“I sense eight of them out there,” Miranda said.

  “Eight?” Rellen blurted glancing over his shoulder. She had her eyes closed and her hand stretched out, away from the fire.

  “Make that nine…” she said.

  “Nine?” Mygal said, disbelief filling his voice. “They never hunt in packs that big.”

  The heavy footfalls of padded feet came at them from Rellen’s right, somewhere in front of Tavyn.

  “Watch out!” Miranda shouted.

  Rellen turned as she made a slashing motion with her left hand. The shadowy shape of a large vellish rose out of the darkness, its jaws wide, front claws extended. Tavyn raised his blade as a scythe of ruby light flashed out from Miranda’s hand and struck the vellish in the shoulder.

  The vellish howled in pain, twisting mid-air to get away from the gash that had just appeared on its shoulder. Tavyn side-stepped. His blade flashed out and down as the wounded vellish passed by, slicing through the middle of its tail. The beast roared out, landing beside the fire. Rellen stepped in and drove his falchion through the beast’s face. It went limp as he jerked his blade free.

  “I’m going to brighten things up,” Rellen shouted. “Keep your eyes turned away from the fire, and whatever you do, don’t look straight at it.”

  Everyone shifted as Rellen grabbed a vial from his bandoleer. This one was metal, with a simple inscription on it. He uttered the last part of an incantation he’d cast weeks earlier and dropped the vial into the embers of the fire, releasing the majea contained within. He turned away to face the darkness.

  The vial heated in the blink of an eye. A moment later, there was a hissing flare as the ingot of metal within the vile ignited with a flash. Bright, white light seared into the darkness for another thirty feet around them. Their own shadows stretched out along the grass amidst the brightness of that artificial dawn.

  Vellish roars of pain filled the night.

  Rellen realized they were surrounded. Not only that, but all four horses remained stock still in the darkness twenty feet away. There were vellish on either side of the horses, but they still didn’t move. It was as if the big predators knew where the real threat was.

  Impossible, Rellen thought. Vellish aren’t that smart.

  Seven vellish crouched low in a circle around them, only twenty-five feet away. Their snarling heads were turned away from the light as their barbed tails thrashed in the air. The eighth vellish, a truly massive one, was back another fifteen feet, the forest at its back. Rellen had hoped the light would scare them all off. Instead, four of the smaller ones charged in despite the light, howling their fury.

  “Don’t look into their eyes,” Miranda called out.

  Rellen charged forward as he drew his second falchion. He closed the distance in a heartbeat. The vellish’s barbed tail darted in like a spear thrust. He parried hard, knocking the venomous barb aside only a foot from his chest as he stepped in again.

  He heard the others engage, but he couldn’t worry about them now. He would have to hope everyone survived. Another vellish shrieked out in pain.

  The vellish lifted the front part of its body and slashed with one of its claws, barely missing Rellen’s leg. He side-stepped back as the tail came in again. The tail passed by, and he swung up with his off hand. He caught the tail just right and gouged out a chunk of flesh. Several more pained, vellish shrieks filled the night behind him.

  The vellish howled and slashed again with a claw. He parried, caught the paw with an edge, and drew more blood. The vellish snarled, crouched, and leapt straight at him.

  Rellen dropped beneath it and drove a falchion straight into its chest. It shrieked, slashing with its claws. One caught him on the arm, gouging deep furrows into his left bracer and pauldron. The vellish’s momentum carried it past him, ripping the falchion from Rellen’s left hand. He rose, swinging hard with the other, and cleaved the vellish’s tail from its body, just above its rump.

  In that moment, Rellen saw Miranda had already killed one vellish. Its body lay beside the fire, a telltale gash halfway through its neck, with dark blood seeping out onto the grass. Tavyn, dripping blood from his left arm, raised his rapier above a vellish that had his dagger sticking out of its shoulder. The barb of its tail was also missing. Mygal stood stock still, staring at the two vellish that had come at him. His rapier was in one hand, but he held his dagger out, almost as if he was motioning for the beasts to halt. They looked frozen in place. It was as if Mygal was controlling them, holding them at bay, but that wasn’t possible for an erkurios. Erkurioi affected emotions, and animals didn’t have emotions complex enough for an erkurios to latch onto.

  Rellen turned back as the other, larger vellish stalked toward him warily. Its tail twitched back and forth, the barb aimed at Rellen’s face. For a moment, he considered retrieving his other falchion, but there wasn’t time.

  The vellish surged forward and drove its tail straight at him. Rellen dodged to the side, parrying, and stepped forward. The barb came in again. He parried, pushing it aside to scrape along his pauldron. He stepped forward, forcing the vellish back. He prepared himself for the next attack. He would have to be quick if this was going to succeed.

  The vellish shifted left. Rellen followed, moving into a low crouch as he kept it straight in front of him. The vellish snarled. Its tail rose and stiffened. Now, Rellen thought. He shifted his elbow inward, judging the angle of the attack he knew was coming.

  The tail darted in. Rellen dropped, laying out flat as he leapt forward. The barbed tail scraped across the back of his leather chest plate as he drove his blade straight into the vellish’s chest with all of his weight and momentum behind the thrust. His arm and shoulder shuddered with the impact, but he held firm. The vellish let out a strange, low, guttural sound as he drove its body back. Its mouth opened and closed several times, its tongue lolling. It shuddered violently, coughed up a splash of blood onto Rellen’s arm and face, then dropped straight down, pawing weakly at him.

  Burning pain flared out from the back of Rellen’s left thigh and began to spread across his flesh.

  He struggled to roll over in the grass and discovered the vellish’s barb stuck in the back of his leg, still pumping venom into his body. He tried to call out but found that he couldn’t move his jaw. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

  Rellen closed his eyes and prepared to fight death on its own turf.

  Through a strange, hissing fog, Rellen heard an ear-splitting, vellish roar that filled the night, coming from somewhere in the darkness. The staccato grunts of three more vellish followed, and then padded feet ran off through the grass. He heard a flutter of wings from far away, and then he thought he felt something licking his face.

  You’re hurt, Xilly said. Her voice drifted into his thoughts through a fog.

  I have to go now, he said. Miranda is a good person—you can bond with her…

  “Rellen!” a voice called out.

  Rellen couldn’t tell who had said it. It seemed to have come from far away, as if it had been called out over a wide mountain valley. He wondered what the fuss was all about. He just wanted to get some sleep. The grass was comfortable, and he was so very tired. It seemed odd that his ass hurt as much as it did, but that wouldn’t matter for too much longer.

  Don’t leave me, a faint thought crept into Rellen’s mind. It seemed familiar somehow. It’s too soon.

  The fog swallowed him whole, and darkness closed in.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Caravan

  Rellen opened his eyes to a sky streaked with orange and pink and wondered if his head was going to come apart. He heard birds singing somewhere, and there was a weight on his chest. He looked down slightly to find Xilly curled up there, her head tucked beneath a wing, breathing slow and steady. She stirred, lifted her head, and stared at him for a moment, her eyes blinking slowly.

  You need to be more careful, she said.

  Rellen drew in a breath and let it out slowly. Some of the pain in his skull went with it. His left butt cheek tingled, reminding him of the fight. The pain that had been there before the vellish’s poison knocked him out, however, was gone. He shifted a bit. There was an ache, but no pain.

  You’re right, he replied. Can you get off me? I need to pee.

  Xilly hopped off his chest, landing in the grass beside him. Rellen sat up, fighting off a slight wave of dizziness.

  “You’re up,” Miranda sat by the campfire, roasting a piece of meat on the end of a stick. The smell of it struck him, and his stomach rumbled. Her eyes had a trace of worry, but not much. “Hungry?” She held the roasted meat out to him. “It’s stringy, but vellish actually tastes pretty good.”

  “You think so?” Rellen replied, surprised by her opinion of roasted vellish. “And yes, I do, but let me piss first.”

  She nodded.

  Rellen got to his feet with a groan. The bodies of five remarkably large vellish, all of them missing their venomous barbs, lay a dozen yards off. One had been partially butchered. The voice of one of Rellen’s old commanding officers floated up in his memory. “On the road, you eat what is available, and are thankful for it.”

  “It’s good to see you up,” Mygal called out. He and Tavyn were securing their saddles to the mounts. “How do you feel?”

  “Groggy. Sore.” Rellen walked off a short distance and watered the already wet grass. He turned and walked back to the campfire, and as he did, Xilly fluttered up onto his shoulder.

  Miranda held out the meat.

  Rellen grabbed it between two fingers, grimaced, and took a hearty bite. He then held it still for Xilly to do the same.

  “I hate vellish,” he said as he chewed. “But this isn’t the first time I’ve eaten it, and probably won’t be the last, either.”

  But it’s delicious! Xilly blurted in his thoughts.

  “You don’t have to eat it,” Miranda said.

  “Not what I meant,” Rellen said. “It tastes great. I just hate fighting vellish.” He swallowed. “And I’ve never heard of them attacking in such numbers before.”

  “Did you notice they subdued the horses before coming after us?” Miranda said. “I’ve never heard of them doing that either.”

  “It was strange,” Rellen said, glancing at the mounts. He shook his head. “Normally, they would have worked their way from the outside in, using those tails.” He locked eyes with Miranda. “They sneaked up on us, like they were soldiers. If it hadn’t been for Xilly, they probably would have gotten us all before we even knew what was happening.” He shook his head. “That’s just what the world needs—smart vellish.”

  “How could such a thing even exist?” Mygal said, stepping up.

  Rellen let out a frustrated breath. “Well, I’ve heard stories, coming mostly from well south of the Sylverwylde Mountains, of strange beasts appearing in the jungles out of nowhere. Things nobody has ever seen before. Maybe these came from the same place and managed to make it this far?” He looked at Miranda. “You got a better idea?”

  “Most of that comes out of Nikostohr, Faign, and Aradeen, but those are just stories, and that’s six hundred miles from here.” She shook her head. “Assuming the stories aren’t just a load of donkey shit, it’s a long way… although vellish do roam all across Pelinon.” She shrugged. “Who knows?”

  “There’s something else you should know,” Mygal said ominously.

  “What?” Rellen asked.

  “I could sense their emotions. Even control them, at least a little. I was able to hold two off while the rest of you fought, and I could feel the anger, in a calculating sort of way, from the big one that didn’t engage us.”

  “I didn’t think an erkurios could control animals. I know some zokurioi can, but not a heartbender.”

  “Some, but not all,” Miranda added.

  “I saw that,” Tavyn chimed in. “It was almost as if the big one controlled them.”

  “Like I said,” Rellen looked to the tree line, “that’s just what the world needs… smart vellish.” He shook his head. “Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

  “Agreed,” Miranda said.

  “Are you strong enough to travel?” Miranda asked, looking at Rellen’s backside.

  “Not much choice, but you tell me. You’re the one who saved me.”

  “Well,” Miranda said, walking over. “I was able to use the life force of that last vellish, the one that got you, and purge the poison as well as close up the wound, which wasn’t that bad.”

  “Thanks for that,” he said, giving her a warm smile.”

  “It’s the real reason you wanted me around,” she replied.

  “Maybe.” He glanced at Tavyn. “I take it you did something similar to his arm? I saw him get wounded.”

  “I used a kara root I found nearby, but his wounds were superficial.” She gave Rellen a cautious look. “You’ll be weak for at least a day.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, rolling up his bedroll. “But the faster we get going, the sooner we’ll catch up to the caravan. Then we shouldn’t have to worry about getting attacked by any more vellish.”

  “You hope,” Mygal said a bit gloomily.

  “On the bright side,” Tavyn said, climbing up into his saddle, “I got the venom from six tails, so that’s something.” He patted his saddlebags with a satisfied smile.

  “What do you do with that?” Mygal asked.

  “Reduce it down over a low heat. It becomes a paste and makes a great poison for my blades.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Rellen said. “Let’s get those shackles back on you.” The frown on Tavyn’s face was accentuated by a rolling sound of thunder that echoed in from the west.

  * * *

  The next two days were more of the same, just without vellish trying to kill them. They rode all day in the rain. At night, they dried themselves out beside a fire, Rellen and Mygal sent reports to the king, and everyone slept restlessly when they weren’t on watch. It was a long, plodding ride, and Rellen continued to push them as hard as he thought the lesser horses could take.

  On the afternoon of the third day, one thankfully without rain, they came around a wide bend in the King’s Highway that curved around a low hill, one of many that sculpted the landscape. They entered a long straightaway and spotted the tail end of the caravan already in a shallow valley about half a mile ahead.

  Someone blew two quick blasts on a signaling horn that echoed down the road. It was an alert to the King’s Teamsters that someone was approaching the caravan.

  “Check my hair,” Tavyn said, turning toward Mygal.

  Mygal leaned over and looked closely at Tavyn’s face. “You look fine.” He examined Tavyn’s crown. “You may have to dye the roots in a day or two, though.”

  “I have more in my saddlebags,” Tavyn said. “I can do that any time I like.”

  “Check those shackles,” Rellen called out from ahead of them. “And I want the two of you in between Miranda and I.” He looked at Miranda. “Take up the rear, would you?”

  She nodded and pulled back on the reins to let Mygal and Tavyn pass by.

  Xilly, Rellen said, can you pace us from the forest while we’re on this journey? Word of you might have gotten back to Dancer or even this Javyk fellow. If they see you, they might guess who I am, and we can’t have that.

  Yes, she replied, but he could hear the disappointment.

  You’re sure you can keep up?

  Of course! Her disappointment changed to indignation.

  Alright, little one. I’m sorry about this, but it’s necessary. Just keep up with us and keep an eye out for trouble.

  I promise. I won’t be far.

  He scratched behind her head. Thank you, Xilly.

  She flew off, rising quickly up into the trees.

  Rellen increased their pace somewhat, and within an hour, they’d caught up with a heavily laden wagon at the rear of the caravan. A teamster sat on the back, his legs dangling and a horn hanging from a rope over his shoulder. He had on the blue vest, white tunic, and blue and white striped trousers of the King’s Teamsters. He also held a nocked bow, and his eyes never left them. As they approached, three more of the King’s Teamsters appeared on horseback, a big fellow with bushy black hair, flanked by two smaller fellows. The big one held up his hand, causing the other two to pull up short. He kept coming, though, his dark eyes fixed on Rellen.

  Over the centuries, the kings of Pelinon had employed retired and injured veterans to lead and protect the commerce and citizens that kept Pelinon running. There were posted rates in every town and city along the highway for those who traveled on foot, on horseback, or rode in wagons and carriages. Travelers purchased “legs” of a journey, indicating where they intended to break away from the caravan.

  “Hail,” the big man said, turning his horse around and coming up beside Rellen so they could keep pace a dozen yards behind the last wagon. He was truly huge, probably four inches taller than Rellen, with broad shoulders, thick arms, and meaty fists. Rellen felt sorry for the horse he rode. “State your business, if you please.”

  “Are you the Head Teamster?” Rellen asked.

  “Aye,” the man replied. “Collyn Pearce, at your service. But it’s Master Pearce, to the likes of you bounty hunters, and I better warn you, the caravan is at capacity with the number of teamsters I have.”

  “Now, that’s a problem,” Rellen said, suddenly worried they’d be turned away. “My partner and I would very much like to join the caravan. We’ve got two bounties here that we need to deliver south.”

  “That may be your problem, but it’s not mine. I have my orders. I’m afraid I just don’t have the manpower—we’re stretched thin as it is.” He eyed Rellen and the riders with him. “You can follow, but the law states you have to keep your distance… at least a quarter mile, and we won’t help you if you get into trouble.”