Four days of winding game trails and goat tracks climbing up and down the steep ridges, heading ever north, had done little to shake their pursuit. More than once, Amon had had to repeat his trick of sending Nora and Galan to hide while he rode back to lead the Seekers away. His mood grew darker with each passing day and each failed attempt to throw off the men from the Scarlet Brotherhood. It only got worse the day they rounded a bend in the trail and came upon another mutilated animal.

  This time it was a dead raven, hanging from the branches of a black oak by its entrails. Amon’s face had been unreadable that day when he wordlessly turned them aside and chose a new trail. Nora couldn’t help but recall the fox they had found, the day they had tried to cross the swamp, and shuddered. What could be doing this? They were messages, plainly, left in their path where they were sure to find them, yet she didn’t dare ask Amon. He was so agitated that he had yelled at both Galan and Nora, and even Ferron was keeping his distance. They rode a few yards further back than they had before and kept their distance as well as they could when they camped for the night.

  It was the Seekers. Amon hadn’t been able to shake their pursuit, which grated on his nerves. He had said as much a few days before they found the raven, before his mood had darkened. Now, he scarcely spoke more than a word or two at a time, scarcely ate, scarcely slept. That night, Nora and Galan went to sleep each night listening to the sound of Amon sharpening his swords, to the rasp of an oilstone scraping against the steel.

  And woke to it as well. With a start, Nora raised her head off the pack she had been using as a pillow and realized that the sun was already up. They were camped on a high overlook on the side of a mountain, a wide green valley spread out below, flanked by tall conifers. Amon sat cross-legged on a rock, his weapons laid out beside him, running an oilstone over a sword blade and staring out over the valley. He wore his hood. As far as Nora could tell, he hadn’t moved since before she went to sleep. She glanced up at the sun, which was still low in the morning sky, rising toward its zenith. They should have been riding for an hour, at least. What was he thinking? Was he simply going to sit here and wait for the Seekers to find them?

  Galan sat up on his bedroll, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He looked around, as surprised as Nora had been. They were used to being awakened by the ranger before the light of morning began to color the sky. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Nora shook her head. “I don’t know.” She rose, straightened her slept-in coat and hung her cloak around her shoulders. She had been using it as a blanket. She fixed her gaze on the ranger. He hadn’t seemed to have noticed that they had roused. Something was off. Summoning up her courage, she stalked over to confront him.

  Amon must have heard her coming. “Go away,” he growled, continuing to run the oilstone over the blade.

  “The sun’s up,” Nora said, standing over Amon, looking down at him. “In case you hadn’t noticed. We should have been riding for an hour, but here you are, still sharpening that blade. Have you been doing that all night? Are you giving up? Are you just going to sit here and wait for those Seekers to catch us?”

  “Go away.”

  She kicked him.

  The oilstone stopped. Amon glared up at her. “Do that again, girl, and I’ll...”

  “You’ll what? I’m not afraid of you anymore, that doesn’t work.” She fought to keep the tremor out of her voice. Then she spied the bright red line of blood, stark against the silvery steel, along the edge of the blade. There was a dark stain on Amon’s left glove. “You’re hurt.” Nora knelt down beside him, and before he could so much as protest, grabbed his hand and pulled off the glove. He had a deep slice across the meat of his palm.

  Nora met Amon’s gaze. “You cut yourself on your own sword and didn’t even notice?” For the first time, she saw what might have been shame creep into that hard yellow gaze. He looked away quickly. “At least let me bind it.”

  Amon pulled his hand away. “It will heal.” He tugged his glove back on.

  “Stubborn fool,” Nora said.

  Galan raced over, scrambling over the rocks. “There’s a rider!”

  Amon leapt to his feet. He sheathed the sword. “Show me.”

  Lying on her belly beside Galan and the ranger, peering over the ledge, Nora couldn’t make out any movement down in the valley below. From their vantage point on the overlook, she had a clear view of the green swath with its creek snaking through the center.

  “I see them,” Amon said. Nora glanced over at him, wondering. She knew that elves like Galan had sharp eyes. Demons must as well, she thought. “There’s only one type foolish enough to wear a blood red cloak out here. There’s only two. Where are the others? Coming around to cut us off, or trying different trails? Get the horses.” He continued to watch the rider make his way across the valley down below as Nora and Galan saddled Flint and Shade. When they were finished, Nora led Shade over to the ranger. To her surprise, he pushed the reins back into her hand.

  “You two ride west until you hit the North Road, then follow it north. You both know how to find north? Good. Don’t stop. I will find you.”

  “Where are you going?” Galan asked timidly.

  “I’m going to deal with our pursuers.” Amon’s voice took on a dangerous edge that Nora had never heard before. “This has gone on long enough.”

  “You’re going to kill them.” The words had come unbidden from Nora’s lips. It was not a question.

  “Yes,” Amon said matter-of-factly. “I’m going to kill them. They will not stop pursuing us until they catch us or kill us. I don’t intend to let that happen. Follow the setting sun west until you reach the North Road. West, then north. Don’t get yourselves lost in the mountains. If you do, I might not even find you again. Stay on the road once you find it, but be wary. Seekers are not the only dangers out here. Don’t talk to anyone, don’t stop for anyone. These are Celwyn lands we’re in, but there are highwaymen on the roads, and I wouldn’t trust Celwyn soldiers either. Keep clear of travelers, and keep your heads down. If I don’t find you, stay on the road until you come to Hardcoast.” He paused and fished a small medallion, like a coin on a chain, out of a pocket of his coat. He considered it for a moment, then pressed it into Galan’s hand. “I should catch up with you before you reach Hardcoast, but if I don’t, find a man in the village named Jeram. He’s...a friend. Show him that and tell him I sent you, and he’ll see you safely on the ship.”

  “Is Jeram a demon like you?” Galan asked.

  The look that crossed Amon’s face could have curdled milk. “No,” he said flatly. “Wait in Hardcoast if Liddy’s ship hasn’t come yet, but don’t wait for me if it has.”

  Nora and Galan exchanged a glance. She could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Amon was going to leave them, and he sounded almost as though he believed he might not make it back.

  “What are you waiting for?” Amon demanded. “Mount up and go!”

  Wordlessly, scarcely taking her eyes from the ranger, Nora climbed into Flint’s saddle. Galan cautiously mounted Shade and settled into the saddle. Flint tossed his head impatiently. She stroked his mane to settle him. Amon and Ferron slipped over the edge of the outcrop and vanished.

  Nora and Galan rode carefully up the narrow trail. They didn’t speak. Nora tried to calm the rapid beating her heart. Her thoughts kept going back to Amon’s words. “Yes, I’m going to kill them.” Someone was going to die today. That thought was difficult to accept. The Seekers would do terrible things to them if they caught them, she knew. Those men in black and red might kill them, or torture them. They might even take Nora back to the Scarlet Tower, far to the east, across the Lathian Alps and the Vardil Range, because they thought she was a witch. She wasn’t, but if they thought so...

  “I always thought we’d be able to shake those Seekers,” Galan said quietly. He was looking better, less pale, eyes brighter, each day. His strength was coming back as well. He sat straighter in the saddle than he had before.

  Nora shared Galan’s feelings. She had hoped that after the twisted paths the ranger had led them on, the Seekers would give up. She was sick to her stomach as the ranger’s words rang in her head yet again.

  They rode quietly for several hours, still following the same twisting trail. They were still heading west, as far as Nora could see. Galan had a good sense of direction, so she let him lead. She was glad to see him feeling better. Still, they had little idea of exactly where the North Road lay and as the day progressed, Nora feared they were well and truly lost.

  They stopped at midday to water the horses at a small creek. While the horses stood ankle-deep in the rushing water, drinking their fill, Nora pulled their midday rations from the ranger’s saddlebags, two pieces of flatbread and some of the same hard cheese that they had eaten almost every day since leaving Ambermill. As she did, she took a moment to glance at what Amon had in those bags. She hadn’t meant to look, but there was no harm in it. There was an extra pair of gloves and another of woolen socks, and a leather-wrapped satchel underneath. She almost reached for it.

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  A horse whickered. It was not one of theirs. Nora spun, yanking her hand free. Galan backed up until he was standing in the creek. A man rode a sorrel gelding between two trees. His clothing was black leather, his cloak blood red.

  With a shock, Nora realized that she recognized the man, even clad in the uniform of the Scarlet Brotherhood. His brown hair was shorter than she remembered it, but the strong nose and quick brown eyes were the same. “Justan?”

  “You two have led us on a merry chase,” Justan said, swinging down out of his saddle. “But that ends now. Nora, isn’t it? It’s been a long time since I saw you last. You’re taller than you were. And Galan, still as small as ever, I see. Still running from Caleb and Behil?”

  Nora gripped Flint’s reins. “You’re a Seeker! What are you doing with the Scarlet Brotherhood?”

  Justan glanced down at his leathers. “They recruited me in Belfalas a few years ago, after I left Ambermill. Don’t worry lass, we’re not so scary as people make us out to be.” He put on a comforting smile, yet his hand rested near the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it. “That was quite a chase through the wilderness. I’m sure you are glad it is over. It must have been so scary for you both.”

  “We weren’t scared,” Galan said. “We had Amon to guide us.”

  “That ranger?” Justan laughed, but the mirth did not touch his eyes. “It’s a good thing that I found you in time. Have you any idea what sort of creature he is?”

  “We know what he is,” Nora said. “He’s kept us safe.”

  Justan laughed again. “Safe? Leading you through the wolf-infested mountains? Through demon-haunted swamps? How safe could that be?” Justan stepped forward. Nora stepped back, ready to throw herself into Flint’s saddle and gallop off in an instant.

  “There’s no need for that,” Justan said, spreading his hands wide to show that he held no weapon. “Now, come with me. Arstlan shot a nice, fat black deer for supper. Are you hungry?”

  Nora nearly let down her guard. This was Justan, after all. She had known him, growing up in Ambermill. He had been nice to her when she was little. He had played with her brothers.

  “What do you want with us?” Galan asked. He took a step back and caught Shade’s reins. He was ready to run as well. Nora steeled herself. This was Justan, but Justan was Scarlet Brotherhood now. He had hunted them like animals.

  “Why, to help you of course,” Justan said. “The Scarlet Brotherhood, that’s what we do. We help people like you, Nora. You can do things, things other people can’t. All we want to do is make sure you don’t hurt yourself, or someone else.”

  “I haven’t hurt anyone,” Nora said. “All I do is talk to animals.” Light, but she hadn’t wanted to admit that! Her thoughts were rushing through her head as fast as the water in the creek behind them. She stepped closer to Flint.

  “And the fires?” Justan said. “Fire hurts people. Fire destroys property. Mana is a dangerous thing, Nora. It’s too dangerous to play with like a toy. We can help you learn to control it.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Nora said. “I can control what I do just fine.” Even Galan was staring at her, now. Well, there was no going back now that she all but admitted to being a witch! “And what about Galan? Why are you after him?”

  “Galan is important to some friends of ours,” Justan said. “Rather important. Do you know why, lad?”

  Galan shook his head.

  “So, the ranger didn’t tell you?” Justan smiled. “You’ll find out soon enough. No one wants to hurt you, just talk to you. Everything will make sense soon, for both of you, I promise. Now, our camp is not far off. You’ll have a nice, hot meal and we’ll get started back to Ambermill in the morning. You’ll have all the answers you seek.”

  Nora exchanged a glance with Galan. He looked as nervous as she was. She shifted uncomfortably, still ready to leap aboard Flint. Doubt crept into her mind. She wanted to believe Justan, she really did. Perhaps it was all just a big misunderstanding. She really knew very little about the Scarlet Brotherhood or what they did, beyond the occasional story of witch hunting or demon hunts. She couldn’t believe any of the old stories anymore. Not after Amon. He was strange, but he was nothing like she expected a demon to be. Perhaps she was wrong about the Scarlet Brotherhood as well.

  “Now, you both must be so tired after this ridiculous chase,” Justan said. “Here, give me the reins, Nora.” He held out his hand, waiting for her to hand over Flint.

  Nora’s hand shook. She gripped the leather reins tightly in her fist. She wanted to believe him. He was Justan. He was from Ambermill. She knew him. She and Galan could try to run again, but he was so close now that she wasn’t certain she could even gain the saddle before he grabbed her, and even if they did get away, the other Seekers must be close by. Light, but she wished Amon had never left them! He would know what to do.

  “Nora, what do we do?” Galan asked. His voice shook. He looked more scared than she had ever seen him, his eyes wide, reflecting the green of the trees around them.

  “I don’t know,” Nora admitted.

  “You don’t need to do anything,” Justan said. “Just come along with me. We’ll look after you.”

  Nora’s hands went weak. She looked to Galan. They really had no choice.

  The shiver of steel against leather seemed to echo through the trees. Over Justan’s shoulder, Nora spied a blessedly familiar figure standing beside a massive silver fir. Amon had his hood thrown back, white hair almost glowing in the sunlight, blades in hand. Ferron bristled at his side, a low rumble issuing from the wolf’s throat.

  Nora backed away until her back was against Flint. Galan saw as well and backed toward Shade.

  “Step away from them, Seeker,” Amon said.

  Justan whirled around, drawing his longsword from its scabbard in one smooth, practiced motion. If he was surprised to see Amon, he gave no sign. He had blood on his coat and cloak, she realized with a start. He stalked forward. From the way he moved, like a stalking cat, Nora doubted the blood on him was his own. She felt sick. Someone had died on those swords, and not long ago.

  “Vile demon,” Justan swore, moving to meet Amon. The two came together in a clash of steel. Justan was taller and broader than Amon, with real leather armor, not just a heavy coat. But Amon was the superior swordsman. That much was plain even to Nora’s untrained eyes. Justan was skilled with a sword, but the ranger was a master. They clashed again, broke apart, circled, then clashed again. Justan aimed a rough cut at Amon’s unprotected head. Amon ducked beneath the blade and came up with both of his, knocking Justan’s sword wide and dealing him a savage cut on the arm. Justan yelped and drew back, but his credit, he came on a moment later, pushing Amon back with the sheer weight of his rush.

  Amon stepped back, almost gliding across the uneven ground. Then he came forward, stabbing out, slashing, driving Justan back fearsomely. His yellow eyes gleamed. Justan fought to keep his blade between himself and the ranger.

  It was over a moment later. Ferron charged in, tail flying high like a flag, hackles raised, making the wolf look twice his size. He took Justan from the side, tackling him like he would a deer, snout driving for the man’s neck. Justan managed to raise his arm in time, so the wolf’s fangs sank into his shoulder rather than his neck. Ferron bore Justan to the ground. The Seeker’s sword went spinning away to land in the dirt.

  Galan darted forward and seized the fallen sword. He backed away, holding it out before him awkwardly. Ferron disengaged and circled Justan, growling, muzzle bloody. Justan started to rise, but Amon rested the point of one blade at the hollow of the man’s throat.

  “Stay down,” Amon said. His eyes gleamed dangerously. Nora finally dared to let herself breathe. She had been holding her breath for the entire fight. “I should kill you for what you put us through.”

  Justan, on his knees, glared up at Amon. “Kill me and there are still three more Seekers behind you,” he said defiantly.

  “One, not three,” Amon said. “I found your camp. Those two fools won’t be troubling anyone again.”

  Justan paled, his eyes going to the blood on Amon’s coat. “If that’s true, then kill me and be done with it.”

  Nora was certain Amon meant to do it. She was going to watch a man die. “No!” She strode forward. Galan tried to catch her arm, but she shrugged him off. “Don’t kill him, please!”

  Amon turned. “Nora, you don’t understand...”

  Nora faced the ranger bravely. “I know him!”

  Justan started to rise, whether to lunge at the ranger or to run, Nora did not know. Ferron leapt on him again, savaging his arm as he bore him back down. “I yield!” Justan cried, striking the wolf with his free fist, trying to dislodge him. “Call off your dog!”

  Amon sheathed one sword with a practiced motion. He seized Ferron by the scruff of the neck and bodily hauled the wolf off of Justan. He leveled his remaining sword at him again. “Stay down and he won’t attack you.” Ferron continued to circle, fire-eyed and savage, teeth bared and bloody. Amon glanced from Nora, to Galan, to Justan. “I should kill you, but these two don’t need to see that.” He pointed to Nora. “That girl just saved your life, Seeker. Remember that. Galan, get the rope off of my saddle.”

  Galan did as he was bid and brought the coil of hempen rope to the ranger. Amon took it without taking his eyes off Justan. He bound Justan’s hands behind his back, then searched him for other weapons. After tossing aside the man’s weapon belt and dagger, Amon hauled him over to a nearby tree and set about tying him to the trunk.

  “You’re not going to get away,” Justan said acidly. “Every village from Stormgarde to the north coast will know what you are. You won’t be able to set foot within 10 miles of civilization again. I’ll make sure of that.”

  “You do that then,” Amon said, giving the rope a hard jerk for good measure as he wound it around the man. “Assuming your remaining friend finds you before my friends do.”

  “What friends could a demon have?”

  Ferron suddenly threw back his head and howled, a long, deep mournful wail that resounded off the surrounding hills. From those same hills rose an echo of response, a chorus of wolves that sounded like a pack of fifty or more, from all directions.

  Amon gave Justan a wicked smile. “My friends.” The look on Justan’s face in that moment made up for all the hardship they had been through. “I should kill you. But for Galan and Nora’s sakes, I won’t. Remember that. Tell me, would your friends be so kind if you caught me?”

  “They would hang you from the nearest oak with your entrails hanging out,” Justan said. “Or drag you back to the Scarlet Tower and give you to the Inquisitors. They can make a demon’s dying last a moon’s turn.”

  Amon rose, leaving Justan bound so tightly to the alder that he couldn’t move. “I am well acquainted with your Inquisitors and their work. Sleep well, Seeker, and pray the wolves don’t find you.” He swept past a stunned Galan and caught Justan’s sorrel gelding. He handed the reins to Galan.

  “No more riding double?” Galan asked.

  “We’ll move faster,” Amon said. “And slow that one down if he does manage to get free. Girl, take this.” He handed Nora the dagger he had taken off of Justan.

  They mounted up, Nora on Flint and Galan on the Seeker’s horse, and set off again. Amon pushed them hard, leading them cross country to put as many miles between them and the Seekers as possible. Amon had gone silent again, hood drawn low over his face as he plotted their course. The forest opened up into a wide valley set between jagged peaks. Amon pushed them to a hard gallop and allowed them to slow only when the trees closed in again. When they came to a small, rushing creek, he rode into the water and led them up the middle of the watercourse. The footing was treacherous for the horses, the rounded, smooth stones prone to turning underfoot, so they picked their way slowly. Amon only allowed them to leave the water when the land suddenly rose up in a cliff, the creek tumbling down over the precipice and into a shallow pool.

  “They won’t know whether we went up or down,” Amon said as he led them up the steep bank. It was the first thing he had said since leaving Justan bound to the tree.