The little creature stared into the flames of the fire.
'Our people trailed them for a while, kept at a distance by the crosses and the masses and such. They came upon isolated farmsteads, hamlets, tiny villages whose folk were known to us and whom we had let be. Some of us had even got to know the people within them. They were hardy souls. They had to be, living in what was then the very eaves of the Wolfweald. They lived with the forest, not in spite of it, and there was a truce between them and the Wyrim. These people were converted to the Brothers' cause, either by persuasion or by force. In the larger of the settlements a Brother and a pair of Knights would stay behind to make sure this faith of theirs grafted, and the column rode on.
'By the time they were well into the Wolfwood itself they had left over a score of their number behind them. They erected wooden crosses on cairns at the close of every day's march, and their thinking was to build a road between them some day. These things they magicked with their incense smoke and their water and they may stand yet in places, for the Brothers used oak and built to last.
'They had few problems for the first days. They saw the balefires and ignored them, set up a fortified camp every night, which was no small labour in the thicknesses of that part of the forest. But things began to happen. The livestock became difficult to manage and some were lost. Men disappeared in the nights, having ventured beyond the camp's perimeter. A pair of Knights vanished when sent out to look for them.
'After that they were more careful. They had to slaughter their herd for food, for game was nonexistent and they could not range out to hunt for it. The wolves followed them in great packs, and the brothers had to stand watch in the nights to ward them off. They began to tire, and the constant watchfulness took its toll of tempers and spirit.
'They were deep in the Wolfweald now, glimpsing strange animals they had never encountered before. The trolls shadowed them, and goblins peered from the branches of the trees. The camp followers began to murmur against the Brothers, saying they were on a fruitless errand, that there was nothing in the trees but death. Some were for turningg back, but Bishop and the head Knight quelled their opposition. In the night a large number did leave, having suborned a pair of Brothers and a few Knights. They forged into the trees intending to retrace their path and find the Woods of Men again. None returned.
'Weeks passed, and every day there were fewer at the morning mass. When scarcely a hundred were left Bishop decided that they had best turn back, and his decision was greeted with rejoicing. But that night a fog came down, thick as cream. Some men panicked and rushed into the trees. Some the Knights slew as they tried to loot the supplies. The Brothers themselves became mortally afraid, and with their fear their powers waned. Beasts penetrated the perimeter, and in the fogbound night men blundered around leaderless and were taken one by one. Only a few young Brothers kept their faith, and around them gathered the hardiest of the Knights and followers. By morning barely twenty of them were left alive and Bishop himself had been taken. The camp was a wasteland of gore and wrecked supplies and dead animals, but not a single man corpse was to be seen.
'It is not clear what happened after that. The faith of those that remained was strong, and they did not fight among themselves. The Wyrim left them to the grymyrch, but I have heard tales and rumours that this tiny band kept together and went on south, seeking an end to the trees, a glimpse of open sky again. Some among my own folk maintain that they got away, that the goblins lost them in the darker parts of the weald and that they found their way at last to the Mountains of the World's Rim. But that is mere conjecture. One thing is known: never a one ever came again to the Woods of Men. Likely enough they left their bones in some glade where even the goblins do not go, that or the Horseman took them. And this is what happened to the second expedition also, that led by the three Brothers. The Wolfweald swallowed them all.'
'You speak as though you had been there,' Michael said, staring at Mirkady closely.
The Wyran laughed: a brittle, dangerous laugh.
'Wyrim did help the goblins, the wolves, the manwolves. We are children of the same father, after all.'
There was a silence, during which Dwarmo came over to the fire and helped himself to the bulging wineskin Ringbone's people had left them, gulping deeply and smacking thick lips over his fangs. There was a look of bliss on his face.
'You know now what it is you are walking into, Farsider. What you are taking our sister into,' Mirkady said softly.
'They are watching us,' Dwarmo added. 'They fear the Wyr-flames, or they would have been upon us hours ago.'
Michael started up, gasping at the pain in his thigh. He drew his sword, but when he looked out from the fire all he could see was a screen of tangled trees, impenetrable as a wall. An owl hooted, and somewhere there was the harsh choke of a pheasant. He might have been in the wood back home, were it not for the height of the trees. They were massive here, towering giants with trunks wider than he was tall. He sheathed the sword and rubbed Fancy's nose absently. The horses were picketed well within the limits of the firelight and they seemed calm enough considering the madness of the night before.