A Sword from Red Ice

It was growing late and the gray sky was slowly darkening to blue. The snow captured and held the light, glowing on the forest floor and along the spruce and cedar boughs. The stallion took the lead at canter and the gelding had to stretch itself to keep up. Lan Fallstar rode effortlessly, his back relaxed, his fingers light upon the reins. As he moved in the saddle, the longsword and bow slung crosswise across his back slapped together, beating time.

Ash was glad to be riding. Bending low against the gelding's neck, she savored the warmth of horseflesh against her chest as she raced after the Far Rider. Her lynx fur flared out over the horse's rump and her hair streamed behind her, heavy with melted snow.

She became aware of movement so gradually that it barely registered at first. In her mind it was something black and distant between the trees. As the snow began to ease it occurred to her that the black-ness was on a path to intercept with her own, A muscle below her pit loosened. Shortening the reins, she tent her hill awareness toward the thing that was closing in from the south.

And knew instantly it was maer dan. It sucked at her, like aft dragged into a powerful fire. When she turned her eyes toward it she felt her lenses elongate.

"Lan," she called. The Far Rider had not slowed his pace and was some distance ahead of her, easily navigating a path between a giant spruce and a cedar that was growing around a felled stump like a squid on a rock. He did not hear her, so called again, louder. «Lan» It felt strange saying his name.

The Far Rider turned and looked at her. Whatever he saw on her face was enough for him to bring the stallion to a banking halt. Clods of dirt and snow sprayed the trees. Lan's eyes met hers and she was surprised to see a question in them. He was Sull She had assumed somehow he would have known.

"Something is coming from the south," she murmured, her wet hair sending icy trickles down her spine. "Maer dan."

Shadowflesh. Lan continued to look at her, his pupils enlarging. She had a memory of Mal Navsayer drawing his sword at suck a moment his face hard and terrible, his eyes burning like the cold blue stars at the farthest edge of the sky. She recalled feeling…not safe exactly, but protected. If anything wanted to reach her it would have to get past the Naysayer and his foot longsword, first. Lan Fallstar reached for his bow. "Point," he demanded, his voice terse. Light reflecting off the snow illuminated the hollows of his cheecks and the space under his jaw. With a fluid motion, he drew his first arrow. It had a hole drilled into its steel head, she noticed, but had no idea why.

Ash drew her own weapon, the sickle knife and weighted chain. "This way," she cried, kicking the gelding into motion. She'd be damned if she was going to point.

The creature poured like liquid through the trees. It was accelerating, and she had the sense of powerful muscles bunching and unbundling. Something howled in a long single note that made the metal in her hand vibrate. Ash caught sight of a glistening flash of blackness plunging through shadows cast by the prehistoric pines. It was massive, and it had never been human. Not even close.

It moved on four limbs and it had thick shoulders and a small, frighteningly sleek head. She was reminded of hyenas and lam-mergeier—carrion feeders who plunged their entire heads into organ flesh. Its eyes were slits. Its clawed footpads ripped up the snow.

Ash made an uneasy adjustment to the reins, transferring them into one hand so she could be free to swing the chain. The gelding flicked back its ears but held its course. The creature was moving as fast as a big cat, its hip bone springing in a wavelike motion. Its howls hurt Ash's ears. Carefully, as Ark had taught her, she raised the sickle knife above her head. The peridot weight bounced once against her buttocks before she whipped the chain into motion.

The creature was not heading toward her, she realized as the chain built up speed and began to whumpf. It was coming straight for Lan Fallstar. The Far Rider had followed her at a slower pace; she could hear the sound of his stallion blowing out air and the jingle of harness metal. Perhaps he was aiming the bow. She did not look round.

Squeezing the gelding with her thighs, she shifted her course. The chain was spinning so fast it had passed into invisibility. The peridots in the weight scribed a green circle in the air. As she judged distance and time, the creature closed in. Its elongated jaws sprang apart, revealing dense layers of inward slanting teeth.