Tanin and Iona walked together for two days. The going was slow, but deliberate. Several times, Iona guided them around pitfalls and dangerous animals, and Tanin thanked her profusely. Whether the forest girl knew what thanks was, he couldn’t quite tell. He relied on Iona’s sense of direction to follow after the Charic; the few times he could see the sun through the dense canopy, it tended to be straight overhead and not useful as means of finding direction.

Do the Charic’sada never sleep? he wondered. They’d encountered no remnant campfires nor other signs of encampment. Iona had no insight, and Tanin grew fretful that they were even going in the right direction.

The Kassian moon had been up for a hand span on their second night when Iona stopped. Tanin moved to her side, excitement and fear swirling in his throat. Were they closing in at last?

“What is it?” he whispered.

“Death, Tanin Fell.”

Tanin tensed.

“Death . . . and dying, Tanin Fell.”

His mouth dried. “The Charic?”

“No, Tanin Fell. Other creatures. Some dead, some dying even now.”

He tried to lick his lips. “These creatures, are we safe from them?”

“I cannot know, Tanin Fell.”

“Should we help them?”

Iona took her time to answer. It seemed to Tanin she was letting the forest speak to her.

At last she said, “Yes, Tanin Fell.”

They went on together, picking up their pace. Tanin swiveled his head all around, wary of monsters and spiders and traps, while Iona hiked effortlessly over and around stumps and bushes that Tanin routinely knocked his shins into.

They paused when they came upon the site of a wicked slaughter. Dozens and dozens of small, lizard-like creatures littered the forest floor. A stench rose from their bodies—not quite decomposition, but surely the early stages of it. Whatever had crushed the things had done so not long ago.

“Dogrels, Tanin Fell. Fierce eaters of living meat. Do not mourn them.”

“What killed them?” Tanin nudged one of the bodies with his toe. While small, the animals certainly came equipped with an abundance of teeth and claws.

Iona forged a path around the bodies. Tanin followed, clutching his spear. When she stopped again, Tanin came alongside her and followed her gaze past several trees.

Two creatures lay sleeping on either side of a dying fire. They were large, and both had evidently been in battle, most likely with these dogrel creatures. The female, however, looked much worse.

“What are they?”

“A Guar, Tanin Fell,” Iona replied, her voice like the wind. “But a Guar never seen before. The other is an Agnise. Spawn of Guar. She is the one near death.”

“Can you save her?”

Tanin asked this more from curiosity than a desire to do so. The creatures frightened him with their enormity; the woman must stand a full head taller than he. The man with the horns—surely he was half a body length taller than the Fell. A jagged but long-healed scar ran down the Guar’s side in addition to the pockmark bites puncturing his hairy arms.

Why is everything in this forest so big?

“Yes, Tanin Fell,” Iona answered him. “I believe I can help her. But it will drain me.”

She passed the trees they hid behind to kneel beside the woman with the small horns. Tanin followed cautiously behind. Bands of orange cloth were bound around the female’s limbs and body, all of them soaked with her blood. Looking at the nearly naked horned man opposite her, and the dried blood in his long body hair—almost fur, really—Tanin was convinced they’d been attacked by the lizard things. They’d prevailed, based on the mangled bodies of the reptiles, but at a steep price.

Tanin came to Iona’s side and helped her unbind several of the worst of the female’s wounds. The creature hadn’t cleaned her face; blood crusted her furry skin in thick scabs. Even in sleep, her lips were set in a sneer. Tanin hoped she would not awaken.

Iona placed her right hand on the largest of the wounds. Something like a frown passed across her delicate emerald features.

“This wound, Tanin Fell. It is so large. She is dying. I will try.”

Tanin understood. Iona was a powerful healing creature, but there were limits. He watched closely as her fingertips turned brown. Then, beneath them, he stared in amazement as the female’s flesh coalesced and stitched back together. In all his life, young as it was, Tanin had never heard of such magic.

“Iona, how do you—”

A roar made him flinch.

The horned man had awakened.

He crouched low on his haunches, holding a long-handled hammer in his hands, lips apart, teeth bared. The tips of his ivory horns suddenly appeared much sharper than they had while he slept.

“Get away from her!” the creature ordered.

Tanin obeyed instantly, rising and taking two steps backward. Iona merely studied the giant momentarily before turning her attention back to the female.

The horned man rose. Tanin imagined he could feel the earth trembling from his sheer might. He wore nothing but a rumpled brown loincloth.

“She’s helping,” Tanin said quickly. “She can heal her.”

“Some, Tanin Fell. Not all.”

“Only the Holy Creator Anyi can heal,” declared the horned man, but his expression betrayed some interest in Iona’s arm as it grew brittle.

Tanin could not help a brief sneer at the mention of a god. But he tucked it away again, anxious to not make an enemy of this giant. “Well, maybe Anyi heals in many ways.”

The horned man stepped around the fire, reaching Tanin in two broad steps. Tanin angled to face him, not willing to leave Iona to the creature’s good graces, but also keenly aware that he had no chance of defeating such a monster in open combat.

“I have heard of these,” said the horned man. His voice was deep and rugged, with an accent Tanin had not encountered. “A wood witch. You are right, Fell. Anyi does use many means to heal.”

“Tanin Fell?” Iona said.

Tanin turned just in time to see Iona fall to the ground. Her right arm, dead and desiccated, snapped off at the shoulder.

He rushed to her, unsure how to help. “Iona! Iona?”

The giant stood over them, towering. “She will need rest, sun, and water. Her limbs will return in time.”

“In time?” Tanin barked. “I don’t have . . .”

He cut himself off. The tiny scale-like leaves around her face were brown and crisp. She must have expended all of herself, all of her magic, that she could risk.

All for a creature she did not know. Two, actually, counting himself. Iona’s selflessness stung him.

Tanin frowned and debated with himself. He did not want to waste precious moments in catching up to the Charic . . . but nor could he envision going on alone. Not only had Iona saved his life from the spider, she’d protected him from any number of threats in the woods. Pursuing the Charic without her felt suicidal.

“Time. Yes.” He glanced at the forest canopy. “Should I move her? Will there be enough sunlight here at dawn?”

“Enough to keep her alive, from what I have learned. The forest is great and dark, it would be foolish to move tonight. You are safe here.”

“Thank you.”

The giant met his eyes. “And to you. Truly, you and she are the hands of Anyi.”

Tanin didn’t answer.

“I am Orrock of Guar,” the horned man said. “Also a brother of the Hands of Anyi. You are welcome here. It was kind to heal my . . .”

Orrock snarled at the sleeping woman.

“Irritant,” Orrock finished.

Tanin chose not to pursue the story. “I am Tanin.”

“Of the Fell.” Orrock went back to where he had been sleeping and sat on a log.

Tanin shifted Iona to what he hoped was a more comfortable position. The girl was light in his arms, like a bundle of sticks. Her bright eyes lay closed, which saddened him in a way he couldn’t quite articulate. “This is Iona. She saved my life as well, a few days ago.”

“What is a desert dweller doing wandering this forest with a wood witch? The Forest of Kassia is not a safe place for most creatures. Myself included. How did you come to be here?”

“Have you heard of the Charic’sada?”

Orrock’s expression hardened instantly. “Yes. Foul creatures who pervert the very words of Holy Creator Anyi.”

“Holy creator?” Tanin spat. “Those animals can’t possibly have any god.”

Orrock squinted at him. “They can, and do. Anyi’s scripture is the very reason for their quest. Or rather, their version of it.”

Tanin scoffed. “What quest is that?”

“They believe they are chosen by God to know all the wonders of the world,” Orrock said. “There are clans of Charic’sada throughout all of Kassia, chasing the sun, taking all wisdom and knowledge of the creatures they conquer along the way. They believe their god will come to Kassia one day to lead them to paradise, but that they must unlock all the world’s secrets first, no matter the cost. The Charic are intelligent beings, really, after so many generations of study. They capture some of the creatures they attack, and force them to teach languages and culture, or any science or poetry the creatures may have. When they are finished, the captives are consumed.”

Tanin froze. “What did you say?”

“Consumed. Eaten. They believe it is the only way to truly absorb all of the culture of those they conquer.”

Tanin dropped to his knees upon the dry needles and dirt of the forest floor, his stomach revolting against him. Eaten? That was Memine’s fate? “How long? Once taken, how long does a captive have before they do this?”

Orrock furrowed his brow. “There is no prescribed time. Some creatures are clever enough to keep giving them bits of knowledge, and that extends their lives. Some are not so clever, or are stubborn, and the Charic kill them more quickly.”

Stubborn. That one word could very well doom Memine to be among the first slaughtered. She would fight back, not give in. She’d rather die.

“I see,” the monk said. “That is why you are in this forest.”

“They came from nowhere,” Tanin said. “We were gathering fruit, and then they attacked us with arrows . . . they killed Chenoa—”

“The Charic’sada are skilled archers.”

“—and then they killed everyone else, but Memine . . . we were going to spend our lives together.”

“Betrothed,” Orrock said.

Tanin nodded vaguely, his mind still seizing on the horrific images of what the Charic were going to do to her.

Orrock sighed. “Having faced them once myself, I can only say to you—”

Tanin made a mad dash toward the horned giant who didn’t so much as blink at his approach. “You fought them? How? Teach me!”

“The Guar are mercenaries,” Orrock said, as if this were obvious. Then he dipped his head. “I am a somewhat . . . odd exception.”

“But you have fought them? Fought the Charic?”

Orrock laughed. It bothered Tanin—could this giant not see the desperation in his face, hear it in his voice?

“Fought them?” Orrock said. “No! We vanquished them! Those clans we found, yes. Tore them limb from limb.”

Tanin widened his eyes, imploring the giant. “Can you show me how?”

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