“I’m not going to jump,” Andrew said, unprompted, when Lane leaned against the parapet’s railing next to him. “Or follow them. There’s no point. Nathan got nearly a day of a head-start, and he’s better at tracking than I am. Even with his bad leg, he’s probably better at not getting noticed, too. I’d just put him in more danger, even if I caught up with him.”

Lane nodded, keeping her mouth shut. The sun was hanging low over the treetops, and she was worried about Nathan, but admittedly, Andrew, too.

His voice and face were curiously calm as he summed up the facts of the situation, until, all of a sudden, he smashed his fist into the wood.

“Fuck,” whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” each curse punctuated by another blow. “David is gonna kill me.”

“No, he won’t,” Lane said. Of that, at least, she was certain. “He won’t even blame you.”

“I should have gone with him,” Andrew disagreed. “What if his leg gets bad again? We don’t even know whether or not he found Oli!”

He hit the wood again, swearing. Blood ran down his knuckles already. The wood, too.

Lane stared at the place where Andrew’s fist had scraped against the palisades. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him take another swing and threw herself at him. “Stop!” she yelled. “Andrew, stop! Look!”

She had to hang on with both arms but managed to prevent him from hitting the wood again. “Look at the blood!” she hissed into his ear.

Andrew finally stopped struggling and they both stared. Where his blood had touched the palisades, the wood was changing, warping. A new twig was sprouting from a knothole.

“That was treated with alchemy, wasn’t it?” Lane asked, struggling to keep the fear out of her voice.

Andrew didn’t waste breath on an answer. He yanked one of the torches that even in daylight lined the fortifications out of its stub, and brought the flame down on the growth.

A couple of guards noticed and came running. One of them reached for his horn, but hesitated, staring at the site of the growth.

Lane grabbed the other one by the arm.

“Did these walls get treated in alchemy?” she asked.

“Rubbed in salt,” the man said. “This shouldn’t happen.”

Lane nodded. “Sound the alarm,” she said louder. “It’s starting!” she added, because the man with the horn just blinked at her. “There’s enough magic in the air that a few drops of blood are enough for salted wood to grow! Sound the alarm and be ready for anything.”

When the alarm rang out, she turned towards the forest, to see if she could see anything moving out there.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

All she could see were the trees surrounding the camp, though, standing still and silent.

It wasn’t until one of the guards asked: “Where did the forest come from?” that she realized something was strange with that picture.

“Jimmy, ye daft idiot,” another soldier grunted. “It’s always been full of trees out there.”

Jimmy’s face scrunched up in concentration. “I thought the navvies had clear-felled all the way to the river.”

“So? The river is the other way! Can’t see it from here!”

“No,” Lane whispered quietly. No, that wasn’t right. They should be able to see the water. Shouldn’t they?

She reached into the quiver at her hips, closing her fingers tightly around a silver bolt, and stared at the torch Andrew was still holding. If she focused on the flame, she could see the forest vanish in the periphery of her vision.

“Five frozen hells,” Andrew swore.

Again, a horn sounded the alarm, a wild, far shriller note.

“Get off the walls,” Lane said. She wanted to yell it, but her throat was suddenly so tight, it was more of a gasp. “Get off the walls,” she repeated, her voice still strangled.

“Can’t leave our posts,” a soldier gave back. It sounded so calm. So reasonable. Lane swallowed hard and pressed her thumb down on the tip of the dowel she was still gripping. It didn’t hurt until the skin broke, and then she hissed in pain, but at least she could think a little clearer.

“Get off this damn wall!” she yelled. “You can’t fight what’s out there! You can’t even see it! There’s no forest out there, it was all cut down months ago! It’s an illusion! The Rot is here, so run!”

She didn’t know if people followed, but she grabbed Andrew with her free hand. The ache in her thumb was the only thing that was real, but as long as she had that to focus on, she could fight the lull of the Rot’s illusion, the strange feeling of tranquillity. This was nothing like the terror that had paralyzed her when the Rot had first grabbed her a year ago and dug up her worst memories, back in the mountains. This was even more insidious.

The alarm had stilled again, and people just milled about down in the camp. Andrew couldn’t be rushed down the ladder, either, and Lane had no other idea but to jab him with the silver dowel, hard enough to pierce his clothes and skin. He almost took a swing at her but then blinked and cursed. Lane pressed the silver into his hands and hurried to grab another bolt from her quiver.

“Find Eyal or Mr. Kohen,” Andrew said. He was struggling to open his purse with one hand. Lane watched until she saw him fish out a silver coin and place it in his mouth, biting down on it hard. She hoped it would do the trick as he hurried away to use the bolt to jab the closest navvy. Lane headed straight towards the communal building.

Before she even made it there, she heard the crack of wood coming from the large building and a huge door, one she hadn’t even realized was there, opened at the back end. Lane froze at the sight of what came walking out, a giant figure, vaguely shaped like a man, but nearly as tall as the walls were high. For a second, Lane thought the Rot had already invaded the camp, because the figure clearly wasn’t alive – it looked like it might have been made of mud or clay – but then she noticed the face. It had been sculpted by rough hands to look human. Not very elegant, but instantly recognizable, nothing like what passed for a face in a Rot creature. And there was something on its forehead, a glowing sign, possibly some kind of rune.

People screamed when it emerged, and Lane couldn’t imagine a more beautiful sound. The giant had to have a similar aura to the werewolves, something that countered the effects of the Rot in the area.

A second, equally tall figure followed the first one, and after that came Mr. Kohen, looking even more tiny in comparison. Two more giants followed him out. “Guard this house from everything that tries to come in through, across, or underneath the outer walls,” the small man ordered the hulking clay-men calmly.

“What are those things?” Andrew asked, standing right next to Lane and staring.

“I have no idea,” Lane admitted. “Let’s see if we can find Eyal and ask.”