And then, in the distance, he saw three figures, and Onos Toolan’s eyes narrowed. Like him, they seemed to be wandering. Like him, lost in the world. He drew closer.
The sword in his right hand, thick with gore but now showing its gleaming stone as the rain washed down its length, then fell to the ground, and he was running. His heart seemed to swell in his chest, seemed to grow too large for the bone cage holding it.
When they saw him, he heard childish cries, and now they were rushing towards him, the girl not carrying the boy winging ahead. All three were crying as they ran to meet him.
He fell to his knees to take them into his arms.
Words were tumbling from the twins. A saviour – an Awl warrior they had lost in the storm. A witch who had stolen them – their escape – and he had promised them he would find them, but he never did, and—
Lifting his gaze, still facing into the north, Onos Toolan then saw something else.
A vague shape that appeared to be sitting on the ground, curled over.
He rose, the girls reaching up to take his arms, the boy clinging to one shin. And then he moved forward, taking them all with him. When the boy complained, Storii picked him up in her arms. But Onos Toolan walked on, his steps coming faster and faster.
It was not possible. It was—
And then once more he was running.
She must have heard his approach, for she looked up and then over, and sat watching him rushing towards her.
He almost fell against her, his arms wrapping tight round her, lifting her with his embrace.
Hetan gasped. ‘Husband! I have missed you. I – I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what has happened …’
‘Nothing has happened,’ he whispered, as the children screamed behind them.
‘Onos – my toes …’
‘What?’
‘I have someone else’s toes, husband, I swear it—’
The children collided with them.
In the distance ahead, on a faint rise of land, Onos Toolan saw a figure seated on a horse. The darkness was taking the vision – dissolving it before his eyes.
And then he saw it raise one hand.
Straightening, Onos Toolan did the same. I see you, my brother .
I see you .
When at last the light left the rise of land, the vision faded from his eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I have heard voices thick with sorrow
I have seen faces crumble with grief