Fianna knelt in an archer’s stance at the Counselor’s feet, drawing the Arrow of Fire with trembling fingers, sighting on shadows as it illuminated her vulnerable face. The black horn of Oronin’s Bow seemed to buck in her hands, reluctant to strike against its Shaper’s children.

And Dani; oh, Dani!

His eyes were wide, reflecting firelight, his slender fingers closed around the clay flask at his throat. Dani, who had offered him water when he was thirsty. Before him stood Thulu of the Yarru-yami, a bulky figure wielding his digging-stick with grim determination. Already, he was panting and weary, his skin glistening with sweat and the darker sheen of blood where teeth had scored him.

Two of the Were hunters circled him with cunning, twitching nostrils guiding them. One feinted; the other launched past him, a deadly missile, jaws parting to seek Dani’s throat.

“No!”

Carfax was not conscious of moving, not conscious of grasping the butt-end of a sturdy branch from the fire. Sparks arced through the air as he swung it, interposing himself between the Were and its quarry. There was a thud, the impact jarring his shoulders; a keen whine and the smell of scorched wolf-pelt.

Oh, Brethren, forgive me!

“Dani!” Malthus’ voice, strident and urgent. “The cavern! Now! Now!”

And the earth … surged.

Carfax, choking, was flung to the ground. There, scant feet away, was Dani, his face filled with fear and dawning knowledge. Outside the circle of churning earth, the blind hunters gathered to regroup, muzzles raised to quest the air.

“Go,” Carfax whispered. “Go!”

He hauled himself to one knee, dimly aware of Thulu grabbing Dani by the collar and racing toward the cavern of the Marasoumië, their retreat warded by Malthus, who caused the very earth to ripple in surging waves, throwing back the attack of the Were.

The Yarru vanished into the cavern.

“Malthus!” Blaise shouted.

At the cavern’s mouth, the wizard turned to face the pursuing Were and planted his staff with a sound like thunder. His lips were moving, his ancient face illuminated by the Soumanië that blazed crimson at his breast. Earth roiled, stones cracking like bones. Oronin’s Hunters were tossed like jackstraws, howling in anger. Amid the chaos, Malthus shaped words lost in the avalanche of noise, his urgent gaze striving to communicate. “ … protect … Bearer! Beshtanag … Jakar …”

“What?” Blaise cried. “What?”

Taking a step backward, Malthus the Counselor raised his hand. On his breast, the Soumanië surged with brilliance and deep in the cavern, the node-light of the Marasoumië blazed in answer, washing the glade in crimson light and momentarily blinding the onlookers.

When it faded, they were gone.

Unguarded, unprotected, Carfax stood with a smoldering branch in his hand and fought back an awful laugh as he watched his dumbstruck companions stare at the cavern’s empty mouth.