I came out of the cloud and hit first a powerful updraft that carried me safely up and over the cliff that rose high above the water's edge, and then encountered the downdraft on the other side which threw me unceremoniously to the ground.

Not the welcome I was expecting, I thought briefly as the darkness took me.

I found them halfway up the mountain. They were a long way ahead of me, down a valley and up another hillside from where I stood, and there were more of them than I expected. I saw one that I assumed was Varien, for his silver hair was hard to miss in sunlight, but I knew Lanen the instant I saw her even from that far away.

At last, at last, that stopped me where I stood.

How in the Lady's name could I possibly be certain of that distant moving speck being Lanen?

I looked again. I could not tell how many people there were—more than four. There were at least three horses, but there might have been four or five. There was a strange creature with them at first, though it left as the sun was going down. It moved very fast. It might have been a light chestnut horse, I couldn't really tell. But I knew Lanen was mere, and which of the tiny dots she was.

That was not possible.

I tried to think what might make me feel so certain. I felt pity for the girl, certainly, but there was no bond between us. I had asked for Lady Shia's aid but this did not feel like divine guidance. My gut wrenched at the thought of the goddess and I could not think clearly.

I drew food from my pack, for it was growing dark and I would have to stop. From what I could see the others were setting up their camp; I saw fire spring forth, friendly and welcoming on mat far hillside. The longing grew in me to go there, to speak to Lanen again, to warn her, to be with good people again—to warm my hands and my heart at that fire.

At the very thought I was doubled over with cramp. I could not stand or walk long enough to gamer wood for my own fire. The cold food helped, but my gut was dreadfully painful. Enough, I thought, I must do something about this. After I had eaten and rested a while, I sent a prayer to the Lady and summoned my healer's power to me.

There is a kind of half-trance that accompanies healing. I was so weak that my own corona made me dizzy, but I fought the feeling and called in my power. Only the faintest nimbus answered me. I drew on it, weak as I was, to help heal the pain in my belly, but the slightest effort swiftly exhausted me. The pain was as bad or worse after I had finished.

I sat propped against a stone with thin blankets wrapped about me to keep out the night, but the cold and the pain were sharpening my mind.

Finally.

The very things that beset me were making me realise that all was wrong. All. Everything I had done since I left Ver-faren made no sense. I had meant to go east and north, and I had done that, but at a snail's pace and towards no destination. I hadn't eaten for days—foolishness. And the sudden urge, no, the need to find Lanen and warn her—how in the name of the Mother had I had even the slightest idea of where to go?

I shivered, not with cold. For I had found her, in all the great world I had found her in a matter of days. That was sickeningly not right. What was guiding me? What was pushing me, and why?

I shivered again as a pain cramped across my gut. Oh dear Goddess, sweet Lady Shia—ahhh!

Oh Hells' teeth. The pain hit me worse every time I prayed, or even thought sincerely of Shia—a spasm clenched me even as I realised.

I drew in my power again, ignoring the weakness that demanded I stop at the appearance of the merest nimbus. I am a Healer of the third rank, I can heal broken bones in minutes, knit torn flesh, relieve fevers—I. had saved Lanen's life when she was very near to death indeed.

It was a struggle, but finally at least a useful portion of my corona surrounded me. I gathered my courage as I had gathered my power and looked with the healing sight into my own body.

I spewed forth my meagre meal and kept heaving long after there was nothing more to come. No one should have to see that in themselves. Oh Mother, oh kind and blessed Lady of the ground below and the water around and the moon in her gentleness above, keep me man alive long enough to fight back.

Wrapped around my gut, with claws in my spine and a spiked tail flicking back and forth, was a demon. I had not called it, I had not allowed it into my soul much less my body, it had been put there against my will. By Berys, of course.

I had heard of such things, but I had never believed that it could—it never happens to you, does it? It was a Sending. A major demonwork that cost the summoner dear one way or another, but not nearly as much as it cost the chosen host.

There was no way to be rid of the thing. It was the cause and the force behind the compulsion that had made no sense. I didn't know why Berys wanted me to track Lanen, to be near her when she stopped, but I "knew" it was something I had to do. No, I corrected myself. It was something that Berys, through the demon, wanted me to do.

The only way to be rid of a Sending is to kill it where it sits, but the victim cannot do it for himself, for the demon will sense the threat and stop the muscles from completing it. If I could not find anyone to kill it for me, I would simply have to wait for it to become active and kill me when it emerged. A Sending is death one way or another. For me, it would have to be the worse of the two.

It was a terrible moment, that realisation, alone in the cold on that barren hillside, without even the comfort of a fire. But I resolved the very next instant, with every fibre of my being, with all the strength of my soul, that I would fight its every move and deny it to the limit of my strength. That might not last very long, but every delay was a gain, a victory over that which would destroy me in the end no matter what I tried to do. At the least I would go down fighting.

I had just made that decision when a wave of unbearable pain swept through me and I fell senseless to the ground.

I dreamt of fire and darkness.

When the sky darkened I left them. Every moment with Him was a joy, but I was called also to be with my brothers and sisters. I ran for a little time when I left them until I found a good jumping-off place, and then I flew high in the dying light until I crossed the sharp teeth of stone and came again to the high field where we had gathered.

I knew joy at seeing them again, so many of us in one place. More had come even in the last few days. I had never dreamed there were so many of us. I remember looking to see if any of the Hollow Ones had come, but I saw none. I greeted those I had flown with, those I knew best of these my newfound kinfolk.

We did not know why we were there, it was joy to be together, but we did not wonder at the "why." I tried to shape sound at some of them. I spoke the sound that was me, and the impossible sound that was Him, and tried again the noise of the Silver One who wore the wrong body. I think some tried to speak after me, but we were not used to such things and it was so hard then.

I looked up at the moon, older now and moving towards the full, and smiled at the smiling face that gazed down at me. They would come, the next day they would come, and all would be well. I drank, and slept, and missed Him even while I dreamed in the midst of my own people.

Salera left us at twilight on the second day, but I watched her hurrying upwards and guessed we'd meet her at the pass. We had made good time—the shelter of the high field was no more than a long morning's walk from here. It would be a good place to stop, and from there it was an easy day's journey to Rowanbeck.