bloody with cuts.
“Fall back,” he shouted, shoving Jayson toward the empty southern road. All of the townsfolk had fled. “Fall back now! There’s no way we can hold off the Alvritshai. Retreat and protect the townsfolk!”
The lieutenant gave Jayson one last push toward the road and then slid past him, shouting the same orders to all of the others. The Alvrithsai riders had crossed the bridge and were filling the far side of the wide commons, watching the battle coldly, their pale faces hard and implacable. Jayson had never seen an Alvritshai before, but there was no mistaking their sharp features, the angular cheekbones, and dark hair of the hearthfire tales. He shuddered at their arrogance, at their calmness. They did not seem concerned about the twenty-odd horsemen who fought their catlike creatures and the rugged giant who’d killed five men and three horses. Instead, the leader-the Alvritshai at the forefront-merely raised a hand to halt their progress and then gestured.
“Retreat!” Gregson roared again, the edge of command in his voice. “Now!”
Jayson spun his horse and kicked it hard toward the southern road, nearly every one of the Legion and the others like him breaking away from the fight and doing the same. He glanced over his shoulder and saw at least twenty archers raise bows from among the Alvritshai ranks. He swore, his back feeling like a giant target, and hunched himself forward over his mount’s neck.
He heard the snap of the bowstrings and the outcry of at least two men as the arrows struck. One of the men who’d pulled ahead of him slumped and fell from his saddle, his body hitting the road with a sickening thud, but Jayson didn’t slow. The man’s horse continued on, unencumbered now, mane and tail thrashing with the wind of its passage. The two-story buildings and the cottages fell behind, Jayson’s breath ragged, burning in his lungs.
A moment later, the garrison appeared. They passed it without pause.
“Keep going,” Gregson yelled from somewhere off to one side and behind, his words almost lost. “Don’t stop until we catch up to the townsfolk.”
Jayson didn’t intend to stop even after that. Cobble Kill was lost.
There was nothing to do now but make for Patron’s Merge.
17
Colin glanced up as a sudden gust of wind blew sand into his face and tugged at his shirt. His horse whickered, tension rippling through the muscles of its neck and shoulders. He stared out across the grassland, minor plinths of striated rock piercing up through the soil on all sides. The sky was a vivid blue, no clouds in sight.
But the air shuddered around him. For a moment, he could see it, like heat waves shimmering above the earth, distorting the panoramic view on all sides. It was hot, sweat a faint sheen against his skin, but not hot enough for heat waves.
He twisted in his saddle and whistled to catch Eraeth’s and Siobhaen’s attention. “We need to find shelter!”
“Why?” Eraeth shouted, already heading toward him. Siobhaen followed, scanning the horizon with a look of confusion.
“We’ve reached the edge of the Summer Tree’s influence,” Colin said. “There’s going to be a storm.”
Siobhaen shot a glance upward. “But the sky’s clear-”
The air around them suddenly crackled, all of the hair on Colin’s arms standing on end, his skin prickling. A sharp metallic scent struck them. Siobhaen gasped, nose wrinkling from the stench even as she shuddered, but Eraeth shrugged the sensations aside and pointed.
“Over there,” he shouted over another gust of wind, all three hunching down in their saddles. The wind was bitterly cold and stank of rain. “That rock formation!”
Colin merely nodded and spun his horse about, kicking it hard toward the column of rock Eraeth had indicated. As he neared, he saw why. Chunks of stone had fallen ages past, forming a rough arch against its side. It looked like it would be large enough to shelter all of them and the horses.
When he was still a hundred yards away, the land beginning to slope down before rising toward the rock column again, a shadow descended over the plains.
Colin’s gaze shot upward as Siobhaen cried out from behind. Massive black clouds had begun to build, shooting skyward in roiling plumes along a clear-cut front that undulated high overhead, running north to south. The cloud cover spilled westward from the sharp demarcation, like a flood of black water rushing across an unseen surface. Colin slowed, his horse gnawing at the bit, but waved Eraeth and Siobhaen toward the shelter. He could feel the energies building now, pressing against his skin. Wind blew more sand and grit into his face, but he squinted and raised a hand to shield his eyes. He wanted to see how the storm built, how it was created.
But then jagged purplish lightning sizzled across the clouds, so close the hair stirred on his scalp and his horse jolted forward with a panicked scream. As he cursed and seized the reins, bringing it back under control, he felt the first drops of rain patter against his skin. He nudged the horse toward the shelter, where Eraeth stood staring out after him, his face hard with disapproval, Siobhaen behind him holding both of their skittish mounts.
A moment later, Eraeth and Siobhaen vanished behind a deluge of rain, sheets of it blocking Colin’s view. He spluttered, digging in his heels, felt the horse begin the climb up the slope toward the stone plinth. A moment later, soaked to the bone, he and his mount passed beneath the overhanging ledge of rock. Eraeth grabbed hold of his mount’s bridle and drew him deeper under the enclosure.
“Why did you slow down?” Eraeth demanded as Colin slid from the saddle, reaching to pull his packs down as well. Colin shivered, water runneling off him in streams.
“I wanted to see how it formed,” he said through chattering teeth. He caught Eraeth’s gaze and muttered, “It’s cold.”
Eraeth shook his head.
“Where did the storm come from?” Siobhaen asked, taking Colin’s lead and removing packs from the other two horses. “The skies were clear. It came out of nowhere. Literally.”
“It’s the boundary between the Summer Tree and the Source the Wraiths are using to attack it. The friction between the two powers creates energy, and that energy has to be expended somehow. That’s how the storms are formed, and something similar creates the occumaen, although I’ve never seen the occumaen’s formation in person.”
“But you said the Source was only recently awakened. The storms began long before that.”
“The storms are created when two magical forces are at odds with each other. The storms from before came from friction between the unbalanced Wells. The balance had not been thrown that far off, so the storms weren’t as common, the occumaen not as strong. But when Walter and the Wraiths began waking the dormant Wells.…”
He didn’t finish; another bolt of lightning sizzled outside their shelter, the crack of thunder so loud he felt it lancing through his bones. It sounded as if stone had shattered. He gritted his teeth against it and stared out at the suddenly blackened day, rain sheeting off the stone shelf above them so fast it formed a waterfall over the shelter’s entrance. Somewhere in the rock plinth behind them, the water had found a niche or crack and ran in a slower trickle down one side of their alcove.
“How long will this last?” Siobhaen asked, her back pressed against the crumbling stone wall farthest from the entrance. Her eyes were wider than normal, her shoulders hunched. When she saw both of them watching her, she stiffened and glared. “I don’t like lightning.” Her voice dared them to laugh.
Colin shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. I’d settle in, though. I don’t feel any lessening of the energies that are creating the storm at the moment.”
Siobhaen nodded and began rooting through her satchel, pulling out a package of smoked meat and a skin of water, both provided by the dwarren. Colin remained near the opening, faint spray from the rain dampening his face. He shivered again at the chill, although the worst of it had passed. His clothes clung to his skin.
Eraeth shifted beside him.
“You realize what this means, don’t you?” Colin said softly.
Eraeth nodded. “Once the storm passes, we’ll be outside the protection of the Summer Tree.”
“We’ll have to keep sharper watch. The Shadows and the other creatures of the Wraith’s armies will be able
