An eye constantly to the treetops, Az led the way towards the cavern. Moving quickly, he was careful to keep a few steps between himself and the women, fearing them at least as much as that which lay ahead.

Eris had set down her pack and was following as closely behind him as Az would allow. She was rushing him with her pace, constantly threatening to close the gap between them and keeping him from approaching at a comfortable speed. Az thought of stopping and motioning for her to keep back, but he doubted that she would. Behind her, Rhea was standing by the pile of wood. Seemingly having forgotten the reason for which they’d come, she was not following them but was instead surveying the scene, studying the runes with tired eyes.

Reaching the mouth of the cavern, Az peered into the darkness, seeing nothing. He swallowed hard, then stepped inside. His sword pointed forward, he held his other arm out behind him, trying to be sure Eris would not come too close. He felt trapped, danger both to the front and rear. Stepping deeper, he could smell the stink of habitation. Sweat, rotting food, the odors of balms and ointments. Suddenly, from the darkness, came the rattle of a snake. Almost like a hiss, Az could hear the hollow bulbs of the rattle shaking in the back of the cave. Recognizing the sound instantly, his heart jumped to his throat. A cavern and a waiting snake, he thought. Not an old woman at all, just several feet of muscle and scale, teeth and fangs.

The rattling grew louder, approaching slowly from the shadows. Az glanced quickly over his shoulder, but could not see Eris anywhere. A dirty trick, he thought. Lure me here and feed me to some sacred snake, then dance in the light of the bonfire. Carefully, his eyes fixed on the source of the sound, Az began to back out of the cave. He had watched snakes eat men before, seen the speed with which they struck. He kept his sword held out before him, ready to stick his blade into the back of its throat. With each step he took, the rattle seemed to come a step closer, too, remaining always at the same distance, always just out of sight.

Finally, he made it back to the mouth of the cave. The lasts bit of daylight penetrated just a little way inside. And, just as he was about to turn to run, the old woman stepped from the shadows – rattle in hand. Dressed in a tattered robe, she looked every bit the part of a forest hag. Nyxia laughed, taking another step from the cave and bearing her few yellowed teeth, as Eris popped up from behind, pricking Az in the back with the tip of her knife.

Whirling on her, Az made to raise his sword, but instantly he felt his muscles freezing up. He groaned. His throat grew tight as the poison worked its way through his body. Dropping his sword at the mouth of the cave, he keeled over, collapsing stiffly, like one made of iron rods – incapable of bending a joint. Laying on his back, he started up at the darkening sky.

Still shaking her rattle, the old woman stood over him, grinning widely and doing a little dance. She looked him up and down, positively beaming. Beside her stood Eris, elbowing up to Nyxia like an old friend. Az’s eyes moved in his head, watching the two with fear and rage, unable to move or speak.

“Well done, Sister! Well done!” said Nyxia. “Oh, how I have awaited your return. Prayed for your safety and your speed. Is this the one of which the headman told such stories?”

“Yes,” said Eris. “Dain confirmed it himself, yesterday.”

“And the girl, is she with you?” whispered Nyxia, quickly.

Eris nodded, gesturing with her head to where Rhea stood at the far side of the pyre.

“And you have the brew?”

Again, Eris nodded.

“Oh, sister, everything is just as we’d hoped,” said the old woman, once more shaking her rattle, almost overcome with glee. “After all our years preparing the sacrifice. And here we have a blood-soaked man. A killer of beasts and human-beings. A destroyer of lives. Ours to burn alive along with the bones of the innocent. What could not be seen in such a fire? Come, let us drink together, feed and strengthen the girl.”

“No,” said Eris in a whisper. “There is not a moment to spare. I did not obtain fresh venom. The poison paralyzes little, and harms much. He will soon regain his strength. But if I prick him again, we risk killing him.” She glanced quickly over her shoulder. “And by tomorrow Rhea will be eighteen, a girl no longer. We have cut things too close, and now we have no choice. Dusk falls, we must light the pyre. The brew has already been cooked. Rhea need only drink it.”

Nyxia nodded along. “Yes, yes, of course. Right as always sister. I shall get the flint.” With that the old woman hobbled off into the cavern.

Eris bent down, gripping Az by his firs and dragging him across the ground. Bringing him up to the pyre, she laid him near the place were the packets of folded leaves sat, concealing their ghastly contents. Straightening up, she prodding him in the ribs with a foot as if to be certain he was still frozen. Then she turned to Rhea.

“Come, Rhea, it is time.” Eris dug into her pack, pulling out the stone bowl, wrapped in hide and tied tightly shut.

From the far side of the woodpile could be heard the sound of striking flint, then the crackle of dry twigs and pine needles. The old woman had lit the bonfire.

Slowly, looking more alert but still quite ill, Rhea made her way towards them. Cautiously, she eyed the bowl in the woman’s hands. Behind her, the flames had begun to work their way around the pile, popping and smoking heavily.

“Quickly, Rhea, drink the brew. We do not have long before the man regains the use of his limbs,” said Eris.

Furrowing her brow, Rhea glared at the woman. From the far side, Nyxia came hobbling around to stand beside Eris and the two took turns entreating the girl to drink from the cup.

“Come, child, would you miss this chance, after all you have done to bring home this sacrifice?” asked Nyxia. “After all that I have done, to gather bones and wood?”

“She is right,” said Eris. “Think of what we have been through. Think of what the villagers have sacrificed. Drink the brew and let us throw him into the fire.”

“It is too soon,” said Rhea, slowly. “I might not survive another dose. I might lose my mind, or blind myself. One of you read the flames, if it can’t wait.”

“You know we cannot,” said Nyxia, growing suddenly angry. “You know Eris and I cannot hear the spirits. Not since the night you cursed us both, by your selfish refusal to die.”

Watching this, Az silently screamed at his body, begging it to move. He willed himself to stand. To cry out. To do anything at all. And, just as he was losing hope, he felt a toe wiggle in his boot.

Rhea screwed up her face at Nyxia’s words, the pain of betrayal clear for all to see. Behind her, the fire had reached its zenith, the flames engulfing every branch and twig, reaching up as high as the boulders top. “You think I am some fool?” she demanded. “A girl drunk full of seer’s brew, speaks last-words of the afterlife. That was your prediction, was it not? You think that I do not see the runes? That I do not know the date? You think that I would sip from your cup, let you kill me and make your prediction true at last?”

With a shaking hand, Rhea reached in through the sleeve of her robes and pulled her dagger from its sheath.

“Have you lost yourself?” yelled Eris. “You would draw your blade on we who have raised you from a girl. Who took you in when no one else would? Who cared for you and showed you love?”

“If you care for me, then let me leave,” said Rhea. “Drink the brew, or throw it into the fire. Free the man, or kill him. But prove me wrong, and let me go.”

Without warning, Nyxia reached inside her tattered robes and pulled out a hollow section of grass. Bringing it to her lips, she blew into it. Her cheeks puffed up, seeming almost to bulge from her face as she sent a dart sailing towards Rhea. But, even in her weakened state, Rhea was too quick for the old woman. Ducking to the side, she rolled away from the fire, then sprung up and make a dash for her matrons.

Setting down the cup, Eris, too, reached into her robes – pulling out the pouch with which she had delt with the raccoon. As Rhea approached, she took out a handful and blew the shards of ground glass towards the girl’s face. Knowing the trick well, however, Rhea threw up her hood, spinning around so that the fabric blocked the gust of glass. Then, ducking low, she completed the spin and sprang at Eris like a wild beast, thrusting her dagger forward.

Eris leapt back, dropping the pouch and narrowly avoiding the dagger, but colliding with Nyxia, who stood trying to slot another dart into her blow-pipe. The old woman screeched in shock, stumbling, and falling headfirst into the flames. Letting out a ghastly wail, she tried frantically to climb back out and claw herself free of the fire. In this she succeeded, only to collapse in a burning heap directly on top of the packets of dry leaves – which she had so cruelly prepared.

In the midst of this, Az was just forcing himself to his knees. As Eris drew her knife, and she and Rhea began to circle in the firelight, he half-ran, half-crawled, to where his sword lay by the mouth of the cave. Taking it up in his hand, he struggled to his feet. Painfully fighting through the cramps, Az began moving his limbs, desperate for them to regain their strength and mobility.

As Rhea circled, dagger in hand, tears flowed down her face. “My whole life you have raised me as a walking sacrifice. Mutilated and isolated me. And all in the hopes of getting some glimpse of the afterlife? Well, I’ll be sure you get a good look at it tonight.”

Eris only smiled. “Come now, all prophecies must fulfil themselves. How else could they come to be?”

With that, Rhea sprung forwards, closing the distance and bringing her dagger across in a wide, back-handed slash. But, still sick from the night before, her movements were slow and predictable. Eris stepped back, easily avoiding the slash, then brought her own knife foreword, stabbing Rhea just below the collarbone. Rhea made a gasping sound, much like Az had done, her body locking up and becoming stiff. With a laugh, Eris put her foot on Rhea’s chest, kicking her to the ground before the fire.

Casually stooping to take up the cup, Eris straddled Rhea, lifting her head and holding the cup to her lips. “Drink,” she said, making to pry open Rhea’s jaws and dump the brew inside.

Tunk. The sound reverberated into the night. Eris was sent sprawling, struck in the side of the head by the flat of Az’s sword. He raised it again, standing stiffly over her for a moment contemplating cutting her to pieces, or simply hitting her with the broadside once more. No, that blow alone had been sickening. If Eris ever awoke from that, he thought, then God must want her alive.

Az kneeled down by Rhea. The girl’s eyes were wide with pain and fear, and she was paler than ever. Az himself had gotten but a prick of the knife, but Rhea had been fully stabbed. There was blood running down through her robes, pooling on the moss-covered stone. He racked his mind for what to do, poison aside the girl could easily bleed to death. From up in the trees, came the caw of a raven. Then another, not far away. Az glanced up nervously. Not now, he thought, there was no time to move to safety. Pushing the birds from his mind, he set to work.

Carefully, Az cut the collar of Rhea’s robe, opening it to better see the wound. The cut was deep, somewhere between her breast and right shoulder. Az bit his lip, preying that it had not pierced the lung. But the girl was breathing, and he could see no blood on her lips. He tried to stem the flow, folding over the robe and pushing hard. He could hear Rhea wince with pain. Casting around for something to better stop the bleeding, he caught sight of the girl’s silk chest-wrap. Suddenly, he remembered.

Getting quickly to his feet, Az rushed to where Eris had dropped her bag. Fumbling with the drawstrings, he pulled it open, dumping out its contents. There lay the folded leaf into which the women had placed the silk-gland all those weeks earlier. Hurrying back to Rhea, Az pulled back the robe and cut into the gland. It was mostly dry – the silk having hardened over their journey. But in the center, at its heart, a drop of the thick, sticky fluid still remained. Carefully, Az scooped out the liquid-silk and smeared it on the wound. It went on like a paste of pine sap, instantly adhering to the skin.

In the air above the clearing, dark wings fluttered in the dim light. Gusting ashes from the fire, a raven landed by the remains of the pyre. And there it stood, just on the far side of where Eris lay, next to the charred body of Nyxia. Four times his height, its beak longer than his arm, the bird eyed Az, tilting its head to get a better look at him. Then another raven landed just behind the first. The closer of the two looked from Az and Rhea, to Eris, then hopped forward and pecked at the unconscious woman – its beak coming back tipped with blood. The other raven let out a bone chilling caw, then it, too, hopped forward, and it began pecking at Nyxia.

Slowly sheathing his sword, Az lifted Rhea to his back. Keeping his eyes fixed on the birds, he backed towards the treeline. The ravens made no move to follow. Instead, they stood by one another in the last light of the embers, content to feed upon the witches’ flesh. Biting and lifting the bodies, the ravens shook them, then pinned them down with a talon, to better tear meat from bone.

Cutting into the treeline, Az made his way with weary steps. Not far down the hill, he found a fallen log, still bushy and not yet rotten. Laying Rhea down, he pulled the moss and leaves from the ground, making a small hollow beneath the log. He laid Rhea inside, then climbed in beside her, his back to the wood, and his sword once more in his hand. There he exhaled. He felt as though he had been holding his breath for hours. And he was tired, so tired. The poison’s effect seemed to be lingering, sapping his strength. Az fought to keep from sleeping. But soon the fight was over, and he slept the night, dreaming of keeping guard.

When Az awoke at last, he was alone. Instinctively, his hands went for his sword and his money pouch. Both were still there. He could feel the remaining gold coins – undoubtedly extracted from the villagers by means of terror. He looked around for Rhea, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. For a moment he was saddened. He was not sure why he had thought the girl would stay, but he could not help but feel disappointment at the loss of his last companion. He was glad that she seemed to have been able to stand and walk under her own power. But still, it would be a long and lonely trip south. And he would have to go by another route. He could not face the people of Burrowstone again, not with their gold still so greedily tucked in his pouch – even if he had done that for which he’d been sent.

Getting to his feet, he noticed that his pack now lay nearby. Strange, he thought. Certainly, it was nice of the girl to brave the awful scene that must lie at the summit, just to do him this favour. Perhaps she appreciated what he had done for her the night before. Though, in reality, he had only balanced the scales. Rhea had saved his life once, as well.

As he opened his pack to see what food remained, he heard the sound of rustling in the bushes and Rhea came half-stumbling into sight. She looked awful, pale and sickly, and as though she might collapse beneath the weight of Eris’s pack, which she wore stuffed to its limit. Slinging the pack to the ground, Rhea plopped down next to it, breathing hard and gently touching her wounded chest. Her robe still hung open, covered in dry blood.

“How does it feel?” asked Az, fishing out the last of his food.

Rhea gave him a scornful look. “It hurts…” Then she blinked, her expression growing milder. “What have you got there?”

Laughing, Az split a piece of hard-tac and some dried fish. He handed Rhea the larger halves, then passed her his water skin. For a while they sat in silence, enjoying their meal.

“So, will you come with me then, Rhea?” he asked, when the food was almost done.

“Come with you where?”

“Back south. Perhaps into the west as well. My purse is full, and I fear my old routine. I think it would be best to go somewhere I do not know, where no one knows my name.”

Rhea frowned, staring hard at the ground. She wore the same pained expression he had seen so many times before. “But where you go, I cannot follow,” she said. “I am forever marked. I can never settle anywhere but the forest. For at the smallest slip, I will be exposed. And whoever sees me as I am, will drive me away, or perhaps kill me on the spot.”

Standing, Az put a hand on the shoulder of his young companion. “Then it is good you have fallen in with a restless soul. I have no desire to settle down. Not while there is strength and life left in me. Come, Rhea. Do not make me wander alone.”

“And where shall we go? What omens shall we follow?”

He smiled. “No omens. For now, I have had enough of pyres and visions. Let’s see if we can’t find a road. Then see how far that takes us.”