The forest sounded as if it had become one enormous bonfire.
"Oh, great furies," breathed Ivarus. "Oh bloody crows." He shot a wide-eyed glance at Kestus as he whirled his horse, his face pale with terror. "No questions!" he snarled. "Just run! Run!"
Ivarus suited action to his words, kicking his mount into a run.
Kestus tore his eyes away from the empty-eyed thing that had been his commander, and sent his horse leaping after Ivarus's.
As he did, he became aware of...
Things.
Things, in the forest. Things moving, keeping pace with them, shadows that remained only half-seen in the deepening darkness. None of them looked human. None of them looked like anything Kestus had ever seen. His heart pounded with raw, instinctive terror, and he called to his mount, demanding more speed.
It was madness to ride like this-through the forest, in the deepening dark. A tree trunk, a low branch, a protruding root, or any of a thousand other common things could kill a man or his horse if they collided with them in the night.
But the things were drawing closer, behind and on either side of them, and Kestus realized what it meant: They were being hunted, like fleeing deer, with the pack in full pursuit, working together to bring down the game. Terror of those hunters overrode his judgment. He only wished his horse could run faster.
Ivarus splashed across a creek and abruptly altered his course, sending his mount plowing through a thorny thicket, and Kestus was hot on his heels. As they tore through the thicket, ripping their hides and the hides of their mounts, Ivarus reached into his belt pouch and drew forth a small globe made of what looked like black glass. He said something to it, then spun in his saddle, shouted, "Down!" and threw it at Kestus's face.
Kestus ducked. The globe zipped over his hunched shoulders, and into the dark behind them.
There was a sudden flash of light and a roar of flame. Kestus shot a glance over his shoulder, to see fire spreading over the thicket with such manic intensity that it could only have been the result of some kind of furycraft. It washed out like a wave, spreading in all directions, burning the dried material of the thickets in eager conflagration-and it was moving fast. Faster than their horses were running.
They burst free of the thicket barely a panicked heartbeat ahead of the roaring flame-but not before two creatures the size of large cats came flying out of the blaze, burning like a flock of comets. Kestus got a glimpse of a too-large, spiderlike creature-and then one of them landed on the back of Ivarus's horse, still blazing.
The horse screamed, and its hoof struck a fallen log or a depression in the forest floor. It went down in a bone-breaking tumble, taking Ivarus with it.
Kestus was sure that the man was as good as dead, just as Tonnar had been. But Ivarus leapt clear of the falling horse, tucked into a roll, and controlled his fall, coming back to his feet several yards later. Without missing a beat, he drew the short gladius from his belt, impaled the creature still clinging to his mount's haunches, then hacked the second burning spider-thing from the air before it could reach him.
Before the corpse had hit the ground, Ivarus hurled two more of the black globes into the night behind them, one to the left and the other to the right. Blazing curtains of fire sprang to life in seconds, joining with the inferno of the burning thicket.
Kestus fought his panicked horse to a halt, savagely forced it to turn, and rode back for Ivarus, while the wounded horse continued to scream in agony. He extended his hand. "Come on!"
Ivarus turned and, with a single, clean stroke, ended the horse's suffering. "We won't get away from them riding double," he said.
"You don't know that!"
"Crows, man, there's no time! They'll circle that screen and be on top of us in seconds. Get out of here, Kestus! You've got to report this."
"Report what?" Kestus all but screamed. "Bloody crows and-"
The night went white, and red-hot pain became Kestus's entire world. He dimly felt himself fall from his horse. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream. All he could do was hurt.
He managed to look down.
There was a blackened hole in his chest. It went through the mail, just at his solar plexus, dead center of his body. The links surrounded it had melted together. A firecrafting. He'd been hit with a firecrafting.
He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't feel his legs.
Ivarus crouched over him and examined the wound.
His sober face became even grimmer. "Kestus," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do."
Kestus had to work for it, but he focused his eyes on Ivarus. "Take the horse," he rasped. "Go."
Ivarus put a hand on Kestus's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said again.
Kestus nodded. The image of the creature dismembering Tonnar and his mount flashed to mind. He shuddered, licked his lips, and said, "I don't want those things to kill me."
Ivarus closed his eyes for a second. Then he pressed his lips together and nodded, once.
"Thank you," Kestus said, and closed his eyes.
Sir Ehren ex Cursori rode Kestus's horse until the beast was all but broken, using every trick he'd ever learned, seen, heard, or read about to shake off pursuit and obscure his trail.
By the time the sun rose, he felt as weak and shaky as his mount-but there was no further sign of pursuit. He stopped beside a small river and leaned against a tree, closing his eyes for a moment.
The Cursor wasn't sure if his coin would be able to reach Alera Imperia from such a minor tributary-but he had little choice but to try. The First Lord had to be warned. He drew out the chain from around his neck, and with it the silver coin that hung from it. He tossed the coin into the water, and said, "Hear me, little river, and hasten word to thy master."
For several moments, nothing happened. Ehren was about to give up and start moving again, when the water stirred, and the surface of the water stirred, rose, and formed itself into the image of Gaius Sextus, the First Lord of Alera.
Gaius was a tall, handsome man, who appeared to be in his late forties if one discounted the silver hair. In truth, the First Lord was in his eighties, but like all powerful watercrafters', his body did not tend to show the effects of age that a normal Aleran's would. Though his eyes were sunken and weary-looking, they glittered with intelligence and sheer, indomitable will. The water sculpture focused on Ehren, frowned, and spoke.
"Sir Ehren?" Gaius said. "Is that you?" His voice sounded strange, like someone speaking from inside a tunnel.
"Yes, sire," Ehren replied, bowing his head. "I have urgent news."