She smiled sadly, thinking of it. It seemed so long ago. All those she had known in that time, all who had been so influential in shaping her life, were gone—dead, save for Grianne, who had been transformed and was now something else entirely. She wondered about her sometimes, and how she had felt when she had given up her human form. She wondered if Grianne regretted it, if she felt her life now had fresh meaning, and if she still believed she had done the right thing in changing. Khyber couldn’t say, and it didn’t seem likely that she would ever know. But she would have liked it if she could.

She would have liked seeing Grianne one more time.

She would have liked seeing any of them.

Garroneck appeared beside her, caught her eye, and pointed ahead through the deepening gloom to where the mountains split apart. There a long, steep trail wound upward from the foothills to the summit of a distant ridge, where it formed an entry into the Valley of Shale and the Hadeshorn. She nodded her understanding and shifted the bow of the Wend-A-Way left toward the ascending slope. Pulling back on the thrusters, she brought the skimmer to a crawl and eased her skyward toward the split in the mountain rock. The other members of the Druid Guard were at the radian draws, ready to detach their ends and haul them in for stowing.

Garroneck gestured, indicating the helm. “Shall I, Mistress?”

She stepped away, giving him control, and walked forward to the bow where she could watch the high end of the pass appear. She searched the landscape for movement, but the terrain was barren and empty everywhere, nothing but boulders and scrub grass and rutted earth. It was miserable, blasted ground, forbidding enough that nothing that breathed or moved would give much thought to doing more than passing through quickly. Ahead, far beyond the entry, an odd glow rose from within the mountains, a strange greenish light that grew in intensity as the darkness deepened.

The Hadeshorn.

The entry to the world of the spirits of the dead.

Garroneck and his Trolls anchored Wend-A-Way just below the narrow defile that led into the mountains, dropped a rope ladder, and helped Khyber climb through the railing. She didn’t need their help, but didn’t want to refuse it, either. When she was down, she walked forward several yards to stand alone with Garroneck.

“Wait here for me. Keep watch. You are exposed on these slopes to anyone passing by, especially someone in an airship—at least until it gets darker than it is now.”

“I will keep watch, Mistress.” The big Troll cast a quick glance about the empty skies. “I think we will be safe enough.”

He handed her the black staff she preferred, and she took it from him with a nod. “I won’t be back before morning. Don’t worry for me.”