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T he Divh that Gent has brought back with him is like nothing I’ve ever seen.

A brilliantly feathered, multi-colored, long-necked bird of prey spreads her wings and screams at us, her accusation filling my mind with fury.

This Divh was supposed to be at the Tournament of Gold, I realize.

She pledged herself to me as a rightful warrior, but she couldn’t just leave because the warriors on the Fated Plane had decided to ruin themselves.

She had responsibilities! She was a collective!

Her outrage takes on new meaning as she spreads her wings in a sharp, cutting flap, and a half dozen miniature versions of her spin into the sky, darting and whirling, snapping and churning, furious with activity.

This is the them that Gent meant, I think.

These miniature Divhs are feathered with every color of the rainbow, their wings spreading wide to reveal two sets of claws on squat little legs with long, grasping talons.

Each of them are the size of a pig, and their inquisitive, slender faces cock and roll to take in every detail of us as their wings whir in furious, nonstop motion.

“You’re a hummerbill.” Miriam’s shocked voice rolls over us, and I turned to see her staring with unabashed adoration at the primary bird-like Divh.

It’s not a large one, maybe only two-thirds the size of Marsh, the height of two sturdy barns stacked on top of each other.

But with its six auxiliary miniature Divhs, it’s an impressive, swirling menace.

It cocks a glance at her and then at me.

I was going to be there at the battlefield. I can serve, but I’m not meant for stupid warriors who cannot stop killing long enough to think. I cannot ? —

“I present you a warrior of the mind,” I say quickly, if only to get the creature to stop howling in my mind.

Miriam’s hands go up, but Tennet and Fortiss are at her sides, each of them moving forward.

The hummerbill looks at the councilor, leans forward, and spreads its wings again, sending its whirling dervish miniatures into renewed frenzy.

It stretches up its head and cries out with a call that sounds like it emerges from the dawn of the Light itself.

With that otherworldly shriek, it launches itself at Miriam, and I realize that it too has two sets of powerful claws on long, tucked-in legs at the base of its belly.

It plucks Miriam up as if she weighs nothing and soars into the sky.

I hear Miriam scream, and I wince as flame erupts around my left bicep. The band!

Sure enough, the lowest thread of band has loosened itself from my collection and scrapes a bloody trail down my hand.

It spins off just as the hummerbill returns with Miriam and practically dumps the woman on me.

Not bothering to wait a moment longer, the band connects with Miriam’s outstretched hand and races up her arm, burning a line through her pale skin.

But she doesn’t shriek, she doesn’t shake, instead, Miriam staggers back from me, wide-eyed and open mouthed. When her gaze meets mine, her eyes open wide with wonder.

“What have you done?” she gasps.

And then she collapses.

Her hummerbill Divh squawks and instantly disappears, poofing back into sight on a distant ridge, all six small hummerlets spinning around her in agitation.

Fortiss drops to his knees, shouting to Miriam to breathe, to work through it as her body processes the change.

I crouch down on her other side, keeping her head from banging against the rock-strewn ground.

Tennet stands and stares at the hummerbill, who eventually, little by little, starts to stalk closer.

“Are those her offspring?” he asks, then checks himself. “I mean, is it a she?”

“Kreya,” croaks Miriam, as she struggles to a seating position, then uses Fortiss as a brace in order to stand.

Her color already looks better, as far as I’m concerned.

She may be still reeling from banding—and I’m pretty sure there will be several bouts of nausea to come—but she’s no longer actively dying in front of me. Progress.

“Her name is Kreya, and those aren’t her offspring, not in the way that we think of them,” Miriam continues.

“They’re extensions of her, duplicates that she can direct separately.

There are mentions of hummerbills in some of the earliest annals of the Protectorate, but nothing recent, they certainly have never been entered into the Tournament of Gold.

There was some question as to whether they were suitable for battle.

” She shakes her head and gazes at the hummerbill with pure adoration in her eyes.

“As if that should ever be the only reason for a Divh to bond with us.”

I blink and share a startled look with Fortiss.

Miriam is a councilor of the Protectorate, one of eight learned souls who are charged with guiding the lord protector in all things related to the safety and stability of our border nation.

What she’s just said amounts to sacrilege and treason wrapped up in one breathless observation.

Probably not a good time to point that out to her, though.

Incoming! Caleb’s shout reverberates through my mind as well as in my ears, and the hummerbill disappears with a squawk—all of her—as Wrath swoops into view, Ayne and Szonja directly behind.

It’s a testament to the scale of the wide, rocky beach that it seems like there’s plenty of room for three enormous Divhs to congregate, especially when Gent howls from somewhere over a distant mountain.

Within moments, though, Wrath has galloped, then trotted, then slowed to a walk, finally extending one leg for Nazar to gracefully slide down… with Caleb sprawling after him.

“This entire side of the lake looks like the entryway to the blighted path,” Caleb says, coming up onto his toes easily and swinging his right arm wide.

“There’s nothing here. No Divhs that we could find, no grass, definitely no giant berries.

There’s maybe a pocket in the mountains that could correlate with the geographic setting of the Eighth House, but…

” he pauses to peer at Miriam more closely. “Are you okay?”

“Councilor Miriam has been banded,” Fortiss announces, and Caleb visibly jolts while Nazar turns sharply as well, taking in first Miriam, then Fortiss in his shocked gaze.

“Not as a warrior—or at least, not intentionally—but she was failing in this plane. Talia guessed, and I agreed, that the problem was that she wasn’t banded to a Divh. This is their world, after all.”

“Their world…” Nazar draws the thought out, then grimaces.

“That would explain why we can’t leave it as easily as we entered.

Caleb and I tried multiple times to get Wrath to return us to our plane—anywhere except the First House.

But our options were limited to our homes—the Twelfth, Tenth, Second, or First.” He grimaced.

“Wrath told me he could return me to Hakkir, if I wished. He remembers the way. Otherwise, we’re stymied.

As Wrath put it, Divhs are summoned to the Fated Plane; they are linked to where we are linked. They are bound to carry us home.”

“Home.” Tennet repeats. “That’s of no use at all. We would have been better served with fast horses—or traveling with the Divhs in dark of night, never mind the noise.”

Caleb snorts. “Or the villages trampled beneath their stampede.”

“At least they’d hear us coming,” Tennet shoots back.

“It’s a question of strategy, then, and strategy is in our favor here.

” I draw in an unsteady breath, not at all sure that the logic that seems to flow together so seamlessly in my mind will hold up under scrutiny.

“The First House has been councilor Miriam’s home for the past twenty years and more, but she wasn’t born there.

She was born in the Eighth House. There’s at least a possibility that Kreya can take us there. ”

Tennet scowls. “But Kreya has never been to the Eighth House—or anywhere in the Fated Plane. How would she know where she’s going? How will Miriam, after all this time?”

“I’m not so feeble as that, Lord Tennet,” Miriam informs him wryly. “I can remember my home.”

I hear the querulous murmur of Gent the second before Wrath spreads his wings, and the screams of far-off dragons echo off the mountains.

The enormous mound of Divh that’s Marsh lurches upright, clamping his hands over his ears, staggering back and forth as his head swings around, his eyes widening as he locates Caleb.

“What’s this?” Fortiss demands, but we’re all getting the same images from our Divhs—images that have already been so deeply burned into our minds we’ll never forget them— a thick, writhing throng of snakes pouring toward us through the night sky, an avalanche so thick, it blots out the stars.

Caleb staggers back, staring upward, though nothing is visible yet. But there’s no denying the agitation and confusion of the Divhs. I know how they feel.

“I thought you said they weren’t of this plane!” Caleb demands. “How can they travel through it?”

“It’s full dark,” Tennet offers, also staring hard into the sky, as if by his sheer fury he can materialize the threat so we can handle it. “Maybe they can only see in the dark, and that’s why the fire confused them so easily.”

Caleb flaps his right arm dismissively. “Well that’s great , but we can’t just?—”

“Drop flat!” Fortiss shouts over them, and his next words both reverberate in my ears and within my mind. Cover your bodies with your cloaks. Talia, get the Divhs out of here. Only Szonja and Ayne should return on our call.