Part 6 (2/2)

A pillar of dark wings loomed ahead, an exclamation mark punctuating the golden gra.s.slands. Ravens wheeled in tight circles, always the first to arrive and the last to leave, the handmaidens of death. Kath steered her stallion toward the dark pillar. At least the ravens served as good guides, marking the trail of dead horses.

A rotting stench heralded another carca.s.s. A rush of black wings scattered at their approach, raising a cacophony of harsh caws. Danya hung back but Kath needed to see. Mauled by predators, the dead horse was little more than skin and bones and saddle. Duncan dismounted, disturbing a legion of flies. ”Maroon trappings emblazoned with the Octagon, the same as the others.”

Kath scowled, a grim reminder of the Mordant's treachery.

”There's nothing here. The Mordant leaves no clues.” Duncan swung into the saddle, his longbow in his hand.

Kath nodded, urging her sorrel stallion to a canter, eager to be away. The others followed. Bunched close, they pressed on into the north, searching for the next plume of ravens.

For six days they rode north, following a trail of dead horses. Camping at night, they slept fitful without a fire. Rising at first light, they spent long days in the saddle, chewing dried venison for meals. They made good progress, but for every league north, Kath's unease grew.

The wolf loped alongside Kath's stallion, looking up as if he heard her thoughts. Bryx chuffed and then darted away, melting into the tall gra.s.s like a dark ghost. Kath watched him disappear, wondering what he'd find.

Duncan's gelding pulled even with hers. ”Trust the wolf.”

Kath shrugged, but the tightness of her shoulders would not go away.

”The wolf has a better sense of smell than any of us.”

”Even you?”

”Perhaps.” He flashed a grin but his voice was serious. ”If there's any danger, the wolf will spot it first.”

Kath nodded, knowing he was right, but she kept searching the horizon, expecting a threat that seemed just beyond sight. The sun climbed to the noon zenith, a pale disc in a winter-gray sky, providing little warmth against the chill wind. By unspoken agreement they kept riding, wrapped in wool cloaks, their appet.i.tes ruined by another dead horse.

Kath rode next to Duncan. ”Do you suppose the trail leads straight to the Dark Citadel?”

”This trail leads to trouble.”

His words echoed her feelings.

”The Mordant will find a patrol of soldiers long before he reaches the Dark Citadel.” His stare met hers, his face hard. ”That's when trouble will find us.”

She tightened her grip on her sword hilt.

Duncan steadied his horse. ”Back in the monastery, the monks had maps of the far north. Brittle and faded with age, the maps all showed the same thing. A great wall divides the steppes, marking the southern boundary of the Mordant's domain. Ten gates, s.p.a.ced leagues apart, provide the only breach in the long wall.” He gave her a piercing stare. ”The maps all carried the same warning. The gates are guarded by a foul magic.”

Kath sketched the hand sign against evil, recalling nightmares from her childhood. Weaned on tales of valor, she'd heard wild stories about demon-guarded gates in the far north, but she always a.s.sumed the knights had been too far into their cups, the ale twisting the truth to a nightmare. But that was before she believed in magic. She reached for her gargoyle, needing to be sure the small figurine was safe. ”Walls we can deal with, but we might want to avoid the gates.”

He nodded. ”I'm betting the trail of dead horses leads to a gate.”

”Then we'll need to veer away at the first sign of the wall.”

”Just so.”

They rode in silence, carving a path through the deep gra.s.s. Kath scanned the horizon, searching for a first glimpse of the wall, but the steppes remained unbroken, a never ending sea of gra.s.s.

A lone wolf howled in the north.

The sound spiked through Kath. She threw a warning glance at Duncan, her unease mirrored on his face.

A woman's scream split the sky.

Kath pulled the stallion to a halt, her sword flying to her hand.

Danya clutched her horse's mane, her face pale, her eyes glazed. ”From the north!” She shuddered, shaking her head. ”Something evil comes!” She writhed in the saddle, her stare wild and unfocused. ”Abominations! They claw at my mind!”

Blaine unsheathed his blue steel sword, urging his horse next to Danya. ”I'll protect you!”

Zith struggled to control his horse, his mare turning skittish.

Kath and Duncan stood in their stirrups, staring north, searching for the threat, but the horizon seemed empty, nothing but an unbroken field of gra.s.s.

”There!” Duncan pointed. ”See the ripples in the gra.s.s, like arrows racing toward us!”

Kath saw them, six long furrows speeding toward them, one leading the others. ”What is it?”

A howl ripped from the north, a twisted wail, like hounds loosed from the bowels of h.e.l.l. The sound clawed at Kath's soul, a s.h.i.+ver of fear.

Danya screamed, ”They're hunting us!”

Duncan nocked an arrow, steadying his horse with his knees. ”Get the others away!” He drew the great bow to a kiss.

Kath yelled a warning. ”One of those might be Bryx!”

The bowstring thrummed. ”I know.” Duncan reached for a second arrow. ”Ride!”

Kath spurred her stallion to a gallop, herding the others toward the southeast. Her sword in her hand, she swiveled in the saddle, looking for Duncan, looking for the threat.

The longbow tw.a.n.ged, black-fletched arrows arching into the sky.

A snarl of pain erupted from the north, a tortured cry that seemed half-human.

Her horse leaped forward, finding extra speed, running in a blind panic.

A deep-throated baying followed, the hounds of h.e.l.l loosed to the hunt.

Hoof beats came from behind. Duncan rode low in the saddle, racing to catch up.

Kath urged her sorrel stallion for more speed. Racing behind her companions, she drove them forward, a p.r.i.c.kle of fear lancing her back.

Another howl, closer than before, the hounds narrowed the gap.

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