Realms of War

'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 their haste to be away, then scattered in all directions. One of the Tuigan warriors tried to jump aside, but he was too late and the horse trampled him into the snow.

Holwan was quicker. He lunged as the horse shot past him. Throwing his bow aside, the Khassidi latched onto the horse's long mane and pulled himself into the saddle. He grabbed the reins and pulled the fighting horse around.

Another arrow stuck in the bear's side, but still it came on. It slowed long enough to swipe one of the Tuigans to the ground. Gethred winced at the sound of ripping leather and breaking bone, then a horse was thundering up on him. He looked up in time to see Holwan leaning down from the saddle, one arm reaching down.

Without thinking Gethred grabbed Holwan's arm, pulled himself onto the horse's rump behind the saddle, and they were off, leaving the camp behind and following the course of the gully.

Holwan let the horse have its lead for the first few twists of the gully, then he forced it up a shallow incline back onto the open steppe. As they crested the rise, Gethred shouted, 'What about the others?'

'The shu t'met comes for you,' said Holwan. 'He will follow. Pray for us, not my brothers.' Gethred did.

* * * * *

Tuigan horses are not large. In fact, most people west of the Sunrise Mountains called them ponies, though Gethred knew that was a misconception. Shorter than western horses the Tuigan mounts were, but they were also heartier and more suited to life in the Hordelands. Still, hearty as they were, the beast was not suited to bearing two riders at full gallop for long, and before they had made it past two shallow hills, Gethred could hear the ragged edge to their mount's breathing.

Still, the horse's terror lent it strength, and Holwan drove the beast hard.

Gethred risked a glance back. The eastern sky was a glow­ing pale curtain, and the only stars still visible rode the top of the Sunrise Mountains to their right. The lightening sky shone brightly off the snowfields, and what Gethred saw lurched his stomach into a tight knot.

Their mount left a wake of flying snow behind them, but another cloud—much larger than the one they made—erupted from the snow behind them. Before it was a massive, dark shape. The bear. And it was gaining on them.

'Holwan, faster!' Gethred screamed.

The Khassidi kicked the horse's flanks, and it managed another burst of speed. Hope lit in Gethred's heart, and he looked over his shoulder—

—in time to see a claw as large as a pikeman's shield swiping at the horse's hind legs.

He opened his mouth to scream, but the horse's shriek cut him off, and both Holwan and his mount crashed