Changes

everyone had been wrong. They had been clever enough to realize that now was the time to try to snatch her, precisely because everyone would think they would retreat and regroup after their failure—

As Dallen charged through the rain, he thought he saw something ahead of them—

::There!:: he shouted. A carriage! A carriage pulled by two horses that were galloping at breakneck speed.

Dallen didn’t bother to reply, he just stretched his neck out and redoubled his efforts. And Mags locked his grip on the saddle horn, closed his eyes, and projected what had just happened to every Herald he could reach, straining until a bolt of pain lanced across his head and interrupted him. Now they knew.

Not that any of them would be able to get here . . .

He opened his eyes and saw that Dallen was gaining on the carriage. He couldn’t make out who it was that was lashing the horses so savagely, and he couldn’t sense anything human from it. Which could only mean those strange shields had locked down tight, and Ice and Stone were, for all intents and purposes, invisible.

Lightning hammered down and hit something just ahead and to the right of the carriage. The horses shied sideways, sending the carriage careening on two wheels before it dropped back down again. The figure on the driver’s box looked back; he must have spotted them, because he sawed at the reins, and the horses—now in a blind panic—plunged to the other side of the road and skidded around a corner Mag hadn’t even seen.

He and Dallen overshot; Dallen executed a muscle-pulling reverse and resumed the chase.

Another lightning bolt hammered down, and the horses shied. This time the carriage skidded back and forth wildly, and Dallen had to drop back a little.

Mags braced himself in the saddle. He could see in Dallen’s mind what he wanted to do: come alongside so that Mags could jump into the open carriage. They could do it if Dallen could get close enough. Then Dallen, without Mags’ weight on him, could surge ahead and shoulder the horses off the road while Mags protected Amily, who must be lying on the floor of the carriage.

The driver looked back again, saw them still on his tail, and viciously heeled the horses over again. The carriage slewed from side to side, and again, Dallen had to drop back.

But the horses weren’t going to be able to keep this up for very long. They didn’t have the stamina that Dallen did. Not even the fact that they were going downhill was going to help.

Every hair on his body suddenly rose up, and he smelled something sharp and—

Dallen swerved violently sideways, and another bolt of lightning struck where they had been. The heat of it scorched his cheek, it was so close, and it seemed to suck all the breath out of his body and blind him, all at once —and the thunder nearly flattened him into the saddle.

For a moment, he fought for air, mind utterly blank.

When his mind came back, the carriage was lengths ahead of them, and Dallen was standing like a horse made of stone, and both of them were steaming. His whole body tingled painfully, his skin felt burned, and for a moment he had trouble thinking of what they were supposed to be doing.

Suddenly Dallen shook himself all over, and lurched into a gallop again. Mags tried to make his mind work, but it was moving slowly, thoughts blundering around like blind beetles. Dallen closed the distance between themselves and the carriage, and Mags finally felt his mind staggering back to normal. The driver wasn’t looking back. Did he think they’d been struck?

Had he somehow been the one that caused the strike?

It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the carriage and making the jump.

Dallen closed the gap. His nose was practically at the rear wheel. Now his head was alongside the rear wheel. Mags tensed and raised up in the stirrups. This would take incredible timing. Rain torrented down, making it even harder. He would have to land right in the carriage, because in this rain, the chance of catching the side and saving himself was—not good.

A little more... just a little . . .

Neither he nor Dallen saw the object that hurtled out of the carriage into them—but they both felt it. It was big and solid enough to slam into Dallen’s neck and flank with terrible force, and neither of them were ready for it.

Dallen lost his footing; started to go over, fought for it, hurtling sideways on the sluice that was the street, as Mags clung desperately to the saddle, breath completely rammed out of him.

They both knew at the same moment when Dallen was not going to be able to keep his feet.

Mags flung up his arms to shield his head; Dallen fell with as much control as he could muster. The pavement slammed into both of them, and everything went black.

“Mags! Mags!”

Mags hurtled up out of unconsciousness like a panicked starling shooting into the sky. His eyes flew open; his body registered rain, his mind recognized Heralds, and his memory shouted Amily! He tried to lurch to his feet.

Someone held him down.

He flailed at them. “Lemme go! Lemme go! They got Amily! They’re gittin’ away! Lemme go!”

A stranger in Herald’s Whites grabbed his head in both hands and forced him to stop struggling. “Mags. It’s too late. They’re long gone. We got here to find you and Dallen lying in the street and no sign of them.”

He stared at the man without comprehension for a long, long moment. “No—” he croaked. “No—they cain’t —”