“Quickly!” the Warder said, waving them after him. Naked fear blazed in his eyes.
Thealos and Flent caught up with the group. Thealos breathed the humid air in gulps, trying to quell the fear and nausea in his stomach. He had never witnessed the carnage of a battle before. The blood-spattered wretches writhing in the mud didn’t hint at the glory and honor that had always been his perception of war. And he had never felt so abandoned or so alone, so at odds with the peace and tranquility of Avisahn. In all the hard business dealings in Dos-Aralon, he had felt the absence of the Earth magic. The din of commotion always muted it. But the depressing blackness of thought and feeling that suffocated him was a hundredfold worse than anything he had experienced. Even the bitterness of the Krag they had faced was nothing compared to this. No, the Forbidden magic being used in the army was anathema to any Shae. And the wielder of that magic knew he was there — silent, thoughtful, and fully aware of his presence. A shiver of comfort ran through him, and he turned to see Jaerod behind him.
“We’re almost through,” Jaerod said, and the words brought Thealos back from the cliff of his fears. He could feel the man’s presence tingling on the back of his neck. The Sleepwalker had doubled back, leaving Sturnin alone in front. Thealos glanced at each side of the camp, watching the trembling masses of men rise from their bedrolls, struggling to overcome the lethargy of sleep. They were too slow, too sick and disorganized to stop them. Jaerod’s voice pitched low by his ear. “If we’re separated, go on to Landmoor. Let nothing stop you.”
In the bowels of the camp, Thealos felt a presence stir – a whisper of magic that stung his nose and brought tears to his eyes. His knees buckled. He stopped and stared, blinking quickly, and tried to steady himself. The presence was unmistakable and chilling. Squinting in the darkness, he saw a single pavilion, separated from the rest. Thealos went cold to the bone.
“Keep moving!” the Sleepwalker said, rallying the group around him. “Close together now.”
Thealos stood paralyzed.
“Come on, Thealos,” Jaerod urged. “It is only fear. I will protect you.”
“The Sorian,” Thealos stammered, all blackness and chills.
“Yes, the Sorian. The magic in Landmoor can stop this. Remember.”
He listened to the Sleepwalker’s voice and grasped onto his words. Fighting down the panic, he gripped his own blade’s pommel for reassurance and followed Jaerod into the last row of pickets. Dead soldiers littered the ground.
“What now, Sleepwalker?” Sturnin demanded, mopping the sweat from his forehead. His mail shirt was cut in several places, showing glistening snags of chain. He had several nasty wounds. The breastplate was smeared in blood, giving the knight a menacing look in the dim light.
Allavin clutched an injury on his side and scanned the treeline. “Kiran Thall are roaming on the south bend. Ambushes everywhere. We should leave the road and strike into the woods. I can get us south around them. The road will be too dangerous now with their horsemen.”
Jaerod nodded. “The Kiran Thall will follow us into the woods. Lead the way, Allavin.”
Thealos felt a whisper of death in the air and froze again. He smelled the Forbidden magic even stronger. Justin shoved up his sleeves, revealing thin arms prickling with gooseflesh. The Warder Shae was as tense as a bowstring.
“It’s here,” Justin whispered with dread.
Out of the darkness of the wood before them came a shape sharing the colors of the night. Soft velvety robes swished and moved apart, revealing a woman holding a glowing orange orb. Her eyes were depthless and black and sent shoots of fright down to Thealos’ toes. He couldn’t breathe.
“Get behind me,” Jaerod warned, moving before the band to face her. His tapered blade was up defensively, gleaming with a cool white light. He jerked his head to Allavin. “Take them, now!”
“Go!” Allavin barked, jerking Ticastasy by the arm and breaking off away from the main road and the two combatants. The Sorian and the Sleepwalker faced off in the reddish light of her orb.
For a moment, Thealos panicked. He didn’t want to leave Jaerod alone, yet he felt helpless where he was.
Justin did not.
The Warder Shae stretched out his long thin arms and sent a blast of Earth magic at the woman. Thealos inhaled the acrid smell of flame and cinders that brushed against his face as the light exploded on them. Heat and flames licked at her robes, but the orb flickered once and the fire guttered out, leaving nothing but haze.
“Go, Warder!” Jaerod said, advancing on her. “She is more than your match.”
Justin’s body tensed as he stared with hate at the Sorian. She stood still, studying Jaerod with an impish smile on her mouth. She wasn’t interested in the Shae at all.
“Welcome to the Shoreland, Sleepwalker,” she said in a teasing voice. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back.”