The Tree of Story Read Free Page A

lands from their flying ships. The leader of the Stormriders turned out to be Finn’s older brother, Corr, who had left the Bourne years before in rebellion against the Errantry and had never returned. Since then Corr Madoc—or the Sky Lord, as he was known—had been at war with an army of Malabron’s servants, the Nightbane, over a vast lode of
gaal
, the terrible fever iron that powered Corr’s skyships and gave his men berserk strength in battle. Not long after Will and his companions arrived at Corr’s fortress, the Nightbane unleashed a great host of fetches, mindless wraiths encased in spell-woven armour and obedient to Malabron’s will. To everyone’s surprise, the fetch host had marched past Corr’s fortress and headed south for the Bourne.
    Finn had stayed with his brother, but one of Corr’s men, Brannon Yates, had led Will, Balor and Shade south in a skyship powered by
gaal
. The ship had been about to crash when Rowen and Whitewing Stonegrinder, the ice dragon, found them and brought them to Rowen’s childhood home, the abandoned farm at Blue Hill. It was from the farm that they’d all set out before dawn this morning, leaving the ailing dragon behind to rest and recover his strength.
    They had returned to Fable to warn the Errantry about the fetch host. But Rowen had also come because only here could she find the way to where her grandfather had been taken.
    Her grip tightened on the staff she was carrying. It was her grandfather’s, left behind when the thrawl captured him. Now more than ever Fable needed its loremaster. She had to find him and bring him back.
    Balor’s booming voice shook Rowen out of her thoughts.
    “Well, let’s not stand here taking in the sights,” the wildman said. “You must be eager to get home again, Brannon.”
    “I doubt the Errantry will be as eager to see me,” Yates said quietly.
    “Think of your family, man,” Balor said. “You told me about your mother and your sister. They’ve been waiting all these years for word of you.”
    “I’ve thought about little else, Balor.”
    Yates had hardly spoken on the journey from Blue Hill and Rowen’s thoughts had been elsewhere, so she hadn’t paid him much attention. Now she regarded the man, startled by how pale his face was. Beads of sweat stood out on his brow and he was trying to hide the tremor in his hands by clasping them. It was the
gaal
, Will had told her. The craving for fever iron became a sickness that eventually killed Corr’s men or drove them mad. Yates had insisted he was free of his desire for the poisonous metal, but clearly the
gaal
’s ill effects still lingered.
    She looked at Shade then, waiting quietly at Will’s side, and her heart went out to the wolf. He had been poisoned by the
gaal
, too, when Corr’s men took him captive. Shade’s silver-grey coat was no longer sleek and shining but stood up in dark hackles. He was larger, as well, Rowen was sure, leaner and bonier, and his eyes, once bright and penetrating, had lost their gleam. The fever iron had caused these frightening changes and its effects didn’t appear to be wearing off. Worse, Rowen knew that if Shade went with them into the Shadow Realm, he would change beyond recognition into a creature of that nightmare world. The wolf would become a monster called the Devourer. There was no doubt of it. She had seen it with her story-sight, the gift she had of seeing how things once were or how they would be.
    Shade’s eyes met hers. The wolf, as always, seemed to know what she was thinking.
    Without further talk they started down the hillside and soon reached the road that skirted the Course on its way to the main gate of Fable. As they passed the camp of the foreign army, they could smell freshly baked loaves and frying food and were keenly reminded they hadn’t eaten for hours. Many curious looks were exchanged between them and the soldiers they passed, and in the end Balor couldn’t resist stopping to talk to one of them, a