They emerged from the tunnel’s darkness through an opening in a huge mound of boulders, blinking against a heavy wash of gray light, and found themselves in country that replicated what they had just left behind. Redden glanced over his shoulder—past Crace Coram, Pleysia, Oriantha, and another Troll—but he found no sign of the peaks they had passed through. There were peaks, but they were far in the distance and huge, spread out across the horizon behind him in a massive wall. He looked up at a sky shrouded in mist and gloom and could find no trace of the sun. He tried to orient himself from what he remembered of the Westland wilderness they had flown over. But he knew so little of this part of the world that it proved impossible. His best guess was that what he was seeing were the mountains of the Breakline.

The rest of the company was looking around, as well. None of its members seemed able to orient. Redden was reminded that the Ard Rhys had brought no one with them who had any personal knowledge of the country. Both Farshaun and the Speakman had been left behind.

“We won’t want to go much farther than this without someone who knows what they are doing.”

Oriantha was standing right next to him, bending close, her voice too soft for anyone else to hear.

“That’s what I think, too,” he replied.

She nodded. “I know. I saw it in your face. Your instincts are as sharp as mine.” She glanced around. “I don’t think anyone else sees things like we do. Not even my mother.”

Then she was gone, drifting back to where Pleysia was engaged in a discussion with Carrick, the two of them arguing quietly, but vehemently. Redden wondered about her again. Not even my mother, she had said. Had he heard correctly? Had she just told him that Pleysia was her mother?

The Trolls had all clustered to one side, where Garroneck was speaking to them privately. Carrick and Pleysia were still arguing, with Oriantha looking on. Crace Coram had walked up to the Ard Rhys. Redden was standing alone now, studying his bleak surroundings, when the dark shimmer through which they had just passed—along with the cluster of huge boulders that framed the opening from which it hung suspended—disappeared.

For a second, Redden just kept staring at the space the shimmer and rocks had occupied, waiting for it to reappear, certain it would, convinced it must. When it didn’t, he felt a hot surge of panic sweep through him.

In the next instant, the dragon attacked.