“Got him, Pap!” one yelled, whooping and laughing. “All mine, he is. You watch what I do to him! Just let me have ‘firsts.’ ”

Reyn tried to see what was happening, but there was blood in his eyes. When he tried to use his voice, he found his throat constricted by an arm locked about it. He was helpless.

“You do nothing, boy!” a rough voice snapped. He recognized it at once. Costa Fortren. The family patriarch’s shadowy form loomed through a haze of blood and raindrops. “He’s mine. His life belongs to me, and I am the one who shall take it from him. You can have him back when the light begins to leave his eyes.”

Reyn tried to blurt out a final plea, but all that emerged was a strangled gasp. Dark figures were clustered all around. Voices filled with hate and bloodlust traded laughter and jokes. He heard his new elleryn being smashed beneath boot heels.

He closed his eyes. It was over for him.

Then someone gasped—a sound filled with fear and loathing. Bodies shifted, and from out of the darkness a figure emerged, blacker than the night, robes billowing in the wind, a wraith exuding terror.

“I warned you not to harm him.”

The voice was a crackle that rose above the sounds of the storm. Everyone went silent. For an instant the entire world seemed frozen in time. Costa Fortren turned. “We have no need to do as you …”

“You have every need,” the wraith replied. “But now it is too late.”

In the next instant the entire area lit up in sudden explosions of fire as huge torches burst into flame and screams filled the air. But the torches were neither of wood nor pitch, but of human flesh as the Fortrens and their allies caught fire, one after the other. Burning alive, unable to extinguish the flames, they ran screaming this way and that, rolling on the ground, flinging themselves into puddles of mud and water, beating at their flaming bodies helplessly. Their efforts failed. The fire was relentless. One by one, they were consumed, collapsing in charred heaps, their lives extinguished until all that remained were Reyn Frosch and the dark figure striding toward him.

“I told you to wait!”

The boy still couldn’t talk, his voice little more than a ragged croak. He pushed himself into a sitting position, trying to avoid looking at the bodies heaped all around him.

Strong arms pulled him to his feet. The black-cloaked stranger from the Boar’s Head leaned close, his features bladed and hard. “We’ll talk about this later. For now, hold tight to me.”

Aching and worn, the boy held on for dear life.

TWELVE

REYN REMEMBERED LITTLE OF WHAT HAPPENED NEXT. THE strong arms guided him through the dark and the rain to where an airship waited and then helped him aboard. His body was battered and bloody from the pummeling he had taken at the hands of the Fortrens, and exhaustion and weakness combined to cloud his thinking. He stumbled several times and almost fell off the ladder once, but eventually he was settled in a corner of the vessel beneath a canopy, and wrapped in blankets with his head pillowed. Drowsiness overcame him, and he was asleep almost instantly.

But just before consciousness faded, he was aware of someone else moving over to sit next to him. Soft hands loosened his clothing, and wet cloths were applied to his injuries. A voice whispered, soothing and low, and he was infused with a sense of peace.

He remembered, too, the sound of the airship powering up and lifting away, of the rush of the wind and the whisper of the rain continuing to fall, and finally of terrifying images of men turned into human torches.

After that, he slept. In his sleep, he dreamed and his dreams were dark and haunting. He was fleeing once more, pursued by a nameless terror, a black wraith cloaked and hooded that appeared each time he thought he had left it behind, thwarting his every attempt at escape. It neither spoke nor acted against him, yet he knew it was evil and intended him great harm. He fought hard to evade it, to place obstacles in its path and hide from its coming. But nothing worked. It was an inexorable force intent on crushing the life out of him.

At one point, men tried to stand against it. And as it was with the Fortrens, they were set afire and turned to ash, their lives extinguished in the blink of an eye.

When he woke again, it was dawn. The first of the new day’s light was just a faint glow on the horizon. The airship had landed, and the diapson crystals were silent within their hooded parse tubes. The light sheaths rippled and flapped softly in a gentle breeze. The rain had moved on. Overhead, the sky was clear and offered the promise of a sunny day.

He lay where he was for a few moments, not wanting to disturb the feeling of comfort that cocooned him. Hints of his injuries surfaced when he tried to move, so he chose not to. Not right away. He began thinking of what had happened the previous night, the horrific images resurfacing as his memories returned. He had been chased and hunted and nearly killed before the black-cloaked stranger had rescued him and the Fortrens had all burned …

A shadow fell over him, a pair of slender arms reached out, and soft hands began to stroke his face. “Wake up, Reyn,” a voice urged. “It’s morning.”

The girl eased down next to him, moving into his field of vision. Her smile was radiant, filling him with such wonder and happiness he could barely keep the tears from his eyes. She was beautiful in an exotic, almost otherworldly sort of way. Her skin was white and flawless. Her hair was a rich toffee color, streaked with gold that suggested threads woven within. She was tiny, and her features hinted at the presence of Elven blood, although it was clear to him that she was not the product of a single Race, but of mixed heritage. Her green eyes held him mesmerized as he fought to say something.

“That was you next to me last night?”

She nodded.

“You dressed my wounds, took care of me?”

“I did. How are you feeling?”

“I’m all right. But I wouldn’t have been if not for …” He paused. “Well, I guess I don’t know his name.”

“Arcannen,” she said. “He thinks very highly of you. He believes you have great promise. He also believes your magic places you in serious danger.”

“I suppose it does. Are you his daughter?”

She laughed. “I am his assistant. If I serve him well in this capacity and demonstrate promise, he will teach me his skills. He is a great sorcerer.”

Reyn took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “He told me he understood. He knew about my singing. He said he could explain it to me. He could tell me its origins.”

“If he said he could do so, then he can.”

She adjusted his blankets and eased him into a more comfortable position. He liked the feel of her hands on him. She made him feel safe.

“Where is he?”

She smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “He’s gone into the city to find supplies for us. He will be back soon.”

“Where are we? What city?”

“Sterne. On the outskirts at the edge of the public airfield. He has enemies here, so he must be very cautious. As soon as he returns, we will leave again.”

“Leave for where?”

She smiled and reached over to stroke his cheek. “I believe that depends upon you.”

She rose and left him then. He wanted to call her back, to tell her to stay with him so they could continue to talk, so that he could feel her hands on him. But she was gone too quickly for that, whispering as she left that he needed to rest and she would be back later.

Surprisingly, he was asleep in minutes. This time there were no dreams, and he slept undisturbed.

When his eyes opened again, the sun was overhead and he could hear birdsong and the rustle of leaves. A breeze cooled his face, and the air smelled of woods and grasses.

The girl was sitting next to him, looking down, smiling. “Much better, are you?”