City of Sorcerers (21 page)

"Can anyone see the wraith?" Sayyed asked his group.

There was a pause while the others studied their surroundings. "I think he's gone again," Savaron answered for them all.

"Where does he go?" Rafnir wondered aloud. "And how in Sorh's name does he keep up with us?"

The travelers remained silent. They had no answers about the wraith's baffling powers, only fears that the next time he took their party by surprise he would be more successful. The light mood of their escape dwindled away to trepidation. There were still a few leagues to go to Moy Tura and no guarantee that the apparition would not follow them inside the city.

The company hurried on and soon saw the high plateau rising like a fortress from the plains. They reached the trail without incident and without seeing the apparition again. The tired Hunnuli gratefully trotted off the burned-out path of the fire onto the stone-paved road that wended its way up the sides of the huge tableland.

The road was an old one, a remnant of the golden days when the clan sorcerers lived in the isolated splendor of Moy Turn on the crown of the highland. In those days, nearly three hundred years ago, men had revered magic-wielders, and a steady stream of visitors and supplicants had beaten trails to the city gates. But something had happened to erode the clans' trust in their sorcerers. In the short span of one generation, they turned completely against magic. Sadly, no living clansperson knew the full truth of the tragedy, for when the clans betrayed Moy Tura, they destroyed everything touched by magic, thereby losing forever an important part of their heritage and tradition. Only a few scars remained to remind their descendants of the past. The old road was one of those.

Despite its age, the road was in fairly good condition. Its paving stones were still intact and only partially overgrown by grass and weeds that had crept between the seams. The going was easy enough that the Hunnuli completed the climb to the top of the plateau by early evening.

The younger people looked around curiously and were disappointed that there was not much to see. The high, bald topped plateau stretched away as far as the eye could see without feature or landmark to break up the empty expanse. There was nothing but the arched sky, the setting sun; and the golden grass.

"Where is it?" demanded Morad, his flat face hard with irritation. He had expected to see the city's ruins rising in front of him like a giant pile of rubble.

"It's ahead. Not far," Sayyed answered wearily. At least he hoped it wasn't far. He was so exhausted he wasn't sure he could trust even his memory.

The rest of the party didn't seem much better. They were all black with soot and reeking of smoke. Kelene was dazedly patting her drooping filly while Niela sat on her horse, her shoulders sagging and her eyes half-closed. The three young' men were looking more alert, but Morad's temper was showing and Savaron and Rafnir were grim-faced.

They were about to ride on when they heard the clop of hooves on the trail behind them. Sayyed warily straightened; the others looked back nervously. They were certainly not expecting anyone to be following them, so who else would be riding up that particular trail?

The sound of hooves drew closer.

The wind had died to a steady breeze and was blowing away from them, so the Hunnuli could not scent who was coming. Neither could they see the trail beyond the point where it dropped over the side of the plateau. Their only clue was the steady thud of hooves on the road.

Kelene felt the hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise.

There wasn't supposed to be anyone on the trail behind them. Not on this plateau.

She was at the end of the line of riders and had the clearest view of the road, so she pushed herself higher on Demira's shoulders and craned to see who was coming.

She was the first to spot the rider as he topped the slope. Her heart sank in recognition---it was the wraith. But it was his mount that clogged the breath in her throat and transfixed her with horror.

The glowing form was astride a Hunnuli, or what had once been a Hunnuli. The left side of the horse's head was crushed as if from a terrible fall; its neck was broken behind the ears forcing the head to hang at an unnatural angle. The once shining black coat was filthy with dirt and loose patches of decaying skin. The Hunnuli was obviously dead, yet by the wraith's uncanny power its corpse was making its way toward the travelers.

Kelene stared at the horse, her eyes bulging until she heard a choked gasp behind her.

"It's Tam's Hunnuli," Sayyed cried in a voice taut with rage and grief.

"That's how it followed us!" Morad yelled. "On a Hunnuli!" Outraged, he raised his palm to blast the animal.

Kelene saw Sayyed flinch as if he wanted to stop the Geldring, but the warrior clenched his hands into fists and watched wordlessly as Morad fired a bolt of the Trymian Force at the dead Hunnuli.

The bolt seared by Kelene and Demira, its blue energy crackling in the evening air. The blast struck the horse on the chest and sank harmlessly into the rotting hide.

Somehow, Kelene was not surprised. Hunnuli were impervious to magic, and apparently that protective ability lasted beyond death.

The wraith lifted his head in a shout of derision. Kicking his mount into a gallop, he headed straight for Kelene and Demira.

Before Kelene could react, Demira wheeled away and bolted. The other Hunnuli took one stricken look at their dead former companion and fled with her. They galloped across the flat highland as fast as their tired legs could move, while behind them came the hollow rattle of the dead horse's hooves pursuing them into the gathering twilight.

Kelene ducked her head low over Demira's neck and dug her fingers into the filly's mane. She didn't need telepathic communication to know that the little Hunnuli was exhausted. She could feel it in every swing of Demira's legs, in the frantic cast of those lovely deep eyes, and in the red cupped nostrils that could not suck in the air fast enough. Demira's coat was soaked with sweat and spume flew from her mouth.

Kelene wanted to cry for her. Even though she was falling farther and farther behind, the filly was struggling on with every muscle and sinew to keep going.

The girl stole a quick glance over her shoulder and saw the wraith was drawing close. His menacing form was bent forward; his hand was reaching out toward her.

She felt a powerful urge to scream. She had no clear idea what would happen if the wraith touched her, but she had no wish to find out. She pushed forward over Demira's neck, her eyes squinted against the wind, and felt her fury kindling.

Kelene was sick to death of this hideous being! She hated his power over their minds and the terror that clung to his presence. She deeply resented his merciless pursuit, which was forcing this Hunnuli she liked and respected to run beyond the edge of endurance. All she wanted to do was get away from him. But how? She couldn't just turn her back and hope he would go away, nor could she use her clumsy, unskilled magic against him. Somehow she had to help Demira go faster.

The girl glanced back to see the wraith only a few paces behind. Now would be a good time to learn to fly, Kelene thought, trying to force down her growing panic. She desperately scanned her mind for any idea that could help her, but all she could think about was flying. If Demira could fly, she could escape, Kelene was certain of that.

There had to be something she could try.

She searched her mind again, and this time she remembered the story of Valorian's escape from the chasm in Gormoth. Even though he had been untrained in his new power, Valorian had created a magic spell that used the wind to lift his horse.

Perhaps she could do the same thing-if she could lift Demira out of the wraith's reach and relieve some of the strain on the young horse's legs.

Her problem was she had never cried to use a spell that complicated. Gods, she hadn't used any spell in five years---until last night. What if something went wrong again? What if she hurt Demira or killed them both? A cold pit of fear settled in her stomach, but she knew she couldn't let it stop her. The wraith was almost alongside.

She could smell the stink of the dead horse and hear the apparition's throaty chuckle.

"You are mine, you broken-footed excuse for a magic-wielder,” he hissed at her.

Clenching her teeth in fury, Kelene ducked away from him until she was almost hanging on Demira's right side. "Watch your feet," she warned the filly. "I'm going to try something."

Hurry!
Demira responded. Beneath the entreaty there was an undertone of faith and trust that gave Kelene the last boost of confidence she needed. With all the will she could muster, she pulled magic from the earth and forced its power into her control. She pictured in her mind a moving platform of wind, large and strong enough to hold a horse's weight, yet swift enough to carry them away from the wraith. Using her magic, she caught the evening breeze, bound it to her spell, and shaped the wind to her purpose. Because she had created the spell herself, she had no formal incantation, so she set the spell into motion by using her own words to describe exactly what she wanted.

The words were barely out of her mouth when Demira stumbled. If Kelene hadn't had the skill and strength of an Induran rider, she would have been pitched off. As it was, she was knocked even farther off Demira's right side, and her concentration on the magic began to falter.

Strengthen the spell!
Demira sent to her frantically.
I am falling through it.

Hanging on to the filly's mane with both hands, Kelene fought to keep her leg hooked over the Hunnuli's back while she closed her eyes and forced her will into her spell. She felt the magic pour through her, a wild primitive power that made her blood sing with its energy. Fiercely she sent it downward to reinforce the support under Demira's body.

Almost at once, the little Hunnuli stopped galloping. At the same time Kelene felt a strange rising sensation in the pit of her stomach.

"Kelene!" the girl heard Rafnir yell, but she ignored his voice and ignored the increasing wind that tugged at her. All she heard was the wraith's howl of rage. Her eyes flew open to see the ground moving by nearly eight feet below. Demira was airborne!

Shaking with relief and pleasure, she scrambled back up onto Demira's back. The filly, relieved of the weight on her legs and the hard resistance of the ground, bobbed her head in thanks. Although Kelene's wind was carrying her, Demira instinctively moved her legs back into a canter. Her hooves dug into the wind, and she soared forward, skimming the ground like a falcon. The wraith and dead mount fell behind. .

Faster than Kelene imagined, they came up beside the others. Morad and Niela watched her, openmouthed. Rafnir looked up, grinned, and clenched his fist in salute.

She lifted her hand to wave back, then changed her move to a warning gesture.

The wraith, furious at his loss of one victim, had increased his mount's speed and was closing in on the other Hunnuli. The five black horses put all their strength into that desperate run, but they were worn and hungry, and their speed was badly diminished.

The dead Hunnuli was catching up.

Kelene saw their danger all too clearly. She wanted to help, except she could barely keep Demira going. She had not realized she would need so much strength to keep her spell intact. The girl knew her friends' only hope was to reach the ruins before the wraith. Perhaps if they knew where to go . . .

She directed the wind carrying Demira to lift the filly higher above the racing horses. From that vantage point Kelene scanned the darkening horizon. A little to her right she saw something large and dark rising from the plain ahead.

It was difficult to distinguish its character in the twilight, yet the irregular outline could be only one thing on this flat plateau.

"Moy Tura!" she shouted to Sayyed. A wave of his hand sent her to the forefront, and she led the frantic rush toward the old ruins. Stride by stride the horses drew closer to Moy Tura. Soon everyone could see the high, crumbling walls, the broken parapets, and the empty towers.

"There lies your city of the sorcerers,” the wraith suddenly shouted. He was close behind Morad, and his harsh voice made the Geldring cringe. "Its walls are shattered!

Its corrupt and evil towers have been ground into dust. Its heretics lie dead in their own blood. That is the fate of all magic-wielders who defile the powers of the almighty gods! You can flee, profaners, but you will still perish!"

Kelene shut her ears to the wraith's cruel words and guided her companions toward the only entrance she could find in the high city walls. She saw two broken towers to either side of a wide, rounded archway, and caught a glimpse of the gates that had once hung there, now lying in pieces in the dirt. A moment later, she and Demira were through the gateway and into the shadowed streets of the city. She lowered Demira to the ground before gratefully dissolving her spell. Rafnir, Niela, and Savaron came thundering in just behind her.

The four of them gathered close together just inside the gates and waited for Sayyed and Morad. They knew there was nowhere to run in the ruins if the wraith came in after them, so they prepared to stand and fight.

Just outside, Sayyed and Afer slowed until Morad and the wraith were nearly alongside. The apparition's mount was bumping Morad's Hunnuli, and the young man was hanging onto his stallion's neck for dear life.

With a shriek, the wraith reached out for Morad. His long, grasping fingers were almost on the young sorcerer's tunic when Sayyed shouted angrily, "Priest!"

His sharp voice drew the apparition's attention away from Morad. Afer, trying to forget that the dead Hunnuli had been his friend and companion for twenty-three years, veered sideways and slammed into the horse's side. The broken stallion staggered, giving Morad's horse the chance to shoot ahead through the gateway and join the others.

Snarling a malediction, the wraith turned on Sayyed. "Profaner," he cursed. "You think to escape me, but I spent my life hunting your kind." It wrenched the dead horse toward Afer.