She howled, disconsolate. Her fingers clawed through the stones. ‘I have nothing. Everything was a lie! I – my life – all is bereft of meaning! I am empty!’

‘Tell her to spread the word of what she has seen.’

Ereko thought about Traveller's words. ‘What is your name, child?’

She wiped her eyes savagely. ‘Sorrow.’

Ancient Mother! Now it was Ereko's turn to stare until, misunderstanding his silence, the girl hung her head. He had to clear his throat before he could find his voice. ‘Sorrow, go forth into the world. Bring word of what has been revealed.’

At his words the length of her body convulsed as if struck. She raised her face and deep within her dark eyes Ereko saw flames kindled. Those flames rose to a shining that brought tears streaming down her cheeks. She climbed to her feet. Her mouth tightened to a bloodless slash and she knelt on one knee. ‘I will return to my people and all the ancient lies will be cast down. I will bring this new truth to them.’

Ereko translated for Traveller.

He was staggered. ‘No. They'd just kill her out of hand. Tell her to go north. She might have a chance up there.’

Ereko translated, ‘Your people are not yet ready for the truth, Sorrow. It would destroy them as it nearly did you. Their time will yet come. He bids you travel north as a pilgrim. There you may find fertile ground.’

She straightened, though her eyes now remained downcast. He studied her: such a young malnourished thing! Is this part of the foundation upon which Traveller would set his message? And there were marks upon her, invisible to others, but which he could sense. Monstrous cruelties were there burnt upon her spirit. This one has spilt much blood. But then, who else would possibly dare to carry such a burden as the one Traveller lays upon these converts?

‘Tell her to go – I cannot stand to see her trembling.’

‘The one who has given up his name, his past, all that he once was, to bring his message to the world, blesses you, and bids you go.’

‘My Lord!

The girl's gaze was averted as if from a glaring light. She could not see how her actions, her words, tormented Traveller. ‘Go,’ Ereko repeated. ‘Go.’

She backed away, weeping, a hand at her mouth, the other wiping her eyes. She was beyond words, stricken. Transformed. Annealed by the flames that burn within these mortals’ spirits that so erupt in Traveller's presence. Like handfuls of mineral powders tossed upon a fire.

They watched her retreat until she clambered up a cliff of tumbled rocks and disappeared from sight.

‘Perhaps we should burn these ships before the villagers loot them,’ Traveller said into the long silence.

‘I want the wood.’

He let out a long sigh. ‘Very well. I'll forbid any looting.’

Ereko turned to him. ‘Forgive me, Traveller, but I must ask. What is it they sense? The ones like this.’ He was startled to see that Traveller too was trembling. Perhaps it was the chill wind. The man had swung his gaze out to sea, squinting now into the shards of sunlight flashing there among the waves.

‘I really do not know. They see what they must see. I didn't lie when I said it was already there within them. It was always there. I believe that I merely show them the Path. They must choose to walk it.’

‘And where does this new Path of yours lead?’

His answering smile was full of self-mockery. ‘I do not know. I am still walking it. Though I will say this one thing – it leads to a meeting and a choice. A confrontation that I cannot see beyond.’

He left Ereko standing motionless in thought upon the wave-washed shingle. More had been revealed than Ereko had ever expected, or dared ask. Yet it all remained a closed mystery to him. Among his kind they were born of Mother Earth, their flesh remained of the Earth, and when they faltered so they returned to Her embrace. Things, it seemed, were far simpler back then.

Stalker, Grere and Kyle scouted the settlement the next dawn. Empty rotting huts and grass-choked lanes. The hulks of sunken boats in the weeds of the shore. Long abandoned it was. Yet Kyle could not shake a feeling of unease. The gaping doorways seemed to mock him. Unseen figures seemed to watch from among fallen rafters. His back prickled as if hidden bows were trained upon him. After a quick search they returned to the blade waiting in the woods. ‘Abandoned,’ Stalker announced. Kyle nodded his agreement.

‘Visited now and then,’ added Grere. ‘Fishermen, hunters, ‘n’ such.’

‘Did you enter the fortress?’ Trench asked.

They shook their heads.

‘Good. Don't for now.’ He stood. ‘Let's move in. Stalker, Grere, point. Stoop, with me. Kyle, Twisty, rear.’

The blade spent the day kicking through the falling-down huts and storehouses. Trench appropriated the least collapsed house as the base. He dragged the only usable chair into the shade just inside the gaping front opening and sat facing the bay.

Kyle looked to the hamlet's rear where an overgrown path led into dense brush and on, presumably, to the cliff and fortress above.

‘Why not camp down in the woods, out of sight?’ Stalker asked.

Sitting on the steps. Stoop answered, ‘’Cause we want to make contact.’

Trench pulled a pouch from his waist, pushed a pinch of leaf and white powder into one cheek. ‘That's right. Keep watch. Someone comes, grab ‘em.’

‘Aye.’

That night Kyle stood watch with Twisty. They kept no fires. Kyle stood in the dark close to shore, watching the moonlight shimmer from the bay's calm water. It was cool and he wondered how hard a winter this region drew. While he tried to make himself as still as the night he heard someone approaching slowly and stealthily from his rear; listening, he believed he identified the man making the noise. ‘You're supposed to be watching the woods.’

Twisty pulled up short, surprised. ‘Damn. How'd you know it was me?’

‘You told me you were from a city – no woodsman would make that much noise.’

Twisty grimaced his disbelief. ‘Is that really true?’

‘No. I've never even been in a city. Seen one from a distance though.’

Twisty unrolled a wool cloak he carried over a shoulder and pulled it tight about himself. ‘You're down here at the shore, I've come down from the woods. I think we both felt it last night and this night too.’

‘Felt what?’

‘The spirits.’

‘Spirits?’

‘Yes.’ Twisty's bony shoulders shook as he shivered. ‘The land's lousy with them.’

Kyle squinted up to the dark tree line. ‘It feels empty to me.’

‘Maybe they're the reason why it's empty.’

‘Maybe. I'm not sure what I feel.’

‘No? Really? They're interested in you.’

Kyle couldn't suppress a flinch of recognition. ‘How do you know this?’

‘My Warren is Denul. I sense these things.’

Now that it had been named, Kyle shook off the feeling he'd sensed since setting foot in this land – the feeling of being watched. He turned to the bay. ‘Warrens,’ he ground out. ‘I don't understand your Warrens. How do they work? On the steppes we just worshipped the land and the rain and-’ Kyle stopped.

‘Yes?’ Twisty prompted.

‘And the wind. We worshipped Father Wind.’

Twisty blew out a long thoughtful breath. ‘The Warrens… Good question. Hardly anyone actually knows. They're not ours after all. In your lands, do you have brotherhoods, groups of men or women?’

‘Yes. We have warrior societies. Most young men join if they can. The Tall Grass, The Red Earth. The women have theirs.’

‘Well, you might think of the Warrens that way. Each one has its own way of doing things. Its own secret words, symbols, and rituals. That's all there is to it. Sadly puerile, really.’

Still facing away, Kyle whispered, ‘But gods?’

Kyle snorted. ‘Just powerful spirits to my mind. Beings who have more power than others – nothing more. But you don't have to believe me. I'm something of a cynic on the matter.’