“This way,” he said.
Kandler stopped long enough to gather their waterskins and food, but he left their other gear behind. The justicar grabbed the reins of Burch’s lupallo, mounted his own horse, and opened his mouth to shout at the knights to hurry. But he kept quiet when he heard Deothen saying a solemn prayer over Brendis and placing his hands on the young man’s neck. As the elder knight pulled his hands away, Kandler saw that the fang marks there had disappeared, although the spilled blood stayed behind.
“My thanks, sir,” said Brendis, and offered a small bow.
“My honor, young knight,” replied Deothen. “Now hurry and mount up. Every moment is precious.”
Sallah and Levritt helped their fellow knight into his saddle, where he swayed a moment before pushing his mount forward. Kandler led the way out of the camp after Burch. The other knights followed.
Burch sprinted along for half a minute and then ground to a halt. When the others trotted up with their flaming swords, he turned to Deothen.
“Can you do that again?” the shifter asked. “Make a light for me?” He held his sword up to the knight.
Deothen nodded and said a quick prayer to the Silver Flame, then reached out and laid his hands along Burch’s blade. It began to glow as if fresh from the forge, brighter than any torch.
Burch nodded his thanks to the knight then leaped into his horse’s saddle and gave it a quick kick. He held his sword aloft before him as the animal broke into a slow gallop. Kandler snapped his reins, and his mount gave chase.
“Can he follow the trail like this?” Deothen asked as he spurred his horse to match the gait of Kandler’s stallion.
“We have to try,” Kandler said. He heard his frustration creep into his voice, and he tried to stamp it out. “This may be our only chance.”
Burch ran his horse straight up the rise on the side of the valley. He veered neither left nor right as he forced the lupallo to pull itself upward on its short, powerful legs. Soon, the hunters found themselves at the valley’s crest.
As Burch’s horse topped the ridge, he whipped his head left and right, then steered his horse into a tight circle. A lump rose in Kandler’s throat as he worried that the shifter might have lost the trail. As Burch completed the round, though, he snarled, turned his horse to the north, and started off again.
The others followed.
Forty yards farther on, Burch reined his horse to a halt and held his glowing sword out high. “Here,” he said. “Four or five people. One horse. Most of the tracks stop here.”
The shifter jumped down, his nose almost to the ground. “One track in or out. The horse.” He scanned the matted grass for a moment more. “It was lighter coming in, heavier going out.”
“Better than the other way around,” Kandler said. He allowed hope to swell in his chest. “Which way did they go?”
Burch hauled himself back into his saddle and pointed his glowing sword to the north.
The shifter led the others off along the edge of the ridge. He held his sword-light before him as he scanned the ground, looking for signs of the horse’s trail. Every so often, he signaled for a halt and rode out in a wide circle around the others. Each time he did, he led them again to the north.
The hunters rode hard for hours, slowing only to spare their horses. The sky became less dark in the east.
“The vampire cannot stand the light of day,” Sallah said. “He must stop and find shelter soon.”
Kandler shook his head. As much as he’d like to believe that, he couldn’t. “Not in the Mournland,” he said. “Pure sunlight here is rarer than diamonds.”
“So they could continue on forever?” Sallah asked.
“The vampire may not tire,” Deothen said, “but the mount we follow will tire soon.”
Sallah reached down to pat her own horse’s neck. “How much longer can it hold out? Our own mounts are close to breaking.”
“Keep riding or get left behind,” Burch called back.
Sallah’s eyes burned holes in the shifter’s back, but Kandler appreciated the shifter’s sentiment. This was no time to talk about slowing down.
Sallah eased her horse back a bit to check on the wounded knight.
“How’s Brendis?” Deothen asked.
Kandler looked back. Even in this light Brendis’s skin was sallow, and dark circles had formed under his eyes.
“I’m all right,” Brendis said gamely. “We’re not going to lose two of us in one day.”
“It’s nearly the next day,” Sallah said.
“Good. I think I can make it that far.”
The young man summoned up a grin both wan and determined. He looked up ahead of them as if he could see the end of a long journey stampeding toward them, then he narrowed his eyes in concentration.
“My wounds must be catching up with me,” Brendis said as he gripped the rim of his saddle with both hands.
“What do you mean?” Sallah asked. She reached out a hand toward him, ready to catch him should he start to topple from his mount.
Brendis pulled one of his hands free from its grip on his saddle and stabbed a finger toward the sky. “Look,” he said. “Can the sky here be clear?”
As one, the other hunters lifted their heads. All of them had been either following the trail or watching Burch’s progress. None of them had seen the circle of blue sky forming in the heavens before them as they rode up a gentle rise in the land.
Kandler’s jaw dropped. He felt like a dragonfly could knock him out of his saddle. “That can’t be!” he said. “This is the Mournland. The sun never shines here.” He stopped himself. “Not until now.”
“The world changes,” said Deothen. “Better to see the changes than ignore them.”
As the senior knight spoke, the hunters crested the hill, and a wide vista came into view. Another valley opened below them. The wall of mist that bordered the cursed land still hung like a curtain across the river and miles off to the west. To the north and east, the half-dead grassland sprawled wide and open.
The circle in the sky grew wider as the hunters watched, still galloping along. The sun was still too low to shine through it, but a steely blue sky peeked through the mists over them.
Kandler’s eyes left the hole in the otherwise solid blanket of clouds and looked straight beneath it. There on the ground stood a mound of mist that seemed as if it might have fallen from the empty spot in the sky and crashed on the land beneath.
“What in the name of the Silver Flame is that?” Levritt asked.
“The light of knowledge shines on those who venture into the darkness of ignorance,” said Brendis.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Kandler.
“How should I know?” the young knight smiled. “I’m dizzy from the loss of blood.”
“Look!” Burch stood up in his saddle at the front of the riders, pointing at something on the valley floor. Kandler craned his neck around to see what it was.
A horse bearing three riders—two adults with a child before them—sprinted across the valley, straight for the mound of clouds. Kandler’s heart bounced with hope. He’d recognize Esprë’s flowing, blonde hair anywhere.
“It’s them!” Kandler said.
The hunters spurred their horses, and the faithful steeds called upon their last reserves of energy to heed their masters. They pounded down into the valley at breakneck speed. The horse they chased, though, was too far ahead. As the hunters watched, their prey rode headlong into the dark, swirling, earthbound cloud and disappeared.
Kandler howled in frustration as he urged his stallion ahead even faster.
The swirling mists enveloped Te’oma’s horse like the waves of an ocean. The dark, musty wisps encircled the three riders in all directions, blocking out the sky. Te’oma could barely see her horse’s ears. The creature rode blind.
The changeling hauled hard on the horse’s reins. The beast ground to a halt and let out a grateful whinny.
“What are you d
oing?” Tan Du said as he slapped Te’oma in the back of the head. “Keep going!”
“I can’t see a thing,” the changeling said as she twisted in her saddle to sneer at the vampire behind her. The glow had faded from his face, and it was no longer painful to look at him. She fought an urge to smack him back. “We could ride straight into a canyon or worse.”
Tan Du snarled at Te’oma. “Stay here then, you spineless chameleon.”
The changeling began to spit a retort at the vampire, but he was gone. As he faded into mist, the fog seemed to absorb him into its oppressive mass. “I hope it never lets you go,” Te’oma said.
She turned back to the girl in front of her, who hadn’t said a word since they’d gotten on the horse last night. “Esprë? He’s gone.”
The girl drew in a deep breath and screamed at the top of her lungs. The changeling nearly jumped out of her saddle.
As Esprë drew in another breath, Te’oma’s hands darted out to cover the girl’s mouth and stifle another scream. “Quiet!” the changeling said. “Would you like him to come back here and silence you forever?”
Esprë pulled back a little then lunged for ward and bit into the fleshy part of the palm clamped over her mouth. The changeling shouted out in shock and pain and let the girl go.
Esprë leaped, hit the ground running, and disappeared into the mists. Te’oma heard her scrambling away.
“Have you lost your mind?” Te’oma said as she leaped down from her horse. She followed the noises Esprë made, leading her horse behind her by its reins.
For a moment, Te’oma considered letting the girl get away. It was a pity that such a sweet child found herself bound up in the machinations of greater forces, but there was little that Te’oma could do about that. She often felt unable to escape her own fate. How could she hope to set someone else free from such entanglements?
Te’oma knew one thing. If she didn’t get the girl to Karrnath, all her dreams would be dashed. The Lich Queen herself had sent Te’oma and the others out on this mission, and to fail Vol was death. Whispered promises of immortality swirled through Te’oma’s head like the mists through which she walked. No matter how much she might like the girl, the sacrifice of one small elf seemed a small price to pay for such a gift.
Te’oma knew that Vol wanted the girl alive, and that sparked a bit of hope in the changeling’s cold, dark heart. She still wasn’t entirely convinced Esprë even had this Mark of Death, and it mattered little to her one way or the other. But Vol and her lackey Tan Du certainly believed it, and Te’oma knew the Mark of Death was useless if the bearer was dead. Tan Du had scoffed at this restriction, pointing out that the Lich Queen had spells available that could resurrect the dead, but Te’oma knew such things were risky. It was better to deliver the girl safe and sound, with as little trauma as possible. Besides, the Lich Queen’s orders had been specific. Bring the girl alive. Tan Du might put on a brave front, but even he was not foolish enough to cross her.
Te’oma could still hear Esprë running, but she seemed to be farther away.
“Stop!” Te’oma shouted, fearful that the girl might hurt herself while sprinting blindly about. The changeling kept a tight hold on the horse’s reins and charged into the mist, stabbing out with her free arm.
It was too late. Te’oma heard the girl stumble and fall, but the child did not scream. For that reason alone, the changeling held out hope. “Esprë!” she called. “Are you all right?”
As the last word left the changeling’s lips, she stumbled into the girl, who was sitting where she had tripped, right on the edge of a massive abyss. Esprë went sliding forward, but she flailed out to find something to grab on to. Her hand landed on Te’oma’s boot and held. The sudden weight on the changeling’s foot pulled her into the chasm after the girl.
Te’oma screamed as she fell. She was sure she was dead, but the reins wrapped around her left wrist pulled taut and arrested her fall. Esprë’s weight on her leg wrenched at her hip and shoulder, and she cried out in pain.
Te’oma felt the girl clutching her boot with all her strength, and she heard her whimpering through gritted teeth. The two hung there for a moment, and all the world seemed to stop, then the horse bent forward its neck to relieve the weight upon it, and they slid downward again.
Both Esprë and Te’oma screamed. The noise scared the horse, and he tried to pull his head back up against the awkward weight hanging from his reins. The exhausted beast whined at the effort.
Te’oma reached her right hand down toward the girl. “Esprë,” she said, “climb up me. Quick!”
“No!” the girl said. “I’ll fall! You’ll kick me off!”
“I would have already!” Te’oma said.” “You’re wasting time. Climb!”
Te’oma heard the paralyzing fear in the girl’s voice as she whimpered, “Pull me up!”
“I can’t reach you! Climb!”
“I can’t!”
The horse dipped his head, and Te’oma and Esprë slipped back down again. The girl swung back and forth at the end of the changeling’s foot.
“My boot is slipping off!” Te’oma said. “You have to do it now!”
Tears running down her cheeks, Esprë clawed her way up the changeling’s front. As she reached Te’oma’s shoulders, she flung her arms around the changeling as if she might never let go.
“There, there,” Te’oma said. “Good job. You did great. But we’re not done yet.”
Esprë pulled her face away from Te’oma’s tear-stained shoulder. “What do you mean? Pull us up!”
Te’oma shook her head. “I can barely move my arm. You have to climb up first.”
Esprë looked into the changeling’s all white eyes for a moment, then nodded. She wiped her face on Te’oma’s shirt and said, “All right.”
The girl pulled her way up along Te’oma’s over-stretched arm until she reached the horse’s reins, then swung her feet out toward the chasm wall and scrabbled up until she was out of sight.
“Thank Vol,” the changeling said softly. Once the girl was clear, she tested her arm. Agony lanced through her shoulder. She tried to swing her good arm up to grab the reins, but her fingers fell inches short.
“Esprë?” Te’oma said. “Where did you go?”
There was no response. The horse twisted its neck back and forth, wiggling the reins. Black spots danced before Te’oma’s eyes for a moment, but she fought them back. When she looked up, she saw the girl standing next to the horse at the edge of the chasm.
Esprë held the horse’s taut reins in one hand. A sharp knife glittered in the other. “I found this in your saddlebag,” she said.
“No,” Te’oma said, tears welling into her eyes. Inwardly, she kicked herself for this. Every time she’d ever done someone a kindness, it had come back to haunt her. It seemed this time was no different. “Please, Esprë. Don’t.”
“You’re not my friend!” Esprë said. Her rage marred her tender young face. “You’re not my aunt! You kidnapped me! You were going to kill me!”
Te’oma shook her head as she strained to peer through the mist and into the girl’s eyes. “No, Esprë. No.” Her voice grew hoarse with emotion and desperation. “I never would have killed you.”
“You’re a liar!”
“No.” The knife came closer to the reins, glinting dully in the half-light. “I mean, yes! It’s true—I am a liar. I lie all the time.” Te’oma swallowed hard. “But I’m not lying now.”
Esprë brought the knife to the reins. “Swear it,” she said. “Swear you won’t hurt me.”
Te’oma nodded. “Yes! Of course, I won’t!”
“Say it.”
“Is wear it!”
“How sweet,” said Tan Du, as he appeared from the mists next to Esprë. “You two have formed such a lovely bond.”
Te’oma screamed.
Esprë turned and stabbed at the vampire with the knife, but he caught her wrist and sneered down at her. “Admirable, but predictable,” he said.
Tan Du grabbed Esprë’s chin and forced her to look into his eyes. “Have you forgotten who’s in charge here?” he asked.
The fight left Esprë’s arms and her eyes. She stood before the vampire, her mind a blank, awaiting his next instructions.
Tan Du let go of the girl’s chin and grinned. “Don’t let me interrupt you,” he said. “Go ahead and do what you were going to do.”
“No!” Te’oma said. She had known she couldn’t trust the vampire, but she was shocked that he would cut her loose so carelessly. “You bloodless bastard!”
Tan Du smiled down at the changeling, baring his white fangs. “It seems to me that our partnership has reached a crossroads. Since you’ve taken such good care of our little friend here, I think it’s only fair that she determine your fate.”
The vampire turned Esprë around and put placed her so the knife in her hand rested against the horse’s taut reins once again. “Go ahead,” he said to the girl. “Make your choice.”
Te’oma closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “Please!” she whispered at the girl.
Esprë hesitated, the hand with the knife trembling over the reins. Her grip tightened, the blade touched the edge of the reins, and Te’oma held her breath. In one fluid movement, Esprë twisted the knife, turned, and plunged it into the vampire’s belly. He winced, then looked down at the blade.
“You are an interesting child,” Tan Du said as he wrenched the girl’s hand off the knife and removed the blade, “as determined as the justicar. I see his influence upon you.” The vampire stooped over to look into Esprë’s eyes. “It’s almost a shame what will happen to you. Now step aside.”
The girl obeyed, and Tan Du reached out and grabbed the horse’s reins. He snarled at the poor, tired beast, and the horse kicked backward, its terror overcoming its exhaustion. As the horse scrambled back, it pulled Te’oma up and over the chasm’s edge.
When she was safe, Te’oma flipped her injured arm free of the reins and collapsed. She hugged the ground like an old lover she’d never hoped to see again.
Marked for Death: The Lost Mark, Book 1 Page 15