Chapter 9: The Dig

"They are digging up the Stone," Saren said.

He stood in the cave mouth in a flurry of sparks, human again.

His hair was blown wild, and Gwenith's dead husband's shirt was on inside out.

Ellory sat up so fast he hit his head on the wall.

"What stone?"

"The Hush Stone." Gwenith's face had gone grey.

She took the pipe from her mouth, and her hand shook.

"Under the feast hall. Every child in Marrowdene learns not to step on it. If they lift it out of the ground..."

"The Hush breaks entirely," Saren said. "And the Wold with it."

"And you?" Ellory said.

"I do not know." The god's mouth twisted. "I do not know what I am without it."

"Then we stop them tonight."

"It will be crawling with riders."

"Then we're quiet," Ellory said. "I know every lane in that village. I've walked the wall since I was fifteen."

Lowen put up a hand. "I'm coming."

"You stay with the villagers."

"Ellory," Lowen said.

"Please, Lowen. Somebody has to keep them together."

Ellory gripped his friend's shoulder.

"If I don't come back, you know the way to the high ground."

Lowen's face worked. "You always come back," he said. "That's the stupid part."

They reached Marrowdene after midnight, with no moon.

Ellory led the way down the old drain ditch, with Saren folding his long body behind him and complaining about the smell.

They came out behind the smithy, in the ruin of his own home.

The lane was silent, and the doors hung open.

Somebody had hung a Host lantern on the village well.

Its yellow light fell across an overturned cart and a child's wooden horse in the mud.

Ellory's throat closed.

He picked up the horse and put it on a windowsill.

"Later," he whispered to nobody.

The feast hall had no roof now.

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