40.

Stampede

The flame, which seemed almost liquid, quickly caught the grass. Fire and smoke billowed, obscuring the knight.

The blaze moved with unnatural speed, not driven by the breeze, not burning randomly, but moving as if with a will, faster and faster, faster even than Gambler.

Gambler saw the pursuing fire and dodged a sharp left.

The fire followed him.

He cut sharply back, and still the fire tracked him.

Pursued him. As if it were alive, sentient, planning.

“Theurgy,” I whispered. “Sorcery.”

“The living fire!” Luca cried in horror, practically weeping with fear.

Gambler ran, but no longer toward us. He bolted straight toward the garilan herd, as the fire raced to cut him off.

Suddenly he stopped short. A line of flame had rushed ahead of him. Two lines of fire now converged.

Gambler was surrounded.

I could just make out his figure through the smoke, head darting this way and that, searching for escape that did not exist.

To my shock, I didn’t plan my next move. No “on the one hand, on the other foot.”

I simply acted.

I jumped atop Vallino, stood up facing the knight, and yelled, “Here I am! Over here!”

The steel visor rotated toward me. The knight was less than two hundred yards away. The thundering herd was twice that distance ahead. Gambler was wreathed in smoke and flame, perhaps three hundred yards north—close, but not close enough, to the garilans.

“Go, Vallino!” Khara yelled, and the horse leapt, knocking me flat on his broad back. I dug my fingers into his mane and held on for dear life.

Vallino’s speed changed the possibilities. I might—might—just make it to the herd with his help.

But even as Vallino galloped at full speed, the knight pointed his spear toward me. Instantly the living flame sped in two distinct lines to cut me off.

There was no stopping.

It was a race between Vallino and the fire, with my life as the prize.

Vallino flew, his mouth foaming, his powerful muscles propelling him at speeds not even Gambler could match.

Vallino. The fire. Vallino. The fire.

Suddenly the flames were before us, a searing, smoking blockade, and I felt Vallino’s muscles tense beneath me.

He was going to veer. To recoil.

But no: he leapt!

We soared through a veil of smoke, above a fire that had barely caught hold, and landed hard on the other side.

The garilan herd—the refuge we sought—had smelled the fire. Even as we approached, they were veering away, panicked and stampeding. Vallino could only keep pace as we tore away to the west, the whole mighty flow of beasts turning with us, a diverted river.

The knight stayed focused on me, galloping through an opening in the flame, turning to match course with the terrified herd.

I stayed low, hugging Vallino’s sweating back, gripping handfuls of mane, hoping to stay atop the horse, my only chance.

I caught fragmented glances behind me. The soldiers were taking aim at Khara, Luca, and Tobble. The fire was still after me, racing along the ground behind the hooves of the knight’s war charger.

I’d never tried to speak to Vallino—I’d always assumed that even the cleverest of horses understands just a few words—but I found myself saying, “Vallino, I’m going to slide off. Keep running!”

We’d reached the outer edge of the herd as the garilans ran stolidly on. I judged my moment as well as I could and half leapt, half fell from Vallino’s back. Frantically I grabbed at the back of the nearest garilan. There was nothing like a mane to hold on to, so I clutched handfuls of its bloodred fur.

The animal felt me—how could it not?—and reared up, almost throwing me off. After a moment, it seemed to decide that fire was the greater threat, and it continued its mad gallop with the rest of the herd.

I wondered if the knight had seen my move. Hugging the garilan close, I kept low, hoping that thick smoke and sheer speed would hide me.

I needed more control. Foolish as it was, I dared to reach forward, clinging to the garilan’s neck, and grabbed the end of its long left ear. I pulled it to the left, hoping it might serve as a primitive rein.

To my utter amazement, the beast veered left, jostling through its brothers and sisters.

When I checked again I saw the knight sweep by, never looking my way. He was still intently pursuing Vallino, along with the sentient fire.

I couldn’t see Khara or Luca or poor little Tobble. But I understood that I couldn’t help them.

I was the target. Where I went, the knight and his soldiers would follow.

Far off now, Vallino slowed, worn out. He turned sideways, his profile revealing that he no longer had a rider.

The knight reined instantly. His fight was not with a horse.

He stood in his stirrups, scanning the horizon. Looking for me. I had drawn him off Gambler, but I knew I could do nothing to stop the soldiers who would soon surround and kill Khara, Tobble, and Luca.

I wanted desperately to help them, but I could do nothing, nothing but wave at the knight from my position deep within the herd. He lowered his spear. To my shock, the fire seemed to be sucked back into the tip, like a robin eating a worm.

The knight’s fire wouldn’t help him now. If he used it, the herd would flee with renewed energy. And he must have known that his warhorse would never move quickly between the garilans.

I closed my eyes, trying not to imagine the slaughter of my friends.

My friends, who would die because of me.

Once again, others would perish, and I would escape.

My parents and siblings.

My pack.

And now my new family.

That’s what they were, I realized with a sharp pang. Khara, Tobble, and Gambler had become my new family.

And now they were lost to me forever.