Winter

That morning, they skirted another little ridge, veering north to avoid a rocky knuckle of ground that reared up between two valleys, covered with stunted, skeletal trees. The land to the west of the Votindri Range, against which Elysium nestled, was folded like a carpet shoved against a wall. Every quarter mile brought them into a new valley, heavily forested where the trees could get purchase on the rock.

It would have been bad enough if they could just follow one of the little streams, but they were still on the wrong side of the watershed. All the tiny trickles ran south, eventually merging into the river Kovria, which veered into territory known to be under Janus’ control. Up ahead was a line of hills, dark and forbidding. On the other side, they’d be in the basin of the Bataria, and things would get easier, or so Winter told herself. At least we won’t have so much up and down.

Her legs burned already. After the Murnskai campaign, she’d thought she was inured to hard marching, but this cross-​country trekking through forests and over hills was more difficult than traversing even the worst roads. The uncertain footing wasn’t helping—​the trees had shed their leaves with unaccustomed haste in the sorcerous freeze, and now that it had warmed they were decomposing into slime.

The forest, in general, didn’t seem to have weathered the brief spate of unnatural blizzards well. Some trees had tentative buds, but others seemed dead in truth, or determined to wait out the true winter. The valley floors were choked with debris, rocks, and broken bits of wood. Abraham said these came from the breakup of ice dams and the resulting floods. He’d proven to be quite the authority on the natural world, in fact, while Alex was almost cheerfully ignorant.

“I still say it would have been easier to go south,” Alex said now, breathing hard. “We’re walking away from where we want to be.”

“This way we’re more likely to get there in one piece,” Winter said. “If we go south we’ve got half the Vordanai army and God knows how many Murnskai between us and Vordan.”

“We could get past them,” Alex said. She raised one hand, and her power gathered a globe of darkness at her fingertips.

“And if the Beast finds us?” Abraham said. He carried a long stick in one hand and used it to probe the muck as he walked. “You told me what it was like at Elysium. It will not give up easily.”

Alex went quiet. Winter stifled a sigh. They’d had the same conversation a number of times since they’d left the Mountain days before. She was glad for the company, and she couldn’t exactly blame the girl, but...

Abraham, on the other hand, rarely spoke but was always worth listening to. He’d already pointed out several places where edible mushrooms grew and the tracks that might lead them to beaver dens. At the moment their packs were still laden with dried meat and berries, but the mushrooms had been welcome, and eventually hunting might be necessary. We have a long way to go.

He paused beside Winter, stick outstretched, and wrinkled his nose. Alex, up ahead, half turned.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can smell something,” Abraham said. “Something dead.”

After a moment, Winter could, too, the sick-​sweet stench of rotting meat infiltrating the cleaner smell of decaying leaves.

“Another deer?” she said. They’d passed several corpses, all in an advanced state of decomposition, not even torn much by scavengers.

“Probably,” Abraham said. He sniffed again. “I think it’s up ahead.”

“I see it,” Alex said. “It’s not a deer.”

*

Either Abraham’s sense of smell wasn’t as good as Winter’s, or—​more likely—​his time working with the sick had bred a certain tolerance. Either way, he was the only one who could approach the body. Alex and Winter stood together, upwind and a little way off, and watched.

Winter had had—​unfortunately—​quite a bit of experience with fresh corpses, but this one represented new territory for her. The body sat at the foot of a tree as though it had simply taken a rest one day and never gotten back up. The skin was sloughing off, and the flesh beneath was black with rot, to the point where Winter couldn’t tell where the remnants of the clothes ended and the body began. Bits of pale bone peeked through around the face, and the eyes were gone, leaving only empty holes.

“Still some scavengers around,” Abraham said, kneeling in front of the vile thing. “Probably crows. It’d take more than a freeze or two to get rid of them.”

“Why are you messing with that thing?” Alex said. “Please don’t tell me you think we ought to bury it.”

“I’d like to, but the ground’s too rocky,” Abraham said. “No doubt the forest will take care of it soon enough. But I’d like to see if I can figure out who this was.”

“Why?” Alex said, then saw that Abraham had picked up a smaller stick to poke the body. “Oh, saints and martyrs.” She turned away, making a retching sound.

“Because if there’s one person out in the middle of nowhere, there might be more,” Winter said.

“Exactly.” Abraham bent a bit closer. “This was a woman. Middle-​aged. Wearing some kind of robe, nothing fancy. Probably Murnskai, by the hair.” He straightened up, tossed the stick aside, and shrugged. “Any idea why she’d be out in the woods?”

“Refugee from the war?” Winter said.

“We’re pretty far north,” Abraham said. “And you’d think a refugee would run to a town, especially if she was alone.”

“Maybe she was with a larger group, and she died on the way,” Alex said, still not looking around.

“And they just left her like this?” Abraham shrugged. “It’s possible, I suppose.”

“Maybe bandits cut her throat and left her as a warning,” Alex said. “Can we please move on?”

There weren’t any bandits in these woods, Winter reflected. Bandits needed prey, and here there was no one, just endless miles of forests and hills. She’d always known Murnsk was a vast country, but she hadn’t appreciated how much of it was no-man’s-land, undisturbed except for the occasional trapper. She’d read that in the north, the Murnskai territory didn’t end at a border so much as peter out amid the tundra, where the nomadic tribes acknowledged no king or emperor.

The smell of the corpse faded after a few minutes’ walk. It was Alex who spotted the next one, propped against a tree like the first. This one seemed like it had been outside longer, and there wasn’t much left but bones and scraps of dark fabric. They gave it a wide berth by common agreement, and kept moving.

The third corpse was a bloated thing that looked like it had been drowned, lying among a pile of broken wood where a flood had washed it. Winter and the others looked down on it from the hillside above.

“This is getting weird,” Alex said.

“One body might be coincidence,” Abraham agreed, “but this many means there was a group of people here.”

“If it was a big group, we ought to have seen tracks. Campsites, maybe,” Winter said.

“I think this one is a soldier,” Alex said. “Look at his collar.”

Winter was unwilling to get closer, but even from this distance she could see that the jacket the body wore had a military look. “I think you’re right.”

“The last one looked more like a peasant,” Abraham said.

“Weird,” Alex repeated.

After that they found bodies at least once every few hours. Some of them had been dead for a long time, leaving little clue as to their identities, while others seemed more recent, still clothed and waxy-​skinned. They seemed to come from every walk of life—young men and old women, peasant girls and Murnskai soldiers, servants in drab linen and even a white-​robed Sworn Priest. Except for the ones that had been obviously moved by animals or floods, every body looked at rest, as though they’d all taken a seat and waited there to die.

“Sacrifices, maybe,” Alex said. “The Trans-​Batariai do human sacrifice.”

“None of them seem to be wounded,” Abraham said. “Poisoned, maybe?”

“There’s another.” Winter pointed. A man in a long gray coat sat slumped against a leafless trunk, head lolling. “It looks pretty intact. Abraham, do you think you could figure out how he died?”

Alex made a face, but Abraham nodded. “If something’s killing people out here, I think we ought to know what it is.”

They trudged through the muck of dead leaves to the body. It had been an older man, with a huge, wild white beard and a fur cap. A hunter, Winter guessed, by his clothing. There was no blood on him, and his posture gave no indication that he’d been in pain. He must have died relatively recently, since there was still a hint of color in his flesh.

Abraham poked the corpse with his stick, and it wobbled. He grunted. “Still fresh.”

Winter knelt next to it. The eyes were open, staring off to the east. Have they all been looking east? She felt like every body they’d found had been facing them, more or less. Something about the rising sun—

The dead face twitched, eyes blinking once. Winter startled, falling backward. She scrambled on her backside away from the thing, her mind filling with visions of a temple under the Khandarai sands. Corpses rising, their eyes filled with green light, smoke leaking from their mouths...

These eyes weren’t green. They were red, glowing from within. The man’s head wobbled, struggling to face Winter. His lips moved, flesh splitting as they formed silent words.

Winter, the nearly dead man mouthed, and the eyes glowed brighter. Found. You.

Then the lights faded.

“Winter!” Abraham had rushed to her side, stick raised, looking at the corpse. “What happened?”

“Not dead,” Winter said, breathing fast. The sight of those crimson eyes had sent her back to that horrible night in Elysium. “Not...”

“Looks dead now,” Alex said, darkness shrouding her hands as she approached. “Want me to spear him to make sure?”

“He was one of them,” Winter said. “A red-​eye. The Beast.”

“Oh.” Abraham’s voice was very quiet.

There was a crunch as a spear of pure shadow flashed from Alex’s hand, impaling the man’s skull and the tree behind it.

“Just to be sure,” she said.

But Winter knew the damage was already done. She could picture it all too clearly—​in her mind’s eye, hundreds of heads snapped around, hundreds of pairs of glowing red eyes narrowed. Found you.

“It’s the Beast,” she said. “All the bodies. It’s been sending them into the woods to watch for me. Just letting them wait until they freeze.” She forced herself to take a long, slow breath. “It knows we’re here.”

“Balls of the Beast,” Alex swore, then frowned. “I mean, fuck. What now?”

“Now we run,” Abraham said softly.

Winter nodded, heart thudding in her chest. Across the dead forest, she imagined the baying of hounds.

*

This far north, the nights were coming early. Up until now, they’d camped at dusk, keeping a relatively leisurely pace. There was a lot of ground to cover, and rushing it early on would only risk injury.

No more time for that, though. Her lungs were on fire and her legs were lead weights, but she pushed on, switch​backing up the rocky slopes as they climbed toward the range of hills that separated the two rivers. Alex kept up, but Abraham was starting to flag, leaning on his stick. Winter pressed on until the sun dropped below the horizon, painting the clouds a fiery orange, and then called a halt.

“Give me a moment,” Abraham said, leaning against a tree. “I’ll be fine.”

“We can’t keep running forever.” Winter wasn’t sure if she could press on much longer. “Even if the Beast knows where we were, it doesn’t know where we’re going. Depending on how close its other bodies are, it may not be able to follow.”

“We’ll have to keep a watch,” Alex said, looking around in the gathering darkness. “And no fire.”

Winter nodded glumly. Despite the lifting of the magical cold, the autumn chill was rapidly setting in, with nightly freezes. At least it’s still dry. Pushing through wind and snow had nearly gotten her whole company killed once, and she wasn’t eager to try it again.

They had a tent, a clever, lightweight thing from the stores at the Mountain, but they’d been keeping it stowed. The Eldest had provided thick wool blankets, and while Winter begrudged their size in her pack, they’d turned out to be worth their weight in gold. Alex unfolded one, while Abraham shucked his pack and slid to a seat with a sigh.

He’s exhausted. Alex was evidently more used to this kind of travel than the young healer. She walked half the length of Murnsk with a hole in her side to get to me, after all. Still, fatigue was evident in her movements. Winter found a rock to sit on and shrugged out of her own pack, shoulders aching.

“I’ll take first watch,” she said. “Get some sleep.”

“I’m not going to object,” Alex said. “Wake me in a few hours.”

Winter nodded. Abraham already had his eyes closed, head tipped back against the tree. With practiced ease, Alex slid in close beside him and pulled the blanket tight around them both. Within minutes, she was asleep.

There was a closeness between them that made Winter a little envious. It wasn’t romantic—​more like long familiarity and a history of shared hardships. She couldn’t help but wonder what they’d gone through before reaching the Mountain. Someday I may get the chance to ask. She pulled out her own blanket, wrapped it around her shoulders, and settled in.

Not falling asleep was a challenge. The wool made a warm, tight bubble in the chilly darkness, and Winter wanted nothing more than to hunch in on herself and let consciousness drift away. She forced herself to shift position occasionally, letting drafts of cold infiltrate her cocoon. The pain in her legs and shoulders subsided to a dull, throbbing ache, and the sweat that had sheathed her skin turned cold as the sunlight faded away.

There wasn’t much to see after the light leeched out of the world, but she didn’t dare close her eyes. Overhead, the sky was a solid mass of stars, cut by the bone-​like bare branches of the trees all around. To the east, the mountains made a jagged line on the horizon.

What the hell am I doing? She’d forced herself into motion when the Steel Ghost had returned, but everything still felt wrong. Unreal, somehow. Even when she’d been freezing to death, before Alex had guided them to the Mountain, she’d felt like she’d known what she was doing it for. Janus had explained everything—​the war, the Priests of the Black, the desperate need to reach Elysium and put an end to it once and for all. Standing in his tent, it had all seemed so clear.

Now Janus was gone, and her certainty had gone with him. The plans she’d made with the Eldest and the Steel Ghost seemed like a thin reed in comparison, sandcastles built by children in ignorance of the tide. The Beast of Judgment was out there, getting stronger. The idea that she could stand against it—​stand up to the terrible wall of human flesh that had come for her in Elysium—

God. Tears dried on her cheeks, cold in the night breeze. What I wouldn’t give for a nice set of orders. No need to worry about purpose or direction, just a point on a map to aim for. And good soldiers to march with, good officers to command...

And Cyte. The thought of what they’d had, so briefly, made Winter’s chest hurt like she’d been run through with a bayonet. She’d never had those feelings for anyone but Jane, never thought she could. After Jane’s betrayal had torn her apart, she’d thrown herself into her responsibility to her soldiers, certain that it was all she had left. Cyte showed me there’s more than that. The way she’d shaken when they’d first kissed, desperate and terrified at the same time. The way she’d grabbed at Winter, pulling her close like a drowning man clutching driftwood.

Now Cyte was a thousand miles away, if she was still alive. And Jane’s body is being used by a thing that wants to destroy the entire human race.

Maybe I should have stayed at Mrs. Wilmore’s. If Janus had died in the desert, maybe none of this would have happened. She felt Infernivore shift deep inside her. How bad could it be, being a farmer’s wife? Half the world seems to manage it. She tried to imagine herself kissing a fat, bearded man, cooking his meals, raising his children. My children. The images felt impossibly alien, like something happening on the far side of the moon.

Infernivore shifted again. It was uneasy in the presence of Alex and Abraham, who both had powerful demons of their own. Though it seems to have gotten used to them—

Her eyes snapped fully open. Something’s out there.

Wood went crunch, very faintly.

Slowly, Winter extracted one arm from the blanket and fumbled her pack open. There was a pistol there, buried under the wad of her extra shirts, and beside it a tin box of cartridges. She pulled out first one, then the other. Then, freeing her other arm, she went through the familiar ritual—​pull out the paper cartridge, bite off the end with the ball, sprinkle powder into the pan and make sure it closed, pour the rest down the barrel, spit the ball after it, and jam the whole mess home with the small ramrod. She’d done it so often her hands worked automatically, the salty tang of powder on her lips as familiar as the taste of blood. When it was done she got to her feet, the gun leveled, her thumb on the hammer.

For a long moment there was silence. Winter might have thought she’d imagined the sound, but the growing restlessness of the demon in her soul was unmistakable. Infernivore couldn’t quite detect the Beast the way it could find other demons—​probably because the Beast was spread among so many bodies—​but it still sensed something when the creature got close. She held her pose, turning slowly, eyes searching among the faint shadows cast by starlight.

Two points of red blossomed in the darkness, as bright as twin fires.

“Found you.” An old man’s voice, speaking in Vordanai, his tone singsong. “Knew you’d have to come out. Couldn’t hide forever. Not Winter Ihernglass.”

Winter pulled the hammer back and slid her finger around the trigger. There could be more than one. She kept the gun aimed at the glowing eyes as she backed toward Alex and Abraham.

“Did they tell you it was your duty to come for me? Your destiny?” The Beast’s laugh was more of a strangled cough from a desiccated throat. “Maxwell knew a great deal about the Eldest and his people. They love to talk about duty, don’t they?” The creature coughed again. “Fools.”

“Alex?” Winter murmured. When she got no response, she kicked the girl with her heel. Alex yelped. “Get up. It’s found us.”

Fuck was Alex’s first coherent word. She struggled to free herself from the blanket. “How many?”

“Don’t know,” Winter said. “Get ready to run.”

“What’s the point?” the Beast said. The red-​eyes were getting closer. “You know how this has to end. You can kill and kill until you stand atop a hill of corpses. Run to the ends of the earth. What’s it going to gain you?” Another snap, a twig somewhere breaking. “Better to let me take you. That’s what Jane wanted, you know. The chance to be with you forever. Would it be so terrible?”

“I’d rather die,” Alex said, pushing to her feet.

“So would I,” Winter said.

Would you? said a tiny, traitor voice. Giving up control would be so easy. No more decisions. No more weight on your shoulders.

“You’ll get the chance,” the Beast said. “We’re a little too far out for me to eat you. So unless you come along quietly, you’ll have to make do with being torn to pieces.” Another coughing laugh. “Poor Jane will be so disappointed.”

Winter gripped the pistol tighter. She heard the blanket rustle behind her and guessed that Alex and Abraham were on their feet. She sighted carefully on the red eyes—

Another twig snapped, off to the right. Winter spun on her heel, straightened her arm, and fired. The shot was shatteringly loud in the still forest, echoing over and over, and the flash partially obscured Winter’s vision. She could see that she’d been on target, though—​a woman who’d broken from cover a dozen yards away had taken the ball high in the chest and gone down. She was stick ​thin, dressed in rags, with long, wild gray hair and open sores on her arms. Another one of the Beast’s bodies. She must have been out here for some time already. It doesn’t even bother to give them proper clothes...

Winter’s body was moving faster than her stunned brain. Her saber was tied to the side of her pack; she reached down, scooped up the bag, and tore the weapon free. More people, at least half a dozen, emerged from the trees all around them, closing from every direction. Winter tossed the useless pistol away and raised her blade.

“Alex! Watch my back!”

“On it!” Alex said, followed by the hiss-​crunch of her power spearing through flesh and bone.

One man was coming straight at her, while two more figures closed in from the sides. Winter, slashing in a diagonal arc, stepped forward to meet the attack rather than be trapped between them. The heavy blade connected with the man’s face, raking across one glowing red eye and through his nose in a spray of gore. His hands came up, grabbing for the weapon, and Winter hastily yanked it back, slashing off two fingers.

Saints and fucking martyrs. The pain from wounds like that would put an ordinary person on the ground, but the red-​eye didn’t flinch, just came forward again with blood still spraying from the cuts. Aware she had only a moment before she was surrounded, Winter feinted high, then kicked him in the chest when he reached up for the sword again. He staggered backward, losing his footing on the slippery ground, and she spun away just in time for two pairs of groping arms to miss her. Another man, in the leathers of a hunter, collided with a teenage girl in the tattered remains of a parti-​color dress. They both turned on her, and Winter gave ground. Oh, Karis Almighty...

They’re already dead. No minds inside those bodies. The girl’s pale, dirty face was something out of Winter’s days at Mrs. Wilmore’s, grubbing with the other inmates in the gardens or scrubbing the floors. Except it’s not a girl. It’s the Beast, the Beast, the Beast.

It took her a moment to realize she was shouting. The girl came at her, and Winter grabbed her bony wrist with her off hand, pulling her forward and off-​balance. A smooth blow of the saber ripped across the girl’s neck, and her head lolled back with a spray of arterial blood. She tottered, fell to her knees, and then collapsed, arms groping toward Winter’s feet.

Dead is still dead. These weren’t the monsters of the temple, whose broken bodies had been animated by magic. They were human, more or less, with their souls hollowed out and replaced by the Beast’s controlling intelligence. They might not feel pain, but they bled and their bodies failed.

The hunter shifted to the left, trying to force Winter to move in the other direction. A quick glance told her that the first man, one remaining eye still aglow, was crawling toward her, leaving a sticky trail of blood. Winter went the other way instead, ducking under the hunter’s outstretched arms and letting her trailing hand slash him across the belly. She kicked him from behind as he stumbled forward, and he fell among his own viscera, twitching like a landed fish.

“Winter.” Abraham’s voice. “I think we need to leave.”

Winter looked up. Three more people lay dead off to her left, speared neatly through the head. Alex was gathering up her pack, and Abraham already had his on. He was pointing down the hill, into the valley, and Winter turned in that direction.

Red lights, like distant torches, but always in pairs. Dozens of them, spread through the forest, flickering as they moved among the trees. Glowing eyes, every gaze locked in one direction.

We’re dead. There were too many, far too many. The sea of lights went on and on.

“Winter!” Alex said nervously.

“Higher,” Winter said. “If we can get over the hill, maybe we can lose them on the downslope. Find somewhere to hide.” She looked from Alex to Abraham, and both of them looked back at her with trust in their eyes. They think I know what to do. Winter wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

*

The night seemed to last forever.

At some point, Winter realized the Beast was driving them, chivying them as it had back in Elysium. The red lights were always visible, a cordon of flickering eyes, behind them but drawing ever closer. It didn’t have to show its position that way; it could hide the glow. But it served the Beast’s purpose that they exhaust themselves running.

Unfortunately, it’s damned good tactics. Winter, Abraham, and Alex could tire and fall. The Beast’s bodies would push themselves to the physical limits of exhaustion, and if they collapsed, there were always more.

They climbed until they reached the spine of the hills, breath puffing in the chill night air as they scrambled across patches of bare rock to reach the line of the forest on the other side. During the day, at a leisurely pace, the change from ascent to descent might have represented some relief, but now it only made things more difficult. Starlight barely picked out the ground ahead, and revealed nothing but slippery mud or shifting rocks that could easily swallow an ankle.

For a time they lost sight of their pursuers, and Winter allowed herself a splinter of hope. Then, pausing for a desperate swig from her canteen, she saw the flicker of red on the hilltop.

Abraham had long ago gone silent, his face pale and limbs trembling. Even Alex was panting for breath, her short hair spiky with sweat.

“We should... find somewhere... to make a stand,” Alex said. “Make sure they can only come... one way. We could hold them off.”

“Forever?” Winter shook her head. “If we stop moving, it’ll just bring up more bodies.”

“We can’t keep this up, either.” Alex watched the red lights disappear momentarily, then emerge again. “Maybe we can double back? Punch through them?”

“Maybe.” But Winter didn’t think there was much chance. The problem was that the Beast was a single opponent, not a collection of individuals. Individuals would get confused, in the cold and dark. She could try to bluff them, disorient them. But the Beast... “We can’t punch through. If even one of them sees us, it’ll know what we’re trying. We need somewhere to hide. Look for a... a cave, or something.”

Alex nodded. It was a slim hope to cling to, but better than nothing at all.

No caves were immediately in evidence, not that Winter was confident she’d be able to see one in the dark. They picked their way down the slope, then alongside a streambed, staying out from under the trees to make the best use of the light. Can the Beast see in the dark? Or is it leaving a trail of broken bodies behind it?

“There’s something up there!” Alex’s finger stabbed out, pointing at the ridge ahead of them. “I saw someone moving.”

“Then we’re dead,” Winter said. “It’s got us surrounded.”

“No red,” Alex said. “Could it be someone else?”

Winter was about to ask who else would be out in the woods in the middle of the night, but at that moment a pair of shapes burst from the underbrush, eyes blazing with crimson light. Clever bastard, Winter had time to think. She’d counted on more of a lead, but the Beast had obviously let its fittest bodies range ahead of the pack. These two were both big brutes—stocky, heavily built men with the look of laborers. One of them came directly at Winter, and the other went for Alex.

Winter clawed for her saber, while Alex raised her hands. A spear of darkness stabbed out, but exhaustion had slowed Alex’s reflexes, and the red-​eye lurched sideways, taking the bolt in the shoulder instead of the head. An instant later it was on top of her, slamming into her with a body blow that carried her off her feet. They hit the ground together with a clatter of stones.

The second red-​eye got within arm’s length of Winter before she got her sword free, and she backed away, slashing wildly. The weapon hacked a gash in the thing’s arm, which he completely ignored. Winter sidestepped and lunged, sliding the saber in under the red-​eye’s armpit. It slipped between his ribs, burying itself almost to the hilt, and as he collapsed it was torn from her grasp.

Hell. She didn’t bother to try to retrieve it from the thrashing body, just turned and ran for Alex. The girl was on her back, with the big man kneeling on her, both hands pressed against the back of her head. As Winter closed, Abraham slammed his stick against the red-​eye’s skull with all his strength, but the thing didn’t do more than sway. All right, then. How about this?

Winter grabbed the creature by the back of the neck and unleashed Infernivore. The demon flowed eagerly through the contact, trying to grab hold of the thread of otherworldly energy that animated the red-​eye. As it had before, though, the Beast withdrew from its vessel. The big man slumped forward, suddenly limp, and Infernivore wrapped itself back around Winter irritably, deprived of its prey. Winter felt a sudden gut ​punch of fatigue, as though she’d just finished a sprint. She shook it off, grabbing the corpse by the shoulders and rolling it off Alex.

“Abraham!” Winter went to one knee beside the girl. There was blood on her scalp where she’d hit the ground, but more worrying was her ankle, which had bent entirely the wrong way under the red-​eye’s weight. She was breathing, but she didn’t seem conscious. “She’s hurt!”

Abraham scrambled in beside her and laid his hands on Alex’s back. He closed his eyes, concentrating hard.

“Her skull’s not fractured. Nothing more than bruises, except the ankle.” He looked up at Winter. “I can put it back together, but...”

“We don’t have time.” Winter turned. No glowing red eyes were visible behind them, but she saw moving shadows in the underbrush. More of the Beast’s bodies, closing in. “Can you carry her?”

“Not for long.” Abraham’s lips were pale. “I’m not strong enough. I’m sorry.”

“Wouldn’t work anyway. Too slow.” Winter walked over to the now-​still red-​eye and yanked her saber free, wiping the blood on the dead man’s shirt. “Heal her. As fast as you can.”

“You should go on,” he said abruptly. “Leave us. I’ll help her and then... find somewhere to hide, like you said.”

I knew he would try that. She hadn’t known Abraham long, but he seemed the self-​sacrificial type. Why else would he even be here? “No.”

“Winter, please.” His face was a mask of anguish. “If you don’t get there—”

“I know, damn it.” She slashed the saber through the air. “What are my chances of making it by myself? This isn’t sentiment; it’s tactics. If you get Alex up, she might be able to kill enough of them with her power that we’ll have a chance.”

“I don’t think it’ll be quick enough—”

“Try!” Winter snarled.

If we’re all going to die, the hell if the last thing I do will be to abandon my friends. She turned to face the woods.

A gaunt woman in peasant’s skirts stepped out of the shadow. Then a boy, another priest, several farmers, a pair of girls who looked like sisters. A dozen, more. Eyes glowing from within with the lights of hell.

“What did I tell you?” the woman in the lead said. “There’s only one way this can end. Though I enjoy a good chase.”

Winter wanted to say something, some cutting last words, but nothing came to mind. What does it matter? No one’s going to remember. She raised her saber for a moment, then let the tip fall. The Beast doesn’t care how many of these poor bastards I kill. Her throat was tight. What’s the point of anything—

Something long and heavy flashed out of the darkness and hit the red-​eye in the chest. It was a spear, thrown hard enough that the tip emerged from the small of the woman’s back. She tried to speak, but when she opened her mouth, only blood emerged. She toppled a moment later, and the rest of the red-​eyes charged.

They were met by more spears, a ragged volley, arching over Winter’s head to plunge down among the minions of the Beast with devastating effect. Most of the red-​eyes went down at once. Those that kept coming ran into a tide of black-​and-​white figures, more spears in their hands. A farmer fell, clutching at the ruin of his throat. One of the girls ran right at Winter, but someone intercepted her with a kick, hurling her to the ground. Before she could rise, another figure stabbed down with a spearpoint, once, twice, three times. The girl went still.

Who...? Winter felt her fuzzy, sleep-​deprived mind struggling to keep up. Someone helped us?

She backed up, until she was standing beside Alex and Abraham. Abraham had his head down and his eyes closed, deep in his healing trance. Alex had yet to move.

The newcomers fanned out. There were a lot of them, at least a score. It was hard to see much in the starlight, but they seemed to be short and bulky, though they moved with a lithe grace. Winter saw pale skin and dark hair, and flashes of white fur. Every hand held a spear, and most of them had several more strapped to their backs.

Those spears were leveled at her. The points didn’t gleam as metal would have, but she had ample evidence they were sharp enough.

O-kay. Now what? Whoever these people were, they hadn’t hesitated to cut down the red-​eyes. Since they haven’t spitted us yet, they must be waiting for something. Winter cleared her throat, then hesitated. I doubt they speak Vordanai or Hamveltai. She’d worked on her Murnskai during the campaign, but it was weak compared to Alex’s or Abraham’s. Still better than nothing.

“Kaja... sevet...” Winter concentrated on the tricky consonants of the northern language. “Kdja svet Murnskedj?” Do you speak Murnskai? “Vordanedj?” she added hopefully.

One of the figures took a step closer. “Sveta Murnskedj.” It was a young woman’s voice, with a different accent than Winter had heard from the Murnskai she’d met on the road north. “Dost’av ohk va? Tul fuhr’nos?”

Damn. The first part was “Who are you?”; simple enough, but the second, Tul is... sun? Sun look? Sunray? She glanced at the bodies littering the edge of the forest, and realization dawned. Sun eyes. Red-​eyes.

“Hja, hja, hja. Tyv tul fuhr’nos.” We kill the red-​eyes. Winter drew a line across her throat, hoping they might understand if she’d gotten the word wrong. “Tyv!”

The points of the spears lowered a fraction.

*

Abraham opened his eyes and sagged.

“Hey!” Winter said. “Is she all right?”

“She’ll be fine,” Abraham said, sitting down heavily. “The break was more complicated than I anticipated. I had to guide several splinters of bone back into place.” He looked down at Alex with a faint smile. “I don’t know how many times that makes it that I’ve put her back together.”

He let out a breath and looked up, smile fading.

“Who...?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Winter said. “But they haven’t killed us yet.”

The newcomers were in the process of setting up a camp, several hundred yards away from where they’d slaughtered the red-​eyes. Winter had done her best to explain that Alex couldn’t be moved yet, and wasn’t sure if she’d gotten the point across or not. Regardless, five of the spear-​wielding warriors had stayed to watch them, weapons not pointed but not stowed, either.

“I tried to tell them that you’d be able to speak to them once you were finished,” Winter said, after she’d explained. “I’m pretty sure I messed that up, though. But they were willing to wait once they saw Alex was hurt.”

“Are they all women?” Abraham said, looking at the guards.

“Possibly,” Winter said. She’d been having a difficult time making much out in the darkness, but some of the faces definitely had a feminine cast. “Is it safe to carry Alex a little way?”

Abraham nodded. “She may not wake up for a while, but she’s not in danger.”

“Can you ask them if we can move over to their camp, then? I think they’re getting a fire going.”

Abraham got to his feet and waved at the guards, who approached warily. He spoke, a rapid-​fire stream of Murnskai, which they answered excitedly. One of them broke away and hurried off toward the camp.

“She says it’s all right,” Abraham said, “but that we’re not to try to run away.”

“I don’t think I’m up to running anywhere,” Winter said. “Help me with Alex.”

Between them, they managed to get Alex upright and her arms slung around Winter’s neck. Winter hefted the girl—​surprisingly heavy, despite her slim frame—​and trudged toward the camp, with Abraham hovering behind her and the four guards maintaining a watchful distance.

The women—​they were all women, as far as Winter could see—​setting up the camp went about it with the efficiency of long routine. By the time Winter arrived and set Alex down, they had a fire burning merrily, and small, steep-​sided skin tents were going up in concentric rings around it. The ground was higher and flatter than where the fight had taken place, and some distance from the edge of the forest, so a sentry would have plenty of warning in case of attack.

In the light of the flames, she got a clearer view of their—​captors? Rescuers? Maybe both. The appearance of bulk came from the thick furs they wrapped themselves in, including long cloaks that could be wound about their middles to stay out of the way in combat. Sewn into the dark leather of these garments were many smaller, paler objects. Bones, Winter realized, after watching for a few moments. They were arranged in neat patterns, expanding spirals or flower-​like blossoms, the way a fine lady of Vordan might have her dresses sewn with pearls. The women wore their hair long, but tied up tight, with more bones worked into the weave.

The language they spoke among themselves wasn’t Murnskai, though it was similar enough that Winter could hear the occasional familiar word. Abraham’s eyebrows went up at the sound of it, and he leaned close to Winter and spoke under his breath.

“I’m not certain, but I think these are Trans-​Batariai.”

Winter frowned. Tribesmen from beyond the river Bataria had dogged the army’s steps after the unnatural snows had begun—​the Vordanai had called them the “white riders” for the color of their furs. She explained this to Abraham. “I only saw a few up close, but they didn’t look like these people. And we never saw any women.”

“A different group, perhaps?” Abraham shrugged. “Their language is supposed to be closer to what the original inhabitants of this land spoke before the Children of the Sun invaded. Murnskai comes from mixing it with Mithradacii.”

“So what are they doing here? We’re still well south of the river.”

“No idea. I suggest we ask them.”

Once Alex was arranged on a blanket by the fire—​she mumbled something and curled up tighter in her sleep, which was encouraging—​Winter and Abraham sat next to her, soaking up the welcome warmth. Spearwomen watched them with unabashed curiosity, but no one spoke until another woman emerged from one of the little tents on her hands and knees.

She looked young, in her late teens—​all the Trans-​Batariai did, now that Winter thought about it—​but she obviously carried some authority. She had a small, round face, with the dark hair that seemed universal among these people. A ragged scar, healed into a shiny ribbon, went from her eyebrow up to her hairline. She looked Winter up and down, then strode over, putting on a fierce scowl.

“Hja tifet Murnskyr,” she said. “Hja tifet tul fuhr’nos.” You are not Murnskai. You are not red-​eyes.

Winter nodded eagerly and looked at Abraham. “Tell her we’re... travelers.”

Abraham spoke, and the woman replied. Winter realized her Murnskai wasn’t as bad as she’d thought—​Abraham was mostly comprehensible. It was clearly a second language for the spearwomen, or possibly a different dialect.

“She asks if it’s only the three of us,” Abraham said. “Or if there were more who were lost to the red-​eyes.”

“Just the three of us,” Winter said. “Please thank her for saving us. We would certainly have died without her help.”

Abraham translated. “She says that killing demons is the shared duty of all humans,” he said when she’d finished. “She would help her worst enemy against the red-​eyes.”

“Ask her what she’s doing here,” Winter said. “If this land is where her people normally live.”

The spearwoman shook her head before Abraham had finished speaking. She talked at length, and Winter felt like she got the gist, though she waited for Abraham to translate before replying.

“She says they came south because the Blessed Ones told them there was a threat to the Holy City. A vast army gathered, like she’d never seen before, and fought with heathen invaders.” Abraham coughed. “From the context, I think that’s the Vordanai.”

“There must have been more fighting after I left,” Winter said. “I wish we knew what the hell happened.”

“According to her, the enemy were driven back in fear. But the weather was terribly cold—​maybe demonically cold is a better translation—​and the Trans-​Batariai suffered badly. They split into smaller bands to return home, but then the cold weather vanished and all the rivers flooded. While they were trying to find their way, the red-​eyes appeared and started attacking.”

Winter winced. She could imagine it all too well—​the army of bodies the Beast had gathered at Elysium fanning out across Murnsk in search of more raw material, spreading like flame across a dry field.

“Are there more of them?” Winter said. There were thirty or forty spearwomen in the camp, she guessed. “A larger group nearby?”

“No,” the spearwoman said, which Winter understood without translation. “We were separated. The others were killed or taken.” She looked anxious, staring at Abraham, and after a moment she blurted out something that Winter couldn’t quite follow.

“Oh dear,” Abraham said.

“What?”

“The others told her I was helping Alex. She’s asking if I’m a healer. One of their people is badly hurt.”

“Do you think you could help her?”

“I’d have to examine her, but...” Abraham looked down at his hands, and his voice softened. “I won’t leave someone to die if I can help it. But if they consider my gift to be demonic, there’s no telling what they might do. We know they serve Elysium.”

“On the other hand, they seem to serve the Priests of the Black,” Winter said. “Which might mean they know all about the Penitent Damned.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t order you, but—”

“I’ll do it,” Abraham said. “I’d do it regardless. I just wanted to warn you.”

He said this to the spearwoman, who nodded and gestured toward the tent. Winter went along with them, after one last check on Alex, and no one seemed to object. The flap at the front of the tent was low enough that she had to enter on her knees, and it was a tight fit for the three of them plus the patient, who was buried under a heavy pile of furs.

“I’ll need to look at her,” Abraham said.

The spearwoman nodded and gestured for him to get on with it. Abraham pushed the furs aside, revealing a girl a year or two younger than the leader. She was naked, and Winter felt herself flush slightly, but Abraham looked her over with a clinical detachment. A bandage, crusty with blood, was wound around her stomach, and seeing the placement of the wound made Winter’s heart sink. When Abraham untied the bandage and raised it gently from the skin, the sudden stench was all the confirmation she needed.

Gut wound. And a bad one, by the look of it. Any cutter from the Second Division gathering wounded would have left this girl where she lay in favor of those who might have a chance to survive. A wound to the muscle might heal clean, and if a limb was injured it could be amputated, but a puncture to the viscera meant festering and a long, nasty death as sure as sunrise.

Winter suddenly was back in another tent, on another continent. Bobby had taken a similar wound, after making Winter swear never to take her to a cutter. At the time, Winter had been foolish enough to imagine she might be able to do something about it on her own. Graff, a veteran sergeant, had disabused her of that notion, and only Feor’s sorcerous intervention had saved Bobby’s life. For a while.

She shook her head and wiped at the tears pricking her eyelids. The question is, is this woman as naive as I was? Or has she guessed that Abraham has something more than ordinary healing to offer?

The spearwoman was looking down at the girl, and her fierce expression was gone, replaced with an overwhelming grief. She’s desperate.

“Please help her,” she said in Murnskai even Winter could understand. “My sister.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“I’ll do what I can,” Abraham said. “But we need to be alone.”

The woman nodded and crawled out of the tent without another word. Winter hesitated for a moment.

“You’re sure about this?” she said. “She knows that’s not a wound anyone can live through. Which means she’s going to know—”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Abraham said, looking down at the dying girl. “She’s here. I’m here. I can’t just ignore her.”

Winter nodded slowly.

“We’ll deal with the consequences when they happen,” Abraham said. He let out a long breath. “Wait outside, please. It’s easier with no one watching.”

Winter pushed her way out of the tent on her hands and knees, clambering awkwardly to her feet beside the spearwoman leader. Someone had draped a fur blanket over Alex’s shoulders, and she looked comfortable enough. The rest of the spearwomen were still going about the business of setting up the camp, but throwing frequent glances in their direction.

“He’ll help your sister,” Winter said, in her halting Murnskai. “He is... a very good healer.”

The spearwoman nodded vaguely. She was staring into the forest, in the direction the red-​eyes had come from. Winter followed her gaze, searching for movement, but there was nothing but the dead trees.

“What’s your name?” Winter said. “I’m Winter.”

“Winter.” The woman frowned, and touched her chest. “Letingerae.”

“Letin... gah... ray?” Winter struggled with the unfamiliar syllables. The woman grinned, for the first time since Winter had met her.

“Leti,” she said. “I’m Leti.”

“My friends are Alex and Abraham,” Winter said, pointing. “What’s your sister’s name?”

Leti looked away. “Vess.”

“Winter?” Abraham’s voice came from within the tent. “You can come inside now.”

Leti pushed through the tent flap so quickly the whole structure shook, Winter worming her way in after. Abraham was undoing the bandage from Vess’ middle, using it to scrape at some of the dried blood and pus. Even through the grime, it was clear that there was unbroken skin underneath, and the girl’s breathing was visibly eased. Leti’s eyes widened.

“She will sleep for a long time,” Abraham said. “A day or two, maybe. And we will need water, to clean her. But she will be fine.”

“You...” Leti paused, swallowing hard. “You are—” And then a word Winter didn’t recognize.

“What’d she say?” Winter said.

“It means... Blessed One, maybe?” Abraham frowned. “I’m not sure I understand the theology.”

“It doesn’t sound like the sort of thing you kill someone for being,” Winter said.

Abraham nodded and said in Murnskai, “I think so. I may not understand you properly.”

“She will live.” Leti looked down at her sister. “She will really live?”

Abraham nodded. “She will live.”

“I will clean her.” The spearwoman didn’t look up. “We will find you a tent. You are welcome to share our fire.”

Winter closed her eyes and breathed a prayer of thanks to anyone who might be listening.