He’d meant how they’d inserted themselves like a virus into the bloodstream of a new, vibrant ecosystem. They came in their ships, with their superior technologies, and immediately began to stake their claims. Indeed, there was now no corner of the System where humans weren’t present. Except Terevell. After Zerian resisted.
The Imbalance. That’s what the elves called it, the cardinal sin on a planet like Terevell, and why the Sohns had been Rangers for so many generations. They were taught about the past. They learned from it. And Gemini’s eyes dropped to the compass in her hands again, a memento from another time and a reminder, too. Of how important it was to keep true. To never veer. Or all could be lost.
TWENTY-FOUR
1
A bang in the depths of the cells brought Skreet’s head up sharply.
As far as the goblin could work out, he was entirely alone in the prison wing, even though he could make out other chambers when he squished his nose against the bars of his own cell. The slightest whispering of feet approached which Skreet’s sharp goblin ears picked up immediately. He dropped his hands from about his knees and scrambled to his feet. This was it, then: his torturers were here. He’d never been very good with pain. He expected he would scream and beg like a pixie.
A shadow fell into the cell. A guard appeared, tall and slim and hard faced, carrying a laser spear, and dressed in light, composite armour. Skreet blinked, awaiting some instruction. Instead, the guard stepped aside and around him a sickly, dirty-robed, spidery-looking elf with milky white eyes slipped into view.
An Elder Wizard then, Skreet thought. He had heard many stories about the sorcerers of Terevell. They had powers rarely seen. Only the dark alchemical arts of the necro wraiths on Xoros, and the mysterious illusions conjured by the ancient demon races from Vargah, might compare to their weird abilities. Swallowing, Skreet tried to keep his fear in check.
“Have you eaten?” the elf wizard asked. His tone suggested he cared little one way or the other.
“Some,” Skreet replied.
Those unnaturally pallid eyes flicked to where Skreet had left the bowl untouched. “You would have done better having something in your stomach.”
“Why?” Skreet asked tremulously. “What are ye going to do to me?”
“Question you,” those pale eyes turning back on the goblin. Then the elf wizard motioned casually at the bars and the branches began to crawl aside, squirming back into the earthen ceiling until the cell was open. He gestured to the guard. “Alright. Bring him along. To the Depths. I have much to ask this goblin. And he has much to tell me.” The Elder Wizard turned and marched away, his robes whispering behind him.
2
The guard pushed Skreet down a long, spiralling stair shivering with shadows and into new depths. Leading the way was the elf wizard, holding an amber glowing lantern in his white hand, muttering to himself. Skreet winkled his nose. The air was heavy here with the smell of rich, musty earth, and the walls were slick with damp. And while such sights and smells were familiar to any goblin who had spent much of his childhood in dank, murky caves, this place was unnervingly alien. For here, once again, he was reminded of the living presence of the World Tree in this lightless place. As when the wizard lifted his lamp, and the amber light from the sweet-smelling sap reached out into the darkness, Skreet saw there was constant movement: twisted roots that shrank from the light like worms, buried in the walls.
I’m in the belly of a great beast, Skreet thought fearfully. And it’s swallowin’ me whole.
Now the cell seemed preferable in comparison to this squirming, living darkness.
Presently, the stairs came to an end, and Skreet was shoved into a long, uneven tunnel. The elf wizard turned briefly to see if the guard was keeping up, those milky eyes shining in the yellow light. Then, when this was confirmed, he headed off again at an eager pace. Skreet kept as close as possible to the guard, for the walls and ceiling of the tunnel were in perpetual motion now: thick, black tendrils writhing and crawling above and around them. He wondered what was keeping them at bay, supposing that at any moment they could simply grab them and stifle the life out of them, like a nest of serpents strangling their prey.
Then the wizard stopped.
He turned to one of the walls and held out his hand. Closing his eyes briefly, he uttered a soft word in a language that Skreet did not recognise. This seemed to resonate with the living wall and the wriggling fibres parted to reveal a dark opening and a space beyond.
“Through here.” The elf wizard motioned to the guard.
“Yes, Elder Crosas,” the guard replied, and he pushed Skreet forward again into a small, earthen room. Branches in the ceiling were also languidly moving. And as the wizard followed, he murmured another word so that, to Skreet’s horror and amazement, roots crawled up from the floor to form a twisted chair.
“Sit down,” the one called Elder Crosas instructed. The guard shoved Skreet in the back again. The goblin almost dropped to his knees.
“I ain’t seen anything like that in all me life,” Skreet whispered.
“Of course you haven’t, goblin,” Crosas said impatiently. “Few have ever come down into the Depths. Now do as I ask. Sit down.” The wizard gestured to the guard who stepped back into the tunnel. The archway—like the doors in the prison cell—closed again, deepening the darkness. Crosas wandered to a corner and held out his lamp as more roots sprung from the ground to form a delicate, contorted table. He placed the lamp down, saying, “I shan’t ask you again.”
Lifting his bulbous eyes to the slithering, undulating ceiling Skreet realised he was completely at the mercy at the Elder Wizard’s instructions. Reluctantly, he flapped toward the chair, turned, and settled down. Instantly, searching roots leapt up around his wrists and pinned him helplessly to the arms. Skreet let out a gasp of dread and dismay.
“It’s got me!” he cried.
“Silence!” Crosas snapped, turning away from the lamp. “The chair is mine to command. Make too much of a fuss, and I will have it gag you.”
Skreet wrenched weakly at the living shackles, but to no avail. They fastened about his wrists painfully and squeezed his flesh with greater urgency the more he struggled. In the end, he was forced to quell his attempts at escape, and he lifted his shining eyes to the wizard who was studying him mildly.
“What ye goin’ to do with me, eh?” Skreet wanted to know.
“I told you,” the wizard said, “I am going to question you. It is my endeavour to find out why such a creature as you crossed our borders illegally.”
“It weren’t illegal,” Skreet said quickly. “We had permits.”
“We?”
Skreet snapped his mouth closed.
Crosas smiled thinly. “I know you didn’t come here alone. And we issued no permits for Ilmaris. Not for a scientific research vessel anyway. So, who are you, and why are you here?”
“For…For research purposes, like you said. And we was attacked, see? By wyverns. On the edge o’ the border. We was heading for Gorm. But the attack, it brought us down in Ilmaris. You can check the ship’s logs.”
“We have. And in our possession is your tracker. Which, by all intents and purposes, supports your story. Your permits seemed to have given you landing codes for Gorm, even though you were rather out of your way when your ship came down. But, putting that aside, let us assume you are telling the truth. If your vessel was attacked as you say, why didn’t the King’s eagle riders find the rest of your party with you?”
“They…They went in search of help.”
“Help? For what purpose?”
“We was crashed, weren’t we? We needed parts. A ranger outpost was down at the Emerald Hills, see? They went off to find it.”
“You expect me to believe all your friends intended to march forty leagues into dragon territory in search of an abandoned ranger outpost?”
Skreet blinked. “I don’t know, do I? But that’s what they said. While I was left behind to fix the s
hip.”
“Without the necessary parts?”
“I were doing what I could. With what I had.”
“And you seem to have done very well. By all accounts, your ship was airworthy by the time the eagle riders arrived. Pity your companions didn’t stay. You might have easily shipped them across the border again.”
“Without the necessary landing gear? There was no way we could’ve done that.”
Crosas’s eyes narrowed. Skreet felt he had scored a point on that one, but then the wizard said: “You’re lying.”
“I ain’t! I promise.”
“Nonsense. You’re a goblin. Deception is in your nature. There was no scientific mission to Gorm. You are here for another purpose. Perhaps to poach or hunt.”
“No. That would be illegal.”
“Indeed, it would. With the potential for a very long prison term.”
“We was heading for Gorm.”
“And I say that’s a fiction. But if you won’t tell me directly, that’s perfectly alright. I have other means to get the truth from you.”
“Eh? And…And how’s that?”
Crosas lifted his eyes to the ceiling. Skreet looked up too and saw the lattice of tendrils writhing with greater vigour.
“Do you know who I am, goblin?” Crosas said.
“You’re a wizard.” Skreet kept his attention fixed on the pulsing ceiling.
“Do you know what that means?”
Skreet dropped his eyes. “You can…do tricks?”
“Tricks!” Crosas’s milky eyes twitched. “I am not a magician, goblin! I am a Tree Reader. A tree speaker. I can cast my eyes far and wide across this world, and I can command the attention of the World Tree itself. I speak its language, goblin. I can make it listen to me. You understand?”
“Not really. No.”
Crosas seemed disappointed at that and sighed. “There are few who do. Yet for the purposes of this discussion, I must tell you that the World Tree has a great capacity to sense disruption and ill-favour in its lands. It is everywhere on Terevell. It stretches under every land and every ocean. It listens and it feels. And as an Elder Wizard, I have attuned myself to the ebbs and flows of the World Tree’s senses. Which is why I know that you are lying to me. These companions of yours—of which there are five—have not come to Terevell with good intentions. They come to do our world harm. This my king will not tolerate. But you can spare unnecessary pain by telling me why these friends of yours are here. That way, we can put a stop to them before they do irreparable damage.”
“But I’m telling ye, we crossed the border by mistake,” Skreet croaked. “If ye don’t believe me, hand me over to the Ranger Patrol, eh? They’ll deal with me right enough.”
“I’m afraid there is no representative of the Ranger Patrol here. There’s just you and me. Now, I will give you this last opportunity, goblin…Tell me what I wish to know, or suffer the consequences…”
Skreet raised his eyes again to the ceiling. There was a rustling sound now, like a nest of insects. Some of the roots were beginning to drop from the darkened eaves and Skreet saw that they were thick with thorns. He braced himself against the chair, prompting the tendrils about his wrists to tighten again.
“But I don’t know nothing, see?” he cried. “You’re making a mistake. We’re here in peace. I promise. Please!”
Crosas simply took a small step closer and said: “The time for begging has past, goblin. Now there is only pain. And the truth. These thorns will tell me. They have miraculous properties. So…” the wizard nodded to the branches thick with black, curved spines the size of his thumb. They were snaking closer to Skreet’s head now. “Where would you like to begin?”
TWENTY-FIVE
1
A bird call pierced the morning, bringing Gemini sharply awake, still clutching the compass in one hand. She was huddled under the thin, lightweight sleeping blanket she had brought with her, and noticed there were beads of moisture collecting on its coated surface. Lifting her head and running a tongue over her dry lips, she noticed that the world around her was drab and grey. A fog had descended. It was just past dawn.
Struggling out of her hammock Gemini immediately began to strike camp. Better to eat breakfast on the move, she thought, and make gains on the hunting party where she could. So, after using her grappling hook to fire a line across the river and into a bush, she was soon crossing through the fast-flowing current.
Unsurprisingly, wading through the river was a thoroughly miserable affair. The water was cold enough to make her bones ache, despite her waterproof gear, and soon her teeth were chattering. It was a relief to mount the bank on the other side, and once she had rubbed her hands and stamped her feet, she allowed herself a moment to examine more footprints in the soft, muddy shoreline. They all seemed to be in a terrible hurry. Most of them had taken off at speed. Were they aware they were being followed? Possibly, although she couldn’t see how. Then she noticed a mark in a tree not far from where she had detached her grappling hook. It looked as though something had pierced the trunk and then been retrieved. Perhaps, by the diamond shaped scar, a quarrel.
This confirmed to Gemini that the hunting party were still in the company of an elf. A crossbow was a favoured weapon of those people. It now explained why there were a set of older prints ahead of her. And she wondered briefly if the eagle rider had been aware of the same. Then she reached up and thumbed the splintered wood. Maybe the quarrel’s retrieval might have been an indication that the party were trying to cover their tracks? But no. There were literally too many prints on the bank to suggest such subterfuge. Which meant they still didn’t know they were being pursued. At least, not yet.
Lifting her eyes, she saw where the hurried prints had headed: a rocky ridge, rising sharply above the Shilita. It was likely a hard days’ hike from here on out. But there was no point in bemoaning the situation; there just wasn’t time. Adjusting the pulse rifle on her shoulder, Gemini started on her way again, attacking the steep climb.
2
One of their party had fallen in. That was the conclusion Gemini came to when she reached the felled tree spanning the length of the narrow straight before the Sheerwater Falls. It looked as though they had been swept away by the fierce current then later rescued, the tree chopped down with the use of some kind of laser blade. This had been used to span the river and drag whoever had plunged into the water to safety. And farther along there were more deep prints in the riverbank, and a slithering impression in the mud where a body had been hauled from the river. A small, blackened campfire close to the treeline was evident too, probably to help dry out sodden clothes. That explained the hastening tracks from the crossing. A lucky escape so close to the falls, Gemini thought. It would also have cost them time, giving her another hour or so gain. And if she kept up her pace, she might even be able to intercept the hunting party before they reached the warrens of canyons and passes beyond.
3
The Gimrill Basin was a huge depression caused by a meteor impact, now long since covered by forest, Nyara informed everyone. Blake had always wondered what it was like, having heard about the basin when he hunted farther west. When the party had awakened, he realised he wouldn’t have the chance that day either—at least not from the vantage of the high ridges they had surmounted.
When they finally got underway, they were met with a landscape shrouded in a thick fog, making the going treacherous. Struggling back down the rocky bluff with its sudden, deadly drops on either side was bad enough, but then they began to delve back down into the claustrophobia of the forest. As the trees closed in around them again, the consensus seemed to be—in mood at least—that being clear of the dark forest had been preferable. Certainly, Uldo was the most ill-at-ease, as once they penetrated the treeline, the fog gave the landscape a muted, haunted quality. The dwarf took to holding one of his axes in his hands, gripping the hilt so hard Blake could see the whitening of his knuckles. As for the others, Maddox was similarly subdued,
his usual ebullient nature dampened to the point that he barely raised a smile. Even Cid and Nyara seemed tense. The golem’s eye pulsed urgently and the elf seemed alerted to the slightest noise. Blake couldn’t blame them. There was still a half a day’s hiking to be done, and this part of the forest had an even more primeval quality. It was quieter too. Everything was dulled by the creeping mist and a thick layer of spongy needles ejecting from the canopy.
They walked in this way for another two or three standard hours, hardly talking. Nyara turned them farther away from the river and deeper into the woods. Blake was aware that the trees were changing too: from broader blue oaks and wychwoods, to the monolithic briarwood trees more used to the acidic soil underfoot. Before too long, Blake imagined they would emerge from the forest altogether as they reached the Ariad Pass: a cleft in the side of the meteor impact that would eventually bring them to the Undul Canyon. He only hoped the fog would lift by then. While it might provide an advantage for their approach to the dragon’s lair, it could just as easily help the creature. He’d rather face it with no barriers between them.
Except the fog did not lift. If anything, it became thicker as they hunkered in the gloom of the forest, briefly pausing for a drink and some food. No one wanted to wait around for long, and they were soon on their way again. As morning gave way to afternoon, they approached the last leg of their journey.
TWENTY-SIX
1
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