'Then I don't understand.'
'You'll see. Hold your breath.'
Talsy did so, and Chanter bent and pressed his palms to the ground. As he straightened, frigid, utter stillness clamped down. Everything froze, the air becoming a solid pressing force against her skin, like being trapped in ice. The manifestation of Earthpower was stronger than ever, frightening in its intensity. She staggered and gasped as its freezing grip released her, shivered and rubbed her chilled skin. Chanter looked contrite and came over to share his warmth. The tingles of Crayash soon banished the cold, and his method of sharing it never failed to delight her.
In addition to his closeness, he seemed to feed warmth into her as if he was a conduit to a roaring fire. The clasp of his hands on hers soon warmed her blood and made her tingle, but that was not solely due to the warmth he imparted. She released him with a grateful smile, and he faced the mountain. He controlled Dolana, but had not wielded it yet. He studied the stone barrier with a vaguely irritated expression, as if making a path through it was a mere inconvenience, and a task in which he took no pleasure. The difference between Mujar and Truemen struck her afresh. A Trueman would have revelled in such power and used it lavishly, with great showmanship and enjoyment, to impress others and accrue power and wealth. Chanter, if anything, looked a little sad.
With a soft, creaking groan, the rock tore apart. The split started high above and descended to the ground, the stone shimmering as it parted. The gap widened until it was about four feet broad, the sides and floor as smooth as glass. A few feet ahead, the gap narrowed and joined together again. Chanter picked up the bag and walked into the fissure, Talsy close behind, resisting the urge to grab the back of his jacket and hang on. As he proceeded, the rock parted before him, keeping pace with his strides. She glanced back and shivered. The stone closed silently behind, sealing as if it had never been sundered. They walked through a narrow canyon whose sheer, sparkling sides rose so high that the sky was a small boat-shaped splash of blue.
Black spots and brown stripes patterned the walls, along with glittering crystal seams and a thousand shades of grey in swirling, abstract patterns. The rock's cold chilled her, and she wondered if the closing walls would crush her if she lagged behind. Although they traversed the bottom of a deep pit, he was able to control the Dolana that must be pressing in on him from all sides. He seemed unaffected, but he set a fast pace, as if eager to quit the mountain's bosom.
It seemed like many hours later when the rock ahead parted to reveal a blue sky and tumbled, rock strewn slopes. Talsy stumbled out after the Mujar, shivering. The seamless sweep of grey stone behind her seemed pristine, and the ground had not even shuddered in protest. Chanter dropped the bag and turned to take her hands until her teeth stopped chattering, whereupon he released her with a smile.
'Better now?'
Talsy nodded. 'So what was the difference between that and a Pit, or a tunnel? We were still far below the ground.'
'No, we weren't. We were within the mountain, but above the ground. The Dolana was strong, yes, far stronger than here, for instance, but I was walking, not pressed against the earth. Dolana can only invade from contact. It doesn't travel through Ashmar. As a bird, I have no Dolana in me, as a Power. It's out of my reach.'
'Then how do the Pits work?'
Chanter shook his head. 'I don't know, I've never been in one. They must be very deep, and being that far underground would cause Dolana to be extremely strong. Mujar are thrown in unconscious, and when they awake surrounded by so much Earthpower, I should think they can reach no other Power.'
'Why was that better than a tunnel?'
'A tunnel would mean rock above me, which is far more confining. I would have had to make a tunnel right through the mountain, and in the middle of it the outside world would have been very far away. Too far, for my liking.'
She considered. 'Perhaps the Pits are at the end of tunnels, not just holes in the ground.'
'Yes, that would be very dangerous.'
Talsy looked around at a grassy slope streaked with ridges of rock and strewn with boulders amid screes of shale. At its foot, a stunted forest struggled to grow, its trees twisted by the constant wind that blew towards the mountains, carrying a tang of salt.
Chanter picked up the bag and set off down the slope. Talsy followed, but the closer she got to the dark, distorted trees, the more reluctant she was to go on. A sense of brooding, hostile power emanated from the dim wood, and, when the Mujar reached the first trees, she halted. A terrible foreboding, like ice in her blood, made her shiver.
Chanter stopped and turned to her. 'You sense it? I'm surprised. I thought Truemen were immune to this world’s sensations.'
'What is it?'
'A Kuran, a wood guardian, dwells here. Most of them dislike your people. This one hates Truemen more than most.'
'Why?'
He shrugged. 'Truemen destroy forests. They cut the trees and use the wood, set fire to them to make grazing lands for their beasts.'
'I can't go in there.'
The Mujar smiled. 'I won't let her harm you. Come, take my hand.'
Talsy forced herself to approach him, taking his hand. The brooding hostility lessened as Chanter led her into the shade of the first trees, which were so short they were little more than shrubs with thick, twisted black trunks and claw-like branches bearing a few small, dark leaves. A mat of knotted, tangled roots was at war for what little nourishment existed in the stony soil. Chanter picked his way over the roots and rocks, treacherous footing for the unwary. She clung to his hand, staying as close to him as her eyes darted into the shadows whence the hostile presence glared.
Roots seemed to twist beneath her feet, making her stumble, and she would have fallen if not for Chanter's hand, yet he appeared to have no trouble at all. The wood closed in behind them, the trees becoming taller and less twisted. A dense canopy of contorted branches locked together above them, shutting out all but a few sparkles of sky. In the damp gloom, lichen patches lent splashes of green to drab bark. Clumps of hanging moss loomed out of the dimness, making her start.
The grey growth's feathery touch sent shudders through her, and damp cobwebs stuck to her face. She brushed at them, but they proved difficult to wipe away, and were soon replaced. An eerie silence hung heavy amongst the blighted trees and a rank, dead smell arose from the soggy black leaves that filled the hollows between the roots. It seemed as if the angry, brooding presence had driven everything from the forest save the trees.
Talsy gasped and shied as a twig scratched her face like a clawed hand reaching from the darkness. She wiped a trickle of blood off her cheek, the scratch burning as she stumbled after the Mujar. A root caught her ankle, and she fell with a yell of surprise, her hand yanked from Chanter's grip. He stopped and turned, frowning. Talsy tried to rise, but roots whipped up to snake around her legs, pin her to the ground and push knobs into her flesh.
'Chanter!'
Talsy panicked as the roots tightened, while the Mujar gazed into the forest.
“ Chanter!” Terror washed through her as the roots coiled up her legs, reaching her hips.
He held up a hand. 'Hush.'
Talsy bit her lip, quelling the urge to scream at him to do something. The Mujar remained just out of reach, and stared into the darkness without expression.
The air filled with the faint sound of beating wings, accompanied by a breeze. The trees around them moved with slow precision, the branches twisted as if by invisible hands. The roots stopped their progress up her hips and held her in a painful clasp. The beating of wings softened to a whisper of feathers, and a warm draught stirred the stale, cold air. The twisting trees' slow rearrangement formed two huge, empty pits amongst the tangled wood. The brooding presence grew strong, and waves of hatred chilled her blood.
The Mujar raised a hand and beckoned to the darkness, which swelled from its pits, bringing with it the clean smell of fresh cut timber. Chanter bent and touched one palm to the ground, thrusting his other hand into the tangible dark presence. It swallowed his hand to the wrist, and a soft shiver went through the forest. A sigh wafted
