62
The windhorse was fast, but the night had fallen faster. By the time Rogero returned to his own camp, the sky above him was full dark.
There were no campfires burning, which was his first indication that things were not right with his men.
He had built them all shelters, real ones, not simply the illusions of pavilions he sometimes created for their comfort. Once they began falling ill, he made structures out of stone, just as he did for Bradamante. He gave them all water and warmth from the materials he found surrounding them in the forest and on the hills.
He could not create food for them, he could only bring what he found, and now it was clear he hadn’t brought them enough.
Willan, tall strong Willan with the thick black beard and noticeably sunken cheeks, lay dead and frozen i
