nodded at him, made his mouth into an 'O' as he drew in fresh air, then shuffled forward to the crater.
He peered inside.
'There's nothing here, me lord,' he called back.
Safar concentrated, radiating a cautious 'find and flee' spell across the meadow. It was a difficult exercise. The rocky encirclement forming the meadow also made a natural cup that urged spells to flow back to their source.
The group had returned to his side by the time he was done.
Safar shrugged. 'As far as I can tell, sergeant,' he said, 'it's safe. Hells, there's barely a sign of the magic that was done here. Certainly nothing to exorcise. Whatever spirit visited this place has either gone or is in such deep hiding that I can't find him.'
His words were hardly reassuring-nor were they meant to be. Dario and the others scanned the area, nervous. A few moments before they'd been full of fire, set on vengeance. Now they were wondering if anyone … or thing … was examining them, measuring them for the grave.
It was Renor who broke the mood. He drew himself up. 'I'm ready for whatever they're after,' he said.
His comment made no outward sense, but it resonated deep into the cavern of last resorts, where all threatened things retreat to make their final stand.
Dario nodded-a downward jerk of his sharp features, like an ax cutting through. 'Sure we are,' he said.
Warmth spread through them all like a comforting wine as the villagers, including Safar, drew on their common strength.
It was then that the first wolf howled.
This was a howl from the earth. A hunting howl, ululating across the glen, then turning sharper, higher, victorious, as the Hunter found its prey.
There was not a man standing on that bloody meadow who did not know in his heart the Great Wolf was calling, and that its hungry call was meant for him.
A moment later another wolf howled in reply; a huge creature from the sound of its baying, but not as large as the Great Wolf. Then another acolyte of the fang joined the first two. And then another, until the whole meadow rang with their ungodsly song.
The howling stopped as suddenly as it began. Only a deathly silence remained, a void almost as frightening as the devil wolves.
Dario coughed-hard and harsh to choke up the phlegm of fear. 'I was never the sort what opposed an orderly retreat, me lord,' he said in a gruff voice. 'Assumin' the circumstances called for it.'
Dario jerked as the howling resumed-even closer than before. The old warrior forced himself to relax and then he smiled, carved wooden teeth making an old man's splintered grin.
'What I'm sayin', me lord,' Dario continued, ignoring the howls as best he could, 'is that right now appears to be one of them circumstances I was talkin' about. For retreatin', I mean.'
Serious as the situation was Safar couldn't help but laugh. 'I don't think you'll find anyone here who objects to such a strategy,' he said.
The laughter calmed the other men. They all grinned and nodded. Safar gestured toward the trail they'd taken into the meadow.
'You can have the honor of leading the retreat, sergeant,' he said. 'But go as quickly as you can. Don't look back. Only forward. And don't pay any attention to anything that might confront you. Just charge on through. Do you understand?'
Dario licked his lips, then nodded. He formed up the group, young Renor in the center, and at Safar's signal he charged, moving at an amazing pace for one so old. The others had to strain to keep up.
Safar followed until he reached the meadow's edge. There he calmly halted and shed his pack. He unbuckled it, drawing out a half dozen small stoppered bottles. He waited, the howls growing louder and closer.
Then he saw them-gigantic wolf-like shapes bounding out of the rocks. There were four of them, twice the size of a man. They were a misty gray, like fog, but so lightly formed Safar could see through them.
Safar picked up one of the bottles, hefting it in his hand. It was filled with a silver liquid tinged with purple- wolf bane mixed with mercury. It was heavy for its small size. He tossed it from hand to hand like one of Methydia's circus juggling balls.
And he intoned:
Trickster,
Shape changer-
Bane
He hurled the bottle.
It sailed through the air, falling a good twenty feet before the charging spectral pack. Safar turned away, shielding his eyes, just as the bottle struck. Great sheets of purple flame exploded. He heard satisfying howls of pain and rage. He scooped up the other bottles and ran after Dario and the others.
For fifteen paces or so the only sound was the ringing in his ears from the explosion and the terrified yowls from the ghostly wolf pack. Then he heard the eerie, commanding cry of the Great Wolf ordering the pack to follow. It echoed through the small meadow, was pinched in by the frozen rock, and then blasted forward to sear his back.
The ghost wolves, however, recovered almost immediately and he hadn't taken more than five paces before he heard the sound of their running feet just behind him.
They were so close he didn't have time to stop and aim. He hurled a bottle over his shoulder as hard as he could, digging his toes into the ground with such force that he practically levitated as he flew down the trail, sliding where it curved toward a cliff edge and sending a shower of ice and frozen pebbles over the side. He fought for balance, hearing the debris tumble down a frightening distance and the sound of his howling pursuers drawing near. Then the bottle struck and the explosion was so forceful he almost went over the edge himself. He recovered at the last moment, boot heels skittering at the cliff's edge as he hurled himself to the side and back onto the path.
Again he heard the yowls of pain. Again he heard the Great Wolf howl for his spectral pack to follow.
But from the sound of the baying pack there was a more comfortable distance than before.
Safar caught up to the others as they entered a canyon, shrouded on all sides by a thick, clinging fog.
He heard a growl then a grinding and he shouted, 'Faster!' And everyone threw caution away and ran as fast as they could. But it wasn't quite fast enough to avoid the huge boulders that rumbled into their midst.
Safar heard someone scream and turned just in time to see one of his fellow Kyranians fall beneath a huge rock. It crushed his legs, then bounced away down the mountainside.
Dario shouted a halt and as the men hastily lifted up their moaning, badly wounded friend, Safar swept about and hurled two more jars into the surrounding fog. He aimed blindly, but he heard shrieks of pain and knew he'd struck his mark.
Then they were running again-on and on, until all their strength was gone and they could run no more.
Safar and Dario directed the group to a clump of snow-covered boulders, where they sat their injured friend down and turned to meet the pursuing horror.
To their immense relief there was only fog and silence. After a moment or two Safar probed the mist with his senses. He found nothing.
The Great Wolf and his ghost pack were gone.
They crouched in their camp all that night and set off at first light. It was a cheery day, with only the Demon Moon hanging on the northern horizon to remind them that this was not the most delightful place in the world to be. Birds were singing, fawn were dancing in the forest and small animals darted underfoot.
No one was fooled.
They could hear heavy bodies moving through the underbrush behind them and knew they were being trailed. Even so, they reached Kyrania by late afternoon with no further incidents.
Everyone was too tired to do more than report the barest details of what happened. Still, those details were harrowing enough to rouse the village into mounting a guard at all the main entrances to the valley.
Safar collected Palimak from his parents' house. The boy ran into his arms, sobbing as if he had undergone an
