The entire plain, almost to the horizon, was choked with seepers of every size bleeding into one another: writhing, dripping, melting and re-forming. Amongst them were towering bulky slabs of fungus: hundreds of gorgaunts, each one even bigger than the creature they had seen in the Scrubbings that day. There were other things besides – monsters with three or more heads, tentacle limbs, spider’s legs, barbs and spikes – all of them built out of chunks of mould and strands of putrid goo. And, watching over it all, like some kind of mad king, was a human figure held high on a throne of twisted black wood. Noxis himself.

‘It won’t be enough,’ Liska repeated. ‘There’s so many of them!’

‘I thinks I can help,’ said Fishbone. He hopped off Embla’s head and began scampering down her body, round and round in spirals like a squirrel.

‘Where are you going?’ Liska called after him as he reached the ground and began to run on all fours back towards the mountains.

‘Reinforcements!’ he yelled back, before disappearing amongst the boulders. Liska felt strangely abandoned. Fishbone had been there through so much, she was used to having him at her side.

‘That’s the last we’ll see of him,’ said Lug. ‘Can’t say I blame him though.’ He went to staring at the army of Bitterblight, the heart of Nammu beginning to shake in his trembling hands.

Liska looked towards them as well. A sickening thought had just occurred to her, one which began to swell and bloom into full panic. ‘They’re all here,’ she said. ‘Everyone. Which means this is a last stand. You don’t think—’

‘That they’ve already taken the heart from the Undrentree?’ Elowen finished.

‘We’re too late!’ Lug wailed. ‘After all that, we didn’t get here in time!’

‘Maybe,’ said Liska. ‘Maybe not. We’d better deliver Nammu’s heart and see.’

Embla nodded and began marching towards the gathered armies.

*

As they got closer, Liska could make out ranks of coloured robes amongst the Arborven forces.

The mages stood in lines – arbomancers, stormsingers, barkmages – all the way back to the lowly mossherders. In front of them, towering above, were the treekeepers. Edda was there right in the centre. And, to her delight, a new addition: the hunched mossy back of the giant could be seen standing amongst its brothers and sisters.

Ranged in front of the mages were the shapewalkers, the front line of defence. There were hundreds of them – every warrior from each of the four towers.

They stood in human form, cloaks at the ready. Manticores, cockatrices, pantherines . . . and the griffyxes. Liska strained her eyes for a glimpse of her parents, but the first familiar faces she spotted were wearing wolf and bear skins. It was Beric and Deenai, along with all their tribe. They turned as Embla’s heavy footsteps approached and greeted them with a cheer.