Prologue

for what you tell. Now'what do the old women say? Why do unholy things stalk the weald, when never they did before?'

Ehawk bit his lip. 'They say 'tis Etthoroam, the Mosslord. They say he woke when the moon was purple, as was foretold in ancient prophecy. The creatures are his servants.'

'Tell me about him, this Mosslord.'

'Ah' it's only old stories, Sir Oneu.'

'Tell me nevertheless. Please.'

'In shape, they say he is a man, but made of the stuff of the forest. Antlers grow from his head, as on an elk.' Ehawk looked frankly at the knight. 'They say he was here before the saints, before anything, when there was only the forest, and it covered all the world.'

Sir Oneu nodded as if he already knew that. 'And why does he wake?' he asked.

'What does prophecy say he will do?'

'It's his forest,' Ehawk said. 'He'll do what he wants. But it's said when he wakes, the forest will rise against those who have done it harm.' He cut his eyes away. 'It's why the Sefry left. They fear he will kill us all.'

'And do you fear that?'

'I don't know. I only know'' He broke off, uncertain how to put it.

'Go on.'

'I had an uncle. A sickness came to him. There was little to see' no sores nor open wounds, no marks of fever'but he grew more tired as the months passed, and his eyes dulled. His skin paled. He died very slowly, and it was only near the end that we could smell the death in him.'

'I'm sorry to hear that.'

Ehawk shrugged. 'The forest'I think it's dying like that.'

'How do you know?'

'I can smell it.'

'Ah.' The knight seemed to mull that over for a few minutes, and so they rode in silence.

'This Mosslord,' Sir Oneu said at last. 'Have you ever heard him called the Briar King?'

'That's what the Oostish call him, Sir Oneu.'

Sir Oneu sighed, and looked older. 'I thought as much.'

'Is that what you're looking for in the forest, sir? The Briar King?'

'Yes.'

'Then''

But Martyn cut him off suddenly. 'Sir Oneu?' the monk's face was set in hard lines. 'Yes, Brother?'

'I hear them again.'

'Where?'

'Everywhere. In all directions now. Coming closer.'

'What is it, Martyn? Can you tell me what we face? Minions of the Briar King?'

'I don't know, Sir Oneu. I only know we are surrounded.'

'Ehawk? Is there aught you can tell us?'

'No, sir. I can't hear anything yet.'

But soon enough he did. The wood stirred all around them, as if the trees themselves had come alive. Ehawk felt as if the forest was tightening, the trees standing ever closer together, a great trap closing on the company. The horses began to whicker nervously, even Airece, Sir Oneu's warsteed.

'Ready yourselves, lads,' Sir Oneu muttered.

Ehawk caught glimpses of them now, the figures in the trees. They grunted and growled like beasts, they croaked and mewed, but they looked like men and women, naked or wearing only the uncured skins of beasts.

Sir Oneu increased his pace to a trot, indicating that the others in the party should do the same. He lifted his heavy ashe spear. Ahead, on the trail, Ehawk saw that someone was awaiting them.

His heart was a cricket in his breast as they drew near. There were seven of them, some men, some women, cut and bruised and naked as the day they were born'all save one. He stood in front, a lion-skin thrown over one shoulder like a cloak. From his head grew spreading antlers.

'Etthoroam!' Ehawk gasped. He could no longer feel his knees clasping his horse.