Realms of War

spoke at length to his two companions in their own language. They conversed back and forth, the fire crackling beside them, then Holwan knelt again so that he faced Gethred eye to eye.

'The girl you said you saw… she was one of the Rashemi witches?'

'I don't know who she was.'

'But you are from Cormyr.'

Gethred held Holwan's gaze and said, 'I'd like some more water, please.'

'What is your name?' Holwan asked.

He thought a moment before deciding there was no harm in this answer. 'Gethred,' he said.

Holwan nodded, and something in his gaze hardened. 'Gethred Cormyrean, heed my words. I am going to cut your bonds. At first light, we need you to ride. The man who had you was a shu t'met, a fell spirit of great power. He killed three of our company before escaping. You robbed him of his prey. Foolish. Your only hope is to stay with us. Close. If the shu t'met finds you, he'll kill you.'

'And you won't?'

'Our khan ordered us to capture the spies from Cormyr who escaped Citadel Rashemar. Alive, he will be pleased. Dead he will be … less pleased. Your comrades are dead. For now, it pleases us to keep you alive.'

'And your Khahan?'

'That is up to him. But I would suggest that you find a way to loosen your tongue before meeting him. In mercy, Yamun Khahan is most generous. In wrath. . well, loosen your tongue. You are a long way from Cormyr.'

That night, after being fed for the first time in days-though he was a little afraid to ask what the meat was he was eating-Gethred slept in a thick blanket beside a warm fire. He almost thanked the gods for his captivity. If the Khahan had him killed in a few days, at least tonight he was warm and fed. For now, that is enough, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

How long he'd been drifting he didn't know, but when he woke it was still dark, the sky a blue darker than the sea, and every star seemed a diamond reflecting distant fire. What had woken him?

Then he heard it. Howling. Far away, he thought, but in the winter-hardened air of the steppe, sound traveled far, and the plaintive sound seemed very clear.

Gethred sat up. The fire still crackled, but it had burned low, only a few tiny tongues of blue flame licked the dried dung the Tuigan used for fuel.

The howling came again, and the picketed horses whickered and stamped their feet. The howls seemed closer. Somewhere off to the east.

A dark shape moved on the other side of the fire. 'You rest,' said Holwan. 'We ride hard and fast at first light.'

'I hear wolves,' said Gethred.

'Among my people, it is said that the sight of a wolf on a journey is a good omen.'

'And what do your people say that hearing a wolf portends?'

'Of that, we say nothing.'

Gethred lay down again. Another series of howls wafted over the camp as he settled back into his blankets and closed his eyes. Sleep took him, and in his dreams he saw the pale girl, standing between shadow and snow.

Gethred's rest did not last. He woke to Holwan's boot in his ribs. Gethred started and looked up. The Khassidi stood over him, a bow in hand with an arrow nocked.

Holwan spared a quick glance down at Gethred and said, 'Up. We ride.'

Gethred sat up and looked around. It was still dark, but the eastern sky had begun to pale. The camp was a bustle of activity: two Tuigan packing, two others preparing the horses, and another standing on the other side of the camp with a spear.

'What's wrong?' asked Gethred.

'One of the sentries has not returned,' said Holwan. 'He does not respond to our call. Dayan and Kobed went to find him. They have not returned. We ride.'

Gethred had little to pack. He rolled his blanket and donned his cloak-he'd slept in his coat. That done, he stood ready.

'Come,' said Holwan, and he led the way to the horses.

Before they'd made it half the distance, Holwan stopped and looked east. Gethred heard it as well-another horse approaching at full gallop.

'Dayan!' one of the Tuigan called.

A rider thundered into camp, spraying snow over one of the smoldering fires. He pulled his horse to halt, but still the animal fought the reins, side-stepping, eyes rolling. The rider fell from the saddle. Two of the Oigur lunged for the animal, but they were too late. Released from the tight bit, the horse's hooves caught the snow, and it was gone.

One of the Oigur started for another horse, but he stopped after two steps. Gethred followed his gaze to the fallen rider. Blood drenched the man from the waist down, and liberal amounts of it streaked him above that. The man clutched his midsection, and Gethred saw something pale between the man's fingers. The man was using one hand to hold in his own entrails.

Holwan opened his mouth to speak, but a voice from the near distance cut him off. It spoke in Rashemi.

'Horse lovers! You attacked Vurzhad's home and robbed him of his robber! Leave the wretch by your dead fires, ride away, and the rest of you will live long enough to return to your mongrel horde!'

Gethred recognized the voice as the massive man whose trap he had robbed and who had taken him captive and threatened to geld him. He couldn't tell how far away the man was, but he sounded close.

One of the Oigur whispered something harshly in his own tongue, and the Tuigan made for the horses.

Gethred followed. He looked to Holwan and said, 'I take it that you aren't accepting his offer?'

'Stay close,' said Holwan.

'You don't have t-'

One of the Oigur nearing the horses jerked and flew through the air. He slid through the snow and came to a rest near Gethred's feet. A spear protruded from his chest. The light was still not strong enough to be certain, but Gethred thought he could see runes burned into the haft of the spear.

Gethred heard something whisper through the air, then another Oigur fell, a massive-and familiar-dagger lodged in his throat.

The horses screamed and pulled at their picket lines. Someone shouted, and Gethred looked to the lip of the gully. A shape stood silhouetted against the lightening eastern sky. A massive form that blotted out the fading stars.

Gethred heard the twang of bows-one of them Holwan's-but Vurzhad simply waved a hand, and three arrows shattered in the air before him.

The massive man stood looking down on them and said, 'Now you have my spear and dagger as well as my robber. Leave them and those of you still breathing can go. This is my last mercy.'

Gethred saw two of the Tuigan warriors reaching for another arrow, but beside him Holwan took his free hand and reached inside his kalat. Something hung on a leather braid around the Khassidi's neck, and he held it aloft. In the gloom of predawn Gethred thought he could see a twisted mass of bone, twigs, and either feather or tufts of fur.

Above them, Vurzhad snarled. 'You caught me by surprise earlier,' he said. 'Before my own home you bested me, little shaman, because I was not ready for you. I am ready now.'

Vurzhad's deep voice dropped even further, and he spoke words that even Gethred's untrained ears recognized as arcane. The man threw his head back, and his form seemed to ripple and twist and grow all at the same time. Even as the other Tuigan drew their arrows to their cheeks, Vurzhad transformed into a huge bear.

The Tuigan released their bowstrings. Their arrows struck the gigantic bear, but it did not even slow. The bear dropped to all fours and leaped into the gully, an avalanche of fur and claws that shook the ground beneath Gethred's feet.

Terrified, the Tuigans' horses reared and broke their picket lines. They jostled, bumping into one another in