“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’ 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 Esprл’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.
Chapter 25
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 doing?” 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.
