Worst of all, Sacharissa was already nosing the ground in the direction they needed to go, tracking the spoor like one of the hunting dogs that followed them.
“It was headed the same way,” Arcturus said, trying to hide the apprehension in his voice.
“Well, we’ll keep our wits about us,” Rotter said. “If there’s just one, I can probably handle it, but you’d better release your demons now, just in case. Hurry, we need to move—they’ll follow our scents easily enough now, demons or no demons.”
Arcturus looked on as Edmund and Alice delved in their quivers, where they had stored their summoning leathers in a handy compartment. The pair knelt in the moist earth and unraveled them, then together they summoned their demons in a flash of white light.
It was with some surprise that Arcturus saw Edmund had a second demon—a Canid. It was a lean, long-legged beast with a pelt of slate fur and a long muzzle, not unlike a giant greyhound. The demon was almost large enough for Elaine to ride, with its back reaching the height of Arcturus’s chest.
Mere moments after it had materialized, the demon hared toward Sacharissa, its tail wagging excitedly at the sight of another Canid.
“Back, Gelert,” Edmund called as the two Canids crouched on the ground, paws extended, play fighting as dogs were wont to do. “Leave that pup alone.”
But Arcturus was not looking at Gelert—for Alice’s demon had brushed against his legs.
He recognized the creature from his demonology book—in fact it was one of the first he had learned of, but it made the beast no less fascinating to his novice’s eyes. It was a Vulpid, and he was instantly smitten.
Its lustrous fur was a yellow white, like finely threaded gold, coating what appeared to be the body of a fox, complete with the animal’s narrow muzzle and broad triangular ears. But most beautiful of all was its tail—or rather, tails: three of them, in fact. Each was as thick and bushy as the real-world counterpart, and the trio of brushes whirled excitedly with every step.
Arcturus had to resist the temptation to stroke the beautiful creature, and suddenly understood Elaine’s obsession with Sacharissa.
“She’s beautiful!” Elaine said, hugging her arms to her chest. “What’s her name?”
“His name,” Alice corrected. “It’s Reynard.”
Arcturus smiled. Sacharissa had competition.
Even as Arcturus watched the three demons meet ahead of them, circling each other with excitement, the faintest echo of a sound broke through. Barking, drifting on the wind.
It pricked up all three of the demons’ ears, and Arcturus spun round, looking in the direction they had come from. His view was obscured by the vegetation, and their pursuers were too far to see regardless, but now he saw the trail they had left—the broken stems and parted vegetation they had pushed through. There was no doubt in his mind which group the hunters would follow.
There was no need to say another word. Together, they turned and ran. It seemed endless, hearts pounding, breaths coming thick and fast, quivers rattling and bouncing along their backs. Rotter was setting an impossible pace, the hardy veteran used to marching long hours.
Elaine was the first to go down. Arcturus knew she had tried, tried harder than any of them, for he had kept a watchful eye on her as they had sprinted along the uneven ground, ducking low-hanging branches and hacking through where the path had become overgrown. There was no room for stealth now; they knew the hunters were chasing them. The barking seemed to be getting louder.
He did not see it, but heard her fall, tripping on an errant root worming its way across the path. She had been too tired to notice it. Too tired to get up.
“Elaine!”
Arcturus ran to her side and hauled her to her feet. She could barely stand, hanging off his arm like a sack of potatoes.
“We need to take a break,” Arcturus gasped at the others.
Rotter turned and held up a hand, chest heaving.
“Let me think,” the soldier said, looking back behind them. “They’re already faster than us, even if I carry her.”
He looked around, then fell to his knees, pushing his hands deep into the dirt. The ground he kneeled on had been torn up by the thoroughfare of animals, and puddles had formed in their tracks, creating a makeshift water hole. The air was tinged with the smell of animal feces and urine.
For a moment Arcturus thought he was praying. Then the soldier pulled out a dollop of mud and kneaded it in his hands.
“Take off your clothes,” he said, standing and removing the red-cloth surcoat that covered his chain mail.
“Are you joking?” Edmund said.
“There’s no bloody time; take off as much as possible. Do it, quickly!”
Arcturus stared at the soldier as if he were mad, but still he did it, tearing at the metal buttons of his uniform and pulling at his shirt until he stood bare-chested beside Edmund. The two girls still wore their lace undershirts to protect their modesty, but their jackets and overshirts were off.
“Wipe your sweat with them—get as much on there as you can,” Rotter growled, mopping at his brow with the surcoat.
In truth, Arcturus was soaked in sweat from his run, and it was a relief to wipe away the salt that had been stinging his eyes.
“Which of your demons is fastest?” Rotter said after they were finished.
“Gelert can run like the wind,” Edmund said proudly.
“Good,” Rotter said, bundling the clothes together in a makeshift knot with his surcoat. “I need you to give him these and send him running down there for as long as you feel comfortable with. Then order him off the path, get him to bury the clothes and roll around in the mud, and take a roundabout path through the bushes before coming back to us. Can you do that?”
Edmund nodded grimly, and the large Canid took the clothing in its mouth. Then, after a quick hug from Edmund, it was off, haring down the path faster than Arcturus thought possible. Soon the demon was out of sight.
“The rest of you, infuse your demons, and I mean all of them.” Rotter looked pointedly at Elaine, who, despite her exhaustion, had surreptitiously hidden Valens behind her back. “Their smell is distinctive.”
“All right,” she groaned, removing a handkerchief-sized summoning leather from her pocket.
Arcturus grimaced as he called Sacharissa, who reluctantly allowed him to infuse her once again. Perhaps if the dogs were not so close, she would have refused him, but the barking was so loud it sounded as if they were just around the corner of the pathway.
“Now, cover yourselves in mud from head to toe,” Rotter said, digging thick dollops of mud from the ground and smearing himself all over. “We haven’t much time.”
So they did, being careful not to take it all from the same place. It was not perfect, but soon they were almost entirely covered by the foul-smelling sludge. Arcturus suspected that other, less savory substances had been mixed in with the mud.
“We’re downwind, so this may just work,” Rotter muttered. “Now follow me.”
They ran farther up the trail; then suddenly Rotter pushed his way into a thinner patch of vegetation, walking along the top of a fallen tree trunk and slipping into the bushes at its end. Arcturus and the others followed, until they were all crouched behind a screen of waxy leaves, watching the path ahead.
“Here, rub these on yourselves,” Rotter murmured, crawling a little way back and tugging a few handfuls of leaves and tubers from a nearby plant. “It’s wild garlic, I think … might help mask the smell.”
They did so, hearts pounding in their chests as the sound of the rebels’ dogs became louder and louder, and the distant chatter of voices could be heard.
Then they saw it. The first dog, scampering past with its nose to the ground, tongue lolling out, tail wagging. But even as Arcturus allowed himself to feel relieved at its passing, it returned, called back by a sharp whistle.
“Look here, footprints,” shouted a voice. “The dogs ’av’ slowed. Summat’s changed.”
“Keep it down,” growled another. “There’re orcs here.”