Suddenly there was a faint howl in the distance, a single eerie ululating wail. It hung alone on the air for a moment, and then was joined by others, a chilling wolflike chorus.
But all three of them knew that whatever creature had made that sound, it wasn’t a wolf.
“We have to run,” Calmeren said. “
Neither of the Knights considered doubting the unicorn’s word. There would be time for questions and incredulity later, when—if—they were all safe. Ciradhel cast one despairing glance at the wagons. They could not possibly move any faster, especially in this weather.
“Bring in the unicorns—quickly. We’ll put the children on them,” he said.
Calmeren and Rhavelmo sprang away, and Ciradhel turned Jilka back to the wagons.
“Stop the wagons. Everyone out. Bring your cloaks. Tuika—Henele—unhitch the teams as fast as you can. Cut the harness if you have to. Naeret—Emessade—get the children onto the unicorns. We have to run for it.”
He swung down off Jilka’s back and strode forward, running tallies in his head. Seven unicorns—six children. Each of the unicorn-mounted Knights could take one of the children—Kalania could go in her nurse’s arms—and they would send Sandalon’s nurse on the last of them. That left thirteen warhorses, seven of which would have to carry an extra passenger, but no one would be left behind for whatever was making that howling noise.
“This is most unexpected,” Hieretsur protested, coming down the steps of the wagon with Kalania in her arms.
“There is no time to explain,” Ciradhel snapped. Calmeren had returned with the others, and he seized the nurse and deposited her on the unicorn’s back.
“Run,” he said.
“Like the wind,” Calmeren agreed, and bounded off.
There was another chorus of howls—closer—and this time everyone heard it.
“One presumes that is what we are running from,” Naeret said, her nervousness showing in her stone-like expression. She settled Vendalton in front of Vikaet’s rider and the black unicorn took off after the others.
“Yes,” Ciradhel said briefly.
Now only Sandalon and Lairamo were left.
“I will see you again soon,” Lairamo said firmly, setting Sandalon into the saddle in front of Dainelel. His unicorn sprang into motion the moment the boy was settled, following the others.
Lairamo looked at Ciradhel. “Perhaps—” she began.
“He will need you. Go.”
Lairamo climbed carefully up behind the last of the Unicorn Knights, and it followed the rest.
Getting the children onto the unicorns had been the work of moments, and it had taken easily as long to finish unhitching the mules and to get the wagon drivers and the rest of the children’s companions onto horseback. Now Ciradhel sent those carrying double off after the others.
The mules had caught the scent carried upon the wind, and though normally the most docile and well- mannered of creatures, they had been terrified. The moment they were free, they had fled across the ice, slipping and skidding in their haste to be away. Tuika and Henele had not been able to properly unhitch the last teams, and had simply cut the main traces as the mules fought to be free. Even the Elven destriers were agitated, looking to their riders for reassurance.
“What about the rest of us?” Naeret asked, falling easily into War Manners.
Ciradhel smiled at her, swinging up onto Jilka’s back and loosening his sword in its sheath. He looked around at his four remaining companions.
“I thought we might go see what is making that infernal racket, were you all so inclined,” he answered politely.
—«♦»—
THEY were barely a hundred meters from the wagons when the pack appeared in the distance, a shimmering
