Orrock saw the canyon first. “There!”

And as they walked, the canyon came into view.

The party approached quickly but cautiously. There was no sign of the Charic, and nowhere for them to hide in this flat, arid land.

Sooner than Tanin had expected, they came to rest at the very lip of the most expansive canyon he had ever seen. Back home, in the lower desert, the granite mountains created ravines and arroyos here and there, scarring the landscape. But this . . . this was majesty. It was the kind of vista that almost made him reassess Orrock’s religion.

The canyon stretched so wide and far from where they stood that the opposite rim appeared to take a bluish tint. Closer, down the sloping cliff walls, a rainbow of rocky stripes delineated eras gone by: crimson, ivory, mud-brown, and turquoise. At the bottom, a river ran cheerfully, its playful burbling just within earshot. The river spanned perhaps twenty lengths, Tanin guessed, and he thought he could smell its mineral tang in the air rising on heated eddies to greet them.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Tanin said.

“My grandfather told me stories of this place,” Orrock said, his voice low in awe. “I often thought he exaggerated. I see now he instead lacked the words.”

“Beautiful,” Mohani stated in her usual blunt manner.

“Is this the Offward River as well?” Tanin asked, peering at the rushing water. From this height, he couldn’t tell how deep the water ran.

“No. They are separate. This one travels south until it reaches a lake, far, far from here. The Offward leads to the ocean.”

“Now where are the Charic?” Mohani asked.

Orrock pointed south along the edge of the canyon.

Tanin followed his gesture and could just make out a smudge of gray against the blue sky. His chest tightened momentarily. “Are you sure?”

“To my knowledge, no other creatures live in this part of Kassia. It must be them. The smoke is not white, so they must be encamped.”

“Might they leave their fires to burn after breaking camp?” Mohani said, scowling. Unattended fires were among the worst sins in all of Kassia.

Orrock grunted. “No. It would harm the world and displease their god.”

“But burning down towns and taking slaves is permissible,” Tanin said. This flash of anger tightened his ribcage again, but differently than a moment ago.

Better. Stronger.

“Indeed,” Orrock sighed. “They may be navigating a way through or around the canyon, and have stopped while they deliberate. Let us move closer.”

They followed the edge of the canyon. Tanin saw many places where the cliffs were sheer, only to spot wide, sloped switchbacks from time to time. The distant campfire clouds began to distinguish themselves into vertical columns of smoke.

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Many, many columns. The sight of them brought back to Tanin the memory of he and Chenoa studying the smoke rising from Desita while they gathered their citrus. It hadn’t been very long ago, yet in that moment, Tanin felt immensely aged.

And alone.

“I see them,” Mohani barked after they had travelled another jaunt or two. “I see the bastards. Look.”

Tanin saw them too.

The party stopped. In the distance, along the river bank at the bottom of the canyon, Tanin saw a cluster of the white-haired Charic’sada sitting around a fire. It appeared, from this distance anyway, that they were laughing; perhaps playing some kind of game in the dirt around their fire. Beyond them, other Charic moved about or sat around fires. He saw none on the opposite bank of the river; they had either no means or no desire to cross.

Something very, very cold formed in Tanin’s stomach.

At first he thought he was hungry, but then the icy sensation spread through his entire torso; it climbed up his spine like an arachnid, freezing each vertebrae as it went. It cascaded down his arms like winter rain, locking his muscles in place. It felt much like the spider bite, but without the pain of a puncture wound.

“We have found them,” Mohani announced, and her voice sounded gleeful. “Now how shall we kill them?”

Tanin couldn’t answer. His mouth hung slack, his breath coming in and out with shallow gasps. His cheeks billowed, full then flat, as he tried to regain control of himself. But he couldn’t. He turned away and clutched at his chest, which felt as though great bands of rope had cinched around it.

Orrock winced. “What is it?”

“Can’t breathe . . .” Tanin worked his tongue in his mouth, trying to stimulate some saliva, but his mouth stayed as dry as the rock beneath them. “Can’t . . . can’t breathe . . .”

Orrock snarled at the Charic camp and picked Tanin up in his arms, mindful of his own horns. He jogged away from the edge of the canyon as Tanin struggled in his grasp.

The others followed him to a broad, thorny tree. Orrock lay Tanin in its shadow. “Calm yourself, Fell.”

Mohani scowled at Tanin as if he’d done something wrong, impatient to get the battle started. “What happened?”

“It is his fear,” Orrock said. “The sight of the Charic camp has seized him.”

Tanin broke into uncontrollable tremors, not unlike those he’d felt after the spider bite. Yet these were somehow worse; he could understand and blame venom. These shakes were of no physical illness he could identify. He felt himself growing nauseated, yet lacked the breath to release anything in his stomach.

“Be strong, little Fell!” Mohani shouted. “Get up!”

“That is not helpful,” Orrock said.

The two of them stepped aside as Iona pushed her way between them. She knelt beside Tanin and lay her fingers along his left cheek. Tanin looked into her emerald eyes, pleading for her to heal him, to make the terror vanish. Any moment, he felt his heart would burst inside him, and all his travels would be for nothing.

Iona smiled faintly, and guided her fingers down his face, back up, down again. She spoke softly.

“Tanin Fell—”

“Make it stop,” Tanin whispered though shuddering breaths. “Please . . . stop it . . .”

“Tanin Fell. Your love awaits you. She knows you have come for her. Can you smell her scent on the air?”

The wood witch shut her eyes.

“I can. She longs to see you. But you must breathe, Tanin Fell. You must breathe and have peace. There is nothing to fear right now. You are safe with us. We are a tribe of Kassia. We will not abandon you. Breathe, Tanin Fell.”

Tanin summoned enough spittle to swallow. The gesture was hard and hurt his throat—but his next breath came easier. The trembling slowed to several sharp jolts that coursed through his body.

“Breathe, Tanin Fell.” Iona stroked his face slowly. “Breathe and be at peace.”

Slowly, the tremors abated. Tanin shut his eyes and took deeper breaths at more regular intervals. After several more moments, he nodded shortly, and lay his hands limp across his chest as if to make sure it would continue to rise and fall.

Iona stood. Orrock gestured at her.

“Your arms,” he said, questioning. “Your touch. You are intact. How did you heal him?”

“I did not heal him, Orrock Guar.”

The wood witch turned her head in the direction of the Charic’sada camp. Still smiling faintly, she added, “Now when he is ready, let us destroy them.”