For a long moment the mage stood still, breathing deeply, trying to regain his composure. The spirit's mocking words echoed in his mind, words made all the more horrible because there was a shard of truth in them. However, those were feelings Morhion had banished long ago. It is a mage's lot to dwell in solitude, he told himself. He repeated the words again, and again, until at last his heart quieted Then he made his way through the grove, hurrying back to camp before the others noticed his absence.
Two days later they reached the small trading town of Triel.
It was more of a fortified stockade than a proper town, but they were able to buy fresh supplies, and at least there was one inn where they could spend a night indoors. As in every town, there were thieves in Triel, and it didn't take Cormik and Jewel long to ferret them out. The two returned to their rendezvous point in the town square.
'We're getting closer to Stiletto's base of operations,' Cormik told Morhion and Kellen.
Jewel nodded in agreement. 'The thieves here were extorted into paying tribute to Stiletto months before anyone had even so much as heard the name in Hill's Edge. We're definitely not far away now.' Then perhaps there is a chance we may yet reach the Shadowstar before Caledan,' Morhion said. Mari returned then. She had gone to discuss news with the local lord.
'How did it go?' Cormik inquired. 'Strangely,' Mari said, rolling her eyes. 'Lord Elvar's the most paranoid man I've ever met. He makes you look as svelte as a willow switch, Cormik, yet he's convinced he's going to starve to death. However, he's less worried than he was a few days ago.'
'Why is that?' Jewel asked. Mari went on excitedly. 'It seems rats were plaguing Elvar's granary. Then a stranger came to town-a stranger who got rid of the rats by conjuring dark cats with the music of his pipes. What's more, the stranger stayed on for a while at Elvar's insistence. He left just two days ago.' Her eyes flashed brilliantly. 'Caledan's been here.'
'I know,' Kellen said quietly. He pointed to an object in a dim corner. It was a hand reaching out of the cobbles from which it had been forged. It was clenched in agony and despair, like the handd of a drowning man. Mari shook her head in sorrow. 'Caledan,' she whispered.
'It's almost as if he's leaving us these signs deliberately.'
'Yes, ' Morhion echoed quietly. 'But if so, what do they mean?'
K'shar pushed aside the tangled witchgrass and gazed upon the half-metamorphosed milestone with curious golden eyes. Without doubt, this was the work of Caldorien's twisted shadow magic. For three nights and two days, the half-elf had been running swiftly through the Reaching Woods, stopping a mere half-dozen times, and then only long enough to sip water from a clear brook or to swallow a handful of acorns or late berries. Now blood surged hotly in his veins. He had found the trail.
Quickly, he examined the footprints pressed into the soft earth around the milestone. Five people had gathered here: a strong yet graceful woman, a tall man, a child, a heavy man, and a small woman who walked lithely but with a slight foot drag-perhaps due to age or injury. K'shar could guess the identities of at least three of them. The strong woman was Mari Al'maren; the tall man was the mage Morhion Gen'dahar; the child was Caldorien's son, Kellen. The renegade Al'maren was indeed trying to find Caldorien, and it appeared she had help. K'shar regretted that she had a child with her children were blameless creatures, and far too often paid for the crimes of their elders-but that did not matter He would let nothing stand between himself and his prey
As the autumn day wore on, K'shar loped easily down the Dusk Road, stretching out his long legs. From time to time, spying a traveler approaching, he would plunge into the thickets beside the highway, moving silently until it was safe to return to the road once more. K'shar preferred to make his way through the world unseen.
While he felt no hunger, by midday he knew he needed sustenance, or the swiftness of his pace would suffer. Halting, he scanned a hedgerow with keen eyes. Suddenly he plunged a hand into the bracken with uncanny speed. When he withdrew his hand, a fawn-colored rabbit struggled in his grip. K'shar spoke a gentle word, passing a hand before the creature's face. The animal fell still, gazing at him with trusting brown eyes. It felt nothing when he snapped its neck with a precise twist of his hand. There was no time for a fire, so K'shar ate the rabbit raw. While the half-elf respected all animals, he felt no regret in killing the rabbit. It was the lot of the hunted to sustain the hunter. And one day, when he died, his own body would feed the grass that the rabbit ate. Such was the nature of the chase.
Stars were beginning to appear in a dusky sky when K'shar reached Hill's Edge. The trading settlement was in a stir; something had transpired here recently. Curious, the half-elf prowled undetected through town, catching snippets of conversations. At last he overheard somethingg of interest. Sinking into a shadowed corner, he listened to two people talking on the front steps of an inn. I told Faladar that I didn't like the looks of them,' lamented a red-faced woman-a cook by her stained apron and the large wooden spoon she clutched. 'But he wouldn't listen to me. Not that he ever did.' You saw them then?' a man in merchant's garb asked in fascination.
'Aye, I did,' the woman replied dramatically. It was clear this was not the first time she had told this tale. 'They came here at dusk two nights ago, and a strange-looking bunch they were. The red-haired woman, she wore sword at her hip. And the tall one, he had the air of a wizard about him. Had a gaze to freeze your blood, he did. They killed poor Faladar, I'm certain of it.' She let out an overwrought sigh. 'And now it's up to me to run the Five Rings all by myself.'
Something made K'shar think that the woman was not truly sorry to be in charge of the inn. Silent as a wraith, he slipped away. He needed to hear no more. Al'maren and her companions had been here just two nights ago, evidently they had murdered a man. The renegade was sinking low indeed. Quickly, he made his way out of town.
It was full dark, and the moon had not yet risen when K'shar came to the stone bridge over the River Reaching, but his golden eyes required only the faintest of light. He knew it was for abilities such as this that his grand mother's people had been-and still were-persecuted. Some thought that the ability to see in the dark could come only from evil magic. K'shar knew that the darkvision came from generations of his ancestors living in lightless underground caverns. Regardless of its origin, the darkvision was best kept secret, K'shar knew, even from the Harpers. Those who walked the daylight world would not understand his dark heritage.
As he set foot on the bridge, something caught his sharp eyes. He knelt to examine the moist dirt in front of the stone span.
'By all the stars of midnight,' he swore softly.
The tracks had been trampled by booted feet and iron shod hooves. But K'shar could see enough to know they were like no tracks he had seen in all his years as a Hunter. They were shaped like the prints of a barefoot man, but the toes were unusually long, and there were only three of them, and these ended in curved talons. No man had left these tracks. Nor had any beast that K'shar was familiar with.
Fascinated, he followed the strange tracks. There had been two of the creatures. They had stood before the bridge for a time before heading southward. The tracks were clearer once they left the heavily traveled road, and after a short way they were joined by the prints of a third, similar creature. K'shar halted. He had come to a place where the tracks of the unknown creatures were superimposed on a different set of prints-prints he recognized.
'Al'maren,' he said in amazement. He squatted down and studied the myriad shapes pressed into the ground. Whatever the three creatures they had chased Al'maren and her friends toward the edge of the Reaching Woods. Had Caldorien ventured into the Reaching Woods as well? Or had he continued westward down the Dusk Road? The half-elf mulled over this dilemma. He could not be certain which way Caldorien had gone. On the other hand, he was certain about
Al'maren. He made his decision.
'A Harper in the hand is worth two in the bush,' he noted wryly, before plunging soundlessly into the shadowed forest.
Thirteen
The lone traveler had been following the broad swath of the Trade Way for three days now, ever since leaving the strange little town of Triel behind. The traveler did not know his destination, but that did not matter.
