78

Marcus

On the verge of a steep climb, I signal a halt. I’m slumped so far forward all I see is my horse’s cresting mane and the ground below. Behind me, I hear the others exhale as one. I turn to face them. “Dismount. We’ll have to lead them up.”

Ash slides off first. “You mean we’ll have to carry them up on our backs, don’t you?”

Samsen waves down our chatter and points skyward. Against the stars, I barely make out his phantom circling the next valley over. He presses his finger to his lips. Smoke rises in thin plumes, undisturbed by wind.

“This is good news,” I say in a hushed voice. “It must be Hayvale, the township north of the Suni’s outlet. We can procure horses and—”

“It’s not Hayvale.” Samsen hands off his horse to Piper.

“What then?”

“Let’s take a closer look.”

I dismount and pass my reins to Belair, not that the poor beast has the strength or inclination to wander. Samsen and I hike to the top of the ridge, and as the valley comes into view, we drop to our bellies. Soldiers, phantoms, savants… It’s a moment before I can manage a whisper. “How many do you reckon?”

“Over five hundred if there’s one.”

“All soldiers, and notice the phantoms by the watch fires. More near their horses.”

“There must be fifty savants at least.”

We hurry down the track. “We’ve found an encampment,” I tell the others.

“Large?” Belair asks.

“Very.” My voice snaps like a dry branch.

“And they’re well-guarded,” Samsen says. “Phantoms up, Gollnarian, by the look of them. Likely alters or warriors. Or both.”

“We’ll have to give them a wide berth, which will slow us down.”

I study their faces in the rising moonlight. Kaylin doesn’t seem surprised by the news. I store that thought for later, though my “later” list is long, very long, including most everything that has happened since the last morning I woke up on Aku.

Kaylin shrugs. “It could be an opportunity.”

“How so?”

He pats his mount’s neck. “We need fresh horses for the final gallop. Without them, we cannot gain Baiseen before dawn.”

I rub my jaw, knowing the sailor’s right. “Their horses are hobbled to keep them close by. Front legs only, so they can still move around to graze.”

“Not ideal for us, but better than being tied to pickets.” Ash slides to the ground and the horse sighs. “Where are they, exactly?”

“West end of the valley.”

“Watched by phantom guards,” Samsen reminds us.

“Perfect.”

Ash throws her hands up in exasperation. “How in the F’qadin Bone Thrower’s behind is it perfect? Do you know how fast the Gollnarians can amass an attack? We’d lead them straight to Baiseen if by some miracle we did get the steeds and galloped off.”

“We’ll just have to be faster,” Kaylin says with a wink. “And smarter, but your fair city is their destination by any course, wouldn’t you say?” He looks directly at me.

Unfortunately, I would. “Let’s hear your plan.”