“Out of my damned way!” Riley screamed.

  Riot dove to the floor, and the horse's hoof pounded the road an inch from his face as the animal jumped clear over him. He scrambled to his feet to find six red orbs glowing like devils eyes in the mist before the Faelen cavalry burst through. The lead rider's eyes opened wide in shock, and the burning red dart he held flashed an inch past Riot’s head.

  Riot swung wildly, smashing his blade into the mouth of the charging horse. The beast reared up, kicking the air and throwing its rider and Riot pounced, stabbing down and letting the blade sink through until he felt the tip scrape on the road. The Faelen gripped the naked blade and tried to speak, but the light faded from his eyes and blood welled up, staining the white silky sash red.

  With a strangled cry, another rider hacked down with his sword, and somehow Riot managed to sidestep the blade, letting the tip rip through his uniform instead. Riot swung in a desperate defense, and the flat of the blade smacked the rider in the face, stunning him long enough for Riot to drag him from the horse and finish him.

  A charging rider sliced at Riot's back and he was sent sprawling. His pack took the brunt of the blow, but as he hit the cold ground, a part of the barrier that kept out the leyline simply broke off.

  Leypower surged into his body, bunching his muscles and making him gasp as his lungs failed to take in air. The power thrummed against his senses, and he was blinded by the gray light, thrashing desperately against the tide. With a force of will that almost made him pass out, he managed to shore up the breach, a fresh scar of stone that marred the face of the fortress he had built. The flow reduced to a trickle, and the sounds of battle returned to his ears.

  The rider who had struck him sawed at the reins of his horse and kicked with his heels to urge it into another charge. Riot shook his head to clear his vision and barely managed to parry the wild swing before the rider was gone, thundering toward the fight behind him, where swords clashed as men fought and died.

  Riot hauled himself to his feet and stumbled forward, only to trip on Riley's white horse and fall face-first again. A burned hole in the animal's flank was crusted with blood and its eyes stared up unseeing. Riot quickly searched the saddlebags, found only a map, and cursed. There was no sign of the packages that Kerne had given the arcanist.

  Leybound sprinted past and Riot joined them, hurrying desperately across the ground to the side of the road, praying with each step his luck would hold, that he wouldn’t fall foul of some rabbit hole, or frozen tuft of grass, fearing the thunder of hooves and the hiss of a sabre that would end his life. He shouted as he ran, his sergeant's voice booming out into the mist as he reached the gentle slope of the hill and started to climb until he reached a collection of rocks and threw himself behind them.

  More figures hurried through the dark, and he called for them to join him, willing them to run faster to escape the Faelen cavalry now hunting in the valley, galloping after those foolish enough to try to flee up the road and cutting them down with their sabres. More men reached the safety of the heights, all of them watching with breathless horror the massacre below. Riot was almost sorry to see the rat-faced Rimmer among them, though he’s lost his bite, crouched over like a beaten dog.

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  “Fitz?” Riot asked.

  “Dead,” Rimmer said grimly, pointing to the road where the frail lieutenant's body lay broken on the road. Even now, a Faelen rider dismounted next to his body and bent to search him. “Poor bastard. He had a wife you know.”

  “What do you think, Crease? Have a go from here?” one man asked.

  The lean Leybound who had been on the road with Riot when they had found the boy, Norton, placed his dirty hands together as the grey light bled down his arms and into his cupped hands. He grunted as he crushed the power, taking time to force it smaller than any others Riot had seen, and with a quick glance at his target, he released it with a crack. The Faelen, who had been looting Fitz’s corpse, was plucked backward as though pulled by a rope around his neck and landed on the road unmoving.

  “Gods, Crease, what was that, sixty yards?” another Leybound said, slapping the thin man on the back and chuckling.

  The young northman, Loic, was the last survivor to haul himself up the slope, cursing the Faelen in his own northern tongue. His eyes were wild, and he sported a bloody wound on his cheek as he formed a gray charge in his hands, and sent it with a crack toward the dismounted riders who pursue him up the hill. The others joined in, and the hunters were quickly dissuaded, returning to the easier pickings on the road.

  “They’ve got Riley,” someone muttered.

  The white-haired Arcanist stood in the middle of the road, and though they were too far away to hear his words, his shouts of indignation echoed throughout the valley.

  “He’s a fat prize,” another commented.

  It was true. The Arcanum would pay handsomely to get Riley back, whichever rider had caught him was now very wealthy indeed.

  The lit torches of the riders gave haunted shape to the dreary mists. Riot scanned the enemy and noticed a hooded rider at the rear of the group dismounting with difficulty. He wore the red uniform like the others but moved awkwardly as if his hands were bound, creeping forward, unnoticed by the Faelen gathered around Riley. “Something's wrong,” Riot muttered.

  He had barely spoken the words before the hooded figure lunged and drew the blade from a Faelen officers hip. Then, with a practiced thrust, buried it in Riley's stomach, kicking his body off of the blade.

  A stunned silence emanated from the small group of survivors around him before Loic lunged forward with a roar, and Riot and the others had to drag him back into the shelter of the rocks.

  “Don’t be a bloody fool, if we go down there, we’re dead,” Riot snarled. “Where did you go with Riley? What the hell happened?”

  “You’re a gray-eyed coward. Riley was a prisoner, and they killed him in cold blood.” Loic trembled with rage, and Riot thought for a moment he might attack him, but instead he shrugged off those who held him and turned back to watch the scene on the road.

  Riley’s killer was savagely beaten by the Faelen before being dragged up and hauled onto one of the horses and tied. The Faelen formed darts and sent them toward where the Leybound hid on the slopes, but it was an empty gesture. The hills were steep and they wouldn’t leave their precious horses.

  There was only one way to go and of the sixty Leybound that left Helgan’s Rest, twenty-two struggled up into the misty covered hills.

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