Trinity Rising: Book Two of the Wild Hunt (Wild Hunt Trilogy 2) by Elspeth Cooper

Abruptly the wind died. The children near Teia fell silent, and mothers glanced around anxiously before shooing them inside. Men exchanged wary looks, then put down their work and went to be with their families. In the pens, horses stamped and whinnied as the weight of the summoning settled on the whole camp.
    Teia swallowed hard. The lump in her throat was as large as a fist; it was hard to inhale past it. Her breath came in tight panicky gasps and her insides felt about to turn to water. Yet still her feet kept carrying her towards the Moot ground, and no matter how hard she fought the pull of the summoning she was as helpless as a fish on a line.
    The cloud of sparks glowed fiercely, hotter and brighter than the coals in the brazier. All that remained of the kid’s heart was a cinder. Ytha was hacking out the animal’s liver now, butchering the beast with casual efficiency. Every Speaker had her staff planted on the earth in front of her as the chant drummed on. As she came closer, Teia realised why they needed such support: the earth was trembling underfoot. With each gobbet of flesh Ytha tossed onto the coals the cloud of sparks grew brighter and the pounding in Teia’s head increased.
    The Speakers’ weaving had caught her up and drawn her in. On the periphery of her vision she saw a handful of other girls, one of them no more than six or seven years old, also stumbling towards the rite. They too must have the Talent. The ritual had sucked in every scrap of it that could be found, in order to give it strength. Surely the child was too young to withstand it? Teia herself could barely think for the beating in her mind. What must it be like for one so small, so much younger than she had been when she first experienced a summoning? But there was nothing she could do. The child was twenty paces away and Teia could not break from the course her feet had set.
    Ytha offered up the last shred of liver with a triumphant bark. The cloud of sparks leapt, flaring, and a black rent appeared in the smoke. The other Speakers redoubled their efforts, raising the chant to an even higher pitch, although their voices were already ragged. With an overhand blow of the heavy knife, Ytha clove the kid’s skull and tossed its brains onto the brazier.
    The noise that followed was a mountain falling, or a thousand thousand voices roaring a name in unison. The earth lurched, spilling Teia from her feet, and the rent in the cloud vomited forth a dark shape.
    A figure, curled up like a newborn. Slowly it unfolded itself, stretching and straightening as if waking from a long, long sleep. Its outline was blurry and indistinct, seemingly fashioned from dense black smoke, but it had arms and legs, a long cloak, a spear in one fist and a shield on its arm. Reaching up with its shield arm, it pulled off a grotesquely horned helmet and shook loose a mane of dark hair. On the shield, a painted sigil glimmered dully.
    The chant cracked and faltered. A surge of power swept through Teia, draining her as it swelled the chant again. Ytha’s voice continued above it all, concluding the summoning in firm, clear tones. She spread her arms wide, basin in one hand, bloody knife in the other. Silence fell.
    Teia heaved herself up onto her knees, one hand pressed to her side. The silence was the kind that follows an ear-shattering noise, tense and ringing. The air bulged with it; her eyes felt too large for their sockets.
    The creature in the fire heaved a breath, then another, savouring the air. Who are you? it rasped.
    Moaning, Teia clapped her hands over her ears but it was too late. The voice was already in her head, scraping around the inside of her skull like bloody fingernails.
    ‘I am Ytha, Speaker of the Crainnh, the Wolf Clan of the people of the Broken Land.’ Ytha bowed low from the waist with her arms still outstretched. ‘I bid you welcome amongst us.’
    The creature rested its helm on its hip and tossed back its hair, rendering its face somewhat