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J ai could smell food, a scent he did not recognise, yet one that strained his starving belly and watered his mouth despite its mildness. He had been ushered into a cave on the lower levels, Winter glued to his side. Now he sat opposite the man who had greeted them, unsure of what to say.

The man had introduced himself as Cyrus, but had refused to say more until Jai was settled within the cave, away from prying eyes. Even still, scores of faces peered past the row of spearmen guarding the entrance, eager for a glimpse of their visitor.

The interior was bare, and lacking in wooden furniture. Instead, ledges and alcoves had been carved precisely into the rock. There was no fire, but it was surprisingly warm within the cave.

‘It has been a while since we last welcomed a Sithian royal to the Sanctum,’ Cyrus said. ‘Hardly a handful since your father.’

Jai stared, but before he could ask a question, a bowl of disappointing brown liquid was pressed into his hands. Winter, on the other hand, was presented with a bowl of chopped offal, fresh and stinking. She buried her face in it with relish, her fear of the onlookers momentarily forgotten in the face of shiny meat.

‘You know the way to her heart,’ Jai said, the joke lame, but breaching a smile upon Cyrus’s face.

‘Good,’ he said, smiling and nodding. ‘Please,’ he then said, motioning to the gruel in Jai’s hands. Lacking a spoon, Jai lifted the bowl to his lips. It had a mild, cloying smell, and Jai slurped a mouthful under Cyrus’s watchful gaze.

A nutty, mushroom taste coated the interior of his mouth. It was cold, but not unpleasant, and soon he was gulping the mixture down.

Cyrus nodded appreciatively, waiting for Jai to finish before starting on his own. He quaffed it in a single gulp and smack of his lips. But to Jai’s surprise, he said nothing, instead leaning back and looking at Jai with an appraising expression.

It was strange to face a man without a beard wrapped about his face, or braids in his hair. He was no warrior, of that Jai could tell, for a heavy paunch flopped from his belly, and his arms were skinny as a pike pole.

‘Where are the men that brought me here?’ Jai asked. ‘Do you speak for them?’

Cyrus motioned upwards, though all Jai saw was the cave’s ceiling, replete with the same soft-glowing lichen as before.

‘All in good time,’ he said. ‘Come. We walk.’

He stood suddenly, and Jai could only follow as the man strode deeper into the gloom.

The deeper they went, the more expansive the cave became, an ever growing warren of tunnels, alcoves, stairs and chambers, many where Winter had to squeeze to make it through. Echoes of their footsteps bounced oddly around them, and he could see faces peeking out at him as they made their way.

Then the ravine opened into a wide, bustling space. The sight before Jai was unexpected, to say the least. In this subterranean world, young boys and girls were hard at work, their hands gently tending to a sprawling expanse of mushroom beds. In the dim, ethereal glow of the lichen above, the fungi sprung from the ground like fantastical miniature forests.

Every imaginable shape and size of mushroom blanketed the floor. Tall, stately red caps stretched above the rest, shadowing squat flat-topped browns. Delicate white mushrooms clumped together beneath, their thin stems reaching skyward and crowning in small, bulbous caps.

Fuzzy lion’s manes with cascading yellow tendrils grew at ground level, alongside clusters of orange stubs. Strangest of all were the luminescent ones, grown at intervals along the way, green frilled and slimy, illuminating the children’s concentrated faces.

The workers scattered handfuls of what looked like dried grass, while others plucked away with small hands, nimbly pruning the fungal harvest. The contents of that bowl were no longer a mystery.

Despite it all, more fascinating was above. For amid the glowing lichen of the ceiling... was movement. A seething mass of dark shapes, trembling in unison. Scores and scores of chittering bats, hanging and flitting back and forth along the ceilings. Every now and again, their guano would plop down onto the sprawling mounds, fertilising the fields below.

‘The pride of the Sanctum,’ Cyrus whispered, his voice reverent. ‘The work of a thousand generations, a harvest of cultivars from all corners of our world.’

Cyrus ducked low, and plucked a cluster from the ground. He wiped it upon his puffy shirt, and proffered it to Jai. Glancing up at the bats, Jai politely declined, and the man popped it into his mouth with a smiling shrug.

‘Come,’ he said, striding on.

They followed, looping around the expanse until they reached another tunnel. From deep within, Jai could hear the squawking of birds, and the cries of men and women.

Emerging at the other end, Jai found them open to the elements once more, facing the wide-open expanse of Frostweald. And there... were the birds. Cawing and flouncing along a wide slope down into the tundra, their riders yelling as they wielded bladed lassos, practising their craft.

And above, high in the mountainside... were the roqs. He could see their forms, perched high above the rest, their great nests peeking from their ledges high in the night sky. One glided in the sky, its dark outline just visible in the moonlight.

Winter let out a deep purr, as if appreciating the cool snow that stretched to the horizon, pale as her scales on a moonlit night. She stretched out her wings, and Jai heard calls as those below noticed their arrival.

He half expected the bald man that had led him there to approach him. But of the bald roq riders, none could be seen. Only those with the caps of hair, and the terror birds on the long, snowy slope to the Frostweald.

By now, Jai’s fear had begun to subside. Whatever the Caelite’s intentions, it seemed they meant him no harm.

‘Where are the Huddites,’ Jai asked, his patience worn thin. ‘Where is the Dansk woman?’

Cyrus nodded solemnly, and nodded up, towards the tall peak of the mountain where the roqs appeared to reside.

‘The woman is up there,’ he said.

‘And the others?’ Jai asked.

Cyrus motioned with his chin, and Jai followed it to where a few dozen men in Caelite-styled clothing huddled, warming their hands around a small fire.

But with a flutter of Jai’s hopeful heart, these were not the pate-headed folk Jai had seen. Their hair was long, and unkempt. And now Jai made out their features.

No guards keeping hostages captive. No prison cells, as there had been at Porticus.

Just the Huddites.

Jai tried to run, but found the snow up to his knees. Undeterred, he ploughed ahead, his boots sinking deep into the powdery carpet. Winter, agile as ever despite her larger form, effortlessly bounded through the snow ahead. She seemed to revel in the frosty playground, her large body carving a path.

Excited shouts and cries rang out from the gathered men as they caught sight of her, the dragon that had helped free them.

A buzz of recognition travelled through the group, their cries echoing from the surrounding snow-covered rocks. Jai’s heart pounded in nervous anticipation as he recognised a figure stepping forth from the crowd – it was Hanebal.

The last time he had seen the man, he’d been little more than a skeletal frame, wasting away in the dank confines of Porticus, a prisoner in his own skin. But now there was a healthy glow about him, his cheeks flushed from the cold. His hair, once greasy and limp, now cascaded down his back. He was the picture of health, but his eyes still burned with the fierce intensity, a flame refusing to die.

The distance between them diminished, and Jai extended his hand in greeting. But Hanebal had other plans. With a booming laugh that rang out across the silent tundra, he swept Jai up into a bear hug, gripping so hard that even Jai’s soulbound chest lost its breath.

Jai was lifted high off his feet, the cold wind whipping around them.

‘I prayed you’d make it,’ Hanebal growled. ‘Who would have thought? Jai the Steppeman.’

He released Jai, even as the remaining Huddites thumped his back, their joy infectious as they welcomed him into their midst. The warmth of brotherhood was palpable in the harsh, frostbitten landscape, and more than Jai had ever experienced in his closeted life.

He felt himself shrink beneath the rough approbation, for some forty burly men were jostling him. It was only when Winter let out a deep growl of encouragement that he stood tall, squaring his shoulders and thumping Hanebal’s back in return.

Finally, Hanebal barked an order, and the men sheepishly backed away. Another shout, and they moved further still, a few gathering close to Winter, who preened under their attention.

‘How did you get here?’ Hanebal asked. ‘Traded too?’

‘And Erica?’ Jai asked, ignoring the question.

The name was strange on his tongue, and he realised it might have been only the second time he’d said it aloud since he had learned his friend’s true identity.

‘Don’t you mean Frida?’ Hanebal asked, giving Jai a meaningful look.

His message was clear. Erica had kept her name secret here, perhaps even from the other Huddites. Her identity was not yet known to the Caelite. Best to keep it that way.

‘I... yes, sorry,’ Jai said. ‘Where is she?’

Hanebal sighed and rolled his eyes, and Jai waited a moment until he realised that was his answer. Above, like Cyrus had said.

‘I had thought the worst,’ Jai admitted, his voice barely audible over the blustering wind. ‘That the Caelite were going to sell you as fettered.’ He glanced back at Cyrus, whose patient gaze held a touch of bemusement. ‘They are known for it.’

Shaking his head, Hanebal dismissed Jai’s concern with a wave of his hand.

‘These Caelite are no fetterers,’ he asserted. ‘Those they buy, they recruit.’

He motioned for Jai to follow him, a little away from the others. Winter reluctantly bounded away from her admirers and crouched close, raising her wings to shelter them from the wind, lest their words carry.

‘Tell me,’ Jai said. ‘From the beginning.’

Hanebal took a deep breath, and clouded the frigid air with his words.

‘For weeks we wandered the Great Steppe alone,’ he said, his voice raw with remembered hardship. ‘Water was scarce, and what we dug up was silty and foul. It turned our stomachs, made some of us sick. We scavenged for food, desperate enough to try what herbs we could find, foreign though they were. Those made us sicker still.’

A shadow crossed Hanebal’s face as he spoke of those dire times, but then his features softened, adopting an air of reverence.

‘Erica regained her strength. Soulbreathing through the cold nights, she nursed the sick back to health with her majicking, used the same to boil the water clean in the holes we dug. She was our lifeline in those bad days, the only thing keeping us from the touch of death.’

Hanebal paused, his gaze unfocused as he lost himself in the painful memories. He was silent for a moment before his voice, now tinged with a trace of resentment, resumed the tale.

‘She navigated us by the stars, but that damned grass... Our going was slow. We had gone south, hoping to reach the Kashmere Road. Then the Keldar found us.’

He let out a sigh, and shrugged.

‘In truth, we were grateful to them. Another few days, and even Erica could not keep us from dropping one by one. We were the walking dead.’

He shook his head.

‘A few weeks with them, treated well enough, even if they kept Erica chained in Damantine. Then we find ourselves blindfolded at the bottom of a mountain, and flung over the backs of those stinking things. I dare to think how high I was dangling before we reached here.’

He spat between his teeth in the direction of the terror birds, whose harsh cries were constant in this far-flung place.

Jai made to interject, but Hanebal raised a hand, his eyes meeting Jai’s.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said, his voice steady despite the tremble in his hands. ‘She’s safe. We’re all safe, in a way. The Caelite took us in, and for now, we are under their protection.’

Jai glanced back at Cyrus, who gave him a little wave.

‘He’s the guy in charge?’ he asked.

Hanebal grinned.

‘He’s the quill pusher. The one in charge...’

He motioned again with his eyes.

‘He’s up there. With her.’