"Have you gone mad, Al'maren?" Cormik demanded. "Don't stop now. The thing is gaining on us!"

"No, she is not mad," Morhion said hoarsely. The others followed his gaze. In the faint light, they could just make out two figures standing in front of the bridge, blocking the way. Both wore thick black robes.

"By Azuth on High," Mari swore in a mixture of horror and amazement. "More of them!"

Once, the Fellowship had managed to defeat a single shadevar. Just barely. Now they faced three of the ancient, evil creatures. Morhion looked over his shoulder. The first shadevar loped toward them swiftly. It would be upon them in moments. The other two stood firm before the bridge, and a river too deep to ford. The companions were trapped.

"This way!" Morhion shouted, turning to the left and spurring his mount away from the road. "The edge of the Reaching Woods is less than a mile away. It's our only chance!"

The others did not stop to argue. They spurred their mounts, leaving the road behind and thundering toward the dark wall of the forest. A cry of inhuman rage rose the cold night air. Yet, when Kellen dared to glance back a few moments later, the creatures had vanished. Perhaps they had given up. The shadevari were swift, but even they could not outrun a galloping horse.

Jewel spoke up, her smoky voice tinged with fear. "I really hate to be negative, loves, but you might want to look up."

The shadevari had not abandoned their pursuit after all. Three dark shapes whirled in the air above the riders, soaring on broad wings. The outlines of the creatures were hazy and indistinct, almost as if they were formed of smoke. They looked like some malformed mixture of lizard and bat, only far larger. Riding on the back of each of the flying creatures was one of the shadevari. The shadowsteeds folded their wings and began to dive, stretching out curved talons.

"Don't look up!" Morhion shouted. "Keep riding!"

Kellen tore his eyes away from the horrible scene in the sky. Fixing his gaze on the approaching line of trees, he braced himself as his horse sped up, fearing that at any moment he would feel sharp claws rake deep into his back, peeling flesh from bone.

Then Flash crashed through a low wall of undergrowth into the forest. Through the lattice of branches, Kellen looked up to see the three shadowsteeds pull up sharply, barely avoiding a collision with the treetops. Screams of pure fury pierced the night, but the terrible cries faded as the horses pushed onward. The winged shadowsteeds could not pursue them into the forest. They had escaped the shadevari. At least for now.

Kellen let out a sigh of relief as they wound their way deeper into the safety of the trees. Then Mari uttered something that made their hearts sink. "We've lost Caledan's trail," she said quietly. After that, they rode for a long time in silence.

Eleven

The wanderer came to the gates of Triel on a gloomy day late in the month of Uktar.

Even from a distance, Beris thought there was something strange about the fellow, a man clad all in black riding a mist-gray horse. Beris shivered inside his beaten-steel breastplate, chalking it up to the clammy air as he gripped his spear tightly. An unsettling thought drifted through his mind. Didn't one Lord Elvar's priests say that sometimes the King of the Dead appeared in the guise of a dark man riding pale horse? Like all soldiers, Beris was a superstitious man. Under his breath, he muttered a charm against evil spirits.

"What are you mumbling about now, Beris?" asked the grizzled soldier who stood with him before the open gate.

"I was just wondering who that rider is, Sarig," Beris answered hastily. Beris was the youngest of the twenty mercenaries Lord Elvar paid to guard Triel, and he took enough abuse from the older men as it was. He didn't want Sarig to think he was afraid of a lone horseman. Which he wasn't, of course. "Who do you suppose it is?"

"Looks like some beggar to me," Sarig grunted in. disgust.

Beris nodded. "I suppose he'll be seeking hospitality, then."

Sarig gave a harsh snort of laughter. "Lord Elvar isn't very hospitable!"

While the lord was not an evil man, his distrust of strangers was nearly as legendary as his propensity for switching religions. Elvar ruled a small district, of which Triel was the center. Triel itself was more of a fort than a proper town. Here the Dusk Road met up with the larger Trade Way, which continued on all the way to the great city of Waterdeep to the west. Triel served mostly as a way station for traveling merchants. Its small cluster of cottages and storehouses was surrounded by a sturdy stockade of stone and wood.

When the rider finally came to a halt before the gates, Beris breathed a relieved sigh. The man's skin was mushroom pale, and dark half-moons hung beneath his faded green eyes, but he looked far more like a sick beggar than an incarnation of Death. His midnight blue cloak was spattered with mud. Despite the wanderer's ragged appearance, the gray mare he rode was an exceptional animal.

"State your business!" Sarig barked, brandishing his spear.

The wanderer blinked, as if he had just waked from a deep slumber and was surprised to find himself in some new time and place. "Can you help me?" he asked hoarsely. "I'm so tired. And hungry."

Sarig gave a derisive snort. "I told you, Beris—a beggar."

Beris ignored him. There was something about the man-perhaps the deep sorrow in his eyes—that made Beris think he was more than a simple vagabond seeking alms. I'd best take you to Lord Elvar," he told the wanderer. "If you'll dismount, I'll lead your horse for you." He reached out to grip the gray mare's bridle, but she bared her big yellow teeth menacingly. Beris was forced to snatch his hand back quickly. The ghost of a smile touched the wanderer's lips. "I'd better lead her," he said quietly. "She bites."

"So I noticed," Beris said dryly.

The wanderer dismounted. Beris gestured for him to follow, and they entered the stockade to seek out Lord Elvar They soon found him standing before the open door of the stockade's large stone granary. Elvar was having a fit. Again.

"Look at that!" he shouted, jowls waggling. Elvar was an overlarge man with beady eyes and an upturned nose that gave him a distinctly piggish look. His expansive gut was stuffed into a too-tight waistcoat of food-stained green velvet. He thrust a torch into the darkened doorway of the granary. A squealing gray form scurried out, vanishing down a nearby drainpipe. "There's another!" Elvar raged. "Rats—they're everywhere!"

A small group of townsfolk, merchants, and soldiers had gathered around the irate lord. "The rats will eat all the grain." he continued his tirade. "And with winter coming, we're all going to starve!" Elvar looked like a man who had never wanted for food in his life, but his eyes were wide with fear all the same. He bore down on a thin-faced man clad in the drab brown robe of a priest.

"You!" Elvar growled angrily. "You told me that if I prayed to Malar, Lord of All Beasts, he would keep the rats away from the grain. But Malar has done nothing!"

"It is not for us to question the actions of the gods," the priest said pompously.

"I've had enough of you and your foolish prattling, priest!" Elvar roared. He turned to a pair of soldiers. Take this charlatan and throw him out of my town. I am a disciple of Malar no longer."

The priest looked shocked as the mercenaries grabbed his arms and hauled him away. Elvar had converted to worship of the god Malar nearly a moon ago. By Beris's calculations, that actually made this one of Elvar's longer religious commitments. Most gods didn't last a tenday in the lord of Triel's chapel.

When Elvar continued to rant about how they were all doomed to die of hunger this winter, Beris decided this was not the best time for a stranger to beg for hospitality. He turned to tell the wanderer they might do better to wait until later, then stared in alarm. Leading his pale mare, the stranger approached Elvar. Beris made a grab for the man but was too late.