The Gypsy Morph

TWENTY-THREE

IT WAS SHORTLY AFTER MIDDAY of the following day that Logan Tom pulled the Ventra 5000 onto the bridge that crossed north over the Columbia River to the refugee children’s camp and was confronted by a cluster of barricades and armed guards. Suspicious looks greeted his appearance, cast first toward the rune–carved black staff he was carrying and then toward his passenger. While Kirisin had the basic appearance of a human, there was no mistaking that the strange pointed ears and slanted eyebrows marked him as something more. The commander of the bridge defenders was summoned, took a quick look at things, and politely but firmly asked Logan and Kirisin to wait where they were for just a few minutes more.

“Seeking to pass any decision as to what to do with us on to someone else,” Logan said to the boy after the commander had departed.

“Don’t they know who you are?” Kirisin asked him.

“They know what I am, but not who I am. Big difference. If Hawk and the Ghosts haven’t made it here, no one will know anything at all about us.” He sighed. “It’s happened before. It’ll happen again.”

“Won’t they let us cross? They won’t turn us away, will they?” Kirisin paused. “Do you think that Praxia and the others are here?”

Now, that last was a good question, Logan thought. He shook his head at the boy, indicating his lack of a helpful answer. They should have caught up with Praxia and the other two Elves by now. Should have found them somewhere along the road coming up. But they had seen no sign of the Elves at all, and now Logan was starting to worry that something might have happened to them. And to the Loden Elfstone, which contained the bulk of the Elven nation, its talismanic tree, and its city. Logan didn’t like to think what that would mean.

They were silent after that while they waited, surrounded by guards arrayed loosely about the Ventra, weapons not leveled but ready, eyes watchful. Logan didn’t blame them. In their place, he would have assumed the same stance. He glanced past them to the barricades and then beyond to where a small cluster of men and women worked over what looked to be wires attached to detonators. He had done enough work with explosives while he was with Michael to know what he was looking at. The defenders of the camp were set to blow the bridge if they felt the barricades were in danger of being breached by an enemy.

He wondered if they had a specific enemy in mind. He wondered if they knew about the demon–led armies working their way inland from the coastal regions. Given that they had fled north from Los Angeles, it seemed likely they did.

“I’m worried about Angel Perez, too,” Kirisin said suddenly. Logan looked over at him. “We left her just down the river with Larkin Quill, a former Tracker that Sim knows.” He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something more. “He was looking after her until she was well enough to come join us. But we never heard anything more. She should be here, too. If she isn’t, we need to find her.”

Logan nodded without saying anything that would commit him. He couldn’t make Kirisin any sort of promise at this point. He wasn’t sure what he would and wouldn’t be able to do. Obviously, it would help to have another Knight of the Word in their camp. But he couldn’t be sure how fit she was or even if he could get to her. The demons under that old man would be coming as quickly as they could manage. Moving an army north through the mountains would take time, even if the demon drove them hard. But Logan could not depend on gaining more than a handful of days before the leading elements caught up to them and began efforts at forcing a crossing.

He couldn’t even promise himself that he would go back and look for Simralin, something he wanted desperately to do.

He shook his head. Mostly, he needed to get everyone moving. The longer they delayed in getting to the haven that Hawk was supposed to lead them to, the greater the danger that they wouldn’t reach it at all.

There was sudden movement from behind the barricades and guards. The commander of the bridge defense had returned in the company of two women. A small, intense woman with short–cropped blond hair and a determined step was in the lead. But it was the bronze–skinned woman walking next to her that caught his eye immediately.

Or, more particularly, the black staff she carried.

“Angel!” Kirisin shouted, scrambling out of the vehicle and rushing toward her.

A couple of the guards tried to stop him, but he was too quick for them, and the next thing anyone knew he had reached the second woman and flung his arms around her in an effusive hug. Logan watched in amusement, then extracted himself from the Ventra and walked over to join them.

The woman with the short blond hair stepped forward to greet him. “I’m Helen Rice,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m leader of this camp.”

“Logan Tom,” he replied, taking her hand in his own. Her grip was firm and reassuring. He liked how it felt. He shifted his gaze to Kirisin and the young woman he was hugging. “Angel Perez?”

The young woman gave him a quick smile. Then she whispered something to Kirisin, who immediately released her and stepped back, blushing as he did so. “Sorry,” the boy mumbled.

Angel Perez reached out and ruffled his hair. “I’m glad to see you, too. We were worried about you.”

She extended her hand to Logan, who took it in his own. “I’m Angel,” she affirmed. “It’s good to have you here, Logan.” She paused, looked past him, and then looked back again quickly. “Only the two of you? I was expecting quite a few more. What’s happened to the rest of the Elves?”

“It’s a long story,” Logan said, shrugging.

“Let’s go somewhere else for that,” Helen Rice suggested. She glanced at the Ventra. “Someone will bring your AV along later.”

She led them back through the barricades and guards and into the camp beyond. Logan took in the sprawl of tents and makeshift shelters, cooking fires, fenced–off areas of supplies and equipment, and armed guards who stood watch almost everywhere. Children were gathered in small groups within the perimeter of their cordon, working and playing, heads turning at his approach, eyes studying him briefly before shifting away. The children looked better than he thought they had a right to given the obvious lack of adequate food and shelter. Some even smiled.

Helen Rice took them into a large tent where they took seats around a folding table. “We can talk here,” she told them.

She brought bottles of water for Logan and Kirisin, and then sat down next to Angel to listen while they related what had happened to the Elves. The Knight of the Word and the boy took turns explaining the parts they had played, the boy the more effusive, the Knight the more reticent. It took some time to cover it all, and both Angel and Helen stopped them often with questions along the way. But in the end they got through it, and it was their turn to ask questions.

Kirisin was first, unable to wait any longer. “Has Praxia reached you? Did she get here before us?”

Angel shook her head. “None of the Elves has gotten here yet, Kirisin. We’ve been wondering what happened to them. Now we know. I guess they’re still trying to fight their way clear.”

“But Praxia has the Loden!” The boy was beside himself. “We have to find her!”

Logan put a hand on his shoulder to calm him. “Right after we’re done here.” He looked back at Helen and Angel. “What about a group of street kids called the Ghosts? Are they here?”

“For several days now,” Helen Rice answered. “The boy Hawk said to look for you, that you would be coming.”

Then she explained what Hawk had done some weeks earlier to gain a crossing for them over the bridge, how he had used some sort of magic, how astonishing it had been to witness. They had been convinced about him then, but now confidence was eroding. He claimed he was there to lead, but so far he hadn’t taken them anywhere. What he had done was lead a monster to their camp, and the monster was killing the children.

“This monster is probably a demon,” Angel added. “It killed Larkin Quill in his cottage, Kirisin. I was there when it happened. I couldn’t stop it. I’m sorry about that.”

Kirisin looked stricken, but didn’t say anything. Logan guessed that everything he was hearing at this point was just another piece of bad news to add to what he was already dealing with. He hoped the subject of Simralin wouldn’t come up.

“I can tell you about this boy,” Logan said to Helen Rice. “He was born a gypsy morph, a thing of wild magic. But his past was hidden from him, and he only just found out the truth about himself. He was sent to lead these children and their caregivers and some others who will join in the march to a place of safety.”

He paused. “The end is coming for this world and its inhabitants. Most will be destroyed in a cataclysm more devastating than anything that’s occurred yet. We have to get to where we are going before that happens.”

“Hawk said just this morning–finally–that we can leave,” Angel offered. “Whatever was holding him back isn’t doing so anymore. We’re preparing to set out tomorrow.”

“Tell me about this monster that you think is a demon,” Logan said. “You said you saw it?”

Angel nodded. “I saw it from as close as I am to you. Too close. Big and mutated—a human once, I think. It came through the floor to get to Larkin, and then it came after me. I used the staff’s magic, but even that was barely enough.”

“I’ve heard of a demon like that. It travels with the old man, the demon that’s tracking you. But what does it want?”

“Hawk says it wants him. He says it was sent to kill him.”

Logan sighed, folding himself forward about his staff, contemplative. “That’s probably so. Kill him, and there’s no escape for any of us.” He looked at her. “We better find this thing before it manages to get to him.”

She nodded, and for a moment no one said anything.

Then Logan stood up. “I need to speak with Hawk. Maybe you should all come with me.”

All FOUR WENT, wending their way through the controlled chaos of the camp. Everywhere, preparations for leaving were under way. Clothes and bedding, food stores, ammunition and weapons, tools, solar batteries and the machines they powered were being packed up. Children worked alongside adults, and only the very young and their caretakers were not involved. Logan took a moment to imagine what it was going to take for all these people to get to where they were going. Even without knowing where that was, he knew it was going to take a lot.

He was surprised, as they neared the perimeter of the camp, to spy a handful of Lizards. There were perhaps twenty of them, all ages and sizes, maybe a few families come together, but maybe just strays who had found their way and stayed. No one from the camp seemed to mind that they were there, and the Lizards were keeping carefully apart. The biggest of them carried weapons, but their attention was directed out toward the barren landscape.

Hawk said there would be others. He said the King of the Silver River had told him so.

Even the youngest of the camp’s children knew of Lizards and Croaks and Spiders and other mutants. They would have been taught early on in life to be wary of them, to avoid them whenever possible.

What must they think now, finding themselves banded together like this?

What will they think when they see the Elves?

He found Hawk and most of the other Ghosts clustered around a map that Owl had unfolded across her lap. The kids looked up as the newcomers approached, and immediate shouts of greeting were issued to Logan from one and all. Panther rushed forward and reached for his hand, gripping it firmly in his own.

“ ’Bout time you got here. We got ourselves a mess! Gotta move all these people, gotta pack up all their stuff, gotta figure out where to go. On top of that, we got ourselves a stump head trying to kill anything it can get its hands on!”

“So I heard.” Logan gave the boy’s hand a firm squeeze. “Good thing we got you to handle it for us.” Panther made a rude noise. “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen. Thing almost killed Bird‑Man up there in the mountains. Along with Bear, Cheney, and even Kitty Cat. We need more claws to deal with that frickin’ thing. If we even ever see it again. It’s like a ghost. You know it almost got her, too, don’t you?” He gestured toward Angel Perez. “She’s a Knight of the Word like you, so what does that say? Ain’t nothing can stop it?”

He gave Panther a look. “We’ll see.”

He glanced at the others and greeted them by name. Only Fixit and Chalk were missing. He took a moment to lean down and give Owl a hug. It was an impulsive, totally out–of–character act for him, but something about her steadying presence made him want to do it. She laughed lightly and hugged him back.

“Hawk.” He greeted the gypsy morph last, the boy with the magic. Hawk nodded without saying anything, waiting to see what this was about. “Is it finally time to start everyone moving?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Hawk answered him.

Logan nodded. “Heard about the demon. You feel pretty certain that it’s after you?”

He didn’t need to explain any further what he was talking about. Hawk shrugged. “More than pretty certain. I looked into its eyes out there when it had me cornered. I could tell what it was thinking. I could see it. It’s come for me. It almost had me, too. I don’t think even Cheney could have stopped it.”

Logan nodded. “Maybe not. But we’re going to have to find something that can. It won’t quit, even if we move the camp. Demons don’t give up.” He paused. “If it’s after you, then taking all these children is a way to get at you. It probably hopes to lure you outside the camp, maybe make you come looking for it.”

“I don’t think that’s what it’s doing,” Angel interrupted suddenly. Logan turned. “I saw it, too. I looked into its eyes, and I think I know what it’s doing. I think it’s toying with us.”

Logan took a moment to consider. “Could be. Some demons are like that. They play with humans when they have the chance. This one might feel so superior physically that it isn’t worried about getting to Hawk. It might be showing off for us.”

“For cat’s sake!” Sparrow snapped. “Can’t we just go out there and find it and kill it?”

Logan shook his head. “That job belongs to Angel and myself. The Ghosts have to stay inside the perimeter of the camp and watch out for each other.” He looked at Hawk. “They have to look out for you, in particular.”

“I have to look out for them,” Hawk replied firmly.

Panther rolled his eyes and wheeled away. “Group hug,” he muttered blackly.

Logan ignored him. Panther was just being Panther. “Just remember what I said. Stay together.”

“So you gonna go out and hunt this thing been taking all the children, Mister Knight of the Word?” Panther demanded, wheeling back. “Want me to go with you? Look out for you?”

“What’s your problem, Panther?” Sparrow snapped at him, blue eyes bright with anger. “Didn’t you hear what he just said? We’re supposed to stay out of this.”

Panther glanced over. “I heard him. I just don’t think he meant it. He needs someone he can depend on to back him up out there. Who’s he got besides me?”

“Stop trying to get your way, Panther,” Owl said quietly. “We need to stay out of this business. It will be enough if we can be of help to Hawk tomorrow. He’s going to need all of us.”

Bear muttered his agreement, and River added hers. Panther looked at them in turn and then shrugged. “Ain’t no skin off my baby–smooth butt. Do what you want.” He knelt next to Owl, feigning disinterest. “Let me see that map again.”

Logan waited a moment, then said, “One more thing. I want you to keep Kirisin with you, as well. I want you to look after him the same way you look after each other.”

The Ghosts waited, questioning looks on their faces. Kirisin had gone unnoticed up to this point, standing in the background while the others talked. Now Logan reached back and dragged him forward. “This is Kirisin. He’s an Elf.”

“Yeah, right,” Panther sneered, turning his attention back to the map. “And I’m a dragon.”

“No, look,” said Sparrow quietly, eyes fixed on Kirisin. “Look at his ears. They’re pointed.”

“Like in Owl’s stories,” echoed Bear. “Pointed.”

“Maybe he is an Elf,” River said doubtfully.

Panther looked up again, took in Kirisin’s face, and shook his head. “What’s wrong with you, River? Ain’t no such things as Elves. He’s what he is—a kid with pointy ears. Ain’t his fault. But he ain’t no Elf, so let that one go. Frickin’ hell.”

“Can’t do that,” Logan replied. “Kirisin really is an Elf, one of an entire nation that’s meant to join up with us. You need to know some things about him, so listen up.”

Patiently, Logan explained Kirisin’s background, including in his explanation a brief history of the Elves. Which, in fact, was all he could give, since he didn’t know much anyway. Angel joined in, adding what she knew from her time spent within the Cintra and Arborlon. She insisted that everything Logan was telling them was true, that she had seen it, that she hadn’t believed it, either, at first. The Ghosts listened attentively, all but Panther who kept poking at the map as if he had better things to do. But Logan could tell he was paying attention.

When the explanation was finished, the Ghosts looked at one another wordlessly. “Elves don’t look like I thought they would,” Bear said.

“Yeah, they don’t look that much different from us,” Sparrow added. She stepped forward and stuck out her hand. “I’m Sparrow,” she said to Kirisin.

The others followed, one by one, until only Panther was left. The boy looked at Kirisin darkly, then at Logan. “Bad enough we got to watch out for Bird‑Man. Now we got Pointy—Ears to look after, too. I don’t know about this.”

“I haven’t got time to persuade you, Panther. You have to make up your own mind. But Kirisin is every bit as important to what’s going to happen to us as Hawk. That thing out there that’s hunting Hawk might be hunting Kirisin, as well. So I’m asking you to take care of him. Can you do that?”

Panther shrugged. “Might be.” Then he caught the look on Owl’s face. “Hey, sure. We know how to take care of each other. Took care of Cat when you asked, didn’t we?”

“Just do the same here.” Logan glanced at Kirisin. “I’m going out to look for Praxia. You stay here. Get to know these kids. They’re a good bunch.”

“He’ll be fine with us,” Owl said at once, wheeling over to Kirisin.

They were already deep in conversation, surrounded by the other Ghosts, when Logan beckoned Angel and Helen Rice away.

Within THIRTY MINUTES, Logan was back inside the Ventra 5000 and driving south across the bridge. Angel went with him, and even though he thought about telling her she should stay behind to help protect the camp, he decided not to. She understood the consequences of her coming with him as well as he did, so if she was asking to go, it must be important to her. He thought that maybe she needed to be part of the search, that she was feeling what he had felt not more than two days earlier–marginalized by her failure to change events through use of her magic and questioning her effectiveness as a Knight of the Word. Lying injured and helpless in Larkin Quill’s cottage while Kirisin and his sister returned to the Elves alone and then watching Larkin die right in front of her would have done that. Perhaps, like himself, she needed to reaffirm her worth in some small way before they set out. Coming with him to find the Loden gave her that chance.

They drove without speaking for a time, climbing slowly into the high desert he thought he had left behind him for good. The day was creeping toward midafternoon, the heat thick and damp, the air hazy, and the sky bright with sunlight. Around them, the countryside began to revert. Forests and grasslands, withered and grayish to begin with, thinned and disappeared, giving way to cactus and scrub that dotted acres of sandy flats bracketed by mountains distant and flat–surfaced against the emptiness of the horizon.

“How long have you been doing this?” he asked her finally, breaking the silence.

“About six years. You?”

“Ten. I was eighteen when I started.”

“Sixteen,” she said. “I had just lost my best friend–my mentor and protector from when I was a little girl.”

“Lost mine just before I started, too. Michael. Same thing. He saved me in a compound raid, raised me, and trained me. He was the leader of a group of raiders that attacked enemy camps in the Midwest. A good man, like a father to me.”

They drove on a bit more. Logan risked a quick glance at Angel Perez, taking in her features, her dark olive skin, her black eyes and hair, her young features. Just a girl, really. He looked back at the road.

“You think we’re all that’s left?” she asked him.

He nodded, knowing right away what she was asking. “Yeah, I think maybe so. If there’s anybody else,

I haven’t heard of them.”

“So this is it, huh? This … migration to wherever we’re going, following Hawk to wherever he’s taking us, this is what’s left?”

He nodded. “This is what’s left.”

“What if he’s wrong, Logan? Hawk, I mean.”

“He isn’t. He’s what he says he is. He’s a gypsy morph, a creature formed of the Word’s magic and sent to save what’s left of us.” He looked over at her. “I believe that.”

She studied him a moment, then nodded. “You don’t look like someone who could be made to believe something that wasn’t so. You don’t seem like you could be fooled easily.”

“Maybe. But in this case I’ve witnessed what he can do firsthand. He saved my life when I was dying just by touching me. The Ghosts say he saved their dog, too. Same way. But saving me? Well, I have to believe after that.”

“Yeah, I guess so. You have to believe in something, don’t you? Something more than what’s in front of your eyes.”

“Elves, for instance?”

She smiled, a good smile, warm and filled with mirth. “That was hard for me. Even after I found their city and was taken before their King and their High Council, I kept thinking, How can this be? There are no such things as Elves. But there they were, all around me.” She glanced at him. “They don’t much like us, Logan. They think we’re responsible for all the damage that’s been done, that we haven’t been good caretakers of the earth.”

He nodded, smiled back. “Can’t do much about that, can we? Not right now, anyway. Not until we set them free again. Then maybe we can learn something from them and do a better job next time around.”

Her smile faded as she looked back toward the road. “Next time,” she repeated softly. She shook her head. “I wouldn’t let them pen me up like that. I don’t care what the circumstances were. I wouldn’t allow it.” She sighed and looked over at him. “You saw it happen, didn’t you?”

“I saw. It was painless, I guess. One minute they were there, the next they weren’t. That boy—Kirisin–put them all inside the Loden Elfstone and took them away.” He shook his head. “He’s

the one I feel for. He’s the one who’s responsible for them. He put them inside; he has to let them out.

He has that power. But if we don’t find Praxia and get that Elfstone back …” He trailed off. “Well, I wouldn’t want to be him.”

“Doesn’t seem fair. Putting all this on his shoulders. He’s just a boy.” She compressed her lips in a tight line, frowning. “He didn’t ask for any of this, did he?”

“None of them did, come to that,” Logan responded. “But that’s what life does to you. It gives you a whole lot of stuff you don’t ask for and expects you to deal with it. No complaining, no excuses.”

They crossed a dry wash where the asphalt road had given way and lay scattered all about in broken chunks. The Ventra skirted most of it and crawled over the rest, big and tough and able. There wasn’t much short of a wall that could stop it. Logan loved how it handled. Maybe he liked it better than the Lightning, he thought.

“What happened to his sister?” Angel asked suddenly.

Logan felt his throat constrict. Simralin. An image of her face appeared in his mind, blond and smiling that crooked half smile. He shook his head. “I don’t know. She stayed behind with the King and the army that was holding off the demons and once–men. She said she was the only one who could lead them to us once they had done all they could.” He kept his eyes on the road. “We’re still waiting.”

“Kirisin is very close to her,” Angel said. “He must be wild with worry.”

Logan didn’t answer. He was thinking about his own feelings, about his own sense of loss. If Simralin didn’t make it, he wasn’t sure what he would do. He’d tried hard not to think of her, but she was always in the forefront of his thoughts. He saw her all the time, watched her smile, heard her voice, smelled her scent when she leaned close …

“Maybe we need to look for her, too,” Angel suggested.

He shook his head. “One thing at a time. The Loden is more important.”

“How are we supposed to find it, anyway?”

He wasn’t sure, of course. He could try using the vehicle’s tracking system, but he knew it was unreliable. No way to differentiate between the things it would pick up on the screen. He had been hoping that he would have help from Trim. Without trying to be apparent about it, he had been searching the skies for the owl, thinking that since Trim had come to him before when he needed to find Kirisin and the Elven talismans, maybe he would come again.

“We’ll find it,” he insisted without offering any more.

Eventually, they did. But not until they had driven for several hours and the sun had begun to dip into the western horizon toward the Cascades. Then, all at once, Trim appeared, winging his way out of the skies, swooping down in front of the AV, and soaring away again.

“Look at that owl!” Angel exclaimed. “It almost hit us!”

“Not likely,” Logan said, giving her a quick grin. “That’s our guide to the Loden. He’s called Trim. The Lady sent him to me when I came to find Kirisin. We just need to follow him.”

They did so, working their way down the road as the shadows lengthened and the light faded. Logan began to worry that they might be getting too close to advance elements of the demon–led army. But they weren’t yet back to where the skrails had attacked and seized Kirisin several days earlier, so he could assume that Praxia and the other two Elves had come farther than that, at least. His worst fear was that all three had been captured and taken back to the old man. If that had happened, he might never learn what had become of the Elfstone.

But within half an hour Trim took them off the road and down a dirt trail into a dry wash studded with scrub and cactus. They followed the wash for maybe five hundred yards, searching through layers of shadows and clumps of rocks and earth.

“Logan, over there!” Angel exclaimed suddenly.

He had already seen it. A pair of military jeeps sat abandoned in the center of the wash, a body hanging off the driver’s seat of one, a second body sprawled on the hood of the other, and blood splashed everywhere. More bodies lay scattered on the ground nearby. Logan made a quick count. Four, five, six that he could see. He climbed out of the Ventra, Angel a step behind him. Both held their black staffs ready, eyes searching the wash and the high banks for any sign of life. But there was none, and the runes carved into the wood remained dark. The wash was a killing ground empty of life. Logan looked at the dead, the ground on which they lay, the jeeps and the tracks they had left, taking it all in, assessing it. Then he walked over to have a closer look at the bodies. He found the two male Elves lying together, riddled with bullets from automatic weapons. The men around them were wearing a patchwork collection of army surplus and makeshift insignia. Arrows and javelins had done for them.

He walked on, down the length of the wash and around a second bend, following a flurry of footprints.

Someone running away, someone else chasing. He stopped. Ahead, draped in shadows, lay a second cluster of bodies. More would–be soldiers, their bodies heaped on top of one another. The fourth was Praxia.

He knew right away what had happened. A unit of rogue militia had found the Elves. Maybe just stumbled on them, maybe saw their tracks. They shot the male Elves in a firefight. Some of them died in the process. The three survivors went after Praxia. Caught up with her here. Big mistake. She killed them all, was killed herself. No one had survived. He knew this because a survivor would have taken one of the two jeeps, and all the tire tracks stopped where the two were parked.

He moved over to Praxia. She was propped against a large boulder, eyes closed. Patches of dried blood marked half a dozen wounds in her chest and stomach. She had been shot repeatedly. She looked frail and broken, all the toughness drained away. One hand clutched a Sig—Hauser twelve–shot automatic rapid fire, clip ejected on the ground next to her. It was a favorite weapon of militia commanders. How she had gotten hold of it or even known how to use it was a mystery.

He bent down and touched her cheek, and her eyes opened. He froze, staring at the blood–streaked face. “My hand,” she whispered.

He looked down. The hand that wasn’t holding the Sig—Hauser slowly opened. In the palm lay the pouch that contained the Loden Elfstone.

Her lips moved. “Tell Kirisin …”

Then she trailed off, and her eyes fixed. He felt her neck for a pulse, found none. He sat back on his heels, staring at her. What must it have taken for her to stay alive this long? The fight was clearly hours old.

He took the pouch from her hand, checked to make certain the Elfstone was still inside, and then slipped the pouch into his pocket.

Tell Kirisin…

He stood up wearily. “I’ll tell him,” he promised her.

Angel, standing next to him by now, didn’t say anything, keeping her thoughts to herself. Logan searched Praxia’s young face. Just a girl, he thought, but she had fought and died hard. He thought suddenly of Simralin. He tried to imagine how he would feel if something happened to her.

“We’d better bury them,” Angel said to him.

He nodded. “And then get back to the camp.”

Without waiting for her response, he started toward the Ventra to collect the shovels.