Shadow Walker

by James 'Fel' Galloway

Chapter 8

The soldiers that were part of the army didn't arrive before Kyven left, but they did find his roan stallion. Kyven himself left the horse, his saddle, and everything he didn't need at his campsite, which was smack dab in the middle of the ridge that Danvers' maps showed the men would occupy to cover the retreat of the Arcans away from Riyan. Kyven had left the camp just a bit after noon, and had returned to Riyan under the illusion of a peasant farmhand. By working his way through the tent camps of the Loreguard in a variety of illusions, he managed to get inside the pens about midafternoon. When he got inside, wrapped in the illusion of a nondescript brown canine Arcan wearing a brass collar just like the others, an Arcan that was about as normal as one could get and would attract not one whit of attention, he immediately sought out Lightfoot. That wasn't an easy task, since there were so many Arcans in the huge pen, a pen where the grass had all but been trampled to mud and the Arcans had no choice but to lay down in it at night. It took him nearly an hour to finally find her, since she was more or less concealed in a knot of Arcans in the center of the pen, hidden from view of the Loreguard if only because so many Arcans were between her and the fence. She was squatted down on her feet, her tail held up off the mud and swishing behind her as she drew a crude diagram in the mud for the benefit of the Arcans that had surrounded her. Kyven didn't have to give it more than a cursory glance to know that she was mapping out the ground south of the pens for the Arcans. "This way," she said quietly in her curt manner, running a finger along a line drawn in the mud. "The humans will go east. We go this way when they draw off."

"But what about the guards around the fence? They won't be drawn off," one of the Arcans whispered.

"That's my job," Kyven said in a low tone.

Lightfoot gave a startled look around, and when her eyes fixed on her, he just had his illusion give her a toothy Arcan smile. "Like it? It's the new anonymous."

"About time," she told him curtly, looking back down. "Me and him will kill the guards quietly," she continued. "Everyone has to stay in the pen until we give the call to run," she stressed. "The others need time to draw away the army men in the tents between us and the forest. We can't give them a reason to turn around."

"You realize that's the most I've heard you say at one time in almost a month?" Kyven asked her lightly.

She made a rude gesture at him, then looked around at the Arcans hunched down with her. "Understand?"

They all nodded or said yes.

"Good. Spread the word. Everyone just lay down after sunset and wait, and then get up and run when we give the signal."

"We'll make sure everyone in the pen knows by sunset," a small raccoon Arcan assured her.

The others got up, one by one, and wandered away, and Kyven squatted down beside Lightfoot. "Alright, since you came up with a plan, explain it to me," he told her.

She pointed at the map she drew. "It's what we talked about," she told him. "I told them to lay down and wait. We'll start killing guards when we see the soldiers set up on the ridge," she explained, looking towards the south. "When they attack, we hold until the soldiers in the tents all get up and run to the fighting. We'll break the fence down and give the word, and the Arcans will all get up and run. I told them to go into that valley between the two ridges, that should be near the men covering us. They can send them on to the rest from there while we bring up the rear."

"Sounds like a plan. At sunset, I'll go tell them what we're gonna do so they're ready for it."

"We defend the Arcans as they run, then bring up the rear. The men covering us will be closer to the soldiers that may run back, so we can run safely while they shoot at them."

"Very nice," he nodded. "You'd be one hell of a general, Lightfoot."

"Thanks. Another group is coming. Listen as I explain it to them."

Kyven listened as Lightfoot explained her plan to the next group of Arcans, and he had to admire it for its simplicity and thoroughness. She covered all the major possibilities, and her choice of where to send the Arcans was both tactically sound and very clever. The soldiers would be on the east ridge, and that would give them a clear range of fire against any soldiers that ran back to the west. The Arcans would have about half a minar of ground to cover from the pen to the treeline, which wasn't very far for Arcans.

It would all hinge on the time window between when they started killing guards and when the attack came. But more than that, Kyven also needed to go out and make sure there were no nasty surprises for the men attacking the warehouses and deal with them, which he could do just around sunset, to survey the defenses at that point and report that information to Danvers when he met them.

In fact, given that he should inspect the city north of the river as well to see how many men could get to the south side and how fast, he should start looking around now. Lightfoot had everything under control here, and Danvers would need to know the dispensation and readiness of the Loreguard. If the army was spotted moving north, then he'd hear something about it as he surveyed the enemy.

After Lightfoot finished briefing that group of Arcans, Kyven leaned close to her. "I'm going out to check the defenses," he whispered to her. "I'll be back in a few hours."

She nodded. "Be careful," she warned.

"I will."

He worked his way out of the pens using illusions of animals, cloaked himself in the illusion of a brown-haired commoner of average appearance and rough yet stoutly made work clothes, and then got to work. He started in the north, checking the tent cities to see what the soldiers were doing, seeing if they were preparing for some kind of an attack. When he saw them all sitting around playing games, talking, and more or less passing the day lazily, he then went into the city proper and visited several taverns even as he carefully checked the city looking for any kind of defensive fortifications . . . and there were none. The talks in the taverns from the workers, citizens of Riyan, and those soldiers that had passes to visit the city proper was in no way ominous or hinted that they knew Danvers was coming. The soldiers were bored, the citizens a touch annoyed at the soldiers being in and around Riyan and causing problems, and the Riyan Regulars were a bit put out because the soldiers were like soldiers anywhere and tended to get rowdy when they got drunk. Kyven checked both of the bridges over the river in the middle of town and saw that there were no attempts to fortify those positions, and he also noted that the bulk of the soldiers camped on the north side of the river were too far away from the bridges to allow them to respond quickly to the attack. The only ones that might get involved were about two hundred camped right across the river from the warehouses, which might conceivably find some way to fire on anyone trying to torch the buildings, as it was just at the extreme edge of musket range. The south side of the city was much like the north, with the talk in the taverns and inns giving absolutely no indication that anyone knew anything about Danvers and his approaching army. The soldiers were relaxed and lazy, bored actually, and Kyven saw no indications that anyone knew what was coming.

It was nearly sunset by the time Kyven completed his sweep, so he decided to spend the time waiting for it to get dark to get a few things done. He visited the tent cities nearest the warehouses under the illusion of a Sergeant and roamed the many campfires, and whenever he reached a cluster of men sitting around a campfire, he would pause to drain every crystal in every piece of gear he could reach, and also disable their muskets sitting in racks near the fires with a waterskin and a touch of Shaman magic. The waterskin was filled with honey, and all it took was a bit poured into the barrel, a handful of dirt and small rocks, and then just a touch of heat on the barrel to make the honey less viscous. The channeled heat caused the sticky, gooey mess to ooze down into the breech, which would make it absolutely impossible to load and fire. It would take a gunsmith a good two hours to clean out that mess. Kyven managed to disable a good fifty muskets before it got dark enough.

Once it was, however, he padded back into the shadows of one of the buildings, and then focused himself. This time, he wanted to try something different, so he enacted his own shadow powers to create a cloud of shadow around him, and then used those to form the gateway into the shadow world . . . and it worked. With surprising ease, Kyven wrapped his own shadows around himself and formed the gateway into the shadow world, and then he vanished from the real world.

It was no different. The shadow world was filled with stomach-churning vertigo and shifting, queasy sights as the shadows moved about the real world, and thus caused things to appear, shift, and disappear within the shadow world. He also felt the things take notice of him, and start moving in his direction, which spurred him to quickly go about his business. A series of physical steps in the shadow world propelled him well south of Riyan in the real world, as he tested the shadows to find people he knew, for when they passed into shadow their faces and their very sense of being became apparent to him. When Clover passed under a shadow caused by a tree, shading her from the moonlight of a waxing half moon, Kyven immediately pinpointed her location. He was already in the general area where he expected the army to be, and he hadn't been far off the mark. As the ominous entities within the shadows moved towards him, Kyven converged a gateway back into the real world, and stepped through it even as he willed it to pass around him.

To those who saw it, it was as if Kyven simply stepped out of the shadows, as if the shadows melted away to produce him. He was at the edge of a small camp set up just to give men rest, with no fire, no music, no tents, just men sitting on logs or the ground, as officers clustered around a single alchemical lamp where Danvers was going over the strategy one final time. A sentry jumped when he saw Kyven, standing there naked as the day he was born, but Clover was already looking up at him with a smile.

"Sorry I'm late," Kyven said as he knelt down among the officers. "I got a little carried away."

"What's your report, Shaman?" Danvers asked calmly, which made the officers bristle.

"They have no idea we're coming," he answered, looking down at the map. "These camps to the north are too far to respond quickly. This group right here might have an opportunity to shoot at the men who torch the warehouses from the north bank of the river, so they should keep the buildings between them and the river. The Arcans know what to do, and they're ready. We're going to run the Arcans to this point," he said, tapping the map. "This is a shallow valley between two ridges, and the men covering the Arcans are supposed to be on this ridge, which keeps them out of the line of fire. Me and Lightfoot should have the guards at the pen killed before we start, so the men up here just have to cover us from the soldiers that might run back. I went through these camps here," he added, touching the tents drawn on the map closest to the warehouses. "I drained every alchemical weapon I could get my hands on, and poured honey and dirt down the barrels of a good number of muskets."

Danvers laughed. "Very clever!" he said in appreciation.

"Thanks, I just wanted to keep as many men out of danger as possible," he said calmly. "I'm not sure what else I can do, General."

"You disabling the weapons of the men closest to our attack point was more than enough."

"Not all of them, remember that, General," Kyven warned.

"You got enough to cause a little confusion, and that's more than I expected," he chuckled.

"About an hour after midnight, me and Lightfoot will start killing guards," he continued. "We'll give you time to hit the warehouses, and then break down the pen and start them towards that valley."

"I'll have Arcans and men there to guide them to our planned retreat route," he nodded in reply. "I have one hundred men on those ridges, and they'll cover them as they escape. What I want you to do before you go back to the pens is to visit these camps here and do the same thing you did to the weapons in the east camps," he added, pointing out the camps due south of the Arcans. "They'll be the ones that will be close enough to fire on the Arcans as they escape, so do what you can to keep that from happening."

"I'll take care of it as soon as I get back," Kyven affirmed. "So, what's the timeline?"

"You start an hour after midnight by killing guards. About a half an hour later, I'll start the attack on the southeast corner. As soon as it's matured, whenever you feel is best, you and Lightfoot free the Arcans and run for it. The men on the west ridges will cover your retreat. They run into the woods here and get redirected to this meadow," he reported as he touched the map due south of the west bridge, about two minars past the treeline, which wasn't far from a small hamlet. "When the Arcans are free and in the trees, we break off the attack, rendezvous here, and then form up and start our retreat south. The Loreguard won't be in a position to organize any kind of pursuit until well after sunrise, which will give us enough time to put a good twenty minars between us and Riyan and give Clover time to wipe out our trail so they can't track us. We'll force march until about noon, picking up every Arcan we can find along the way, and stage for an extended rest in a sheltered and secure place I know. After that, it's day to day."

"Alright, sounds like a plan," Kyven nodded. "I'll go sabotage the muskets of the soldiers, then wait until it's time to go." He took hold of his amulet and willed it to enact its power, and felt that eerie sensation that his body had turned to icy water, seeping out of one mold and settling into another. The humans gaped at him in shock as he shivered himself and waggled his tail to adjust to the new sensation, quickly adjusting to the Arcan legs and the tail, and the captain that seemed to hate him the most had a smug expression on his face.

"I knew you weren't no human," he sneered.

"I am human, this is just magic," Kyven answered calmly. "This little alchemical trinket allows me to take on the appearance of an Arcan for a short time. It's how I can move among the Arcans without scaring them," he said simply. "They tend to be frightened around humans, and this isn't a situation where I want them worrying more about me than what they're supposed to be doing."

"The black fox Arcan," another of them breathed, then he laughed. "That was you?"

Kyven grinned. "The very one," he admitted, tapping the amulet, which now had a human head and Danna's face. "That's what this little bobble is for, since it's magic far beyond my ability. I didn't want the Loremasters to know I was human."

"Well, let's keep our mind on our jobs," Danvers said. "Go back and do whatever you feel is necessary, Kyven. We'll be starting our attack at exactly two hours past midnight."

"I'll be ready. Good luck everyone."

"You too, my brother," Clover answered.

Kyven took a single step back, focused himself on his power, and then converged the shadows around him, forming a gateway back into the shadow world. The things were very close to him, but he knew exactly where he was going this time, so he was able to traverse the distance in the blink of an eye, in a single step, find an appropriate shadow cast by a tent near the pens, and then converged a gateway back into the real world, stepping through it even as he willed it to pass around him. He stepped out already melded to the shadows, so he was virtually invisible as he stepped into reality, lurking in the shadow of the tent not fifteen paces from the fence of the pen. He dropped to all fours and slunk over, jumped the fence, and padded along on the half-dried mud as he quickly sought out Lightfoot. She was supposed to be in the center of the pen, and that was exactly where he found her. He melted out of the shadows and became visible in front of her, but his sudden appearance didn't surprise her. She was being attended by six other Arcans, who all started when the black fox Arcan seemed to simply just appear in front of them. "They're ready," he whispered. "We start an hour and half after midnight."

Lightfoot nodded. "Anything to do?"

"I'm going to go out and sabotage weapons," he answered. "You just keep low and be ready when the time comes."

"I'll tell the Arcans to start moving towards the south end of the pens once the shooting starts," a large bear Arcan said.

"Good idea, but don't be obvious about it," Kyven nodded. "What you can do is find six or seven Arcans as big and burly as yourself. When the time comes, I want the fence knocked down so we don't waste time trying to go over it."

"I'll take care of it, Shaman," the bear said with a sudden smile. "To be of help to an honored Shaman is all I could ever hope to be."

"You will be," Kyven said as he turned and padded off.

Again wrapped in an illusion, Kyven invaded the southwestern camps of the Loreguard soldiers and did the same thing he did on the east side. He moved among the talking, laughing, carousing men, and as they told stories, ate from spits and pans on the campfires, and passed the time, Kyven moved among them pretending to be a roaming sentry, unobtrusively draining every alchemical device he could touch, and pausing at outdoor musket racks, where the men stowed their weapons when sitting at the campfires so they had them close at hand, he sabotaged their weapons with honey and a bit of dirt poured into the barrel, then heated with just a touch of Shaman magic. He managed to disable about thirty of them before the honey ran out of his waterskin, and he ambled back towards the kitchen tents to steal more.

But along the way, he saw something that he couldn't just ignore. A Loreguard general was striding along the edge of the tents holding the men, with three other officers with him, discussing something that Kyven couldn't quite hear. All four of them were veritably bristling with alchemical weapons and devices, so much so that Kyven gave them a wide berth fearing they might have a grounder among them that would dismiss his illusion, but he padded along behind them just close enough to make out their discussion.

"I hope they hold up the game for us," one of the officers said with a chuckle. "Franklon has gotten far too insufferable, and we need to clear out his chit bag."

"This should only take a few more minutes, Mick," the general said calmly. "I've always been a big believer in personally inspecting things."

"We need to move soon, or our men are going to start bursting the seams of their uniforms, General Tag," another chuckled. "All this sitting around is making them lazy."

"It won't be much longer, Dennet," the general said. "I don't know for sure, but I'm fairly sure that as soon as they get the last of those supplies here, we'll be on our way." The four of them stopped at the north end of the pens, and Kyven saw most of the Arcans laying down, quietly waiting for the signal to move. "Odd."

"What is it, sir?"

"They're quiet tonight."

"They're always quiet, sir," the Major noted.

"No, Major, they're . . . still. It's unusual."

"Well, sir, I don't pay much attention to Arcans."

"You should, Major. They have senses we don't," the general said calmly, studying them. "They usually move around much more than this after dark. They're all . . . edgy. Nervous. This is what Arcans do when they're nervous."

"I'll ask around to see if there's been anything happening not reported to us, General," the third offered. "There might have been another incident with the men."

"Possible, I suppose," the General grunted. "Ask around, Captain, but don't take too long. We can head back to the inn and you can catch up."

"Yes, sir," the fourth man said sharply, and not altogether enthusiastically.

Kyven shadowed that man for a while, but after he asked around and found nothing unusual, he returned to the city, no doubt to a large, well-appointed inn where the big brass among the Loreguard were quartered, so they didn't have to sleep outside in a tent like their men. After that potential threat fizzled out, Kyven returned to the pen and hunkered down with Lightfoot, who was keeping a careful watch.

Time both slowed down and sped up at that point, as the eternal moment of watching pushed through the night inexorably, as the moon tracked across the sky. It was due to set around midnight, and after it did, plunging the camps into starlit darkness, Kyven and Lightfoot started moving around. There were only four guards watching the entire pen, for they relied almost exclusively on the collars to keep the Arcans under control. The two of them weren't concerned with the guards as much as the roving patrols. They watched those roaming quartets of men carefully to discern their patrol patterns, for men who expected no trouble didn't tend to pay much attention. That wasn't to say that these men wouldn't be alert and cautious out in the world, but here, deep in civilized territory and expecting nothing, they weren't quite so attentive. What they were watching wasn't the forests for an attack, their primary interest was keeping the men in the tents in their tents, discouraging men from sneaking off to Riyan to carouse in the inns and possibly annoy the citizenry. So their attention, such as it was, was focused in the wrong place.

After about an hour, they started to move. The pen guards changed at midnight, so the new guards had had an hour and more to settle in and lose interest, and two of them were asleep. The roving guards didn't bother the pen guards, and that was the important thing that they needed to know. They split up and took care of the guards. Kyven killed both of his with Shaman magic, electrocuting them, and then propped them up so they looked to be asleep in their chairs. The Arcans near the fences watched his movements with fearful anticipation, for they knew what was going to happen, and seeing him kill the guards was absolute proof that it was going to come to pass. Some of them got antsy, started fidgeting, but Kyven's calm stare into the pen, his eyes glowing with spirit sight, calmed them down some. On all fours, melded into the night, Kyven moved with the silence of a ghost along the edge of the fence, coming to the south side as Lightfoot crept up from the other side. "Trouble?" he whispered.

She gave him a flat look.

"Lead them when the time comes," he whispered. "I'll protect the flank."

She nodded, and almost as soon as she did, they heard it start. The sharp crack of Briton rifles chattered on the far side of Riyan's south side, as the rebels opened sudden fire on the sleeping armies of the Loreguard. So soon? They weren't supposed to start for another half hour!

The reaction of the army was exactly as Danvers expected. Just beyond the pens, the men were jumping awake with startled shouts, and then a Lieutenant charged down to the camp a moment later as the rifle fire continued to chatter in the distance, some minar away. "We're under attack!" the Lieutenant shouted. "Fall in, fall in damn you!"

"Who the hell is attacking?" a surly man growled near them.

"When we get over there you can ask!" the officer snapped. "Get moving, men!"

The bloom of fire appeared in the distance to the east right about where the warehouses would be, and the sharp reports of rifles were suddenly intermixed with the heavier sounds of musket fire, and then Kyven distinctly heard the sharp detonation of a shockrod. There was a sudden impressive explosion from far down there, as what looked like some supply of gunpowder detonated in one of the warehouses, sending fiery shards of wood flying high into the air.

It took the officer about five minutes to get his men up, armed, and moving, and all that time the Arcans in the pen were slowly creeping closer and closer to the south fence, even as the sounds of battle got even more fierce to the east. The east side of Riyan were clearly visible now because of several pillars of fire rising into the heavens, the warehouses down there burning in a raging inferno that couldn't be entirely natural. Clover had to be down there, using her Shaman magic on the buildings. Kyven watched intently as the soldiers charged to the east, leaving the Arcan pens unguarded, or at least under the watchful eyes of four dead men, whose condition had gone unnoticed in the chaos caused by the attack.

Kyven held his hand up to Lightfoot, holding any action as they watched the men running to the east. The Arcans behind the fence grew highly agitated as they saw open ground between them and safety, but the calm presence of the Shaman kept enough order to keep them from bolting. Kyven counted their steps, counted the seconds, and when he felt that they were too far to stop the Arcans, he jerked his hand down quickly. "Now!" he called.

The Arcans in the pens moved as one. The bear Arcan had done his job and found several very burly, large Arcans to deal with the fence, and they moved in unison, bashing down the fenceposts to open a large hole for the Arcans. The fenceposts and rails clattered to the ground, and the Arcans now unrestrained, boiled forth in a sudden action so strong it literally shook the ground.

"Go! Go, go, go!" Kyven said, urging the Arcans as they ran from the pens, charging through the tents with Lightfoot leading them towards the break between the two ridges. Kyven bounded along the edge of them, getting just past the tents as he watched the soldiers intently, both the ones in front of him and the ones further north, who had been quartered just east of the pen, who had also vacated the area to repel the heavy assault to the east, a battle still raging from the sound of it, as rifles continued to fire almost continuously, interspersed with musket fire and the blasting of alchemical weapons.

Just as Danvers expected, the flight of the Arcans didn't go unnoticed for long. The tail end of the men charging east seemed to take notice of the escaping Arcans, and that also caused a little chaos and confusion as men who had orders to repel the eastern attackers now had to warn the command staff about the escaping Arcans, and then get orders back to stop them. Kyven drew himself up solidly as a group of about a hundred Loreguard at the very end of the charge east stopped, milled around, then turned around and started back, brandishing their muskets. That many men couldn't stop all the Arcans, but Kyven could see that they could kill quite a few of them, no matter what the men on the ridge did to try to stop them. They'd be in musket range, and that meant that Arcans were going to die.

Now it was his turn. Kyven couldn't fight a hundred men, but Kyven was a Shaman whose specialty was illusion, and that gave him a weapon. He imagined a huge illusion, the biggest he had ever tried, and then beseeched the fox for the magic to power the spell. She granted him that power, and he felt his knees unlock as a staggering amount of power flowed through him, far more than he had ever tried to channel at once, but he was up to the task. With teeth clenched and his tail sticking straight out, he channeled that power and manifested the illusion.

Kyven had imagined fire, a roaring wall of hellish flames about fifty paces from the soldiers and about two hundred paces from him. The illusion was created with exquisite attention to detail as Kyven threw everything he had into it, all but putting a bit of his own soul into the illusion to try to scare the soldiers into retreating, and that effort gave the illusion great power. The illusion of the flames towering a hundred rods overhead was absolutely perfect, was so hot that the flames seemed to melt the ground, and so detailed was his imagination, down to the individual licks of flame within the wall, the skin-tightening heat, the smell of burning grass and scorched earth, the hot wind roaring from the wall due to air heating, and the column of smoke rising, that the wall of fire that suddenly exploded from the ground burned the grass. Real fire erupted from the grass under the illusion, but Kyven was so intent on holding his illusion, the biggest he had ever done, that he was completely oblivious to the world. Eyes locked on his illusion, he held a steady stance and held a single hand out as his eyes glowed with emerald radiance, and the hot wind created by his illusion flowed over him, billowing his fur and hair in undulating ripples. He couldn't see the soldiers beyond the wall of flames, but he saw no attempts to shoot through the illusion; then again, they'd been quite a distance from the Arcans before he raised it, which was a deterrence from trying to approach and also a means to hold their attention. His wall didn't extend all the way to the trees, only going about two hundred rods, but it certainly had their attention because it was right in their faces.

He lost all focus on the world, for his entire world had become the illusion. He had no idea how long he held it up, what was happening elsewhere, he concentrated solely on the fire, keeping it looking completely realistic, concentrating on the little things that made the fire believable. It was so believable that the illusion intruded into reality and burned the grass, fire that was spreading from the base of the illusion in both directions, spreading quickly through the dry grass and was actually accomplishing what Kyven himself could not. The grass fire was spreading towards the trees, and blocking the soldiers from trying to chase down the Arcans. Behind the oblivious Shaman, the Arcans continued to flee towards the forest, moving in a steady stream on all fours, low to the ground as they moved like a fleeing herd, a stampede of frightened cattle. The grass fire was creeping closer and closer to their column even as it spread towards the dumbfounded soldiers, who gaped at the towering wall of fire and felt its searing heat even from fifty rods away, real heat. Fearing that the heat would ignite their gunpowder, they would come no closer. The Arcans continued to flee, hidden behind the wall of fire on the north and to the south hidden by the blazing light in the faces of the soldiers caused by both the illusion and the real fire spreading from it; the soldiers had all that brilliant light in their faces, and they could see almost nothing in the darkness behind it, only shimmering shadowy shapes behind the flames that could be Arcans but could also be nothing but shifting shadows caused by the fire.

After a moment that dragged on for longer than he could imagine, the toll of maintaining an illusion that big was exacted on him. Kyven felt himself falter, and then he knew he had to stop the illusion or die, be drained of his own energy. He jerked his hand away as he canceled the illusion, felt a bone weariness in him so profound he could barely stand, but his weariness was buried in consternation when he saw that his illusory fire had sparked a very real grass fire that was still spreading. The soldiers on the far side shuddered when that wall vanished, and seeing Kyven and his glowing eyes, they took aim at him with their muskets. But the first ranks of them suddenly keeled over, blood flying, and seconds later the sharp reports of Briton rifles reached his ears over the crackle of the fire. The men on the ridges were using their superior range to fire on the soldiers, and the men, stunned by the attack and fearful of the approaching grass fire, broke their nerve and scattered, searching for cover from the hidden infantrymen firing at them. The men on the far side of the fire became a disorganized mess as men retreated from the fire and dove behind tents or logs pulled to campsites to serve as seats, as the steady chatter of Briton rifles fired from the nearby ridge kept the men pinned down.

He could barely move. He'd never done an illusion that big before, and he could barely fathom what was going on, his mind swimming in a haze of crushing fatigue. While he was trying to move, huge hands grabbed hold of him and whisked him away, and it took him a moment to realize that he was in the arms of a large bear Arcan, the same one he'd ordered earlier, who was running on his legs towards the trees as smoky lines of musket balls cut the air in front and behind him. Blearily he saw dark shapes on the ground, Arcans shot and killed while fleeing towards the trees, and saw more and more soldiers rushing back to the west, only to stop and seek cover when the riflemen on the ridges opened up on them. Something warm spattered on his face, and the huge bear staggered, but kept going. Dimly, he realized it was blood, and there was blood flowing from a wound high on the bear's shoulder. Despite his wound, the strong arms around him didn't waver, and he was carried into the trees. As soon as the dark shadows of the canopy above blocked out the stars, Kyven's eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.



He woke feeling almost like he was back in Haven and had just finished one of his brutal training sessions. It was already daytime, for sunlight streamed through the trees, and he found himself in a rolling open-topped wagon. Men on horseback were to either side of it and Lightfoot was riding in the front seat with the driver, he saw as he sat up wearily, and he also saw that he wasn't the only man in the wagon. Four other men were laying in the wagon on bedrolls, laid out side by side, bandaged and sleeping. The wagon was the last in a train of them, and behind them, on all fours, were a huge number of Arcans. Most of them were nude, padding along on all fours at a fast walk that was very nearly a jog as the horses moved at a slow canter or fast walk. They all looked both overjoyed and a little nervous, and there was hushed talk among them as they moved along behind the wagons.

He yawned and sat up, holding the side of the wagon for much needed support, since he wasn't sure if he could stand at the moment. The dreadful hunger that came with an exercise of that kind of power was already starting to stir deep inside him, an all-consuming need to eat that mixed in with his nearly phobic fear of starving, of being too hungry, a scar left over from his time in Arthur Ledwell's cage. It had been a long time since he'd felt that hunger, the need for the body to restore what it had burned off using magic, and it was enough to make him risk moving. He could tell just from the feeling of himself that he was human again, which reaffirmed his notion that the amulet could only keep him transformed so long as he was conscious. When he passed out, he must have changed back. "Where's my horse?" he called to the nearest mounted soldier.

"Dunno," he answered. "I can go fetch one of the spares."

"Whatever, just bring me something please," he said.

"I'm supposed to tell the General when you wake up anyway," he shrugged, spurring his horse into a fast trot and moving up along the wagons.

One of the Arcans padding along just behind the wagon approached, and jumped onto the back. Kyven was laid out closest to the back gate, so it put the canine Arcan with mottled brown and black fur all but on top of him. "Shaman," the Arcan said with the most profound respect. "Are you well?"

"Just exhausted," he said in a weary tone. "I've never tried anything that big before. What happened? Where are we?"

"I know not, Shaman," the canine said regretfully.

"What happened after I passed out?"

"I don't know when that was, Shaman, but I was near the back. There was fire between us and the soldiers, but they were shooting at us as we ran. A few of us died," he said with a sorrowful look. "But not nearly as many as would have had you not stopped the soldiers from getting closer. When we reached the trees, these humans and some Arcans working for you guided us to a meadow where these wagons were parked," he explained. "We waited there until a group of men on horses came for us. They put you in this wagon, and we've been following you ever since."

"We've been moving all night?"

"Yes, Shaman," he said with a nod. "We were running as fast as the wagons would go until dawn, and since then we've been moving at this fast walk. I think I heard one of the humans say we'll stop to rest soon. I hope so, many of us are getting hungry."

"Good. Did Clover talk to you?"

"The honored Shaman did, briefly," he answered. "She said we would be given guns and could fight against the Loreguard. Is it really true?"

Kyven nodded. "If you want. We've got you free, but we're not there yet. We need your help. Every Arcan that fights against the Loreguard increases the chances of everyone making it safely away."

"I will fight, Shaman," he declared proudly. "You risked your life for us, Shaman. That honors me beyond all words, that you would risk your life for me. For me! I would be a poor excuse for an Arcan not to risk my life for you in return."

"I'm glad to hear that," he said, putting his hand on the Arcan's shoulder. "But don't sell yourself short, my friend. Your life is as valuable as mine."

He snorted. "My life would never be worth yours, Shaman," he said in a voice of near-adulation. "I owe the greatest of debts to you, honored Shaman. I will fight for you."

"I'm glad you will, but you won't be fighting for me, you'll be fighting for yourself. For your freedom."

"If fighting for you brings me freedom, then that is a nice bonus," he said with a slight toothy smile.

Horses galloped back towards them, and Kyven looked back. He saw the General and four other men on horses, one of them leading a horse, rushing back. The Arcan gave the men a fearful look and moved to return to the others, but Kyven's hand on his shoulder tightened, holding him on the back of the wagon. "Kyven," Danvers said with a bright smile. "I'm glad to see you awake. You scared the hell out of quite a few people, you know."

"How?"

"That fire," he grinned. "I've never seen anything like it. You paralyzed the entire battle with that monstrosity."

"It was just an illusion, General," Kyven chuckled. "But it was supposed to be big and scary looking. I've never done one that big before, and I'm sure feeling it now."

"I was worried until Clover explained it," he answered. "She said you may be hungry when you wake up."

"That's one hell of an understatement," he grunted. "I need meat, General. Raw."

Several men shuddered, but Danvers wasn't one of them. "Clover hunted a doe for you," he said. "She cut it up and it's waiting for you at the lead wagon."

"Good. General, where are the extra rifles?"

"In the supply wagons up ahead of us," he answered.

"Well then, we need to hand them out. The Arcans need to get used to carrying them."

All four of the men with Kyven gave him a startled and highly disapproving look. "Arming them already? I hadn't planned on that quite yet," he said, and Kyven could hear the strain in his voice.

"I don't think they need to be loaded until they get lessons in using them, but they need to get used to carrying them," Kyven elaborated. "Trust me. Carrying anything while running on all fours takes a little adjusting."

Danvers looked at the canine Arcan, and then nodded.

"Go back to the others and tell them that anyone who wants to fight needs to go up and get a rifle," Kyven told the canine. "Make sure to warn them that they won't be loaded. They'll get the bullets after they learn how to use them. And also make sure to tell them to be very careful with the rifles. Don't let them get dirty and treat them gently."

"I will, Shaman," the canine said with a nod, then he dropped off the wagon and bounded back to the others and started talking.

"Gently?" Danvers asked.

"Any number of those Arcans can snap the triggers off with their fingers by accident," Kyven said simply. "We can start teaching them when we rest. Where is Clover?"

"She's out with a contingent of men freeing Arcans from nearby plantations," he answered. "Recall that that's part of our strategy. Every Arcan we free between here and Cheston is either another soldier against the Loreguard or denying them a worker to exploit."

"I didn't realize I was asleep that long."

"It's nearly noon, Kyven," Danvers chuckled.

"That late? Wow," he grunted. "Well, let me get on a horse and go eat before I pass out again."

Lightfoot came down from the front and helped him mount, and to his surprise, she got on behind him. "You'll fall off otherwise," she told him bluntly as she grabbed him around the waist, and held him securely in the saddle. He took the reins and urged the horse into a fast walk, and Danvers fell in beside him, with the others behind them.

"How did it go?" Kyven asked.

"Textbook," he answered. "We caught them with their pants down. They were confused and disorganized, and we hit them hard and then withdrew before they got any semblance of control over the men. Clover was part of the advance group that attacked the warehouses first. She set fire to them, and they got caught by a patrol which started the fight earlier than expected. The Loreguard had no idea what hit them. You timed it on your side almost perfectly, and when half the army stopped and thought to turn around, I had a group of cavalry come up to the treeline and open fire on them, then retreat before they could return fire. The slashing tactics confused the absolute fuck out of them. Begging your pardon, Lightfoot," he said, nodding to the cat Arcan, then he chuckled when she let go long enough to give him a rude gesture. "Right about the time their officers got on the scene and started taking control of the army, you had the Arcans evacuated, and we withdrew quickly. I had skirmishers set to discourage pursuit, but they didn't have much to shoot at as we pulled back. We're about twenty minars south of Riyan now, making good time despite carrying the wagons, but we'll be abandoning the wagons when we reach our staging area and moving ahead using nothing but pack animals. I have all these extra horses, may as well use them," he grunted. "The Arcans need to get used to carrying more than a rifle, Kyven. When we reach the staging area, every one of them will be carrying a pack holding his tent and some basic sundries like drinking cups and blankets. They're there waiting for us, two thousand packs."

Kyven whistled. "I hope you didn't pay for those," he said.

"I only paid for about half of them," he chuckled. "Clover and the other Shaman have this amazing spell, my friend. They can create a duplicate of something using magic. Clover's already made about thirty rifles by taking one apart and duplicating the pieces, then my gunsmiths put the pieces together. All she needs is the raw materials. I give her a sturdy piece of wood and a few pots and pans or a musket we took from the Loreguard, and she gives me a Briton rifle."

"I've never seen her use it, but I've heard about it," Kyven told him.

"Anyway, over the last few years, Clover, Stalker, and Coldfoot have been making those supply packs for me, mainly for the Arcans that have gone through my plantation on the way west," he explained. "That way they always had what they needed for the journey. I've always kept a few hundred stored for emergencies, but Coldfoot came to the plantation last year and started making them by the wagonload. When I asked why, he said that they needed large stockpile of gear that they might need in the near future, and my plantation was the best place to hide it. I had about two thousand of them stored in secret bunkers around my land, stored there in case of any kind of major action or mass Arcan movement, just in case. Luckily, though, this army came with its own equipment. They'll come in handy now, though."

"That sounds right before the time I started my Walk," he mused. "Just about when things started moving. Even back then they knew what was coming, and started planning for it. Actually, they've known for about ten years."

"Known what, Kyven?" one of the men behind him asked.

"That the crystals are running out," he answered immediately. "What's going on out here is all because of that. That's why the Loremasters are moving to take over Noraam, and why we're moving now. Without crystals to power the collars, there will be a mass killing of Arcans. That's something the Shaman couldn't ignore."

"Running out?" the man asked in surprise.

Kyven nodded. "They're not an infinite resource. The humans have used most of them up. What's left won't last Noraam five more years. Already, crystals are starting to dwindle. We saw it in Atan just before I found out I'm a Shaman, that the mines were producing less and less. They were about to start major exploration around the village to search for more deposits right before I left."

"Fuck," the man grunted. Kyven glanced back at him and saw his face thoughtful and worried.

"Now do you understand what we're doing, Major?" Danvers asked. "We're freeing Arcans that would be slaughtered otherwise and giving them a chance to fight for their freedom. The Loreguard have always seen Arcans as animals, but I know better. I've seen them in action, I've faced them in battle before. I know many of the men are wary of arming Arcans, but you'll see. The Arcans will surprise you."

"They will," Kyven said simply as the smell of raw venison sent his stomach on the warpath. "Arcans are just as smart as men, but the main thing you have to get past is their conditioning. Most slaves need some encouragement and reinforcement to shake it off. I know I did," he grunted. "I remember how I felt when I left the Ledwells. I was terrified, and it took me time to get to where the sight of that controller or a raised voice wouldn't send me running to the nearest corner. I never thought I'd be broken so fast, but that collar," he said with a shudder. "I'd wish that on no man."

"What do you mean, Shaman?" Danvers asked.

"The spirits changed me into an Arcan for a while," he answered in a flat voice. "To teach me what life was like for them, since I had the same attitude most men had about Arcans. I didn't hate them or torment them for fun, but to me they were just . . . Arcans," he said. "My totem didn't like my attitude, so she changed me into an Arcan as both punishment for something I did and to teach me the truth. I was an Arcan for about a year before I was changed back. I was caught, put in a kennel, then sold at auction to a sadistic son of a bitch named Arthur Ledwell. He put a collar on me that duplicated the effect of a pain stick, and then he put me in a cage behind his house and starved me very nearly to death," he said in a grating voice. "To make me more tractable so I could be tamed," he growled as he leaned over in the saddle and took a handful of venison and started tearing into it with his teeth. "I can't describe that kind of horror, gentlemen, to be trapped in a cage in plain sight and starve while people walked by, ignoring me, even eating and drinking in front of me. The torturers in Avannar could have taken lessons from that bastard," he said with a shudder, as the memory of it caused the emptiness in his belly trigger a nearly panicked reaction that made him stuff the entire handful of venison into his mouth and struggle to chew and swallow it, nearly choking on it.

"What happened?" a man behind asked in an eager kind of voice, absorbed in his tale.

"I nearly died," he said darkly. "And I mean I came a whisker from it. The vet they called in said that I should have been dead already. It ultimately took a healing bell for me to recover."

"They spent that much?"

"I was the black fox Arcan," Kyven said without much humor, taking another piece of venison from the wagon and taking a bite. "Ledwell bought me to resell me in Alamar as a breeder. I was rather unique. In fact, I was very nearly sold to a furrier at auction. I was very nearly killed right at the auction block for my fur."

"So, how did you escape?"

"I didn't," he answered, taking another bite. "I killed Ledwell when he tried to kill his wife when they argued about what to do about me. She didn't like the collar, and when she saw the truth of her husband in how he tormented me, it changed her. Ledwell couldn't accept her demands, and he tried to kill her, but I killed him first. You'd think she'd have been grateful enough to let me go, but that bitch sold me," he spat. "I save her life, and she sells me. I got my revenge on her, though," he laughed bitterly. "She sent me to the Blue Ring of Alamar, but I escaped before I was auctioned off."

"I heard about that," another man laughed. "Nobody ever believed an Arcan could escape the blue ring."

"That was me. An Arcan could escape from there if he was serious about it, but the ones I met inside were content. Being sold in the blue ring is like inheriting a fortune from an unknown relative," he said, remembering Silver. "That's a guarantee for a soft life, and few Arcans would try to escape from that. At least on my side. The fighting Arcans they sell there might have a different view, but I was being sold as a breeder." He took another bite and swallowed it almost without chewing. "I escaped from Alamar, made my way back to Atan, then went west, to Haven." Lightfoot jabbed him in the ribs, almost knocking the breath out of him. "No reason to keep it secret now, Lightfoot. The Loremasters know, and it's just a matter of time."

"What's that?" one of the men behind him asked.

"The Arcan nation," he answered evenly.

"Bullshit on that," another of them grunted.

"That's what I thought too, until I saw it," Kyven said. "There's about a half million of them on the cold plains far to the northwest, where the winters are so bitter that men won't live there," he told them. "They have a city there even bigger than Avannar. All the Arcans that escape from Noraam or are freed by the Masked end up in Haven." Kyven glanced back at the four men. "Arcans, gentlemen, and nothing but. There are some humans who live up there, mountain men and settlers that stumbled across the Arcans, but they don't live in the city, they live in villages at the edges of Arcan territory, and they get along with the Arcans just fine. The Arcans built that city and they live in it. And if you ask me, they do alright for themselves."

"I find that hard to believe," one of them said. "Arcans don't seem smart enough to do that. Not that there aren't some damn smart Arcans, Miss Lightfoot," he said quickly when Lightfoot glared at him. "But on the whole, I wouldn't believe Arcans have the ability to live without human help."

"Arcans are just as smart as we are, Captain," Danvers said calmly. "And as you said, some are even smarter. I think we can all agree that Clover is highly intelligent." There was a rumble of assent. "The Arcans are no different from us in that regard, my friends. There are smart ones and dumb ones, but on the whole, they're more than smart enough to do for themselves."

"Ferals," Lightfoot grunted.

"Yeah," Kyven agreed. "The feral Arcans are why people think that Arcans are animals. Because those Arcans really are. They taint the image of the Arcans for the rest of us." He took another bite. "You'll see when we start training the Arcans in how to use the rifles. They'll do fine, at least once they shake off the slave mindset . . . if they can. Not all of them will. Those are the ones we'll have to watch, and ensure they don't work as soldiers. They'll have to be given work like cooking and such. It takes too long to deprogram that kind of trauma in just a couple of days. I spent a couple of weeks with the Ledwells, and it took me months to get over it . . . mostly. I doubt I ever will."

"Well, Master Kyven, you've intrigued me. When it comes time to train the Arcans to the rifle, I'd like to be there to help," one of the men behind him said. "I'd like to see what kind of soldier an Arcan can be."

"You'd be surprised," Kyven grunted, not divulging the secret inside, that the Arcans were literally created to be soldiers. That kind of basic programming had to still be in the Arcans, if Lightfoot was any indication. "As long as we don't pick up Arcans unsuitable for it because of their histories or their conditioning, we'll be alright." He finished the rest of the venison in his hand, and reached for another piece.

"So, you were an Arcan," Danvers mused. "What was it like?"

"Very different, but not much at the same time," he answered. "The Arcans have a culture that seems simple on the surface, but is actually quite different from ours and very complicated. I learned very quickly how to fit in among them, because I had to. They've borrowed some human concepts, but at the core Arcan mentality is vastly different from ours."

"How so?"

"Arcans think in terms of we, not I," he said after a moment. "An Arcan is a part of a greater whole, a member of the pack," he elaborated. "at least when not stressed. In the kennels, you'll find those Arcans that take what they can from others, because the survival instinct wins out. When not under that kind of stress, though, Arcans are very generous and giving. They're also intensely social. Put five stranger Arcans in a room, and within an hour they'll form a group and be very open, trading information back and forth among one another. There's no such thing as a secret in Arcan society. Arcans don't have the same concepts of privacy and personal space as we do, so they'll say and do things in company that a human wouldn't. They have a very open society."

"That's actually conducive to being a soldier," Danvers said after a moment's contemplation. "Soldiers are members of a group first and foremost, and must consider the welfare of the unit while in battle."

"And that's how you'll find the Arcans to behave once they're given some training in being a soldier. They'll follow orders and always think and act in terms of the greater whole."

"And what you said explains Balton a great deal," he added, rubbing his chin. "Some of the Arcans sacrificed themselves to allow the rest to escape. The well being of the whole was more important than the individual."

"And so they willingly died to protect the group," Kyven said simply. "They died in a manner of their own choosing, and Arcans always consider that to be the best way for it to end. Those Arcans died knowing they were saving others, and that made the sacrifice worth it." He chewed down another mouthful of venison. "I found my time as an Arcan very interesting, and educational. I experienced life from their perspective, and I learned first hand just how the humans abuse them. I believe I'm a better man because of it."

"You were a better Arcan," Lightfoot told him.

Kyven chuckled. "So biased," he teased. "How many casualties?" he asked Danvers.

"Not many," he answered. "Three killed and seven wounded. The only fatalities were among the men who burned the warehouses. We were out of musket range, so our firing lines didn't get a scratch. We did have a broken leg from a shying horse throwing the man, but outside of that, it was completely one-sided. We left several dozen dead Loreguard behind."

"Good," Kyven nodded. "Not that I enjoy killing, but they've sided against us, and that's a few dozen less men trying to kill us tomorrow."

"Well said."

The small army stopped to rest in a large flat clearing that was clearly a fallow farm field surrounded by trees and with the blackened bones of a house at the far end of the large clearing. Danvers called it the Ghost Plantation, a place considered haunted and cursed by the locals, who wouldn't buy it or farm it. Four families had bought the land, built houses, harvested one crop, and then they all died. Every single one of them. The blackened bones over there were the remains of the house burned by the locals after the last family was found dead, all their servants and Arcans dead, and not a mark anywhere on any body. That kind of macabre mystery had attracted attention from Riyan and Avannar, but nothing unusual or suspicious was ever found. Those people and the ones before just . . . died. That gave this place a very black reputation, and Danvers exploited that. This was the staging area Danvers had mentioned, for he ordered the army to bivouac, the wagons to be unloaded and stripped, then broken apart to use as firewood. In a surprisingly short amount of time, the men had their tents up in orderly rows . . . but the Arcans weren't quite as lucky. None of them had ever raised a tent before, and not many of the men were enthusiastic about teaching them how. It fell to Kyven and Danvers and a few officers to demonstrate how it was done to some Arcans, who then raised their own tents, then helped others raise theirs. After all the tents were raised, fires were started, cookpots set out, and the humans partook of an army staple, boiled beans, bacon, and bread and cheese. When the supply quartermaster started working out how to divide it between the men and the Arcans, quite a few of the men told him not to give their food to the Arcans, that there wasn't all that much food with them to give it away to Arcans, and they could damn well hunt for their own food.

Kyven felt that was an eminently practical idea to teach the men a little lesson. He gathered up the Arcans and selected those like himself who knew how to hunt, and they then ranged out in several packs. The men eating beans and drinking ale chuckled at the Arcans sitting around campfires with no food, at least until Kyven returned from the forest dragging four deer tied together, then another Arcan, a sleek cat, brought back half a dozen rabbits, and a pack of six Arcans appeared from the trees struggling to drag a Tauron, a beast that outweighed all six of them about four times over, and had enough meat on its nearly ton of bulk to feed a large swath of Arcans. Even Kyven was impressed with that; a Tauron's sheer size would make it extremely hard to kill with anything but magic. That those six Arcans felled a Tauron with only one injury among them, a broken arm, was a true accomplishment. To feed over a thousand Arcans, they'd need about two hundred deer or equivalent meat, but it didn't take that long to gather that much. The pack that killed the Tauron was a harbinger, for the Tauron was part of a small herd of wild cattle and Tauron mixed together, and the hunters effectively killed off the wild herd and dragged it back to camp. After about two hours, the men who had been laughing at the Arcans sitting near their fires hungry turned to slight grumbling when the hunters returned with enough meat to feed them all. Kyven probably made even more enemies that day when the Arcans with him, dragging a large bull cow to the Arcans nearest the soldiers, offered to share it with the men.

"No," Kyven said calmly, and more than loud enough for the men to hear. "They didn't help set up camp, they laughed at us while we learned how, and they didn't offer to share their beans, so we will not share our meat. Only give it to the humans who helped teach us how to raise the tents. None for anyone else except General Danvers and his command staff. They'll get our meat when they earn it, and not before."

So, while the soldiers ate beans, the Arcans ate venison, rabbit, squirrel, and beef . . . and Kyven was fairly sure that the smell of the meat was making the beans taste very bland, even if the men didn't much like the idea of the Arcans eating it raw. Very few Arcans preferred cooked meat over raw meat.

Clover returned not long after dinner was over, and she and about 30 men were escorting a large throng of Arcans. Some of them were clothed, some of them were not. Most of them were not wearing collars, but a few still had collars around their necks. Most of them were carrying bags, sacks, packs, boxes, and other containers, loaded down with supplies. The mounted men were weighed down with muskets, alchemical weapons, swords, even a few farm tools.

"Welcome back," Danvers told them as Clover padded up to where he, Kyven, Lightfoot, and Danvers' command staff had come out to greet them. "I see you had a good time of it."

"We had to be very firm with a few plantations," she said with a slight smile. "And a few shots were traded at a couple of them, but they saw things our way. I had the Arcans clean out the storehouses of each plantation we raided. I recall that we're low on stores, so I brought anything I could find."

"Good, good," Danvers smiled. "Why don't you and Kyven help our new Arcans settle in, and explain things to them?" he asked, then he blanched and stepped back as the tail end of the procession came in. At the tail end, bringing up the rear, were six of the largest dogs Kyven had ever seen in his life. They were large canines the size of a horse, like gigantic wolves, their thick coats ranging from smoky gray to pitch black. They moved with sinuous grace, those massive wolves, then started moving slowly up along the Arcans. "What the hell are those?"

"Oh, one of the plantations had an owner that liked to breed Lupans, General. I thought they might like it better with us than in those pens, so I asked them to come along. They agreed to help us for a while."

"You . . . asked?"

"A Shaman spell, General, though I'm not very good at it," she said modestly. "Were it not that I'm a canine myself, it wouldn't have worked. I can only talk to other canines. My brothers and sisters are much better at it than me. So, do you think we'll have a use for them?"

"Oh, we might, as long as they don't eat any horses," he said, looking speculatively at the huge animals. Some of the Arcans seemed comfortable near them, but most of them shied away from the monstrous canines.

"The owner didn't feed them horses. He fed them Arcans."

Kyven paled and looked at her.

She nodded soberly. "I had to explain to them quite sternly that we are not food anymore, and they agreed. They didn't like the way we taste anyway. They'll hunt for their food, just as we will. They've already eaten, we stopped for a quick meal about an hour ago and they were kind enough to share the deer they killed. Any sign of pursuit, General?"

He shook his head. "You were masterful hiding our trail, my dear Clover," he said.

"I am happy to help, General," she smiled.

"Let's get these new Arcans settled in and explain things to them," Danvers said.

Clover's nature became abundantly apparent after the Arcans handed over their supplies to the army's quartermasters, sat down, and listened. Clover had no fear of standing up and addressing them, speaking to them in a calm yet strong voice as she explained exactly what they were doing, where they were going, and what they could get from it. Clover was gentle, kind, wise, and compassionate, but she was also very persuasive. When she asked how many of the new Arcans would be willing to fight, after a long speech where she quite effectively charmed the whole lot of them, more than three quarters of them responded. The rest, too timid or conditioned to fight, volunteered to work for the army as horse handlers, cooks, pages, anything it took. They all understood the one thing she stressed, and that was when it was over, they would all go someplace far from the humans and live in peace and security, where they would be free. But to get there, they had to help the human army in its quest to hold the attention of the Loreguard and draw them off to give the Arcans west of the mountains time to push them back, as well as to give the Flaurens all the help they could as they moved to make war on the Loremasters.

Clover was far more valuable to the army for her ability to persuade than she was as a Shaman.

It took until well after nightfall to get the new Arcans situated. Those freed last night welcomed them with open arms, sharing what was left of their meat, sharing their tents, sharing the tools and utensils that were in the packs. While they were doing that, though, Kyven was introduced face to face with Clover's other little addition. The six Lupans were even bigger up close than they were at a distance, and when they came over to Clover, Kyven and Lightfoot were introduced, in a man-animal kind of way. "Lupans are quite intelligent," Clover explained as the six horse-sized canines approached them, unafraid of the fire. "Not as intelligent as man or Arcan, but they are quite clever in their own way. Lupans, coyotes, and wolves are about the only animals I've ever managed to be able to get through to using that spell," she admitted with a laugh, reaching up and stroking the smoky gray Lupan's neck fondly.

"They're huge, Clover. Huge," Kyven breathed, looking eye to eye with one of the smaller Lupans, the one with a coat as black as a cloudy, moonless night, and penetrating yellow eyes that literally glowed with an amber radiance. It was faint, but in the dim light, it was visible. The Lupan had to lower its head to look Kyven in the eye, for it stood as high as Kyven at the shoulder; the Lupan was literally large enough to ride like a horse, though its narrow back didn't look like it would be very comfortable to ride. The black one was the same size as the roan stallion Kyven had stolen from the Loreguard. He was a little unsettled with the massive black animal started snuffling at him, then he sputtered and laughed reflexively when a tongue the size of a frying pan slurped the entire right side of his head.

"They like you, my brother," Clover grinned.

The Lupans went off to hunt as Kyven, Clover, and Lightfoot joined Danvers in the main tent for a strategy meeting. Danvers had them all sit at a large table, and it had a map on it. The map was very old, made of brittle parchment, and was obviously an antique of some kind. The spelling on the map was very strange, the letters oddly formed, but in a way, they sort of resembled Noraavi letters, and formed words that didn't match the names of the kingdoms, cities, rivers, and mountains of the Free Territories, Malan, and Carin, but they weren't named that on the map. The Free Territories had a different shape on the map, and the name scrawled across it in flowing letters was Virginia. Carin was bigger on this map, and was called North Carolina. The great Georvan city of Lanna was called Atlanta, and Georvan itself was named Georgia, though much smaller on this map than it was in reality. Alamar was called Mobile, Nurys called New Orleans, and Phion called Philadelphia. Two River on the map was called Pittsburg, and Deep River was called Parkersburg. Looking far up, he saw that about where Haven was, was a place called Manitoba.

"Confused, Kyven?" Danvers asked with a smile.

"The land looks right, but the names aren't," he said, touching where Atan would be on the map, but it wasn't marked.

"This is a copy of a map of Noraam before the great war, my friend," he said, his eyes lit up as he looked at it. "I love cartography and maps and geography. That's what my father did for a living, he was a mapmaker. In a way, it started me on the path of a Loreguard officer, because I wanted to see the places on the maps. This map is over three hundred years old, and it was copied from a map that was itself hundreds of years old. This was our land before the war, when the entire continent of Noraam was a single nation that stretched from the Angry Sea to the Blue Sea, and it had so many people that they filled the entire land."

"Why show us this, General?" one of his officers asked.

"Because this is what the Loremasters want to do," he said, motioning at the map. "Restore Noraam to this. That may be a noble venture, and may very well come to pass some day, but the methods they're using, and the things they're teaching, are not. They want to restore Noraam, but they want to rule it. Before, Noraam was ruled by the people, who elected men to represent them in the interests of government. The Loremasters want total control over Noraam, friends. They want a dictatorship, a tyranny. The responsibility of any civilized man or Arcan is to resist tyranny, my friends. That is what we're going to do. Look at this map, gentlemen, ladies. Look at it closely. If the Loremasters succeed, then the map of Noraam as we know it will change. And you never know what city, town, or village in that new world will not be on the new map."

That was a sobering thought. If the Loremasters won, then what might happen to Flaur? Would the great cities of the peninsula be wiped out, to disappear from everything but ancient maps, the last record that they ever existed? He wondered how the residents of one place on the map he knew was no longer there, New York, would feel to know that their city was no more. That part of Noraam was effectively a wasteland, and nothing could live there because of some strange kind of illness that took hold of anyone who settled in the area that made their bones brittle, their hair and teeth fall out, and strange sores to ulcerate on their bodies. It was called the Cursed Fen now, a place dominated by squat brush and sawgrass, areas of wetlands, and not a single animal, not even insects. Atan wasn't on this map . . . and if the Loreguard marched into his home village, it very well may disappear from modern maps too, the people killed or driven off, the buildings burned down.

"This is the great civilization," the youngest officer, a captain breathed as he stared at the map.

"It was," Danvers said calmly. "They're gone now, and that's history. They and the other great power, a vast land across the blue sea called China, destroyed themselves in the war, and shattered the entire world in the process. If we don't want the Noraam we know to follow it into history, my friends, we'd better do something about it. And the first step is to plan our route to Cheston. So," he said, taking his chair and rolling up the ancient map to reveal a much more modern one underneath, "let's make some decisions."

Kyven didn't listen for a while, looking at the map. He'd never seen this before. The stories were . . . well, there were no stories. Just myths and legends. Just artifacts dug up from the ground, like softrock and the occasional piece of stone, and there were rumors of buildings underwater off the coast of Flaur. It was hard to fathom a nation so large that it occupied the entire continent. This was like looking back in time and seeing the past, a past where billions of people lived in the world, before the war. A war that destroyed it all, shattered those left behind, and erased the memory of that ancient civilization from the memory of man. He wondered what the spirits knew of that time long ago, and how much that knowledge was guiding them now.

That was one of the purposes of wisdom, to not make the same mistake twice.

Did they know? Did they know that their civilization was doomed? Did they know what was happening, or did things get so out of control that they lost sight of the goal in the face of the distractions? Or did the need to reach that goal so cloud their judgment that they lost everything because of their lack of focus? That was what Danvers was showing them, not to lose sight of the goal even though many details stood between them and the objective. That was solid wisdom, he saw. Danvers wasn't just intelligent, he was wise. He was a man Kyven could respect, and a man from whom he could learn.

But it showed that it was happening again, he saw. A group in power, blinded by the lust for more, were about to make a cataclysmic mistake. They showed no wisdom in trying to understand that which they sought, they only sought it for the power it could give them. That what they were after could destroy civilization on Noraam was of no consequence. Greed incited arrogance, and that arrogance made them believe that they could control that which couldn't be controlled. They had no respect for the wisdom of the past, and that would put the whole of Noraam at risk. That which destroyed the ancients should not be toyed with, yet the Loremasters believed they could succeed where the ancients did not, confident in the fact that modern man had more knowledge of alchemy than the ancients . . . even when they had no clue just what alchemy truly was.

No wisdom.

He tuned back in as Danvers touched the map. "We can resupply here, at Penbrook. South of that is tobacco country, and we'll find a lot of Arcans there to add to our ranks. We'll have to strip just about every plantation we come to of food to feed this thing as it moves south and grows."

"The Arcans can help with that," Clover told him. "We are good hunters. We'll send out hunting parties along our flanks to bring back game, and they can double as scouts to protect us as we move."

"Can we trust them with that kind of responsibility?" one of the officers asked. He cleared his throat uncomfortably when four sets of eyes gave him a cool stare.

"Kyven, we need you to start out. We need everything you can tell us about Penbrook. Loreguard strength, layout, everything," Danvers said, touching the map again. "Do everything you can to make sure we can ride in with a minimum of fighting."

"I can do that," Kyven said with a nod.

"There are supposed to be horse farms west of Penbrook, gather information on those as well," he added. "We're going to need more horses to carry supplies, since we can't use wagons. They'll slow us down, and staying in front of the army they send after us is the key."

"I'll see what I can do," he said. "Where to from there? I need to know to keep ahead."

"I'll give you a talker so you can keep in touch," Danvers said. "But right now, we're going to angle more to the east, then turn back more to the west. I want to avoid Rallan at all costs. There's a significant garrison there, and we're not going to risk the army on a needless battle. Half of what we need you to do, Shaman, is get us around Rallan without a fight. If at all possible, you need to send the Loreguard detachment there to the west so we can get around them."

Kyven scratched his cheek. "I . . . think I can do it. I saw one of the Loreguard generals in Riyan. I need his name."

"What did he look like?"

"Tall, very well developed, graying hair. Brown eyes, and a goatee."

"General Taggan Wild, one of their best," Danvers told him. "Goes by Tag to us upper officers."

"He certainly seemed competent," Kyven said. "Noticed things his men didn't."

"He's the one they were sending with the army west, but with us on the loose, they may send him after us." Danvers leaned back in his chair, rubbing his jaw. "He's not a man to take lightly. I caught him with his pants down, but he won't make that mistake again. Odds are, he'll badger the High Command to let him come after us. He doesn't like to lose."

"So, we're going around Rallan to the east," Clover noted. "That's out of my territory, but I think we'll send a message to Longtooth. That's his territory, and he knows those roads better than anyone. He can give us detailed information of Carin, and that can help us move."

"Who has territory in Georvan?"

"Several Shaman, but the wisest of them is Dancer," she answered. "Remember her, Kyven?"

"Why would I?"

"She's the one that picked up the fledgling Shaman after you beached the ship," she answered. "The red fox."

"Oh yeah," he mused, remembering. "She was nice."

"I'll send the message as soon as we're done," Clover said. "By morning, I should know which way to go to avoid the most trouble."

"Sounds good," Danvers nodded. "As far as the Arcans go, we need to train them quickly, but we don't have much time. It's going to be sessions when we stop for the day. I'll organize a schedule of training to the rifle and the musket, because those are the weapons we'll be picking up along the way. I hope they learn quickly."

"They'll learn," Clover said simply. "They'll also need to learn the basics of being soldiers."

"I'm already working on that," he answered. "Part of the rifle drill will be teaching them the art of being a soldier. Discipline, teamwork, and staying alive. But for now, them learning how to set camp and carry gear will suffice. I just hope we can keep up with them," he chuckled.

"You mean keep up with the horses, General," one of the officers said.

Both Danvers and Clover chuckled. "An Arcan can run a horse to death, Major," Danvers answered with a smile. "This will be the most mobile army ever put on the field, nothing but rifle cavalry and Arcans. We're going to need that mobility to outflank the traps the Loreguard try to put in front of us. Speed is our greatest asset." He looked to Kyven. "I'm afraid that what we set here won't need your input, Shaman, and we need you out there."

Kyven stood up. "I'll get started immediately," he said. "I need the strongest horse you've got. It's going to earn its hay."

"I have just the horse," he smiled. "It's not really a horse, though. It's a monster."

"You have an Equar?" Clover gasped. "I didn't see it!"

"It's a very small one," he answered. "So small it looks like a large horse, but it can run all day without lathering."

"How did you tame it?" Clover asked in astonishment. "Even the Shaman can't convince them to do anything!"

"I did it the old fashioned way. I paid a fortune for a newborn colt and raised it with other horses. He's much smarter than the horses, but they managed to tame his wilder notions. Mostly," he said with a smile. "I hope you're tough, Kyven. My Equar is . . . spirited."

"I'll deal," he said, looking at Lightfoot. "Stay here this time. The Arcans need you to teach them."

She nodded.

"Get me that talker and let me pack some things and I'll get started."

"What do you need?"

"A map, the talker, some supplies. And," he said, a slow smile growing, "a Briton rifle, a keg of gunpowder, and a Loreguard uniform."

"I'll have them ready in an hour," Danvers said immediately. "What's the gunpowder for?"

"I have to draw of the Rallan garrison somehow," he smiled.



The Equar was big.

It looked just like a normal horse, but was nearly eight rods tall at the shoulder, where a normal horse was more like six rods. It had a shaggy black coat streaked through with gray, and it had shaggy white fetlocks on its big hoofed feet. It had a broad snout and stout muzzle, filled with teeth that weren't completely horse-like. Equars were omnivorious, so the wide front teeth one would expect were flanked by fang-like canine incisors. Its teeth were built for eating anything, and its jaws were strong enough to shatter bone. Danvers stroked its wide muzzle fondly. "His name is Strider," he introduced. "He's a very smart horse, Kyven. But he's young, so he's a bit . . . playful," he said with a slight smile. "Strider, you're going with Kyven," he instructed. "He needs you, and no horse can do it but you."

The massive animal snorted and stomped a foreleg.

"He's ready to go," the general said as the grooms loaded the last of the supplies. Danvers handed him a small copper box. "The talker. It's set to only communicate with mine, so don't worry about any eavesdropping. The map is in the saddlebag. After you get to Penbrook, do what you need to do, and I'll call you to warn you where we're going next."

"I'll do what I can, General," he said, having to literally jump to get up into the saddle. The Equar shifted under him.

"Just be patient with Strider," he said. "He's only a juvenile, so he's a bit . . . rambunctious."

As if to live up to that reputation, the Equar suddenly reared, whinnying in excitement, then it turned and charged off to the south. Kyven was so startled he nearly lost his seat, and found himself hanging onto the animal for dear life as it raced away. "He loves to run," Danvers' voice came through the talker in his belt.

"I noticed!" Kyven called, hanging on for dear life.



Behind him, unnoticed, two Lupans followed along the trees. The two animals followed the human with the unusual scent, a scent unlike anything they had ever smelled before. The two wolf-like animals were intelligent, but ruled by their instincts. And something about that human . . . intrigued them.

He was going off alone, and the Lupans knew that these humans and the prey were doing something very big, and very important. The spirit-talker had said so. It was never good for one to operate alone. It was dangerous. It went against the tenets of the pack. And so, the lone human with the intriguing smell would not be allowed to go alone.

The pack was all.

Chapter 9