“First, catch,” she warned him.

Jyrbian ranged from the front of the procession, where Lyrralt rode silent and morose, to the back, where Khallayne did the same.

He joined her for the third time in as many hours, asking the same question he had before. “Why so glum? Isn’t this a beautiful day for a ride?” Then he loped ahead once more when she refused to talk with him. Then Tenaj called, “Quiet!”

They obeyed at once, because Tenaj was the hunter of the group, the one who spent long hours on the trails, in the forests.

Jyrbian waited for Tenaj to catch up with him, motioning the others past. “What?” He mouthed the word, making not a sound.

Tenaj glanced down the trail, the way they had come, then into the forest. Except for the unnatural quiet, which could easily be caused by their passing, everything appeared normal.

Except for that sense of someone-something. Not watching exactly, but waiting.

Tenaj shook her head. “Something,” she said quietly. “I don’t know.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Maybe I should ride back a ways, just to check things out.”

“Not too far, okay? There’ve been a couple of attacks on hunting parties on this trail. I don’t think we should get too spread out along here.”

Nodding agreement, Tenaj reined her stallion around.

She kept her hand on her sword as she rode toward Takar. The forest was too still, showing no signs of life, even though the party had passed by several minutes before. It made her jittery, and her horse, already half-wild, skittish.

Then she went around a turn, and there was the reason. Disr, four of them, on the trail! They blinked their pale, watery eyes. Dirt and leaves stuck to their slimy flesh. Probably more of them in the shade beyond, she thought. For a second, they gazed at her, eyes blazing with hatred and hunger. Then there was noise from the forest, and the dense, compact bodies moved in unison.

Tenaj turned and ran. “Disr!” she screamed, as soon as the others were in sight. “Disr! At least five of them!”

Khallayne was in the rear. She slowed her horse as she heard Tenaj yell and half-turned in the saddle.

From the left, something hit Khallayne’s arm. Something dense, but slick and large. Her breath left her lungs. She felt numbness shoot through her shoulder and arm. She cried out as the ground came toward her face with startling speed!

She struck the hard, packed earth, then glimpsed something dank and dense, with claws and a compact body, moving impossibly fast. Horses’ hooves danced near her eyes. Pain shot through her thigh, as if a knife had just ripped the flesh.

Screams sounded from above and in her own throat. Fear, warning, pain! An even more frightened scream came from a horse. The slimy thing, smelling of vinegar and rot, was upon her, tearing at her flesh. Everywhere it touched, pain.

Through the confusion, she heard someone scream her name. She heard a war cry, terrible yet reassuring. There was frenzied movement above her. Then away from her.

The Old One surprised them! The scent had been so strong, they hadn’t sensed the Ogre female on the trail. At a hiss from R’ksis, the group divided, scuttled back into the forest, and pursued, dropping to all fours for speed.

As they flanked the Old Ones, the scent of food was overpowering. The voices of their prey were raised in alarm, the hooves of their mounts sending a fear-filled vibration through the packed earth.

Leading her group, R’ksis attacked first, using the momentum of her speed to launch herself at the first Old One she encountered. The Ogre’s body was knocked from the saddle, falling heavily to the ground.

With the battle lust of the young, S’rk was upon the stunned Ogre in an instant. He ripped at the leg of the creature, opening the flesh. Ripped again with his jagged fangs.

The Ogre screamed, flailed weakly at her attacker, then collapsed. To R’ksis, the sound of her enemy’s pain was as welcome as home; the scent of the warm, steaming blood was sweet.

A terrible screech rent the air as S’rk reached again for the fallen Ogre. R’ksis glanced up to see a large Old One leap to the ground. A male, from the looks of it, drew his sword as he jumped. Another Ogre, the one from the trail, joined him.

The very sight of them infuriated her. Meal forgotten, R’ksis jumped up to meet them. Her nostrils flared as she caught the scent of Ogre sweat, of fear. And then the Ogres were upon her!

R’ksis swiped at the bigger one, claws extended to their full range. But her reach couldn’t match that of the Ogre’s sword. The blade struck her a glancing blow, bouncing off the natural armor plates covering her shoulders.

The Ogre attacked again, swinging his sword in a low, whistling arc. R’ksis rolled and dove between the two attackers, slashing at their legs. They wheeled with her, and the female’s blade sang in the air above R’ksis’s head. She backed away as they split, trying to flank her.

All about her were the sounds of battle. The hissing and clicking of attacking disr. The scream of a wounded animal. The hiss of a dying disr.

The Ogres attacked in unison, and R’ksis ducked beneath the swinging weapons. The female changed her tactic, lunging forward with one foot and thrusting with her sword. R’ksis stumbled back, falling out of range of the sword.

Two of her males were dead, their bodies crumpled in the sunlight. But across the path, G’hes was closing in on a female Old One, his long, sharp tongue tasting the air in anticipation.

S’rk joined the fight, leaping in from the side.

R’ksis heard the female Ogre’s sword bite into the thick covering on S’rk’s back. He rolled and came to his feet, eyes clenched with pain.

R’ksis met their assailants alone, protecting S’rk with her body. She stumbled backward, avoiding a sword thrust, would have fallen but for S’rk. His hands were trembling. She could smell the sharp odor of disr blood.

“Run, youngest! Run far!” She pushed him, just as the male Ogre swung. The blade, wicked and gleaming, missed her, missed S’rk. Then, incredibly, reversed its direction, slicing back. The edge, as sharp as disr claws, bit into S’rk’s throat. The youngest one gurgled, gazed up at her as he fell.

Just as she saw the life dim in S’rk’s eyes, she heard G’hes’s death cry, saw him fall, clutching at his chest. Before the Ogres could attack again, she screamed a wordless warning of retreat to those of her pack still standing. Then she blended into the forest, so quickly that the Ogres couldn’t respond.

Topsy turvy, the sky tilted, trees growing sideways.

Khallayne saw Jyrbian battling a nightmare, a thing with armor plates on its rubbery, four-legged body, with eyes as red as Lunitari. It reared up on its hind legs and stood as an Ogre, met him with hissing and clicking, like a beetle.

Jyrbian swung with his sword. Blood, as red and thick as any Ogre’s, spurted from the creature’s neck. It choked and crumpled. Another creature, standing near Tenaj, darted a panicked glance about, then melted back into the forest.

The sky tilted sickeningly again. Khallayne remembered no more.

She woke with dirt clogging her nostrils and the smell of something rotten mixed with her own blood. The hands that were turning her over were not gentle, and pain throbbed dully in her shoulder, thigh, and arms. Voices, warped and only vaguely recognizable, filtered through to her mind.

“Careful.”

“How bad is it?”

“Don’t touch the slime around the bites! It’s poisonous.”