They knew that should a hint of the location of this place reach the enemy, then a pitched and terrible battle would be inevitable. And there would be little doubt as to who would prevail should this happen. The Gevethen were in power now, not only because of their ability to sway others to their cause but because of their complete indifference to the fate of those same followers. Wave upon wave of attackers would be sent against the camp until sheer attrition won the day. It was a dark image and, for all it was no new one, Ibryen frowned as he turned away from it.

He glanced briefly at the lightening sky then quickly turned his eyes back to the darkness around him. He must be careful, of course. It was not necessary to fall over some craggy edge to injure oneself seriously in this terrain, a simple tumble would suffice, but by the time he would be moving from the grassy slopes on to the rocks proper it would be much lighter. For a moment he considered the wisdom of what he was doing. It was not essential that he personally viewed the adjacent valleys, any of his senior officers could have done it. But even as he hesitated, he felt again a slight tension urging him forward. Whatever it was, it would not be ignored.

He set off slowly.

Though he kept his attention focused on the shadow-scape about him, and on his every footstep, he was aware that what had been disturbing him for the past few days and nights was truly there. It permeated his relaxed awareness, growing then fading but never truly disappearing, like the sound of a distant crowd carried on the wind. Words such as ‘call’, ‘song’, floated into his mind, but none were truly adequate.

As he had estimated, the sun had risen when he came to the rockier reaches of the ridge. It was going to be a fine spring day – not warm enough for idling in the sun, and probably very cold up on the ridge, but heart-lifting for all that. He sat down, not so much to rest as to think.