brook.
Khysmet whinnied and Safar saw something moving through the mist and then it swirled away and the most marvelous woman he'd ever seen floated into view. The mist parted more, like a veil being drawn back, and with a shock he saw she was riding the remarkable black mare he'd seen in the vision.
Then his eyes were drawn back to the woman. She was achingly, exotically beautiful. She had long limbs and ebony skin with long waves of hair tumbling to her waist. She was nearly naked, wearing only a loin cloth and a light chain vest that swung open as she rode, showing her long torso and small, shapely breasts. She had a bow over her shoulder, along with a quiver of heavy arrows. Strapped to her waist was a short, broad-bladed sword.
Khysmet snorted, shifting back and forth as his blood warmed at the sight and scent of the mare. Then the rider and her steed sensed their presence and froze. Both turned to peer through the mist.
Safar felt a thrilling jolt as his eyes met the woman's. They were large and dark and full of wary interest as she examined him in turn. Her face was long, with high cheekbones, brows like black swallow wings, a slender nose slightly hooked over a sensuous mouth.
He saw that mouth twitch with humor and then the woman raised her hand to him as if in greeting.
Safar waved back and started forward, Khysmet quivering under him, filled with burning thoughts of getting closer to that mare.
The woman laughed-it was a rich husky laugh, a laugh out of the deep places in the forest, full of mystery and delight and no little danger. She wheeled the mare about and plunged back toward the wood and the mist swallowed her up. Safar heard the laughter trailing behind her and he urged Khysmet forward.
The stallion didn't need the urging and he exploded after the mare, crossing the meadow in a single jump and plunging into the mist.
It was a delicious chase, a chase full of thrills and near encounters that only added to the fire burning in both man and horse. The mare was Khysmet's equal and the woman was more than Safar's match when it came to pure riding. She led him on a merry hunt through the forest. Sometimes she'd let him draw near then dash away under branches so low Safar was nearly swept off, while she ducked down and easily evaded them. Or she'd disappear for so long he'd be hurled into depression thinking he'd lost her, then she'd burst out of a grove, hold the mare just long enough for Safar to get near, then wheel and dash away again.
Finally they came to the forest's edge and the mysterious horsewoman cantered out. There was a long patch of narrow ground bordered by a steep cliff. Safar's heart tripped when he saw she could go no further.
Then she turned her mare to face him, dropping the reins as if to show the chase was over. The mare nickered for the stallion and Khysmet trotted forward, eager to join her.
The closer Safar came, the more beauteous and exotic the dark stranger seemed. Her long arms and legs were remarkably graceful. Her ebony skin gleamed as if it were burnished and her smile was a bright welcoming light. But it was her eyes which captivated him most, so wide and dark and full of humor.
When he came within twenty feet or so, she raised her hand again. 'Please stop,' she said, in a voice that was low and full of warmth.
Safar did as she asked but his heart was with Khysmet, who grunted in protest when he reined him in. He obeyed but with great reluctance and once again Safar was struck by the horse's strength of purpose.
Any other stallion would have thrown Safar off and hurled himself upon the dancing mare.
'So you're the famous Safar Timura,' the woman said. She looked him up and down and seemed to like what she saw. 'I must say, I'm certainly not disappointed.'
'Who are you, my lady?' Safar asked. 'Please grant me the boon of your name.'
She laughed and shook her head. 'Why, I can't tell you that,' she said teasingly, 'for if you knew it I could deny you nothing.'
Safar's mouth became dry, his throat parched as a desert thicket.
The woman tossed her head, tresses floating in the wind. 'Oh, but I probably shouldn't worry about that,'
she said. 'If I were pleasing to look upon, perhaps I'd have reason to worry. But as it is…' a graceful hand swept down and up, indicating her lovely form … 'I fear I'm too plain for one such as you.'
'Who said you were plain?' Safar said. 'Tell me and I swear that great liar will soon lack a tongue for so offending you.'
Another musical laugh. 'Only my sisters, Safar Timura, and it would be a vast relief if I had sisters without tongues. They're such dull-witted chatterboxes. But I think my mother would object, so, alas, I must refuse your kind offer to rid them of the means to torment me.'
'I am the one in torment, my lady,' Safar said. 'To be kept in ignorance of one such as you is the deepest of miseries. If you can't find it in your heart to say your name, at least tell me your reason for being here.
Are you lost? Is there some way I can assist you?'
Her ripe lips twisted in amusement. 'Lost? I think not. A Spirit Rider is never lost!' A small laugh.
'Although one of my sisters was confused for a month or two. But that's because she dallied with a handsome lad and forgot her duty. My father punished her-much too mildly in my opinion.'
Safar goggled. Spirit Rider? He'd never heard of such a thing.
'As for assisting me,' she continued, 'it's my duty to assist you, Safar. My father sent me to warn you of grave danger.'
Now it was Safar's turn for amusement. 'Danger? How unusual.' he said dryly. 'What, pray tell, could be a greater danger than Iraj Protarus?'
The woman frowned, 'Protarus? I don't know this name.' Then her face cleared. 'Ah,' she said, 'you mean the strange one who pursues you.'
'The very one,' Safar said.
'I can't say if you will survive this Protarus fellow,' she said. 'He's a shape changer in league with other shape changers so it's impossible to predict the outcome.'
'Then I repeat the question, my lady,' he said. 'What could be worse than Iraj Protarus?'
'You will meet it in Caluz,' she said. 'There you will face a challenge as great as the shape changer and all his armies.'
Safar's heart raced. 'But I must go there!' he said harshly. 'Lord Asper commanded it!' Intuitively he knew she understood who Asper was.
'Of course, you must!' the woman exclaimed. 'Otherwise you'll never reach Syrapis.'
'Then what's the sense of the warning?' Safar asked. 'I already know Caluz is dangerous.'
'It's much worse than you think, Safar Timura,' she said. 'Whatever preparations you have in mind-double them!'
'I will,' Safar said.
'One other thing,' the woman said. 'My father bade me to say that what you seek to defeat your enemy-this Iraj Protarus, I presume-can be found at the temple in Caluz.'
'You mean the oracle?' Safar asked. 'The Oracle of Hadin? I know something about-'
She stopped him with a raised hand. 'I can say no more. Go to Caluz just as you planned,' she said.
'Accomplish what you intend to accomplish. But remember, Safar Timura, in Caluz all is not as it seems.
Seek the truth beyond the veil of lies.'
Suddenly the woman and the mare began to fade. 'I have to go,' she said.
'Wait!' Safar shouted.
She shook her head, becoming fainter and fainter until she was like a ghost. She waved to him.
'Farewell, Safar Timura,' she cried, then turned the mare and plunged toward the cliff.
The woman and her steed were translucent, now. At the cliff's edge the mare leaped high.
The woman shouted, 'Until we meet again!'
'Where shall we meet?' Safar cried after her. 'Where?'
She vanished, but her answer was left floating in the air:
'Syrapis!'
Safar came awake with a start. Across from him, Leiria was still sleeping peacefully. He glanced at the campfire and was surprised to see it exactly the same as when he'd fallen asleep. The vision had seemed so long, yet only a few seconds had passed.
He rose quietly and went out to where Khysmet was tethered. The stallion perked up his ears as he
