SHAFTS OF COLORLESS sunlight pierced the well of shadows around Taran. The filth caking him from being dragged through the furrow now fell in small clots to the dirt floor. The listless air had no smell, as if it had filled a chamber that had been sealed for centuries. Something unseen pressed on him from within, a weight he’d never before felt.

Unless he freed himself and found water Taran suspected that he would rot here.

He hadn’t resisted being dragged into the crude timbered barn by the big famhair that had captured him. Left shackled and chained to a massive stake, he awaited his new enslavement. Instead of horses or livestock he saw work tables and tools. A wad of woolen blankets and garments had been left on a mound of hay, suggesting someone used the barn as shelter. Massive logs stacked to one side had been stripped of bark and notched in various places. One that lay on a huge table had been carved to resemble an arm as long as his own body.

The shape told Taran what the druids and their giants were making. Ruadri had described to him the Wood Dream tribe’s enormous oak totems before they had been transformed into the famhairean. Hendry meant to do the same. And now Rowan would use her powerful druid gift to help him fashion more.

Rowan. Despite her betrayal, simply thinking her name twisted his heart into a knot, and added to the dull throb of pain on the back of his head. How could you turn against the Skaraven? Against me? Did I drive you to fall in with this madness? To despise me so much that you’d force me to pledge myself to our enemy?

Holding the chains so they wouldn’t clatter, Taran tested the strength of his shackles. The heavy cuffs stank of fear and blood. Hendry had likely stolen them from a horse breeder. Forged from iron to restrain stallions for cutting, the shackles would be almost impossible to break. He wanted to believe Hendry had intended the restraints for Rowan, but she must have known he would follow her.

Taran turned his focus inward, and reached out with his mind until he encountered the thoughts of a mare tethered somewhere near the barn. She shivered inside and out, her mind streaming memories of the famhairean attacking and killing her stablemaster. She’d been stolen along with food and tools, and then forced to ride for twoday carrying that and Hendry to reach this place. To her the ruined settlement stank of ancient death that terrified her more than the murderous druids and their giants.

Easy now, my beauty. Taran poured all his affection into his connection with the mare, praising her strength and coaxing her to calm. Once he could see through her eyes, he thought, Look upon the tether, aye, show to me where you’re tied. Now gaze around you.

After the horse eyed the thin branch where her lead had been loosely looped, she swung her head to regard her surroundings. A stone’s throw away from her stood a hastily-built shelter where Hendry kept her during the long, cold nights. Beyond it she spied the back of the barn where Taran had been left.

Take hold of the branch and break it, he encouraged her. You can pull free from it once you do.

The frightened mare nudged the branch a few times. Once it broke and she was free she thought for a moment of running until her legs gave out, but reluctantly calmed again as he poured more reassuring thoughts to her.

I cannae free myself as you have. You must go to my clan in the Great Wood. Taran showed her the different routes he knew that led to the Red Hills until she recognized one from the west. When you find the Skaraven, you will be safe again.

Taran knew the journey would take the mare at least twoday, but if the weather remained clear the clan would be able to backtrack her trail.

Stay to the woods, where you shallnae be seen. Go swiftly but carefully, my friend, Taran thought to the mare. You’re my only hope.

The horse quietly shuffled off into the trees, her step quickening as she made her way toward the eastern road. He stayed in her thoughts, tracking her until the growing distance between them thinned their link to a bare thread.

Something hard slammed into the side of Taran’s face, breaking his connection to the mare. He shook his head to clear it and looked up to see his own face glaring down at him.

“My lady comes to work. On your feet.” When Taran didn’t move the giant jerked him upright. With a brutal thrust he slammed him back against the stake and held him pinned. “Mayhap I’ll visit your clan again.” He jerked the Skaraven ring from Taran’s hand, and thrust it onto his own finger. “You yet breathe only as she wishes to punish you. When she’s had her fill of watching you suffer, then I’ll take your head.”

Taran couldn’t reply. Rowan’s command had effectively rendered him mute. But he understood the famhair’s jealousy. By the cave he’d heard the giant speak of running away with Rowan to the future, as if he were in love with her. This when Taran knew the famhairean despised all druid kind except Hendry and Murdina. He then recalled the strange name Rowan called Hendry after silencing him.

Any questions, Granddad?

Rowan walked inside the barn and surveyed them both. “Let him go, Ochd.”

The giant released him so abruptly Taran fell to his knees. “You neednae keep this one alive. Killing him would prove beyond doubt to Hendry your loyalty.” He went to her, and put his hands on her arms. “’Twould protect us both, my lady.”

“We’re good for now. Go and keep an eye on the druids,” Rowan told him, and moved toward the work tables.

Taran watched the famhair leave the barn without another word, and felt a brush of power as it spread out and dissipated. She could command Ochd as easily as the mad druids controlled the others. She had called Hendry that strange name. Her druid gift gave her the power to change and shape wood.

Rowan must share the mad druids’ Wood Dream bloodline.

A cool hand cradled his chin, lifting his throbbing face. “I’m going to unchain you,” she said, her voice barely more than a murmur. “You have to keep quiet and do exactly what I say. If you understand, nod.”

He nodded.

She pulled the pin from the lock and slid the release back to loosen the shackles on his wrists and ankles. As soon as she pulled him to his feet Taran looked at the open barn door.

“No, you’re not going to make a run for it,” Rowan told him as she held onto his arm and led him over to the largest work table. “Grab the other end of this and help me move it.”

Taran had no choice but to obey her. After they moved the carved limb from the table Rowan had him help her bring a new log to take its place. She seemed entirely indifferent to him as she surveyed the length of the oak.

“This should match the other one for size.” She brought a curved stripping blade with two handles and placed it in front of him. “Start stripping the bark.” When she saw his expression, her mouth tightened. “This is the new deal: either you shut up and do the work, or I give you and that tool to the giants, and they start peeling you.”

Taran picked up the blade.