They were willing to answer certain questions about themselves, but only to a point. They had a way 0 f turning aside unwanted questions by speaking in circles, appearing to give replies when in fact they were engaged in loquacious obfuscation. Talking to a halfling could sometimes be like trying to catch a will-o’-the-wisp, thought Aedan.
They seemed outgoing enough and friendly, but there was still much that they kept to themselves.
For all the times that Futhark had guided them on expeditions through the Shadow Word, this was the first time he had ever made mention of the Cold Rider, and if they had not seen him-or it-Aedan was sure Futhark would not have volunteered the information.
If he was so afraid of this mysterious apparition, why keep coming back to this place? Why agree to guide them through the Shadow World? Why not simply stay in Cerilia, in the comparative safety of the world of daylight, and never return to this place that he and his people fled?
Was it truly only a question of money, or necessity, as Futhark had put it?
Halflings needed to five, like anybody else, but there were many halflings-the vast majority of them, so far as Aedan knew-who had found vocations for themselves as craftsmen, traders, merchants or entertainers in Cerilia and never went back to the world from which they had come. What made Futhark and his scouts so different?
Of course, they were paid extremely well. But could that have been enough? If the Cold Rider filled them with such fear that they had fled their world, why return and risk encountering him?
Aedan tried to put himself in Futhark’s place as he considered possibilities, the way his father taught him. Suppose something had made him flee his own world, the home that he had always known? Might there still not be, despite the dangers, a desire to go back? Perhaps.
He could not imagine leaving Anuire permanently. It was the place of his birth, the city where he had grown up. He knew every street and alleyway like the back of his own hand. It would be difficult to leave, never to return. Always, he felt certain, there would be a pull back to his own homeland-and if something had happened to blight Anuire the way this world had been blighted, he had no doubt he would nurture a desire to see it returned to the way it once had been.
Here he was now, out of time, riding through a cold and misty world that always seemed more nightmare than reality, and he felt a desperate longing to be back in his own world, on familiar ground.
Might not, then, the halflings feel the same?
Back home, he would visit the grave of his father every time he returned from a campaign or felt the weight of his responsibilities pulling him down. He would go early in the morning, when the cemetery was still deserted, and sit down on the ground beside the mound of earth that marked his father’s resting place, and he would speak to him, unburdening himself and asking for advice and guidance.
It was not the same, of course, as when his father had still been alive, though Aedan liked to think somewhere in the heavens his father could still hear him and send him strength and wisdom. He took great comfort in it. Perhaps it was like that for Futhark and the other halflings who periodically returned to the world from which they fled.
It was no longer the same, but they still took some comfort in returning.
“Of all the humans I have ever known,” Sylvanna said, breaking into his thoughts, “your silences speak loudest.”
Aedan looked at her and smiled wanly. “Forgive me. I am not being a very good traveling companion on this journey.”
“That was not what I meant,” she said as she rode beside him. “I was not complaining. I was merely remarking on the fact that I can always tell when you are troubled.”
“Have I become so obvious? That is a bad trait in an imperial minister.
I shall have to correct it.”
“We shall make it back; don’t worry- “
“It is my job to worry. The emperor has neither time nor the inclination. I must do his worrying for “And who worries for you?”
“I worry for us both. It can be quite exhausting.”
“If you like, I can worry for you. Then that would relieve you of at least some of your burden.”
He glanced at her and saw that she was smiling.
He grinned despite himself. “You know, sometimes I think you’re actually beginning to act human.”
She sniffed disdainfully. “Well, you don’t have to be insulting.”
The screams were sudden and terrible. They cut through the stillness of the night, coming from behind them, at the rear of the troop formation.
Aedan and Sylvanna wheeled their horses simultaneously, and Sylvanna’s sword sang free of its scabbard. The men in the ranks immediately behind them stopped and without hesitation instantly turned to either side, prepared to meet anything that might come up on their flanks.
Their battle-seasoned instincts served them well, thought Aedan, and it was a good thing too, as became frighteningly apparent within moments.
In the darkness, Aedan could not see what was happening back at the rear of the formation, but he could see the torches there bobbing wildly and erratically, some falling to the ground as the men dropped them to engage whatever was attacking …
or else fell to the ground themselves. But before Aedan could do anything, he heard rapid hoofbeats coming up behind him and an instant later saw the emperor gallop past, sword in hand, heading full speed toward the rear of the formation.
“Sire, wait!” Aedan called out, but Michael was already disappearing into the darkness. He had moved so quickly that not even Lord Korven or any
