THE SKY HAD become overcast a few miles back, an even grayness that filtered weak sunlight, and the cliff itself seemed swallowed by its blandness. But distance was very difficult to determine. When they first saw the cliff face—the ridges and textures of rock instead of the haze of mist—Lulah guessed that they would be there within the hour. Ramus was not so sure. He concentrated on the landscape rather than where it ended, and he could see hills and plains disappearing into the distance. He thought another day's ride. This was something neither of them had ever seen or been able to imagine before, and scale seemed to obey no laws. The sky looked huge, but it was dwarfed against the cliff.

Ramus could feel the weight of the Divide pulling him onward. It was unbelievable, this bulk, this mass, and the pain in his head seemed to be coming from somewhere just in front of him rather than inside. He stopped paying attention to things close by and instead looked ahead, focusing on the wall of rock that sprouted from Noreela and disappeared into the level gray cloud cover above. How high up those clouds were he could not tell; they felt low, but sometimes he saw the specks of birds or other things circling and drifting high up, and on occasion those specks disappeared to nothing as they rose even higher. A mile, perhaps two, maybe three . . . he could not know. And they would not find out until they started climbing.

Around mid-afternoon, several shapes drifted toward them from the south, wings flapping now and then but mostly riding the air currents. It was difficult to tell how large they were, but they kept formation: two in the lead, three more behind. Ramus listened for their calls, but there were none, and they did not deviate from their path.

As the shapes began to lose height, Lulah rode before him and drew a crossbow from her saddlebags.

“Hold this,” she said, lobbing the weapon back at him. Ramus caught it in one hand, rested it across his saddle and then caught the rack of bolts Lulah sent after it.

The shapes had four wings each, bulbous eyes and silvery legs that trailed behind them as they drifted lower. Each was the size of a man.

“What are they?” he asked. “Livid eagles?” But livid eagles were so rarely seen that some thought them myth, grabbing their victims with metallic claws and exuding a cloud of acidic vapor from their feather tips to strip skin, melt flesh.

“Hardly matters right now,” Lulah said. She took the bow from her back and strung an arrow without taking her eyes off the creatures coming at them.

The animals did not circle or stalk, but dived in to attack without preamble.