‘I don’t know. This could well be the work of the Kadoshim,’ Kol said, a snarl twisting his features, his golden stubble glinting in the firelight. ‘I can think of no other that would perform an atrocity such as this.’

That’s what I thought.

‘Whoever they are, we will find them,’ Garidas spoke up. He was a fine warrior, and a respected leader, though Riv considered him to be too serious, too obsessed with following the Lore’s every dictate, and that was saying something, because she took the Way of Elyon more earnestly than most. As Riv watched him, his gaze flickered beyond Kol’s wings to Aphra.

‘As to the how of it,’ Kol continued. ‘When the sun rises we search, we scour this place for tracks, signs as to who did this. Then we hunt them down. There will be a reckoning.’ He shrugged, his wings a rippled sigh with the motion, then strode into the darkness.

‘There’s your answer, then,’ Aphra said with a weary sigh to Riv.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ Riv said, sitting next to her sister. ‘Is it something I’ve done?’

Aphra gave her a long look. ‘No,’ she said eventually.

‘Then wha—’

‘Leave it,’ Aphra snapped, quiet and cold. ‘The world does not revolve around you and your woes, Riv. Shocking as it may seem, people have troubles of their own.’

Riv stared at her, then stood and marched off.

Sick of being Aphra’s training post. Thinks she can take out her anger on me!

She heard footsteps behind her, hoped it was Aphra following her. She didn’t like how cold and distant her sister had become, wanted her to go back to normal.

I suppose Mam is right, though. Leading is hard. Especially at times like this.

She looked back over her shoulder and saw Jost hurrying up behind her, felt a rush of disappointment that it wasn’t her sister.

‘What do you want?’ she said to Jost, more curtly than she meant it to sound.

‘Shouldn’t be walking around on your own,’ Jost said stoutly. ‘Orders. Safety in numbers, those giant bats of Forn . . .’

Riv knew that. ‘Orders aren’t iron,’ she said, though, and stalked on.

The camp was contained to the meadow and road, neatly ordered rows of tents, a paddock roped off for the horses, wains on the raised embankment of the road. Riv was stomping along close to the paddocks, only a few hundred paces from the trees of Forn which loomed like dark cliffs.

Riv knew Jost was right, and she had no intention of wandering off alone into the dark. The mound of heads in Oriens had left its mark. And she was glad of Jost’s company, at least it meant he cared whether Riv lived or died. She rolled her shoulders, trying to shift a dull ache in her back, high, between her shoulder blades.

Must’ve pulled a muscle climbing that tree.