At the first stopping place, Oris brought both animals into the yard.
There was a roof for the loads and a room behind it where they could sleep. The keeper brought water, heard which way they were going, and showed them the dry wood. Rowan helped put the animals to rest while Phia carried her own bag inside. Bren came back with a pot and enough light to see what they were taking out for the night.
They ate what they had brought. Phia sat with her boots loosened, one hand around her cup. When Bren began laying the smaller tools beside the door, she indicated the bag she had kept with her.
“That comes with me. Leave the rest tied until I ask.”
“I know which bundle has the cloth,” Rowan said.
“Good. I may want that before anything else.”
Outside, one of the animals struck the paving with a hoof. Oris went to look, returning a little later with the empty water bucket. Bren moved his bedroll to leave him space near the door.
Rowan took off his boots. He had expected to be walking toward the lower houses this morning. At this hour Soren might still be in the broad street, listening to the tune he could never quite remember. Rowan set the boots where he would find them without a lamp and lay down.
They left before the yard received its first delivery.
For much of the next day, the road gave them room to walk beside the animals. It climbed by long turns through worked slopes, passing between stone retaining walls where water had been led beneath the surface. Farther up, the houses thinned. Coppiced trees gave way to older growth, and the corners of the road showed the wear of wheels taking the same line in both directions.
Rowan knew parts of it. He had traveled this way with people who wanted to reach the station before weather closed around the higher ground. He remembered a place to water animals beneath a steep bank and found it farther on than he expected. The trough had been replaced. Its stone base remained, dark beneath the new timber.
They stopped to water the animals. Rowan went to the road’s outer edge. Below it, trees hid the next turn; a pale strip of water disappeared beneath the slope.
Bren came beside him.
“Farther than the line you walked?”
“Higher. The river approach turns away below there.” Rowan indicated the trees. “I wouldn't bring this load onto it.”
“No.”
They returned to the animals and went on.
The afternoon cost them more ground than the morning. The road doubled back above a narrow valley, rising toward a spur before turning north again. At one steep stretch they took the loads off and carried the heavier bundles ahead while Oris brought the animals up separately. Rowan's palms warmed against the rough handles of the tool roll. At the top, Phia set down her bundle and watched the man lead the second animal toward them.
“We'll want time at the next roof,” she said.
Bren looked at the light. “We can reach it.”
They shared the struggling animal’s load for the remaining climb. Rowan carried the smaller saw beneath his pack strap. He did not stop to draw the road.
At the next shelter, Phia helped Oris rub down the animals while Rowan fetched water from the spring. He checked the room’s protection at the post; the working held firm through stone beneath the floor.
They had been out of the Glenn for two nights when they left that shelter.
The road ahead descended for a while before climbing into denser trees. Rowan began recognizing the places from the messenger's account: a stream beneath a low crossing, a rise where the road bent away from it, the timbered slope above the outer edge. Bren slowed beside the stream and went ahead without his load.
When he returned, he indicated a widening beyond the rise.
“We can put them there. There's room to turn.”
Rowan walked it with him before they brought the animals up. The old road edge held beneath low growth. Water had cut a shallow channel across one side, but the inner ground was firm enough for both animals and the people unloading them.
From there they could see the first fallen crown.
It filled the road beyond the bend, green branches pressed into one another above a trunk thicker than Rowan's body. Smaller limbs had been cut away near the uphill end. A strip of ground showed between the branches and the bank, steep enough that a person passing would need to take the higher side.
No one was visible beyond it.
Oris led the animals into the widening. Phia took down her bag and a bundle of cloth. Rowan left his pack beside the tool roll, keeping the notebook, ash and finer cord with him.
“Wait here until we've seen the way,” he said.
“I can carry this myself,” she told him.
“I know. I want to be sure we can get it through.”
She set it beside her bag. Bren took the rope, and they approached the trees together.
The road surface remained visible beneath the near branches. Bark had been scraped from the trunk where it rested against stone. Beyond it, something wooden lay at an angle across the road, almost hidden by needles. Rowan moved nearer along the uphill bank. A cart's front wheel stood clear of the ground. The broken shaft beneath it had been pushed through the lower branches.
“That caught the first one,” Bren said.
Rowan nodded. He could place it against the original account now. The carts behind it would have had no room to go round on the lower side. On the upper, the bank rose sharply before easing into trees.
They followed the cleared strip without touching the larger limbs. One bowed beneath the trunk's weight. Rowan stopped beside it, looked along its length and stepped higher to keep clear.
At the root end, he found the stump.
Earth still lay close around it. The roots had not come out of the slope. One side of the trunk had been cut deeply before the tree fell, leaving a thin, torn length of wood across the face. The opening faced the road.
Rowan crouched on the uphill side. Near his boot, chips lay beneath a pressed branch. He lifted one. The wood was pale where it had been split away; rain had darkened its outer edge.
Bren stood above him, looking at the stump.
“Cut?”
“Yes.”
“Before it came down?”
Rowan laid the chip back. “They cut into the standing tree. The part left here tore when it fell.”
A few smaller branch cuts along the foot passage were cleaner. Those had been made afterward, to get through. The cut at the stump had put the trunk across the road before anyone began clearing a way.
He stood and looked beyond it.
The second tree lay farther round the bend. Its crown crossed the first tree's lower branches, closing the remaining width. To reach its stump they would have to pass the damaged cart and climb around another tangle of limbs.
Rowan did not go straight to it. He brought a little ash across his palm and let the change gather behind his eyes.
The held course ran beneath the road, close to the inner bank. It passed the first stump deeper in the rock and continued toward the bend. He could follow it where the narrow passage rose, then lost the finer connection beneath the farther branches. He drew a short reach of moonlight through his hand, testing what answered from the stone beside him.
The road’s protection held beneath the fallen trees.
He released the change and went ahead with his hands free.
Bren waited while he passed the cart. Beyond it, a boot-worn strip led upward around the second trunk. Rowan could see where people had cut back the brush and pushed loose branches downhill. He followed the higher edge until the second stump came into view.
This tree had been cut too. Its hinge had drawn it into the road beyond the first, where the bend left little room to turn a cart. The two standing trunks had been several paces apart. Their crowns now met across the passage.
Rowan stood for a moment looking back toward the damaged cart.
Someone had chosen where these would fall.
“Rowan.”
The voice came from above the next turn. Leth stood beside a low wall in his green cloak, one hand raised. Rowan had walked the upper circuit with him at Cresting Pass.
He lifted his own hand.
The man came down the path, then stopped where the branches narrowed it.
“I thought that was you. How many?”
“Four. Two animals below the trees. We've brought more care and supplies from the Glenn.”
“Good.” His gaze moved to the second stump, then back. “You've seen it.”
“Yes. Who's beyond?”
“The guards and the people they kept here. We came down two days ago.”
“You got word back?”
“North, yesterday. One of the carriers went back. Nothing south yet. I was going to send someone once we knew which way we could move them.”
Rowan looked toward the low wall. A guard stood there now, watching the path. Leth called that they were from the Glenn, then went ahead to speak to him.
Rowan returned far enough to bring the others through. Oris stayed with the animals. Phia came with her bag and the cloth, following the warden along the cleared foot passage. At the bowed branch, she stopped without being told and moved uphill before continuing.
The road widened beyond the trees. Three carts stood near the inner bank, one with its load covered by a cloth that had been fastened beneath stones. A roof of branches and canvas sheltered the people beside them. Someone had made a small fire in the cleared ground farther on. The smell of warm food reached Rowan as he entered.
The practitioner from Cresting came directly to Phia. “Belda,” she said, offering her hand. Rowan heard Irma’s name as they spoke, then Phia took her bag into the shelter with her.
He stayed outside.
The guard who had been watching the path came to meet him. His sleeve was torn at the upper arm and had been stitched badly enough to pull the cloth when he moved. He gave his name, Cadd, and asked what had reached the Glenn.
“The account sent back when the trees fell,” Rowan said. “Three injured. The officer went on, all the guards stayed. We heard six days after it happened.”
“We've another with a cut now. Not from the trees.”
Rowan looked at the sleeve.
“Yours?”
“No. Mine missed the skin.” He touched the seam, then dropped his hand. “They came after the messenger had gone. Two days after, near evening.”
“Four came onto the road,” Cadd continued. “There was someone above them, but I never saw him clear. They told us to stand away from the loads. One went straight to that cart.”
He indicated the covered one. Its cloth had been pulled down over the inner side and fastened beneath a heavy stone.
“He had a knife. The others tried to keep us back while he got at it. We had more people here than they expected. They came close enough to find that out.”
Cadd pulled the torn sleeve clear where the seam caught against his arm.
“We drove them into the trees. One went down before they got clear. Two of them came back to drag him away. I took the others as far as the road edge, then stopped. I wasn't leaving the wounded to run after them.”
Rowan glanced toward the shelter. The two practitioners were speaking within it, one asking a question twice so the person answering could hear.
“One shouted that they'd come back with more,” Cadd said. “From up there. We moved the loads closer and put a watch at both ends.”
“Have you seen anyone since?”
“Not close. Could be they're gathering whoever they've got. Could be he hoped we'd run and leave the carts.”
Rowan looked up the slope. Trees covered it well beyond the stumps. He could see no movement that gave him a reason to choose between those possibilities.
“Did the officer leave word where to find them before the island?”
“Nothing beyond the plan. Go on, ask at the landing, meet there.”
“He hasn't been recorded at the place expecting him.”
Cadd's face changed. He looked past Rowan toward the fallen trees.
“We haven't seen him come back.”
“No. Thane has sent south to ask.”
Rowan left it there. From below the trees came a call from Oris. He had the next bundles ready.
“There’s one of us with the animals below,” Rowan told Cadd. “He can’t watch the road while he’s lifting those bags. I want someone with him before we bring the rest through.”
Cadd looked toward the lower wall. “I can go down. Your people have tools for the passage?”
“Yes. Leth can stay with you when you’ve shown him the approach. We’ll keep the loads on the inner ground.”
Leth joined Cadd at the lower approach while a carrier helped Oris pass up the bundles. They agreed on a whistle if anyone approached; Rowan heard Cadd test it from the first stump.
Bren set the rope beside the tools.
They passed cloth and food through the branches, leaving their hands free at the bowed limb.
When Belda and Phia came out, the useful loads and tools were above the trees. Rowan had relieved Oris long enough for him to eat; now he returned to hear their decisions.
“The head wound is clean,” Belda said. “He's awake, and he knows where he is. He tires quickly. I won't ask him to walk this whole road yet. The leg won't take weight.”
“I've seen how you've come through,” Phia said. “We'd have to carry him clear of the trunks without sitting him down in that bend.”
“And the shoulder?”
“He can walk if someone stays beside him,” Belda said. “He needs his arm kept still. The new cut is dressed. He'll travel more easily than the others.”
“South would be shorter,” Belda said. “If you can open the road, we can decide who’s fit for it in the morning.”
“Then let’s open it,” Phia said.
Rowan went back to the fallen trees with Bren. He had seen both cuts, but before anything moved he drew the hinges and the chips still caught beneath the branches. Leth came down to look beside him. He had already put the deliberate felling into Cresting’s account; Rowan showed him the second cut, then closed the book and tucked it inside his coat.
Bren had cleared the smaller limbs caught against the bank. The damaged cart lay beneath the first crown, its shaft broken and its wheel pressed sideways into the road. Beyond it, the larger trunk rested against stone. Rowan crouched beside that stone and dipped his fingers into the ash.
He gathered moonlight against his other palm and drew it beneath the trunk. A curved silver working spread above the broken shaft, seating against the rock on either side. Rowan lifted it until it cradled the wood clear of the cart.
“That end first,” he told Bren. “There’s room above the cart.”
Phia had gone to the stream. She raised one hand, and the water lifted from its bed in a clear, twisting reach. It came over the bank without spilling, broke into several thicker strands and wound beneath the trunk. A carrier paused with the saw still in his hand.
“Cut that branch,” she told him. “It’s catching against the wheel.”
He set to work. Rowan held the wood above the damaged shaft while Bren freed the last hooked limb. The branch sprang clear, and the trunk settled harder onto the silver cradle. Rowan widened his hands, keeping the working beneath it. Phia’s water bore against its underside, rolling the weight uphill with him.
The trunk moved. Needles scraped along the cart’s cloth. The wheel dropped onto the road with a crack that made the guard at the upper wall look round. Rowan kept the silver band seated while Bren dragged the broken shaft clear. Then Phia lifted two fingers, and the trunk rolled onto the bank, settling against the standing trees well away from the road.
Water slid from the bark. For a moment it hung in bright beads above the timber; then it gathered again beside Phia’s hand.
“The next?” she asked.
Rowan looked at the second tree. “Let me see its far end.”
They went round together. A root from the standing growth had caught beneath the crown. Bren cut the limb beside it while Rowan eased the weight away. Phia brought her water under the wider trunk. This time Rowan could feel how she distributed the load before it came onto his working, several points answering where he would have tried to hold one.
They turned it off the road. The cut stump still projected into the place where a cart would need to pass. Phia’s water entered the soil in fine streams, washing earth from the nearer roots. Rowan laid his silver working between the stump and the standing growth, holding it there while Bren freed a caught branch. Water gathered beneath the roots and lifted. The stump came free with a wet tearing sound; Phia rolled it beside its trunk, and Rowan let the cradle fade.
The road beyond the bend appeared almost ordinary: scored earth, scattered needles, the shallow impressions of wheels. Rowan’s shoulders ached. Phia stood with one hand open, letting the water return to the stream. She had scarcely changed her breathing.
“You could have done that without me,” he said.
“You were here.” She looked toward the cart. “And you kept that from taking another blow.”
Bren was already gathering the smaller branches. Rowan let the moonlight go and helped him. By the time Oris led the animals up, there was room for them to walk side by side past the stumps. The three sound carts still stood beyond the turn; the broken one would need a wheel and shaft before anyone took it down this road.
They brought the animals into the camp and unloaded the remaining bedding. Phia went back beneath the canvas. Rowan stood in the cleared bend for a moment, looking from the displaced timber to the road descending toward the Glenn. The people waiting beyond it would have somewhere to go when they were ready.
The sun had moved behind the slope. Oris settled the animals beside the carts, where the unloaded bags could stay under cover. Cadd kept a guard at the lower bend until the other Cresting warden relieved him after dark.
Rowan returned to the carts. A guard was bringing water beneath the canvas while the practitioners made room for the fresh bedding. The man with the bound shoulder sat near the entrance. He had a heel of bread balanced on his knee, the cup beside it just beyond the reach of his free hand. As Rowan approached, he tried to shift forward without moving the bound arm. He stopped and looked past him toward the branches.
“Can we get out?”
“The trees are off the road. We can take you down when you’re fit to travel.”
“Tomorrow?”
“The practitioners will decide in the morning. We’ve a carrying frame for the people who need it.”
The man looked down at his arm. “I can walk.”
“Then someone will go with you when it's time.”
He leaned back against the folded bedding. Rowan brought the cup within reach and waited while he drank. The man kept looking toward the cleared bend.
“They told me not to try it alone.”
“I’ll come through with you when they say you can.”
The man nodded and put the cup down carefully. Rowan left the bread on a folded cloth beside his hand, then went to the wall. Cadd was coming up from the lower watch for water; Leth remained with Oris.
Rowan prepared an account for a carrier going south in the morning. Cadd read the event days: Cresting’s arrival, the cuts Rowan had examined, the raid Cadd had witnessed, and the road now open. The threat of more attackers remained something shouted during the retreat.
When he had finished, Rowan put the notebook away. He took the empty bowls back to the fire. Behind him, someone began asking Leth about the way home.