, and halted suddenly.
"Keep him here. Keep him here as long as you can," he said, and his thought was so clear and sharp it cut even through her fear. "The reem can see thoughts. I'm going to get inside her head, get her to make them run. Keep him here. Delay. As long as you can. She already knows there's something wrong, but she doesn't know what. I'll get her to get them out."
"The gun," Susan breathed. "The thing in his hand. It's for killing. It can hurt even from a long way off. They have to get as far away as they can."
"I know what it is," Evander returned. "Keep him here."
There was a sudden hush. Susan wanted to call out, to reach for him, but he was gone. She caught her breath.
"Please," she said again, holding her hands out towards him and taking another step backwards, "please, don't shoot anybody. There isn't any need. I'll do what you want. Anything. Anything you want me to, I won't argue. But promise you won't hurt them. None of this is their fault."
"You'll do what you're told anyway," Lefay sneered. "The boot's on the other foot, missy. I'm giving the orders now." He gestured towards the tower with a jerk of the gun. Now move."
Susan took a step backwards, her hands outstretched towards him.
"Please, tell me what it is you need me to do," she begged. "What the Master wants me for. I - I don't want to get it wrong or - or disappoint him. If it's the way you say, and he really is greater than Vanir. I didn't know. I don't know anything about it. Please - tell me what you need me to do."
Lefay hesitated for a second, and Susan thought she saw a flicker of anxiety cross his face. Then he scowled.
"You'll find out fast enough," he said. "You be a good girl and do what you're told and the quicker you'll find out what he's got in mind.
He won't shoot me, Susan realised. If he wants me to do something then he needs me to be alive. She stood her ground.
"I'm not going," she said, stubbornly. "Not until you tell me what your Master wants. Surely he'd want me to know. To do it willingly."
"You'll do it willingly or not," Lefay said. Susan took another step away from him, wondering if she dared turn and run: but there was nowhere to go. She could only run towards the tower, where Prestur and Fraya and the reem might still be innocently waiting, and although she might take the chance that Lefay would not shoot her, she knew that he would not hesitate to shoot the three of them. She stood very still.
"What is it you want from me, Mr. Lefay?" she asked, keeping her voice steady. "Why did your Master want me to come here?"
Mr. Lefay grinned. Keeping the gun levelled towards her, he bent down and picked up his knife, ramming it through a loop on his belt. Then he reached his other hand out towards her.
"Think you're very clever, don't you?" he said, smirking. "Think your Vanir might rescue you even now, don't you? Well, he won't. And don't think I won't shoot, because I will, if I must. The Master's plans don't all depend on you. He'll manage even if I have to put a bullet in you before we get any further. So put your hands on the top of your head, nice and easy, where I can see them, and turn around. Then start walking. We're going to go back around that tower and you're going to do what you're told. Keep your head down. Just look at the ground in front of you. Nice and slow. That's it."
Her hands shaking, Susan complied. She took a few steps towards the tower, and felt the barrel of the gun pressing into the back of her neck.
"I'm here," Evander whispered. "They've all gone. He can't touch them."
"What can I do?" Susan pleaded silently. "What do you think he wants?"
"No idea," Evander returned, grimly. "Just do exactly what he says. Don't give him any excuse to get angry. We'll work it out."
"If - if he kills me, does he kill us both?" Susan breathed. "You have to leave before he does. Somebody has to tell Vanir."
"The veorldura will do that," Evander said. "I'm not leaving you. But he won't kill us. I promise. We'll think of something. Have courage. This place is full of veorldura. They're watching. Can't you feel them?"
Susan lifted her head for a moment, which resulted into the gun being jabbed angrily against her neck again, forcing her head downwards, but in that second she knew Evander was right.
The whole place feels thick with them, she thought, and it was. Her vision had filled with dancing lights, and there was a freshness in the air that made it seem that even as she breathed, she inhaled a golden, liquid courage. Her body felt lighter, and a quiet peace began to seep into her veins. If this was to be the end, well, so be it. None of it mattered so much really. This was nothing but a path so many had already trodden before her, her brothers and sister among them. If they had walked it, then so could she. Perhaps it was a good time to let go, to surrender into the will of the Great One. Everything, she knew suddenly, would be well.
She felt her steps become firmer, and her back straightened. Her breathing became more regular, and suddenly she felt an awareness of others around her, lifting and encouraging her, pacing steadily at her side. She felt Evander's laugh.
"This is it," he said, and there was almost an exultation in his tone. "We're in the hands of the Great One. It doesn't matter now."
Susan caught his joy, and almost laughed.
"We'll go together," she thought.
Her steps came to an abrupt halt beside the archway to the tower as Lefay caught hold of her arm. She glanced behind her. He was staring around the deserted tower room suspiciously.
"Where've they gone?" he asked, roughly. "The old man and the wolf? I saw them not fifteen minutes ago, where've they got to."
"I don't know," said Susan, truthfully. "Perhaps they were afraid and ran away."
Lefay scowled, and seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then he glanced around the room.
"Bit of rope, that's what we need," he said, almost to himself. His eye fell on Susan's bag, lying on the floor at the side of the now ash-filled fireplace. "You got any rope in there?"
Susan did not reply, feeling no need to be any more obliging than necessary, but he nudged the bag with the toe of his boot, and it came open, revealing the coiled rope.
"Kneel down," he said, roughly. "Put your hands on the floor in front of you, where I can see 'em. Don't move."
Susan obeyed, wincing at the harsh ground as she knelt. A moment later she felt her head jerked backwards, and a loop of rope was slipped around her neck and pulled tight.
"There," said her captor, with satisfaction. "You'll need your hands to get where we're going, and I don't want you thinking you'll try anything. Feel it, it's like a rabbit snare. The more you pull, the tighter it'll get, so don't you get any ideas, see."
Susan took a choking breath, and instinctively reached for the rope to loosen it, but Lefay shook his head.
"You don't touch it. You just be a good girl and I'll take it off you when we gets there. Now, on we goes. We're going up to the top."
Susan felt herself begin to shake uncontrollably. She tried to stand, but her knees betrayed her, and she couldn't propel herself to her feet. She crouched on the floor, quivering.
Lefay caught hold of her arm and dragged her to her feet.
"You do what you're told, see," he hissed. "There's plenty of places on a person that can take a bullet or two without finishing them off, so unless you want to find out about a few of them, you get moving."
Unsteadily, her hands clasped tightly in front of her to keep them from quivering, Susan stepped outside.
The stone steps that circled the tower were a little way from the archway, protruding sharply from its sides like broken teeth. She stood, uncertainly at the foot of them, and looked imploringly at Mr. Lefay.
"Please, do we have to?" she said.
Mr. Lefay made no reply, but gave a savage jerk on the rope which almost choked her. She gasped for breath and struggled, turning her head from side to side and reaching for the rope. Her heart was pounding, and her breath coming in tiny, frayed gasps. Tears welled in her eyes, and then a sudden sound made her look up.
It was a shriek, almost a scream, like nothing she had ever heard before, accompanied by the unmistakeable pounding of hooves.
From the houses which stood at the far side of the road, the reem burst forth, her head lowered, her horn pointed at them, charging with all her might towards them.
"No!" Susan screamed, but the noose swallowed her voice, and all that came out was a hoarse cry
Mr. Lefay turned and pointed the gun.
There was a loud bang, and then an awful thud as the reem collapsed in the dust, her legs and feet kicking and pedalling frantically.
Susan howled and would have run towards her, but another tug on the rope had her gasping and clawing at her neck again.
Mr. Lefay did not speak, but jerked his head towards the tower. For a moment Susan stood, petrified, staring at the great creature struggling and kicking on the ground, feeling the confused waves of pain rippling outwards from her, before turning, cold with horror, to the steps.
They seemed impossible, trembling and quaking as she was. Her hands and feet hardly seemed to obey her, and it seemed to take an age to lift herself from one terrifying step to the next. One of the highest ones had snapped in two, leaving a protruding stone no more than a couple of feet wide, and she clung to it in terror, until the barrel of the gun jabbed sharply into her ankle forced her to move.
"That's the way," she heard Mr. Lefay saying, from the step below. "Hurts quite a lot, a bullet in the foot, so I'm told, and I don't want to have to listen to you crying. Be a good girl and keep going."
Sobbing now, Susan lifted her leg and crawled on to the step, reaching for the next with shaking hands, clinging to it with all her might, heaving her weight between them with the last remnants of her strength.
It seemed an age before they reached the top, but in the end they were there. A hot breeze played about them, lifting Susan's hair and blowing it into her eyes. She kneeled on the stone surface, panting with relief, hardly daring to raise her hands or to look up. Whatever awaited them here, it could not be as dreadful as that terrible, perilous climb.
She felt Mr. Lefay clamber past her and stand up.
He was looking out towards the enormous gates, shading his eyes from the sunshine and smiling appreciatively. Susan glanced up at him, and then at the gates, and suddenly saw what he was staring at.
Behind the gates, the whole mountain was beginning to smoke.
Ugly coils of greasy black smoke were beginning to seep from every crack and crevice, as if someone had lit a great fire beneath it and it was escaping through every tiny gap it could find.
A wave of oily heat swept over them. Susan recoiled, hiding her face from it, and felt perspiration start from her forehead. She glanced up at Mr. Lefay, pleadingly.
"See that," he said, sounding satisfied. "That's the kvalara expecting us. They knows their time's come, see. Stand up and let them get a look at you."
He caught her arm and dragged her to her feet. Coughing, Susan stared out in front of her at the black smoke, leaching from the filthy mountainside, staining the fresh morning sky, filling the air with the foulest stink she could ever have imagined, sickly sweet and rancid, turning her stomach.
Even as she watched she began to realise that the smoke was not merely spiralling upward and drifting. Before her eyes it was beginning to form itself into shapes, twisting and circling around itself into tighter and tighter shapes.
The movement was dizzying, nauseating, and yet she could not tear her eyes away, watching sickened, as row after row of hunched, shapeless figures slowly emerged. They covered the whole of the mountainside, stretching upwards for as far as she could see. They crouched and squatted, seeming to be both stationery and yet sliding greasily in and out of one another, hanging and swirling high above the steep crags, and, she knew, staring out at them.
Beside her, Mr. Lefay bowed deeply, bending his head in an admiring obeisance. He jabbed Susan painfully with the barrel of the gun.
"Show some respect, girl," he said, and reluctantly, Susan dipped her head.
Indeed, she found that she half wanted to, because for all their oily, slithering horror, she knew that these were creatures whose whole existence was on a different plane to her own, whose very thoughts and feelings she could never hope to understand. As she stared, she found herself swallowed by a sense of her own smallness, her ugliness and insignificance. Here, truly, were beings greater than herself.
A sound went up from the smoke-shapes then, a jeering, mocking sound, and she knew that they were laughing, that they saw into the very centre of her being, saw her shame, her pain and confusion, and were enjoying it, as gourmets might appreciate a finely-presented dinner.
"Kneel," rasped a dry voice, seeming to be only inches away from her ear. "Kneel and know your masters."
Susan bit her lip. Then with an effort of will, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her head to face them. They might be great, but it was not a greatness that she could admire or applaud.
At her side, Mr. Lefay turned and struck her shoulder, hard, with the butt of the gun. Then he kicked her, and her knees gave way. He bowed his head as she sank to her hands and knees, and crouched there, shivering, as the laughter from the other side of the wall rose and echoed around the valley.
Inside her head she felt Evander stirring.
Then suddenly he was gone. Her thoughts had become a void, a lonely stillness where once his vibrant warmth had been.
Panicking, Susan glanced around her, as if he might somehow have materialised at her side. She felt herself gasp, began frantically to hunt for his reassuring touch, searching desperately through her thought for any sign, any breath of him, but there was silence.
Of course, he must have gone. She knew that with a sudden, chilled certainty. There was no point in the two of them staying here to be killed, for she was quite sure now that there could be no other outcome to this horror. For a moment she wanted to weep, and then she gathered her courage. Better, surely better, to face it alone, not to bring this disaster on anybody else.
Her knees trembling, bile rising in her throat, she struggled to her feet again.
"I will not kneel to you," she whispered, but she knew that they heard.
At her side, Mr. Lefay lifted his gun to strike her again, but the largest of the smoking shapes swelled a little, lifting what might have been a hand, or perhaps a foreleg, to stop him.
"Enough," it hissed, and once again the sound seemed to come from right beside Susan, as if it were close and whispering in her ear. "There is no need. We hunger. The spilling of her blood will unleash our strength again. The rings. Do you have the rings?"
Mr. Lefay nodded and reached inside his jacket. He brought out a familiar little grey bundle.
"They're here. We can leave this stinking place behind us soon as you like."
The voice gave a small sigh of pleasure.
"Then kill her, and do not hurry," it said softly. "Her fear will make the taste all the sweeter."
Lefay turned to Susan, tightening his grip on the rope and jerking it hard. Susan's hands clutched at her neck and her mouth opened in a desperate attempt to breathe. For a few desperate seconds she writhed and fought, and then Lefay's hard hand closed around her wrist.
The grip on her neck slackened, and she caught a painful, sobbing breath.
"Let's not make this harder than it has to be," Lefay whispered. "Never mind what he says. You make it easy for me and I'll make it easy for you, see. Don't fight and I'll be quick and clean. Make it hard work and I'll make you sorry, do you understand?"
Susan was gasping too hard to be able to reply, but she nodded, still clawing at the rope around her throat.
"That's a good girl," he said, with some satisfaction. "You do what I tell you and you'll never know a thing about it. You make my job difficult and you'll be still here and screaming when them birds come to finish you off. They'll have your eyes first, like crows with a rabbit. You do what I say and you'll be past all of that by then, you understand?"
Susan nodded again.
"Say it," he hissed. "Say you'll do what I say." A smile suddenly spread across his face. "Say, Yes, Mr. Lefay, sir. Say it."
"Yes, Mr. Lefay, sir," Susan whispered, and he grinned, revealing his lopsided teeth.
"That's the way. We've finished right after all, haven't we?" He released the rope and levelled the gun at her.
"Take that off your neck and lay down on there," he instructed, indicating the raised stone with a nod of his head. "No sudden moves. Quiet and gentle, like. On you go."
He picked up the rope and watched as Susan crawled on to the stone and lay down, her eyes fixed on his, her breath coming in tiny, sobbing gasps. A triumphant hiss arose from the watchers on the mountain. Susan glanced across, and then turned her head away. She would not see them, would not make their spite her last sight before her eyes closed. Immediately a chorus of voices arose from the mountainside. Among the rasping jeers and hissing were familiar voices, calling her name and laughing. Her sister's voice. Her mother's voice. Susan closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.
From beside her she heard Mr. Lefay give a sigh of satisfaction.
"They're here," he said, taking hold of Susan's wrist and looping the rope around it. For a moment, Susan's eyes flickered open. He was looking upwards.
Far above them, two great, winged shapes were circling, their distant cries audible even above the catcalls and laughter coming from the swirling shapes on the mountain.
"They don't forget," he said, in a pleased tone. "They know what's coming. They've heard the Master calling them."
Susan looked pleadingly at him. He pulled the rope tight and began to fasten her wrist to the rusty chain links set into the stone.
"The Master's called them," he said conversationally, as he made the rope fast. "They're coming for me. And for you. You're about to be their breakfast, you and that horse of yours."
He laughed, and moved around the stone to coil the other end of the rope around her other wrist. Susan winced as it bit into her flesh.
"Want to know what's going to happen now?" he asked, pulling the rope tight and dragging her arm outwards. "I expect you know what they're all waiting for. The kvalara, that's them down there, see, wants me to cut your throat, that's the thing, and in a minute I will. Then they breathes in your blood and it makes them good and strong again, so strong they can do anything they likes. Well, what they likes is to call down them big birds and have them carry me across that big wall, so I won't need to worry about climbing it. Reckon they'll bring us back across the river as well if he asks them nicely, take us right to the edge of them nasty woods and right back to the Master. Didn't think of that did he, your Vanir?"
Susan closed her eyes. She tried to reach for Evander in her thoughts, but of course he was gone now. She was alone. She set her teeth and tried to pray, but the words would not come.
Beside her she heard the unmistakeable sound of a knife being scraped rhythmically across stone. Back and forth it went, twice, three times. She felt panic rising in her throat, and tried not to whimper.
"That's it," she heard Mr. Lefay saying, almost to himself. "That's a good blade. Now when they gives the word, I'm going to set it against the side of your throat, like that -" she felt the point of the knife touch her neck below her ear "- and drive it in and cut forwards, so it'll take out your windpipe. It'll be quick and easy, you'll bleed out for a couple of minutes and it'll all be over, there's nothing to be afraid of now."
He stepped back. Susan opened her eyes. He was holding the knife in both hands, clutched tight against his chest.
"This here's for you, Master," he said, bowing again. "You'll not forget your faithful servant."
The hiss seemed to echo through the silence.
"Proceed."
Mr. Lefay stepped forward.
From far above them came a shriek, ear-splitting, furious. For a moment Mr. Lefay's attention was diverted. He stared upwards into the sky.
An enormous winged shape was hurtling down towards them.
Everything seemed to happen very quickly. For a moment Mr. Lefay glanced outwards, stared across at the curling black shapes still squatting on the mountainside. They seemed to be thrown into confusion, the smoke suddenly billowing apart into shapeless clouds, as if fanned by the draught from those mighty wings. Screeches echoed around the valley, and then their sounds were suddenly drowned by Mr. Lefay's own terrified squeal.
"Not yet!" she heard him shriek. "Not yet!"
For a moment he covered his head with his hands, and then seemed to think again, and lashed out with the knife as the great bird hovered above them, its wings beating furiously. His blows slid harmlessly off the great scaly feet, and for a moment Susan had a terrifying glimpse of razor-sharp black talons, striking at Lefay again and again. The knife slipped from his hand and fell to the stones, clattering away out of his reach. He screamed and kicked as the bird caught him in its claws, a cloud of blood blossoming from his stomach where its talon pierced him.
For a moment it hung there in the air above them, Lefay frantically kicking and struggling in its grip, beating uselessly at its legs with his fists, and then with what seemed to be a tremendous effort, the bird rose into the sky. It hovered there for a few moments, and then flapped slowly away from the tower, lifting him slowly into the air.
It rose a little higher, and then in a single, graceful movement, released its claws.
Its burden slipped from its grasp and it soared away.
There was a shriek, and a thud, and then silence.
Chapter Thirty Eight
Susan lay very still. Then, to her astonishment, something moved in her thoughts, a soothing, liquid warmth.
"Evander?" she whispered, hardly daring to hope.
"Yes, it's me," he replied, "It's over. You won't have to wait long. Prestur will be up in a few minutes, he'll get you down. It's all right."
Susan's eyes flickered open. Above her, the sky seemed to whirl, blue skies turning and spinning as if she had just climbed off a merry-go-round.
"It's all right," Evander repeated. "I'm sorry it took so long. Hush now, it's all right. Prestur's coming."
He was right. A few moments later a shadow fell across Susan's face, and Prestur was standing above them. He did not trouble himself with Lefay's knots, but picked up the knife and sliced easily through the rope. Then he picked Susan up and hugged her tightly.
Susan leaned into his chest and sobbed. He smelled of the fenris, and of woodsmoke, and had a vague, lemony scent about him. Wordlessly he stroked her hair.
"I'm all right," Susan said eventually, struggling free. "I - I don't know what happened."
"Your friend happened," said Prestur, with a small smile. "He seems to have the rare ability to move himself into a mind at will. I am sure he will tell you the details himself, but it appears that even the thoughts of a great rukh are not beyond his reach. I have known few whose abilities are so startling. Well done, son of Castor. I would have believed the rukh to be far beyond the reach of even the greatest mind-travellers."
Susan felt Evander's small glow of pride, and wanted to laugh even through her tears.
"He's feeling very pleased about that," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, and beginning to fumble with the knotted rope at her wrist. Prestur reached for her wrist and undid the knots himself with long, deft fingers.
"Are you brave enough to be carried down the steps?" he asked gently. "I do not think your business is finished yet. You do not yet have the rings, I think."
Susan bit her lip.
"I - I don't know," she said, suddenly feeling the wind whipping at her hair. "I - think so."
Prestur smiled.
"It would be an honour," he said. "I have carried many victims up these stairs.You would be the first whom I have carried down, warm and alive. The dark times are truly over. I would be proud and glad to do it."
He rose to his feet and lifted Susan as easily as if she had been a child, cradling her in his arms. He was surprisingly strong, and she leaned against his shoulder.
"It's all right," she felt Evander murmur, and she felt his soothing warmth clasping her. She closed her eyes and tried to relax into Prestur's gentle, swaying movements, but even so she felt dizzied and sick by the time they reached the last stair and he set her gently on her feet.
A little way away, on the other side of the road, lay the bloodied body of the reem, dusty and still. The fenris lay beside her, industriously licking a blackened hole in her shoulder.
Susan gave a little gasp, and hurried across to her.
The huge blue eyes flickered open, and rolled for a moment as the reem tried to stand. The struggle lasted for barely a few seconds before she gave up and collapsed again, her breath coming in short, rasping gasps.
"Oh don't, don't," cried Susan, in distress. "Just rest. Don't try to move." She turned to Prestur. "What can we do for her? Will she be all right?"
Prestur looked grave.
"I think not, lady," he said. "I cannot tell, but I think perhaps her lung has been penetrated. I do not think she can recover. I think she will leave us very soon."
Susan flung herself down beside the great creature, and buried her face in her mane. Faintly, she felt the creature's thoughts stirring against hers, rolling fields, and the smell of fresh grass, and the joy of plunging into the cool river waters. She clutched her tightly.
"I'm so sorry," she said.
The reem stirred, and Susan saw the image, getting slowly brighter in her mind. Lord Castor, tall and laughing, the air around his beaming face sparkling as if he himself had become a veorldur. She closed her eyes.
"Oh please, don't," she begged. "He loves you. He'll always love you."
She felt Evander shift in her thoughts.
"She's in a great deal of pain," he said. I don't know how we can stop it. If we were at home my father might have been able to help, he was good at doctoring them, but I don't know how."
"Can't you remember anything Alwen taught you?" Susan asked, suddenly feeling fierce. "There must be something. He told you - oh - here."
She fumbled with her waistband for a moment and produced the little bottle Alwen had given to her. She uncorked it, and held it carefully under the mare's twitching nose. The creature sniffed for a moment, and then breathed deeply. Susan held the bottle still until she felt the animal relax. The dulled blue eyes closed, and the heavy, stertorous breathing became slower.
"I think she is sleeping," Prestur said eventually. "Fraya will stay at her side," for indeed the great wolf-like creature had curled herself tightly against the reem's flanks, pressing her body warmly against hers. "Come. You need to retrieve your rings."
Reluctantly, Susan rose to her feet, and glancing backwards several times, followed Prestur to where Mr. Lefay lay, a little way from the tower.
There was surprisingly little blood. A red stain blossomed on his shirt where the rukh's talon had pierced him, and a trickle of very dark blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth, but apart from that he seemed almost unwounded.
His eyes were closed. Susan knelt down beside him and then hesitated for a moment, unwilling to touch him. Prestur knelt beside her, and reached across to stroke the creased forehead.
"He has been gravely mistaken, as was I," he said, "and perhaps he could have been a better man with wiser guidance."
At Prestur's touch, the hooded eyelids flickered. Susan drew back sharply.
Prestur continued to smooth the lined forehead.
"You are safe at his side now," he said to her. "The kvalara who have tormented him for all of his life will have left him in peace now that he is of no further use to them. He can do no harm now."
Flinching slightly, Susan reached inside the blood-stained jacket.
Her fingers closed upon the small bundle.
She felt a tingling vibration in her fingers, as if the rings knew they were being touched, and were excited by it. Faintly, she heard the far-off high-pitched humming sound, a tiny, faint music.
As she withdrew the bundle she felt a movement, and slowly, as if with a great effort, Mr. Lefay turned his head towards her.
His eyes did not open. Instead, he let out a great sigh.
"Take them," he said, and his voice was hardly more than a rumble in his chest, so quiet Susan had to lean forward to hear him. "Take them, and go home. Keep them - keep them safe."
He sighed again. His eyelids flickered for a last time, and then he was still.
Prestur and Susan stayed where they were for a long time. Eventually Prestur rose to his feet.
"The rukh will soon come for his body," he said. "We should not be at his side then."
Susan felt the blood drain from her face.
"But that's horrible," she said. "Shouldn't we - shouldn't we do something with him?"
"He has no more need of his body now," Prestur said. "It is empty of his life. And the rukh just saved your life, lady. Would you grudge them a meal? They must live as we must. Come. We must build a roof over your reem, or the rukh will have two dinners tonight."
Shuddering, Susan followed him, and between them they constructed a rudimentary shelter of branches over the still sleeping reem and the fenris, who would not rise from her side. When they were done Prestur sighed.
"I do not think she will awake again, he said. "But she is shaded here, and the sun will not torment her. We will make her comfortable."
He brought a bucket of water and showed Susan how to soak a cloth in it and squeeze it into the reem's mouth so that she would not be thirsty. Then Susan crawled under the shelter beside the fenris, and sat beside her, occasionally holding the little bottle to her nose when she thought the pain might be threatening to overwhelm her, listening to the cries of the rukh as they fought over Lefay's body.
When it was over, and the sun was setting behind the mountain, Prestur appeared in the dusk and knelt beside them.
"How is she faring?" he asked, and sighed as Susan shook her head numbly. "Death comes hard sometimes. Would you like me to remain with her for a while so you can have a few minutes to walk?"
Susan shook her head.
"Thank you, but I don't want to leave her. She's - she's -"
She stopped. It seemed there were no words to describe what the reem had meant to her. Sitting at her side as the day wore slowly on she had occasionally seen the reem's thoughts as they had passed through her head. Mostly there had been darkness, and silence, but sometimes there had been pictures, vivid and golden and joyful. Lord Castor, his hands filled with apples, the sunlight turning his grey hair to silver. There were other reem, too, Susan thought she could identify five or six different ones, rolling on grassy slopes, playing and plunging into the river, dozing beneath the trees on hot afternoons.
The darkness between the pictures was lasting for longer now, and the pictures were less clearly defined. Susan stretched her cramped limbs carefully, so as not to disturb the creature.
Prestur seemed to understand. He had brought a cup with him, brimming with the thick, creamy milk, and Susan accepted it gratefully.
"Call me if I can help," he said, kindly, and disappeared.
It was an hour or two later, and Susan had started to doze, when she was woken up by an image so vivid that it startled her into wakefulness.
It was as if she was inside the reem's head. She was running, her body moving smoothly and easily, her energy boundless, as if the movement was effortless. The world around them was bright, not sunlit, Susan thought, because she couldn't see a source for the light. It was an even light, a steadfast light, as if her body was bathed in a warm, gentle glow.
Somebody was calling her. Somebody as fresh and gentle as Lord Castor, someone trusted and merry and wise and welcoming, and she was rushing towards him, excited to find him. It was a soft voice, a joyful voice, someone who longed to see her as much as she longed to see him. She felt herself whicker with the happiness of it, and then the world went dark.
She was cramped and uncomfortable, sitting beside the body of the reem in the darkness.
As if she had awoken at the same moment, the fenris rose to her feet and stretched. She padded past Susan and out into the moonlight. She did not look back.
Susan laid her hands on the reem's broad, still shoulder, and hesitated for a moment before following the fenris, who had rounded the corner into the tower.
Prestur was sitting beside the fire, writing something on a yellowing piece of parchment. He looked up as they entered.
"I thought I would record the day's events," he explained, "so that nothing is forgotten. Those who follow us may wish to know. She has gone, then."
It was not a question, and Susan nodded, numbly. Prestur set the parchment aside and stood up. He filled two cups from the jug and handed one to Susan. It was wine, warm and spicy.
"You will not wish to be here when the rukh come for her body," he suggested gently, indicating a cushion by the fireside. "I think perhaps we should leave early in the morning."
Susan looked blankly at him.
"You have your rings," he said, "and if I understood your story correctly, you do not have very many days left to you to reach the river before Vanir stirs it into an impossible cataclysm. We will have to set off with the dawn."
"We?" was all Susan could manage to say.
"I will come with you, at least for part of the way. You have no reem now to carry you, nor to protect you from the fenris. You have a long journey."
Susan stared at him. Somehow, in the noise and horror of the day, she had forgotten that soon she would have to leave, forgotten that without the reem she would be on foot.
Hot tears, brought by the recollection of their journey, of the reem's gentle encouragement, of her haughty impatience with Susan's ineptitude, began to spill from her eyes. She did nothing to check them, and Prestur did not speak, but waited, kindly.
It took some time.
In the end Susan dragged her sleeve across her face, dug in her waistband for a handkerchief.
"It was my fault," she whispered. "I shouldn't have let her come. Lord Castor said it was dangerous."
"Such a death can never be laid at the door of another," Prestur observed, looking thoughtfully at his cup. "All our days are laid out before us, and yours was the last life with which hers was bound before it reached its end. It is a privilege to run so close with another at the end of their time."
"But it happens so often," Susan burst out. "So many. My - my sister. My -"
She could not continue.
"We all die," Prestur said, sounding untroubled. "I do not think your reem was reluctant to go."
Susan was silent.
"And now," he said, glancing across at her. "We must talk of your journey. I have been thinking whilst you waited with your reem. Am I right in believing that you have a boat waiting?"
"That's right," said Susan. She felt too numbed to talk. A hush seemed to have invaded her body, leaving her speechless and still. To her surprise, Evander replied.
"We're just to the west of the river mouth, sir," he said. "There's a sort of natural harbour, and we've moored there."
"I know the place," Prestur said. "I think, if you would like, we can travel down this road together as far as the river. I have a boat moored beside the bridge. It is simple and not very large, but if you would like to take it, you will travel faster that way than by crossing overland."
"That's very kind," Evander said. "You've been very generous, sir. We're grateful. If it hadn't been for you - well - neither of us would be here now. And Vanir said we had seven nights before he stirred the river. We don't have many of them left. Only two, I think. We need to hurry."
"Then we should leave as soon as we are able," Prestur said. He reached into his waistband and withdrew something. "I have used the day packing things which we may need. I have filled water skins and tinder boxes. And this should return to your own realm with you."
It was the gun.
Susan flinched away.
"Take it," Evander urged. "He's right. It shouldn't stay here. Things like that shouldn't be in this realm. It needs to go back where it came from."
Susan took the gun and hastily laid it on the floor beside her, out of her sight. Prestur pulled a rueful face.
"It is an ingenious, if terrible, invention," he observed. "Can you carry it safely without its doing you harm?"
Susan had no idea. She had never handled a gun, and although she knew that it must be fired by pulling the trigger, she knew nothing about the mechanism for loading or unloading, or for rendering it harmless. She grimaced.
"I'll just be careful," she said.
"Guard it well," Prestur said.
They settled for sleep shortly afterwards, Susan on Prestur's mat, at his insistence. She had thought that the events of the day might haunt her unto wakefulness, but found herself drifting off to sleep almost the minute she pulled the blankets over her, and it seemed to be scarcely a few minutes later when Prestur shook her awake.
"We should go," he said. "It is a long walk."
Susan rose instantly, aware of Evander's sleepy presence in her thoughts.
"I have filled our bags, and prepared food for us. We will eat as we go," he said. "It should be soon. I have taken down the shelter over your reem, and the rukh will not be long before they find her. They hunt with the morning light. Come."
Fraya was waiting outside, and sniffed at Susan's hand as she shouldered the pack on to her back. Prestur had replaced her bow and arrows, and her own long knife, and there was a water skin, tightly filled. Susan stroked the beast, a little timidly. Then she crossed to the side of the road where the body of the reem still lay, and squatted down beside her.
She ran her hands over the long, brown neck, touching the whiskery nose. There was no warm breath, no pleased whicker. The creature was as cold and still as an abandoned glove on a frosty morning.
Susan rose to her feet and turned her back.
In the far distance she heard the haunting call of the rukh.