Shadowmarch (Shadowmarch, #1)

by Tad Williams

“As the woodsman who sets snares cannot always know what he may catch,” the great god Kernios said to the wise man, “so, too, the scholar may find that his questions have brought him unforeseen and dangerous answers.”

Collum was working hard at the pyramid of sticks with his flint. The noise of the steel striking echoed out through the clearing like the sound of hammers deep in the earth. Vansen couldn’t help but think of all the stories of his youth, of the Others who lurked in the shadowy woods and in caves and burrowed in the cold ground.

“Do not look for the sun, mortal.” He thought there was something like pity in the words and he was dashed. He didn’t want pity—he wanted to be loved. He wanted only to die being loved by this creature of vapor and moonlight. “The sun will not come to you here. Neither can the shadows be trusted to tell you anything but lies. Look instead to the moss on the trees. The roots of the trees are in the earth, and they know where the sun is, always, even in this land where his brother is the only lord.”