in the desiccated earth that intersected their path.
They‘d been appalled by the sight that had greeted them on the northern border of the
Silent Woman Woods.
The Demons‘ influence had laid waste to the land. Vegetation had either disappeared
completely, or had bleached out to grey stalks running with red rust. Cracks angled crazily across
the dried plains, and balls of vegetation and dust rolled with a horrible languidness towards
distant horizons. Sometimes they dropped out of sight into the unknown depths of dark chasms
that split the earth.
Small creatures—lizards, grasshoppers, beetles—scurried in and out of the cracks in the
earth. Most had terrible suppurating wounds, most behaved…oddly.
It had only taken Faraday and Drago a few minutes to understand why the creatures were
so wounded: they attacked each other without provocation, mindless, soulless attacks that gained
them only a brief mouthful of flesh that they sometimes swallowed, sometimes spat out.
They tried to attack Faraday and Drago as well, but the blue-feathered lizard hissed at
them violently, and the creatures eventually kept their distance.
The journey through the Plains of Arcness was hardly enjoyable. This was a cold, bleak
desert, scorched of life and laughter, and running with madness.
―And this is only what the Demons can accomplish in two weeks,‖ Faraday murmured,
heartbroken by the sight. ―What can they do in six months, or with Qeteb at their side?‖
She glanced at Drago, but his face was as bleak as the landscape, his thoughts obviously
no better, and she was glad he did not answer her.
The feathered lizard ranged ahead of them as they walked north. It scared away what life
there was, sniffed out cracks—and poked its talons down particularly interesting ones—and
curled up as if to sleep when it got so far ahead it had to wait for its companions to catch up.
Sometimes they could see his blue clump of feathers far ahead, a bright, incongruous
splotch of colour in a drained landscape.
They walked northwards in as direct a line as they could go, heading for the hills of
Rhaetia and then the Nordra. Drago hoped they could find a boat to carry them further northward
faster than their current rate of travel.
At odd moments of the day Drago felt a sickness sweep through him, a knowledge of
where the Demons were and, to some extent, of what they did. The link that had been forged
between them was both help and hindrance. Drago knew it was invaluable to know where the Demons were. On the other hand the link was so sickening (and reminiscent of the horrific pain
he‘d endured during the leaps, a memory of hooks dragged from his heels up through his body),
and the knowledge of the speed and joyousness of the Demons‘ travel so disconcerting, that
Drago often wished he could remain unaware of their presence, and their progress.
He was glad they did not yet know of his survival, and wondered what they would make
of it when they did find out…and what they might do.
Sometimes he looked skyward, expecting any moment to see the great dark sweep of the
cloud of Hawkchilds. But the Demons obviously had them occupied elsewhere, and Drago felt
some measure of sympathy for whichever poor soul they‘d decided to torment.
He pushed Faraday northward as fast as he could, although their progress was slowed by
the necessity to shelter within their tent during the Demonic Hours. They became adept at
travelling until the last possible moment when they would whip the tent from Drago‘s pack and
erect it almost in the blink of an eye, dropping their packs outside and snatching the lizard to
safety as they scrambled inside.
There they would sit, often talking, but just as often snatching some sleep as the grey
miasma settled its heavy infection over the land.
Some few days after they had left the Silent Woman Woods, Faraday began to dream.
At first the dreams were formless, just a feeling of dread and helplessness, but after the
third one Faraday began to distinguish the lost voice of a child.
A small girl, helpless, vulnerable, lost, desperate.
Mama? Mama? Where are you? Why won’t you come? Mama?
The child‘s lost voice tore into Faraday‘s sense of frustrated motherhood. She struggled
to reach out to the girl, but she was too far away to reach.
Too far away.
North.
Drago became aware of the dreams one night when he woke to feel Faraday tossing
beside him. He lay a moment, staring at her face, then laid a hand on her shoulder and shook her
gently.
Faraday jerked away, her eyes wide and desperate.
She stared about the tent, as if trying to remember where she was, then the turned to
Drago and grabbed his hands. ―Did you hear her?‖
―Who?‖
―The girl, the little girl.‖ Faraday sat up. ―I can still hear her! Drago, can‘t you hear her?‖
He shook his head slowly, his eyes concerned. At his back the feathered lizard raised his
own head and stared at Faraday.
―Lost,‖ Faraday whispered. ―Somewhere north…‖
Drago stroked her thick hair back from her forehead, worried for her, and wondering if
her dream was Demon-inspired. Had they scried him out?
As he smoothed her hair back, Faraday‘s eyes gradually lost some of their wildness, and
she calmed down a little.
―It was dream,‖ Drago said softly. ―Nothing else. A dream.‖
Faraday was not ready to be soothed completely. ―Must we go to Gorkenfort first?‖
―Where else?‖
Faraday suddenly realised she was more aware of Drago‘s hand stroking her hair than she
was concerned about the lost girl, and she jerked her head back, angry that he should have
distracted her away from her purpose and frightened by her reaction to him. No. No! No more love. Drago let his hand drop without comment.
―We need to reach her,‖ Faraday said. ―She‘s lost.‖
―Who?‖
―I don‘t know…‖
―Perhaps after Gorkenfort—‖
―No! We should go now. I don‘t want to go to Gorkenfort.‖
―Faraday…‖
But she turned her face away, and after a moment Drago sighed and settled back into his
blanket. ―We can go nowhere now, Faraday, and Gorkenfort is north anyway. It was a dream. A
dream, nothing more.‖
But the dreams continued, and they drove their own angling cracks into Drago and
Faraday‘s relationship. As they turned westwards towards the Nordra, Drago noticed that
Faraday kept glancing true north, and she became quieter and quieter the more they moved
north-west.
―Star Finger,‖ she said one morning as they broke camp. ―She‘s in Star Finger.‖
Drago stood and watched her. She was bustling about the tent, folding it as quickly as she
could, lifting an impatient hand to jerk stray tendrils of hair out of her eyes and face.
―Faraday,‖ he said, but she did not look at him, and Drago was forced to walk over and
take her by the arm. ―Faraday.‖
She straightened and stared at him. ―Do you not hear her?‖ she whispered. ―She tears into
my mind every time I close my eyes. Drago, she‘s so lost…so lost!‖
Drago looked into her eyes, then drew her against him, trying to give her what comfort he
could with his presence. She was stiff and unyielding, and Drago was not sure whether it was
because she was impatient to reach the girl, or because she disliked him holding her.
Drago suddenly found himself hoping very much that it was because Faraday wanted to
reach the girl.
―We will go to Star Finger after Gorkenfort,‖ he said quietly. ―To see Caelum, and to find
this girl of yours.‖
She pulled away from him.
―It may be too late then,‖ she said tonelessly, and stuffed the tent into Drago‘s pack.
Two nights later, sleeping in their tent pitched in the western foothills of the Rhaetian
hills, the girl also reached out to Drago.
She was tiny, frail, helpless. Winds of demonic intent buffeted her, pushing her closer
and closer to the razor edge of an infinite cliff, and she wailed and cried, Help me! Help me!
Mama? Mama?
Even caught as he was in his dream, Drago felt tears slide down his cheek, and he
understood Faraday‘s desperation to reach the girl. Indeed, he could feel Faraday within the
dream. She was somewhere in the darkness that surrounded the girl, and Drago could feel her
reaching out, reaching out, but never quite reaching the child.
He opened his mouth to call out to the girl that they would reach her soon, very soon, be
calm, hold on, we‘re almost there…when suddenly he felt another presence within the dream.
Something dark and loathsome, something heavy and cruel, and something much, much
closer to the girl than either he or Faraday.
He turned his attention back to the girl. She was silent now, terrified, her eyes jerking
about the darkness, trying to see what it was that approached. She was crouched protectively
about something, but Drago could not quite make it out. The child‘s eyes jerked to her left,