Tapio and Blizzard and Aneas gave up trying to get into Lessen Carak before they really made an attempt; the enemy were so thick in the lines that Tapio allowed Blizzard to lead them east, to the Lilywindle, and before darkness they were at the new bridge at North Ford, which marked the uttermost northern limit of the world of men, and the southernmost border of the Wild, at least in these parts.

“There used to be a trail along the banks of the Lily Burn,” Blizzard said.

Now Nita Qwan stepped forward. “I was here three years ago,” he said. “If I do not lose my way in the snow, I know where there’s a trail just the other side of the bridge.” He shook his head ruefully. “I feel I have come full circle,” he said.

Tapio shook his head. “But why?” he asked.

Magister Nikos pointed. “Because the greatest battle of our lifetimes, even yours, my prince, is being fought right there.” He pointed south and east. “Desiderata is holding Lissen Carak. The real fight will be in the fields below Albin Ridge.”

“I want Orley,” Aneas said.

“I want victory,” Tapio said. “I want thisss to end. I want Tamsssin in my arms.” He grinned, and his fangs showed. “I want to kill Asssh.”

They started south, moving single file along the path of the Lily Burn in the moonlight. Aneas was tired, but he had now been tired for so long that he couldn’t really remember any other way to be; Irene cradled her crossbow in the moonlight. Her heart was hammering, wondering, as she was wont to, whether she really loved this or had made herself love it; and ahead of them, Tapio rode on his great elk, singing quietly to himself of his lady Tamsin.

When they had gone a mile, there was a sharp snow squall, and Tapio felt something like a blow in the aethereal. He motioned, and all his people dismounted and lay with their mounts in the new snow; but the feeling passed, and Tapio wanted, with all his heart, to go into the aethereal and find Tamsin, and see what he could see. But this force, even this small force of men and irks and bears, might yet have a role to play, and he kept them quiet and secret, forbidding his knights access even to the simplest of warming spells.

But he paused and listened to the aethereal as often as he could, and then, while he was listening, he heard not the tinkle of his beloved’s magical bells, but the sharper sounds of dying creatures and weapons striking shields. It was close, but not close; almost due east.