THE CANOPY SWALLOWED what little ambient light filled the glowering, hellish cavern. Even the flying things that swarmed in the lightless air seemed to vanish, for the twisted, gnarled boughs that threaded above us were an almost perfect barrier. Much of the wood was obsidian black, as if growing in this foul place had tainted it, but among the crooked trunks I spied straighter breeds of ash-gray and and dun trees. Some of them were so old they were as wide around as a house, while in other places, tracts of narrow, new-growth wood sprouted from the rocky soil.

And here, for the first time, I saw things growing in a place that I thought could bear no such life. Between the bases of the trees were thick bushes that sprouted long barbs, and tall, reedy things with heads that seemed to waft smoke from their bulbuous tips.

The cart rumbled along a track that was fairly well established. The snake-thing drove its nightmarish horses in silence, rocking with the gait of the wagon. Param sat stiffly beside it. She had not glanced back at me. I had the sense that her eyes were turned dreadfully forward, toward where her one-time friend now committed unspeakable acts.

That left me in the back with Javon. He was slumped to the side, his eyes clamped shut. With each bump, he twitched, cowering in on himself with fear. I might have pitied him, for I could feel the same fear myself. But how many others had he sent up the same road? No. My pity turned to ash in my mouth.

I had nothing to say to him, so I held my piece, running my fingers over the loose bolt that held my manacles together. I would have to act, sooner rather than later. But stuck in the back of the cart, with no sense of where I was going, it was hard to judge. My heart hammered in my chest every time I thought about it, but that gained me nothing. I breathed, trying to control the apprehension, and paid attention to the trail. Or what I could see of it, anyhow.

The deeper we went into the forest, the more I felt the cold dread of the trees. We were unwelcome here. I could feel that as deep as the ache in my soul. More, though, I had the sense of intrusion on something sacred. Something deeply private. But I had no choice.

The snake-face heard the whispers before I did. It sat up rigidly on its bench. The tattered hood fell back, baring its hideous serpentine head. Param stiffened beside it, and then I heard it myself. Rising as if from nowhere, and everywhere at once, was a dim whispering. It was like leaves kicked up by the wind, but that grew into a shrill scream.

I sat up rigidly, searching the dark trees, trying to locate the source of the wailing. It wasn’t the scream of a warrior, or even a woman. Worse, it was the heart-rending shriek of a terrified child. It swirled around us, warbling, echoing through the trees.

“Guh,” said Javon, unable to make a coherent sound without his tongue. He covered his head with his chained hands, ducking low in the cart.

Whatever he knew, I was about to find out. The snake-face threw back its robe entirely, standing now and glaring around the cart.

And then it happened at once. The scream concentrated into a point just before the cart. The horses reared their sorry, twisted limbs, champing at their tracers and trying to bolt. The cart lurched forward, then off to the side. The snake-face threw itself free a moment before Param dove aside. The cart slammed forward, and then with terrible slowness began to tip.

Javon and I were thrown clear of the bed. I fell into one of the nestled black bushes. Thorns as long as my fingers dug into my hide, dragging screams out of me. I tried to free myself, but that only made it worse. I could see bright points of radiance smeared on the branches, and felt the warmth leaving myself.

Further up the road, past the cart, the snake-faced demon drew a blade from its belt. It shimmered with white, ethereal fire, unlike any I’d seen before. The whole blade seemed insubstantial, as if it were a shard of some evil dream.

Before the snake-face stood a child. It was dark, almost entirely devoid of any feature or characteristic. It had its hands pressed to its eyes, as if it were afraid to look at what stood before it. The child came staggering down the road, heedless of the snake-face.

I thrashed in the bush, trying to free myself, biting down on the pain as my skin tore in half a dozen places. I ignored it, shoving the pain away, and fumbling for the bolt on the manacles.

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It was Param who stopped me. She seized the front of my tunic and dragged me clear of the bush. “Don’t,” she said, and whirled away, dashing off toward the snake-face.

“Mother!” cried the child. “Mother! I can’t find you!” The wailing was inhuman, an aching cry to ears that would never here. There were no mothers in hell. There was no hope of being found. Yet it stumbled forward, rubbing at its cheeks. The demon hissed and raised its glowing sword to strike.

The sword descended in a killing arc, biting through the air with the hiss of damnation. The child seemed to see the demon then, and screamed.

I couldn’t remember being thrown onto my back. I gasped for air that would not come. Choking, I rolled to my side and saw Javon’s dark form lying still between two dark trees that sprouted close together.

But the snake-face seemed hardly affected. The child had pressed past it, head down in tortured despair. It didn’t see the ghostly blade descending. Didn’t see Param leaping for it, moments too late.

The blade bit into the black figure’s neck, deep into the shoulder. There was a brief flash, and it vanished entirely. That was it. No scream, no curse. Gone.

“No!” cried Param. “What have you done?”

The snake-face, who until that moment had been standing with something like smug triumph, whirled on her. Its serpentine head fell low to glare at her with its unblinking, inhuman eyes. “This one is mine,” it hissed.

“It was a child!” she snarled, drawing a silver blade from the sleeve of her robe.

Whether that meant anything to the snake-face, I did not know. I had no idea what had transpired. For as much as I’d felt ahead of the game, suddenly I was thrust behind. I did what I could: I crawled to Javon.

He lay utterly still. I knew he was gone long before I made it over to his body. There was no mistaking it: radiant blood was spilled over the black knuckle of a rock thrust up from the ground. When the cart had tipped us out, Javon had fallen right onto that rock, and broken open his skull. Such an easy, stupid death.

Worst was the radiance that threaded up through air toward me. I felt it like a hot, queasy breath. I didn’t want it, but could not reject the strength. It flowed into me.

And the snake-face saw it.

“Ah,” it hissed with awful surprise. “That is a trick I have seen only one other perform.”

Param got in its way. “He is mine,” she said. “Mine to give Harald.”

“Bitch!” the snake-face cried, striking her with an open hand. Param went sprawling onto the ground, but she wasted no motion. She was on her feet, blades in her hands, even before the snake-face could draw that pale-bladed sword. It shimmered as if by cold moonlight as the two stared one another down.

I doubted Param blinked.

“He is mine, demon.”

“He is a Cinderborn. Where did one so low as yourself, wormling, find such a one?”

“At the ruins of Castle Polin, by the dark river.” The snake’s tongue darted out, flickering. Tasting. Scenting for lies.

“Ah,” it said. “So you are Param the lost. The forgotten wife, they call you.”

“Then you know what will happen, should you cross blades with me. The Wolf would not tolerate one of his creatures striking his lover. I am his.”

“Maybe once!” The snake-face threw back its head and laughed. “Bold words for an exile! I might have tasted it on you before, but all I sensed was…” it drew the words out. “Desperation. Panic. Hell is no place for a weak heart, Param Two-Fang.”

She snarled, rearing back with rage, and for a moment I feared she was about to strike him. But she found some measure of control. Instead, she stalked over to me, seized me by the shoulders, and hauled me to my feet.

“The cart,” Param ordered. The demon watched her carefully.

I jumped to the task. The cart was heavy, but with a little radiance to warm my muscles, I was able to right it. Param helped me settle it back to the ground. It wouldn’t do to break an axle in this forsaken place.

“What happened to the child?” I asked her, keeping my voice low.

“Consumed,” she said. “Let us go, before we come across another one.”

I looked at the spot where last the child had stood. There was nothing here to mark its passing, except the echoes of its anguish in my own mind. Consumed. The demon’s blade had destroyed it utterly. It would never find its mother, I realized with a sudden ache.

An awful place.

The snake-thing shoved me toward the cart, and understanding my part in the farce, I climbed back up into the bed. Alone, now.

Of Javon, no more was said.