nearest of these, and there he slept.
He dreamed of rain and thunder once again. The thunder throbbed continuously, and the entire universe shook with its rumble. Then, for a long while, he dwelled half-aware in the borderland between sleep and wakefulness. On one side or the other, he felt that something was
amiss, although he was not certain what or why this was.
I'm not wet! he decided, feeling surprise and annoyance.
Then he followed the thunder back to his body; his head was pillowed by an outflung arm. For a moment he lay there, fully awake; then he leaped to his feet, realizing they had found his trail.
The riders came into view. He counted seven.
His blade came into his hand, and he threw his cloak back over his shoulders. He ran fingers through his hair, rubbed his eyes and waited.
Over his left shoulder, high in the middle of the air, a star appeared to brighten.
He decided that it was senseless to flee on foot from mounted men, especially when he knew of no haven which he might seek. They would only run him to the ground if he fled, and by then he would be too tired to give a good battle and send at least a few of them to the Pits.
So he waited, only slightly distracted by the growing blaze in the heavens.
The cloven hooves of the seven black riders struck sparks from the stones. Their eyes, high above the ground, were like a handful of glowing embers buried in his direction. Wisps of smoke emerged from their nostrils, and occasionally they emitted high-pitched whistling sounds. A silent, wolf-like creature ran with them, head near the ground, tail streaming. It changed direction at every point where Jack had turned while approaching the stone.
"You will be the first," he said, raising the blade.
As if it had heard his words, it raised its muzzle, howled and raced on ahead of the riders.
Jack retreated four paces and braced his back against the stone as it came toward him. He raised the blade high, as if to slash, and seized the hilt with both hands.
Its mouth was open, tongue lolled to the side, exhibiting enormous teeth in the midst of a near-human grin.
When it sprang, he brought the blade down in a semicircle and held it before him, bracing his elbows against the stone.
It did not growl, bark or howl; it screamed as it impaled itself upon the weapon.
The impact forced the air from Jack's lungs and bloodied his elbows where they rested. For a moment, his head swam, but the screaming and the rank odor of the creature kept him conscious.
After a moment, it stopped. It snapped twice at the blade, quivered and died.
He placed his foot upon the carcass and with a great, heaving twist withdrew the blade. Then he raised it once more and faced the oncoming riders.
They slowed, drew rein, and halted, perhaps a dozen paces from where he stood.
The leader-a short, hairless man of tremendous girth-dismounted and moved for ward. He shook his head as he stared down at the bleeding creature.
"You should not have slain Shunder," he said. His voice was gruff and raspy. "He sought to disarm you, not to harm you."
Jack laughed.
The man looked up, his eyes flashing yellow with power behind them.
"You mock me, thief!" he said.
Jack nodded.
"If you take me alive, I will doubtless suffer at your hands," he said. "I see no reason to conceal my feelings, Baron. I mock you because I hate you. Have you nothing better to do than harass returnees?"
Stepping backward, the Baron raised his hand. At this signal, the other riders dismounted. Grinning, he drew his blade and leaned upon it.
He said, "You were trespassing in my realm, you know."
"It is the only route back from Glyve," said Jack. "All who return must cross some of your territory."
"That is true," said the Baron, "and those whom I apprehend must pay the toll: a few years in my service."
The riders flanked Jack, forming a semicircle like a half-crown of steel as they enclosed
him.
"Put up your blade, shadow man," said the Baron. "If we must disarm
He dreamed of rain and thunder once again. The thunder throbbed continuously, and the entire universe shook with its rumble. Then, for a long while, he dwelled half-aware in the borderland between sleep and wakefulness. On one side or the other, he felt that something was
amiss, although he was not certain what or why this was.
I'm not wet! he decided, feeling surprise and annoyance.
Then he followed the thunder back to his body; his head was pillowed by an outflung arm. For a moment he lay there, fully awake; then he leaped to his feet, realizing they had found his trail.
The riders came into view. He counted seven.
His blade came into his hand, and he threw his cloak back over his shoulders. He ran fingers through his hair, rubbed his eyes and waited.
Over his left shoulder, high in the middle of the air, a star appeared to brighten.
He decided that it was senseless to flee on foot from mounted men, especially when he knew of no haven which he might seek. They would only run him to the ground if he fled, and by then he would be too tired to give a good battle and send at least a few of them to the Pits.
So he waited, only slightly distracted by the growing blaze in the heavens.
The cloven hooves of the seven black riders struck sparks from the stones. Their eyes, high above the ground, were like a handful of glowing embers buried in his direction. Wisps of smoke emerged from their nostrils, and occasionally they emitted high-pitched whistling sounds. A silent, wolf-like creature ran with them, head near the ground, tail streaming. It changed direction at every point where Jack had turned while approaching the stone.
"You will be the first," he said, raising the blade.
As if it had heard his words, it raised its muzzle, howled and raced on ahead of the riders.
Jack retreated four paces and braced his back against the stone as it came toward him. He raised the blade high, as if to slash, and seized the hilt with both hands.
Its mouth was open, tongue lolled to the side, exhibiting enormous teeth in the midst of a near-human grin.
When it sprang, he brought the blade down in a semicircle and held it before him, bracing his elbows against the stone.
It did not growl, bark or howl; it screamed as it impaled itself upon the weapon.
The impact forced the air from Jack's lungs and bloodied his elbows where they rested. For a moment, his head swam, but the screaming and the rank odor of the creature kept him conscious.
After a moment, it stopped. It snapped twice at the blade, quivered and died.
He placed his foot upon the carcass and with a great, heaving twist withdrew the blade. Then he raised it once more and faced the oncoming riders.
They slowed, drew rein, and halted, perhaps a dozen paces from where he stood.
The leader-a short, hairless man of tremendous girth-dismounted and moved for ward. He shook his head as he stared down at the bleeding creature.
"You should not have slain Shunder," he said. His voice was gruff and raspy. "He sought to disarm you, not to harm you."
Jack laughed.
The man looked up, his eyes flashing yellow with power behind them.
"You mock me, thief!" he said.
Jack nodded.
"If you take me alive, I will doubtless suffer at your hands," he said. "I see no reason to conceal my feelings, Baron. I mock you because I hate you. Have you nothing better to do than harass returnees?"
Stepping backward, the Baron raised his hand. At this signal, the other riders dismounted. Grinning, he drew his blade and leaned upon it.
He said, "You were trespassing in my realm, you know."
"It is the only route back from Glyve," said Jack. "All who return must cross some of your territory."
"That is true," said the Baron, "and those whom I apprehend must pay the toll: a few years in my service."
The riders flanked Jack, forming a semicircle like a half-crown of steel as they enclosed
him.
"Put up your blade, shadow man," said the Baron. "If we must disarm
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