Chasers of the Wind

9

“Some bastard stole the lantern from the yard last night. And those damn dogs were howling before dawn,” said Bamut, as he carved another little man out of wood.

Shen, his hands resting on his chest, was lying on a hard bench with his folded shirt under his head. He was dozing, but as soon as his companion was done talking, he said, without raising his eyelids, “Mark my words. They won’t be howling after the necromancer returns. Neither will we.”

“Nonsense. He hasn’t been here in a week. He’s long since forgotten about us.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” said Whip morosely. “If he’d forgotten about us those noseless freaks standing guard by the gates would have disappeared. The sorcerer sniffed out Layen from a league away, and he’s not backing off anytime soon.”

“He’s only interested in her soul. The White won’t bother us.”

“Fool,” declared the commander with relish.

“Why a fool?” asked Bamut, not at all offended.

“You expect good from a necromancer. That’s why. He’ll take the woman away and drag us along for company.”

“Damn…. I should have wasted Gray in the forest. I threw away such an opportunity. We could already be back in Al’sgara.”

Midge, who was listening in on the conversation, had something that looked like agreement written all over his face.

“Mols would have whacked you himself afterward.”

“Mols, Mols. I’m fed up with working for him. Damn…. This is so stupid! Don’t we have our own brains?” This time no one encouraged him. Bamut grumbled to himself for a little while and then asked, “Am I to understand that we can’t get past the Morts? Even with Gray and his woman?”

“That took you a whole week to get, did it? I talked to Ness the same day the necromancer came here. We could overwhelm the Morts. But the necromancer would find out about it.”

Bamut finally shut up. Shen went back to his dozing. Whip and Midge started to play dice. Only when it was time for lunch did they walk over to the part of the house where Ness and Layen lived.

Seeing provisions and weapons strewn out over the table instead of the food they’d become accustomed to over the past several days, Shen asked breathlessly, “What’s all this?”

“We’re leaving,” replied Ness grudgingly, stuffing his axe into his belt.

“Right now?” Whip blurted out.

“Yes.”

“Have you lost your minds?”

“No one asked you.” Layen was frantically stuffing things into a pack. “You can stay here ’til hell freezes over. The house is entirely at your disposal.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” said Whip darkly. “Ness, at first you were playing it safe, and now you’re fleeing in the light of day! Do you think the Morts and the sorcerer will simply let you leave?”

“I know only one thing,” snarled Gray, taking a quiver with arrows out from under the table. “If we don’t leave now, we are never leaving. And the necromancer and those creatures of his will seem like child’s play to us.”

“And who is it that’s going to come down on our heads?”

“I don’t know.”

“Perfect!” Shen snorted angrily.

“Where did you get this information?” asked Whip, scowling.

“Layen sensed it.”

The leader scratched his chin. It was a serious claim. Ness’s girl didn’t panic so easily. He needed very little time to come to a decision.

“We’ll go with you.”

“Have you lost your wits? We’re going to stick our necks out because of something she saw in a dream?” Bamut demanded of his leader, flabbergasted. “Damn…. I’m not taking a step away from here.”

“It’s you who’s lost his wits!” disdainfully spat Midge, who also saw to the heart of things quickly. “It’s not just about her seeing things. Have you forgotten those animals howling under our window last night? I’m with you, Whip.”

“Shen?”

He stretched languidly and shrugged. “I suppose I’ll keep you company,” drawled the healer.

“We’re too late!” Layen did not say the words; she moaned them as her face turned white.

The necromancer was entering the yard.

I wanted to smack myself about the head for my own stupidity. I had sensed that we needed to flee earlier, at the very moment the Sdisian first dropped by to see us. I sensed it. But because of my own caution and stupidity I sat in my lair to the bitter end. What was I waiting for? I didn’t even know myself. And this was the result. I just sat here, the Damned take me!

There’s no way we could escape now.

“Don’t panic.” I heard my voice as if someone else were talking. “Take everything off the table! Now!”

Thank Melot, this wasn’t the first time my former pals had found themselves in a tricky situation. They did not bother to contest my right to command them. They asked no questions and got down to business. Quickly and precisely.

“Layen, go into the other room.”

I won’t let him take me so easily!

And I won’t let him have you either!

I tossed Midge his knife. He caught it deftly and slipped it into the top of his boot. I hope the little rat will be able to use it if we get pinned down.

I quickly glanced around at my troops. They had skillfully positioned themselves around the room—they were Giiyans, after all. They occupied all the most favorable spots. Midge sat by the door, and Whip was next to the stove. Shen was not far from the oven fork. And Bamut was standing by the window.

Steps rang out on the porch and then the necromancer entered. I disliked his face before, but today I wanted to punch it.

“Where is she?”

The Sdisian took no notice of Whip’s men. Not a very smart move, if you ask me. Especially if Midge is looming behind your back. If I found myself in such a situation, I’d be trying to grow eyes out the back of my head.

“Who?” I played the fool.

“Your wife. I’d advise against concealing her.”

“What’s she to you, sir? We haven’t done anything.”

“You have nothing to fear, carpenter. We simply want to talk to her.”

“And if she doesn’t want that?” I asked, somewhat rudely.

“Do you wish me to tear your house down around you?”

He was too sure of himself and he didn’t consider us a danger. Those who possess magic very often put ordinary people on the same level as animals. Big mistake. The lad clearly didn’t know that sometimes animals are dangerous to people. Especially rats. They bite when you’re least expecting it. Stealthily. Suddenly. Just like my friend Midge loves to do.

And just like he was doing right now. Obeying an almost unnoticeable sign from Whip, he went into action. For all my dislike of Midge, I was ready to kiss him. Regardless of what a brute he was, you could see he was a master from a league off.

It was so quick that I missed the moment when his knife migrated from his bootleg to his hand. The next second the Sdisian’s throat was slit open from ear to ear.

It turns out that killing a necromancer isn’t a speck more difficult than dispatching some fat merchant to the Blessed Gardens. For a moment it was as if a stupor fell over all of us. And then the usual frenzy of battle set in. I hurled my axe at a Mort who appeared on the threshold. I hit him, but unfortunately I did not kill him.

Whip, who had armed himself with the heavy wooden bench, smashed it into the wounded creature’s face with all his strength, causing him to fly backward out the door. He slammed the door shut before the four remaining Morts had time to get to us.

No more than five seconds had passed since we’d attacked the White.

“Layen!” I bellowed.

My sun was already next to me. She handed me my bow and quiver, and then she rushed to help Midge. He was sitting on top of the still living sorcerer and repeatedly stabbing him with his knife. The white silk robe had turned red. The face and hands of the Giiyan were covered in the other man’s blood but this did not disconcert him at all. Better to be befouled than to give the necromancer the chance to speak an incantation.

Layen took the staff that the necromancer had dropped on the floor, thrust the sharp end of it into the body of her enemy, and twisted it. The sorcerer shuddered and finally died.

“Ready!” Midge quickly liberated the saber from the corpse. He tossed his prize to Whip, who completely forgot about the bench once he had his hands on the blade.

“Bamut, in the other room, under the bed,” I said. “There’s a crossbow and the bolts are…”

I didn’t even have time to finish speaking before he was rushing for the weapon.

One of the Morts decided to come in through the window without stopping to think. There he encountered Shen and the oven fork. He struck at the Mort’s face, nearly got hit by the creature’s skeem, jumped backward, and jabbed it in the gut. That time he was successful. The time had come for me to do a little work. The first arrow sliced clean through the neck of the most persistent of these warriors of the Waste. The second hit his comrade in the face. Everything was suddenly quiet.

Bamut returned. His pockmarked face was shining with happiness. And really, how could it be otherwise? He’d finally been reunited with his closest friend—the crossbow. Whip’s henchman was quite a good shot with that thing, so I was sure we’d work well together when it came time to shoot. Just as long as we had enough arrows and bolts. I had five regular arrows, another two were serrated, and five more with narrow heads that could pierce armor. It really wasn’t enough, but there was nothing I could do about that. All my reserves were in the shed, but we couldn’t make it there now.

“That’s how you take down sorcerers.” Midge’s ratlike face was covered in blood. “He’s deader than dead.”

“You’re mistaken.” Layen turned toward the assassin, and he shrank back in shock. He was right to be afraid. My sun’s eyes were blazing with blue flame. She was harnessing her spark. “They’re trying to revive him.”

“Who?” blurted Shen.

“The one I’m afraid of. Hold the door. I need time.” She picked up the Sdisian’s staff with two hands and the top suddenly flashed, began to change shape, to dwindle. The skull transformed from a man’s to a woman’s and opened its gaping mouth.

Tia immediately sensed that somewhere nearby a person had died, but she didn’t give it any special consideration. How should she know who it might be? Peasants have been dropping like flies since the dawn of time. Some from hunger, some from illness, some from drunkenness. It’s hardly surprising, with the life they led. So when her inherent, feminine curiosity finally got the better of her laziness, it was almost too late.

She immediately felt the silvery filaments of the necromancer’s soul, vibrating like a string. It was about to flow away into the Abyss.

There was no time to be astonished or to guess what had happened. Without a moment’s hesitation, the Damned seized the filaments, trying not to let them leave this world. She succeeded. Now she had to return them to his body and attach them to the dead shell in time. She still had uses for the sorcerer.

Typhoid began slowly and carefully drawing the silver strings back, simultaneously weaving a complex incantation that would allow her to relinquish her hold without fear of losing the soul.

She almost succeeded. When all that remained were a few short tugs on his soul, the Damned was rudely interrupted. The blow to her hold was so strong and sudden that, not expecting anything of the kind, Tia momentarily lost control of her own magic. Just for a brief minute her grip weakened and the essence of the Elect, captured with such difficulty, flowed like water through her fingers. And then it was gone.

Roaring with rage and frustration, Typhoid leaped from the bathtub.

“It’s done!” sighed Layen.

She faltered and I grasped her by the elbow to keep her from falling over.

“He very nearly stood up! With that slit throat! Did you see that?” Bamut’s hands were visibly shaking and his voice was hoarse.

“We saw,” replied Shen gloomily. All his mockery and spite had melted away in an instant. His face was serious and even the oven fork in his hands no longer seemed comical. “What else can we expect from your hobgoblin?”

“Anything at all. Now he knows about us. I can’t hold out against him for long.”

“Shouldn’t we get to the forest?” asked Midge, wiping off his face with the white tablecloth taken from the table.

“We’re going to try,” I replied, calculating our line of retreat. The best bet was probably to go along our street to the bridge and then past the mill. The forest was very close there. It wouldn’t be hard to get lost in it. The main problem was getting out of the village.

“Stop gossiping!” The voice of Whip, who was standing by the window, brought me back to earth. The Morts were rallying.

I reached for my quiver but Layen tossed her head wrathfully.

“Don’t waste your arrows. Let me. We’ll make a break for the forest. Whip! Heads up!”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. He quickly ducked to the side. My sun spun the staff over her head, pointed it at the door, and cried out in a guttural voice, “Rragon-rro!”

The skull howled deafeningly. Bamut, forgetting about his crossbow, fell facedown onto the floor. The house shook so hard that for a moment my vision darkened.

“Ha!” exclaimed Luk, who was lying near the window, as he grabbed Ga-Nor by the sleeve of his shirt. “Ha!”

Even from so far away, it was obvious that something out of the ordinary was happening on the other side of the village. The roof of one of the houses flew a good twenty yards up into the air and then crashed down in the neighboring vegetable patch. Then the view was obscured by a cloud of dust rising up to the sky.

The sudden burst of power caused Tia to swear in surprise. She even stopped getting dressed. She just froze on the spot. Wet and half-naked.

What was happening right now seemed impossible. Oh, that necromancer! It’s too bad they’d killed him; otherwise she would have done it herself. How could that ignoramus not have noticed how powerful a prodigy that peasant woman was!

The nameless woman was strong. The Damned had not expected to find such a vivid spark in this wilderness. Judging from the magical echo, this peasant could hold her own with many of the Walkers. In addition, the fool had an uncommon mastery over her own talent, because very few people could take control of someone else’s staff and weave their Gift around magic of a different persuasion. But this one dexterously toyed with the power of Death. A real talent. A woman like that needed to be nourished and cherished. Or killed, so she could capture that spark for herself.

Typhoid took the pins out of her hair, causing both her braids to slap down onto her wet back. She tossed the costly trifles onto the floor without so much as a look, and quickly pulled on her skirt. Of course, she could attack from here, but that would be the same as shooting blindly. She’d either miss her mark or kill the woman outright. No. She would catch this bitch alive and question her properly. She must have had a teacher. Without the proper knowledge and preparation, it was impossible to overwhelm a khilss (a staff of a necromancer. This magical artifact is the result of a succession of complex magical rituals and is a half-dead, half-living object. Its magic can only be aroused if its master unites his soul with the staff and imbues it with a portion of his Gift and vital force. The head of the staff takes on the form of the skull of whoever is master of the khilss at a given moment). And when she knew everything, she’d take that power for herself.

It crossed Typhoid’s mind that it might not be a childlike girl-prodigy standing against her, but a Walker from the Council.

No. What nonsense. The Mother (the leader of the Walkers. She is selected by a majority vote of the Council of Walkers, thirty-three of the strongest mages in the Empire) would never send one of her daughters on a suicide mission. Besides, if the girl were a Walker, she never would have exposed herself like this. But all the same, she should exercise caution and look before she leaped.

The Damned snapped her fingers and the room darkened for a moment. The shadows condensed and twisted into the shape of a black raven. It cawed hoarsely and flew out the window, breaking the glass.

Putting on her shirt as she went and cursing at the stiffness of her boots, Tia ran out the door.

I had seen Layen’s Gift in action more than once or twice. But even in my most daring dreams I never imagined she was capable of this.

The roof of our house flew up to the sky with a roar and a crash. The solid pine logs, from which the walls were constructed, flew apart in all directions like kindling. My eyes stung from the cloud of dust enshrouding us and, frankly speaking, it was not easy to breathe. Also, I feared that while we couldn’t see any farther than our own noses, the Morts would seize the moment and hack us into tiny chunks. But my fears were for naught; no one rushed in to attack us. Midge was swearing and blaspheming so loudly that, should Melot catch wind of his clamoring, Whip’s companion would never see the inside of the Blessed Gardens. Bamut was trying to support his comrade in the high art of swearing, but by the fifth word he began coughing and couldn’t continue.

Eventually the dust began to settle. I stood right by Layen, protecting her from any possible dangers. My chance companions, on the other hand, tried to move as far away from her as possible. Idiots! Did they really not have enough brains to realize that we wouldn’t make it a hundred yards down the street without her magical protection?

Despite the lull, I did not take my arrow away from the bowstring. Who knew what might jump out at us? It’s thoughtless, at the very least, to be absently picking your nose when trouble threatens. You might just get your hand cut off while you’re pulling out your finger. Layen wasn’t counting crows either. The staff was unambiguously pointed at the spot where the door used to be. I have to say, the necromancer’s bauble unnerved me. No, there was nothing calming about a hissing skull, obviously displeased with the sudden change in its master.

Layen noticed my anxious gaze and said soothingly, I have a hold on it.

Hold tight, I advised just in case. I wouldn’t be surprised if that thing bites.

Believe me, that’s the very least it’s capable of. She chuckled.

Then humor me and don’t take your eyes off it. Drop it if it starts to lash out. I turned to Whip’s team and yelled, “Let’s move!”

We headed out into the yard and rejoiced at the sight of the Morts, who had been ripped to shreds by Layen’s spell. The warriors of the Waste were no more solid than the walls of my house. One of the Sdisian’s servants had survived more or less intact, but he’d been crushed by a beam. And even he looked as if he’d been chewed up.

The house was gone, as was the hedge. While my companions coughed, spat, wiped their eyes and cursed, I peeked out into the street and let out a dazed whistle. Pine planking and logs were strewn about the entire neighborhood. The cottages of our closest neighbors had also suffered greatly from the blast. There were no people in sight. They were hiding under their beds and in their cellars. You wouldn’t be able to drag them out for a week. Well, that was to the good; there’d be less hassle with no one crawling around underfoot. I pulled my axe from the body of the Mort I’d slain.

“Is everything all right?” asked Layen as she walked up to me.

“Yes. It’s just not every day that you see the roof of your house learn to fly.” My smile came out crooked. “As it turns out, I know very little about your talents.”

“Fortunately, I didn’t have the need to demonstrate them before,” she replied a bit too casually. “Let’s go. The khilss sucks out magic. I don’t have enough for long.”

I didn’t immediately realize that she was speaking about the necromancer’s staff. I think it’s likely that if you gave that thing free rein, it would suck out not just your magic, but your soul as well.

“We’ll talk later,” I agreed.

My troops looked like they’d spent the better part of the past year crawling around a badger’s tunnel. They were as filthy as Blazogs in a swamp. And as enraged as Nirits after an offense to their queen. Midge was cursing a blue streak, not even pausing for breath. Whip was still coughing and looking in all directions with streaming eyes. Bamut was the only one who was not wasting any time. He held his crossbow at the ready, and was intently watching the street on the chance that someone might want to come and find out what had happened here.

Shen sneezed loudly, dropped the oven fork, and walked over the body of a Mort. He picked its skeem up off the ground. Well, I hope the kid knows some other way to make a living besides healing. Midge, who had probably exhausted his supply of words and phrases, stopped swearing.

“Damn it…. Are we sticking around here for long?” snapped Bamut nervously.

He got there just before me. I wanted to ask the same thing.

“Don’t yell,” wheezed Whip, and he spat. “We’re leaving now.”

“No, did you see that! Did you?” Luk was choking on his own words from agitation. “Wow! What could blow a house to bits like that?”

“I don’t know.” Ga-Nor was dismally watching the dust settle.

Nabatorians were scurrying about on the far side of the river.

“I’d bet my eyeteeth that this is the work of the necromancer’s hands,” the guard continued. “Someone displeased him and so he went into a rage. All Sdisians are deranged, they rub shoulders with the dead, screw a toad! Oh, I just know the bastard’s not going to calm down. He’s going to go through the village, smashing everything in his path. He’ll even get to us eventually.”

The northerner stretched so strenuously that his joints cracked and, springing lightly to his feet, he began to pack their things into the bag.

“What are you doing?” asked the guard, taken aback.

“Can you really not see? The Nabatorians are running around like lice on a flaming head; there’s no way they’ll get us now. I’m not joking. If we leave quickly, the patrols won’t pay any attention to us. We’re leaving by the forest.”

“Sure, and we’ll turn into old men by the time we get through that thicket to Al’sgara,” Luk replied bleakly. He was not at all tempted by the impending journey. “Perhaps there is another way.”

“Of course there is. It’s right over there. Over the bridge and then to the Sdisian’s house for dinner. He’ll be glad to meet you,” said the Son of the Snow Leopard sarcastically. “Don’t think about what’s in store for us. If we’re lucky enough to break through, we can try to go out onto the main highway and continue our journey like normal people.”

Hearing the words “normal people” from the gloomy northerner with the overgrown ginger beard and the bedraggled clothes would have, at any other time, caused Luk to go into fits of laughter. But right now there was nothing to laugh about. Besides, he didn’t look any better than his comrade. He looked like a scarecrow. But to scare people instead of crows. A city guard would take them for beggars or highwaymen.

“All right, let’s do it your way,” said the guard, reaching for his axe.

“I’m glad we agree.” Ga-Nor grunted approvingly. “Just, you’re being too hasty. It’s too early to move yet. The archers won’t just let us go.”

“Where are they?”

“There’s two of them about a hundred yards from here. They’re coming toward the mill. Don’t look! They’ll see you. It’s still too soon.”

The soldier breathed a sigh of disappointment and rested his axe over his knees. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his furiously beating heart.

Tia was forced to pause in the middle of the inn’s staircase because just at that moment the raven called her. Her vision momentarily darkened, a greasy lump stuck in her throat, her ears began ringing, and her eyes were struck by a glaring light. The Damned needed several seconds to orient herself and to apprehend what she was seeing. The first moments of looking at the outside world through the bird’s eyes were always difficult.

She was hovering between earth and sky. To her left flashed the dark blue ribbon of the river, reflecting the bright sun and the dark wall of the forest. Tia sent a mental command and changed the direction of its flight. Farther away from the market gardens and outskirts, closer to the center. People were scurrying about below. She wasn’t very high up, so Typhoid could make out the Nabatorians clearly. A cart laden with firewood was slowly making its way down a dusty street. A foursome of cavalry flew by it at a full gallop.

“Well, where are you hiding?” whispered the Damned. “Show yourself.”

She had to trust that her luck would continue to accompany her. Typhoid again changed the direction of flight. She drifted toward the river, closer to the eastern part of Dog Green. The raven flew over a water mill, a bridge; it dashed by roofs, alleys, gardens, vegetable patches, and then she saw the gutted house and the people. Five armed men and a woman with a khilss.

She didn’t think the girl would be so young. To have such blazing potential at such an age! No, she did not resemble a Walker at all. Her strength was palpable, but there was no trace of the characteristic weaves of the Imperial mages. She had clearly not been taught in the Rainbow Valley (the magical school of the Walkers is located in the Rainbow Valley). Through the raven, the Damned reached out to the bearer of the Gift, trying to surreptitiously test the extent of her powers. The fool, of course, wouldn’t be able to feel a thing; it was beyond the limits of her capabilities.

But then the woman turned her head sharply. Squinting for a moment, she looked at the bird and then pointed it out to a blond man standing next to her. Before Typhoid had the chance to lead her helper away, the man cast up his bow.

Her ears burned with a sharp pain, the world went dark, and the enraged Damned once again found herself in the inn.

Impaled by the arrow, the bird crashed to the street like a stone. I didn’t really know why Layen had made such a fuss about it, but I did what she asked without any unnecessary questions.

“Getting a little practice in?” asked Shen venomously.

I scowled at him. Sooner or later the kid would get what was coming to him. He’d come up against some nice man who’d be all too happy to cut out his tongue.

“No, he knocked it down for your supper,” Midge teased him.

“You eat it yourself!” snapped the healer.

“Shut your traps!” yelled Layen. The idiotic bickering was starting to irritate her. “Let’s make time!”

Just then the body of the raven dissolved into thin air, leaving behind only the arrow, which I quickly returned to my quiver. Midge exclaimed loudly at the strange disappearance of my trophy.

“The bird was his eyes.” My sun was trying to calm the hissing staff. “Now he knows where we are.”

“Can I give some advice?” Whip was looking at me questioningly.

I shrugged my shoulders. If he had something to say, let him say it.

“We need to get off the street. Right now any mutt can see us, and any minute now the Nabatorians will come and—”

As if in answer to his fears, four riders galloped out onto the street.

Before Bamut and I had the chance to aim, Layen leaped in front of us. The loathsome wail rang out again, and a magical concussion struck the soldiers. Until today I never would have thought that people, not to mention horses, had the ability to fly; it turned out they did, even if they couldn’t do it quite as well as most birds. I got the impression that an enormous club struck the group of riders and heaved them up into the sky as if they weighed less than flecks of dust. If any of them chanced to live through that blow, I didn’t envy them. Landing on the unforgiving earth isn’t really good for your health. I was ready to bet all the money Layen had in her pack that those lads wouldn’t be able to pick up their bones.

Midge, having seen what became of their enemies, once again began a catalog of all the curses he knew. For the third time that day. I didn’t know what his words conveyed more—fear or admiration. And then there was Whip, who tossed his head as if thunderstruck, and said approvingly, if far too loudly, “They flew beautifully, the bastards.”

“They sure know how when they want to,” Bamut added. Then he giggled nervously.

The bloodcurdling wail rang out so suddenly that Luk, who was not expecting anything of the kind, nearly jumped out of his own skin. It seemed to him that he was hearing the warbling of a kirlee (a spirit, most commonly encountered in ancient ruins. According to popular belief, those who hear its song will soon die). The soldier pressed close to the window. Something black fell out of the sky on the opposite shore of the river and hit the ground with a dull, repulsive thud.

“Wow!” was all that Ga-Nor had to say.

The deformed, bloody thing had been a living man not all that long ago. Judging by the fragments of clothing, it was a Nabatorian soldier. Before the guard had a chance to say anything, the sky sent down yet another victim. A cart, loaded to the brim with sacks of flour, was hit by the terrible blow of a horse’s heavy body and was smashed to pieces. Flour dust whirled up into the air.

The people working at the mill darted away in all directions, shrieking in horror. The archers who were standing not far off, on the other hand, rushed to the site of the incident.

“Hide!” The tracker sprung back from their vantage point and the soldier followed his lead.

They listened in as the Nabatorians chattered loudly and fearfully.

“I told you that the White was deranged. First he went and destroyed a house, and now he’s attacking his own. You mark my words, before an hour has passed, he’ll upend the whole town.”

“I can hardly wait. It will be much easier to disappear in the chaos.”

“Fleeing an addled sorcerer isn’t that simple,” objected Luk. “He can send this little mill and us in it to Morassia with a wave of his hand. Oh! We’re done for!”

When the Nabatorians beheld Tia, sloppily dressed and pale with rage, they jumped up from their tables.

“Nai,” wheezed the Damned. “Get all your men to the eastern half of the village immediately. Seal off the streets. Detain everyone. At the slightest resistance—kill them. But leave the women alone. Take them alive. Alive! I hope that’s clear? Go!”

“All my men are at the building site, my lady! I need ti—”

“I don’t care how you do it,” Typhoid interrupted him.

The captain and his men rushed to carry out her orders without further dispute.

“My lady, is it something serious?”

“Bring your men, Gry. I have pressing business.”

She tore out of the inn at a run and looked around.

“Sha-kho!”

The Shay-za’n floated over to her and stared at her without blinking, the phosphorescent pits of its violet eyes intense. The Damned showed him the street by drawing a map to it right in the air.

“Go to this place with your brother and apprehend the people there. Don’t you dare harm the woman!”

His feather-crowned head lowered in an affirmative bow. Both Burnt Souls floated off in obedience to her command. Tia watched them go and then turned back to the guards waiting for her.

Whip’s advice that we get off the street as quickly as possible was sound and Layen decided to take it. She jabbed the staff at the nearest gates, and they flew apart into splinters. Our companions had already become accustomed to such things, so they weren’t surprised. Midge, for example, didn’t even swear.

Our neighbors were cowering in their homes, so no one came out to meet us. A watchdog, who had long ago sniffed out that something bad was going on in the neighborhood, was in no hurry to crawl out of its doghouse and greet uninvited guests with barking. All the better. We had no time to fight off dogs.

The path we took resembled an obstacle course. We stole through yards and vegetable patches, climbed over fences, walked along the roofs of sheds and henhouses. When a barrier seemed insurmountable, or when it would require too much effort, Layen used her Gift, punching wide swaths through the peasants’ buildings. No one dashed out to stop us. The terrified inhabitants did not stick their noses outside. There were also no Nabatorians to be seen at the moment, and that suited me just fine.

Whip and Shen were walking in front, Layen was right behind them, followed by Bamut and I, and Midge was manning the rear. I must confess, having the runt at my back for so long was making me nervous. Over and over the image of the necromancer’s slit throat rose before my eyes. I wasn’t sure if he would guard my back or take me out. I calmed myself only with the thought that as long as Midge and I were on the same team, he wouldn’t think of settling old scores.

We walked briskly, lingering as little as possible, and I began to hope that we would succeed in escaping this predicament. The only thing that really worried me was Layen. Regardless of the fact that her eyes continued to glow with the feverish fires of magic, she was clearly weakening. Her skin had become deadly pale, her cheekbones had sharpened, her hair was dull and wet with sweat, clinging to her temples. The refractory staff of the sorcerer was draining her life force.

“Isn’t it about time to get rid of that?” I asked my wife when we were cutting across old Roza’s turnip patch.

“Not yet,” she replied reluctantly, barely moving her lips. “We still need the khilss.”

“I really hope you know what you’re doing,” I grumbled petulantly.

“Just stand by me.”

I nodded. Of course I would.

From somewhere to the right, beyond the fences, we heard shouts. They were looking for us. For the time being they didn’t have enough brains to check the yards and were prowling about the streets, but that wouldn’t last for long. Even if the soldiers were that stupid, the officers were not. They would definitely begin to comb the yards, and if they had enough men, they’d simply cordon off the village. Time was working against us. Speed was the most important thing. If we managed to break free while the Nabatorians were running around open-mouthed and wide-eyed, everything would work out just fine. We had to go with the flow, in a figurative sense, but I wasn’t sure we’d ever reach the shore. We might just all sink to the bottom together.

Speaking of which, we were nearly to the river. Right then we were not very far from the bridge. All that remained was to run around a barn, make it through the gate that led to the neighboring yard, and from there out onto the street. It was risky, of course, but there was no other way.

Near the barn, Whip stepped in a cow pie, swore crossly, then drew up even with Shen and continued walking beside him. Old Roza began calling curses down upon us from behind her closed door. We were trampling her vegetable patch. The flimsy gate was boarded over in such a way that it was obvious the hag was trying to protect her yard from the half-wit, Pork, who lived next door. As I heard it, he was a big fan of creeping over here where no one wanted him.

“Whip, let me,” said Layen.

But he didn’t obey. With a single kick of his foot, he ripped the gate from its hinges and then fell with a split skull from the blow of a Nabatorian soldier. Shen leaped back and to the left, my sun cried out and I fired quickly. Another two soldiers replaced the dead one. And then the entire world collapsed into the pandemonium of battle.

I heard Bamut’s crossbow twanging dryly near my ear. I ripped my axe from my belt and threw it at the last assailant. But then four more surrounded us, appearing as if they’d risen up from the ground. Shen and Midge came to grips with them; the sound of steel on steel rang out. While they were trying to get rid of their opponents, Layen jabbed the staff into the face of the soldier nearest to her. The skull instantly bit off half his face. The man, forsaking all else on this earth, crumpled to the ground, wailing and spurting blood, pressing both hands to the terrible wound.

The last unoccupied Nabatorian tried to get around me on the right, but when he caught sight of the bloodthirsty khilss in my wife’s hands, he froze. That’s what killed him. Bamut wasted no time and plunged his dagger into his stomach.

“Shen, look out!” shouted Layen.

The healer, who had expertly repelled the attack, retreated to the line of “magical defense.”

The little skull wailed and the enemy was blasted away together with the gates, which were reduced to splinters. Midge had already taken care of his own troubles and was dispatching the soldier whose face had been bitten off.

“The darkness take me! What were they doing here?” asked Bamut as he stared at Whip’s body bitterly.

“They were waiting for us,” Shen replied, breathing heavily.

“Don’t talk nonsense.” I pulled my axe from a corpse, wiped the blade on its clothes, and put it back in my belt. “Look at that pair, they’re practically in their underwear, even if they are well armed. They’re spread out among the houses. They have to live somewhere while the barracks are under construction. We just chanced upon them.”

“It was Whip who chanced upon them. Why did he go forward? Layen told him…. How many years has he managed to get off scot-free, but here, some young pup takes him down. The fool…”

With ashen lips, Bamut whispered a hasty prayer. It really was too bad about Whip. He wasn’t the worst man, and he knew how to keep these jackals of his under control. But now I could only guess when they’d snap.

“You can’t bring him back. Bamut, reload your weapon,” said Layen as she crossed the yard with swift steps.

A drunken face peered out of the house. It was Pork’s papa, as I live and breathe.

“Heeey, now… whas you doin, eh?”

“Beat it!” commanded Midge, and the man vanished like the wind.

There was no one on the street. We quickly crossed it and, pressing close to the fencing, rushed toward the river. On the other side, by the mill, people were bustling about.

“There’s archers over there!” Shen shouted to me in warning.

“I’ll attend to them,” volunteered Layen.

Over the past several minutes she had grown even more haggard and pale. Her skin seemed transparent and waxy, formidable dark blue circles had appeared under her eyes, and her hair looked like it was melting away. I could take care of these clods before they had time to aim properly. There’s no need to play with Death, when you can do it all with conventional weapons. The archers, who had their backs turned to us, did not present the most difficult of targets.

I barely aimed. The wind was blowing away from me, my target was standing still so I did not need to offset my aim, and even an infant could work out the trajectory. And a distance of a hundred and fifty yards was no distance at all for this bow. At the very moment when the first arrow hit its target dead on, its sister was already flying away from my bowstring.

“They really got them!” was all that Ga-Nor said when the Nabatorians were shot down.

“Where did they shoot from?”

“From the other bank. No, to the left!”

Only now could the northerner’s companion make out the shapes of four men and a woman. One of the newcomers, a towheaded man, was frozen in the middle of the street. His weapon was still raised and his right hand was drawn back toward his ear. He’d just finished shooting and was apparently admiring his handiwork. Well, he had a reason to be proud. He’d killed the two archers in the space of a breath.

“I would really like to know who those people are.”

“What does it matter, if they save us the trouble?” said Ga-Nor, shrugging.

“They could be our allies. Let’s make ourselves known to them!”

“You see two corpses, and just like that you lose the last of your brains,” the tracker commented warmly. “Where’s your caution? Think with your head. I doubt if we show ourselves to them that we’ll be greeted with open arms.”

“I didn’t really think of that.” Luk was rattled.

“Why is it that you dare to call my people numbskulls?”

“I never called you that!” objected the guard indignantly; then he changed the subject. “Let’s get a better look at what they decide to do next.”

This girl was the most beautiful in the world. Yes. Far more beautiful than the village maidens, who, when they see her, will burst with envy and chew on their own braids. There had never been such a maid in Dog Green. Even his best friend, Captain Nai, obeyed her. And the magician was also her friend.

Really soon, Pork would become a knight and then the maid would love him. And he would save her from all sorts of bandits and dragons. Just so she wouldn’t get bored. And if anyone spoke meanly to the beauty, he would teach him a lesson and force him to ask forgiveness from his lady love on bended knee.

The half-wit would force those who refused to eat dirt. Or even better, he’d rat them out to Captain Nai, and the scoundrels would be hanged.

Right now the “lady love” of the village cowherd was rushing somewhere, surrounded by five soldiers. Pork wanted to go with them but he was struck by the evil scowl of the silver-haired captain and realized he didn’t mean him well. So he shuffled along behind them, trying not to lose sight of his love.

“Hey, and how’s that for a wonder?” I heard the dazed voice of Midge.

The runt was looking at something behind my back. I turned sharply.

Two beings were floating toward us along the empty street from the center of the village. Sure, sure. I didn’t believe it myself at first. They really were floating. Without any wings at all, they were soaring toward us about the height of a human man above the ground. They didn’t have any legs, by the way. Just some kind of pathetic little snake tail. All told, I had never seen anything like it, and that was probably a good thing. I don’t want to have anything to do with such creatures. Especially when they were holding bows so large that the strongest man in the world could not draw them.

“Behind the house!” I commanded and, not checking whether my companions had obeyed or not, I reached for my quiver.

The newcomers, as if on cue, raised their bows. They did it so quickly that I barely had time to hop backward toward the fence. I ducked low to the ground, and the arrows slammed loudly into the slats. I swore, rushed toward shelter in a crouch, and at the last moment executed a little twirling jump that even a drunken flea would envy.

“Are you okay?” bellowed Shen.

I ignored his question as I carefully leaned forward around the corner of the house, and then I quickly staggered back. An arrow thudded into the ground. Not an arrow really, more like a spear. It could easily break a horse’s back in two.

The things kept up a steady bombardment, make no mistake. We couldn’t even stick our noses out, let alone find a way to get over the bridge. They’d turn us into porcupines soon enough.

“What are they, the Abyss take me?” squealed Midge.

He wasn’t really expecting an answer. Neither was I. So I was quite shocked when Shen responded, “Shay-za’ns.”

“What?” Midge did not understand.

“Burnt Souls,” explained the healer. “That’s them.”

Just great! I’d never really planned on encountering them in this life; it was like running into creatures from bedtime stories. I didn’t think the inhabitants of the Great Waste would come so far to the north.

“Layen, do something!” implored Bamut.

“I can’t do anything when I can’t see them.”

But she couldn’t see them, because then those bastards would have us in their sights. If you so much as stuck your head out of cover, you’d get an arrow in the eye.

“We need to distract them!”

Shen’s idea wasn’t all that original. Why didn’t I think of that?

“You’re such a clever fellow!” I snorted contemptuously. “Why don’t you tell us the secret of how we do that?”

At my words, he immediately snapped back, “Run along the street. Just when they’re about to fill you full of holes, your woman can whip up some terrible spell.”

I had the strongest urge to push the little bastard away from the wall and into the opening between the houses. I’d be happy to let the Burnt Souls shoot him.

It’s the only way out. Layen’s voice resounded in my head.

Are you serious?

I can feel him approaching. We have to take a risk or it won’t matter at all. Will you help me?

I didn’t waver for a second.

“What do you need me to do?”

“It seems that our friends got themselves into trouble,” said Ga-Nor meditatively.

Luk nodded quickly in agreement and then, realizing that the northerner was not looking at him but at the window, he swallowed convulsively. The soldier was shuddering fearfully because of the Burnt Souls. Those creatures were even worse than the walking dead, and they weren’t nearly as easy to dispose of.

“Hey! You aren’t about to go and help them out, are you?” It had suddenly occurred to the soldier that his friend was about to rush to the aid of the people who’d gotten themselves in hot water.

The Son of the Snow Leopard looked Luk in the eyes and reluctantly shook his head.

“No. Of course not. That would be suicide.”

“Damn…. If we stay here, we’ll be overrun by a whole pack of Nabatorians. We don’t have enough bolts and arrows for that.”

He was right. All too soon our enemies would turn up to help the Burnt Souls. We could forget about reaching the forest then. We wouldn’t even make it to the local cemetery.

“I can cast three or four more spells,” whispered Layen. “There’s almost no time left.”

“Are you ready?” I asked her.

“Yes. On the count of three. One! Two!—”

“What are you going to do?” asked Shen suspiciously.

“Three!” she finished.

I had complete faith in her and her abilities, so I didn’t hesitate for a second and rushed out from the protection of the walls into open space. A spell slipped from the head of the staff and struck the gravel near my feet. A dusty shield shivered in the air, which trapped the arrows of the Burnt Souls. If Layen had been a moment late, I would have been a goner.

The magical shield protected me from the arrows so I weaved like a rabbit, dashing around the street, trying to make it so that the archers didn’t lose sight of me for a second. While the Burnt Souls were distracted by me, Layen had time to cast another spell.

Tia saw the woman the moment she stepped out from behind the corner of the house and raised the khilss. The Shay-za’ns were raining down arrows at a blond man who was darting about the street, instead of sending an arrow at her legs. The aura of the Arms of Dust was shimmering around the man. The fools! Did they really not notice that all their efforts were in vain? There was no way the arrows could pierce that shield.

The bitch was smart. When she bound her, she’d have to ask who taught her such a spell. It was Death magic; the Walkers knew nothing of it. Who could her teacher have been? Not taking her eyes off the woman, the Damned began to weave a spell of binding. It was supposed to cut the woman off from her Gift and bind her arms and legs.

She sensed the explosion of power at the very moment when her spell was ready to leave her fingers. The air crackled with magic, dark blue sparks scintillated in the Damned’s hair and disappeared, and then there was a bang so loud that she bit her tongue in surprise.

In the place where the Shay-za’ns had been standing there was now a tight-knit, blue-black tornado of sand. Sha-to and his brother had been spun about and ripped into thousands of tiny pieces.

Fool! Idiot! Amateur! Upstart! Why would she use such a powerful spell and waste so much of her strength just to kill two? It was like wielding a hammer to kill fleas! She really didn’t have any sense! The thoughtless, incompetent bitch!

Typhoid frowned darkly, and in the next instant the curse fled from her fingers.

Luk yelped fearfully at the thunderclap that roared out of the clear sky and then rubbed his eyes, not believing what he was seeing. Nothing changed. The magenta whirlwind continued to rage between the houses.

“Here comes the necromancer!” predicted the guard.

“You’re wrong.” Ga-Nor was more observant than his comrade. “It was that peasant woman.”

“A Damned!” gasped Luk.

“Or a Walker. Either way, it’s nothing to do with us. Get ready.”

“What, right now?” he asked in a stunned voice, but he obediently stood up.

“You can wait until they destroy the mill.” It was unclear if the tracker was seriously suggesting that, or if he was joking. “But I’ve recently grown quite fond of the forest.”

“Me too, screw a toad!” said Luk hurriedly, as if he was afraid he’d be left behind.

They rolled the millstone away from the trapdoor and jumped down. No one stopped them or even noticed them. The mill was running but it was empty. All the locals had run away as soon as things had become dangerous.

Without looking back, totally unconcerned with the events unfolding behind them, the scout and the guard negotiated the open space of a fallow field covered in tall grass and found their way into the welcoming arms of the forest.

When the whirlwind dissipated, I saw a girl, surrounded by five Nabatorians in black armor, moving toward us with resolute steps. Dealing with those warriors in close quarters was out of the question. They had shields, swords, and heavy armor. They’d chop us into pieces if we didn’t pick them off first.

Then the staff roared nastily and triumphantly. Layen shrieked shrilly and threw it away from her as if she’d been burned. But it didn’t help. Her arms, from the tips of her fingers to her shoulders, were covered in a purple nimbus.

With a cry of despair and pain, my sun fell to the ground. The nimbus was now only covering her wrists and it had taken on a shape that closely resembled shackles. I rushed over to help her, but she cried out to me, “Keep away! It’s not a him! It’s her!”

I’ve never had any complaints about my intuition, and I realized right away that the trouble was coming from the Nabatorians’ companion. The purple magic was the work of her hands. Without thought, I tore an arrow from my quiver, stretched the bowstring, and shot. Two of the men in black shifted their triangular shields, protecting the girl from harm. I cursed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Midge and Bamut weren’t even thinking of helping. They flew past me and ran for the forest with all their might.

Tia had not thought it would be so easy to bind the bitch. Up until the very moment when the curse struck her through the khilss, the fool did not suspect what was about to happen. She didn’t put up any opposition. Either she didn’t have enough strength, or she hadn’t gotten around to learning about it. The curse, worked through the staff she’d cast away from her, held her firmly. But the Damned didn’t even consider relaxing her grip. In the first place, she did not for a second forget that the girl-prodigy in front of her had a very powerful natural spark. Secondly, Typhoid was still expecting a trick. She was having difficulty dismissing the idea that this was all some trap of the Walkers. Only when the magical chains appeared on the thin wrists of the blue-eyed peasant woman did Tia breathe a sigh of relief.

It worked! Now the girl was in her grasp!

The two guards walking in front of the Damned interlocked their shields. An arrow struck them with a dull thud. Typhoid flinched in surprise. All her thoughts were so focused on her opponent that she completely forgot to consider other perils. If not for her bodyguards, that which Tia had avoided with so much success these past few centuries might have happened. The unknown archer was far from shy, and he’d almost succeeded in exploiting the situation to his advantage.

Tia was about to take care of the impudent fellow, but then a young man ran to the staff, which was lying on the ground.

When Midge and Bamut ran off, I completely forgot about the healer. I dismissed him, thinking that he was likely to be as useful as milk from a male goat. So when Shen appeared out of nowhere and jumped into the street and raised up the staff Layen had cast aside, I lost the power of speech.

Just as it had done earlier, the skull melted and took on a new form. The lad, as white as chalk, quickly pointed the staff toward the woman who had attacked Layen and, carefully enunciating the sounds, shouted the very same phrase I had already heard from my sun.

“Rragon-rro!”

The skull emitted an entirely human howl of pain, and our foes were struck by an incandescent white lance of light.

The boy’s behavior was strange. What did he hope to achieve by grabbing the khilss? She couldn’t even feel the smallest hint of the spark in the boy.

But when the staff read its new master and changed its shape, Tia didn’t have enough time to be astonished. She instantly shifted part of her power to a shield, thrown up to meet the other’s spell. In the next second, bright light surrounded her.

Pain surged through every part of her body, forcing her to curl into a ball and let out a hoarse, animalistic bellow of torment.

The ground shuddered intensely under our feet. Multicolored spots floated before my eyes.

Shen was standing in the same spot, but the necromancer’s staff no longer existed. It had broken apart, dissolved into black flakes, which were instantly taken up by a light breeze and playfully carried along the street. Layen was no longer screaming. The purple light on her wrists had gone out and she was trying to stand. I rushed over to her, grabbed her, and set her on her feet. She was trembling intensely, her teeth were clicking, and an unhealthy flush covered her cheeks. She was repeating one word over and over.

“Healer… Healer…”

“Can you walk?”

For a moment my sun looked at me, not grasping what I wanted from her; then she nodded. She walked several steps on shaky legs and nearly fell.

“I’ll help!” Shen appeared at her side and supported her.

The lad was streaming with sweat. Blood was dripping from his nose. His light blue eyes were bloodshot. But he was still standing firmly, and his strength was undiminished. I handed Layen to him.

“To the forest! Come on!”

He easily lifted her over his shoulder and carried her toward the bridge.

Three of the five Nabatorians were dead. One was screaming continuously. Another was shifting about listlessly. The spell had hit them straight on and even the ground around them was pitted.

The girl had caught the worst of it. Her hair was burnt off. All that remained of her face after the miraculous fire was a mass of bloodstained flesh. Her left forearm was missing, and she was clenching the stump with her right hand, trying to stop the flow of blood. And still, despite her appalling wounds, the woman was trying to get to her feet.

I didn’t give her the chance and ruthlessly shot at the viper, planting three arrows in her. The first hit her on the right side of her chest and caused her to fall back to the ground. The second struck her side. The third, her neck. I don’t know who she was, but she died just like regular people do.

Pork, who’d been crouching all this time behind an outdoor well, began to wail mournfully. I paid him no heed as I turned and ran to catch up with Shen and Layen, who were already on the other side of the river.

Captain Gry was brought back to consciousness by the endless screams of Lye.

“There now, buck up, my boy,” whispered the captain of the guards through split lips. “There now.”

The wounded man didn’t heed him and continued to wail.

Overcoming the pain, Gry scrambled to his knees and groaned. His right arm was burned like he’d stuck it into a brazier full of hot coals. The blood flowing down from under his helmet got into his eyes, but he could still see well enough to make out the wound. He could forget about ever carrying a sword again. His thumb and index fingers were missing.

Gry tore a piece of what had once been clothes from the bloody thing lying next to him and improvised a field dressing for the wound. Lye finally stopped screaming. He was dead. The Nabatorian looked around, continuously wiping blood off his face. It was all over. He was the only one who survived the Walker’s attack. His comrades and his lady were dead.

The lady was dead.

He couldn’t believe it. It was beyond his comprehension. Gry had never thought that those who were called the Damned by the inhabitants of this country could die. But she lay before him, broken and bloody. And the three arrows that bristled out of her body were a silent reproach to him.

He’d failed. He couldn’t protect her. He had betrayed the honor entrusted to him. He had disgraced his family.

On the very edge of his consciousness, which was blazing with pain, the Nabatorian noticed that someone was moving nearby. The hearty fellow with the face of an idiot, the one who had followed them from the inn, got up to his feet. He walked over to the Nabatorian and said with an intonation so well known to him, “You executed your duties poorly, Gry.”

The wounded man flinched, raised his head, and groaned in fear when he saw the lad’s eyes. They were absolutely white. Sightless. A sepulchral flame seemed to burn in them. And that lightly mocking and familiar tone of voice. Only one person dared to speak to the King’s Guard that way.

“It… it isn’t possible,” whispered Gry. “I don’t believe it… my lady…”

Tia’s gaze did not bode well.