Verge of Darkness

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  The gelding thundered westward toward Tor-Arnath through the gorse and scrub and rolling hills of the countryside. Grey clouds moved across the early autumn sky with the sun peeking through at intervals.

  Pagan glanced up at the sky and said a silent prayer to the weather god of his people, hoping it wouldn't rain. But then, he was so far from the grasslands of Amadou-Zongai, he doubted the deity could hear him, and would probably be inclined to ignore his imprecations if he could.

  Overhead, an eagle glided on the thermals, the countryside was still lush and green, and the occasional rabbit or gopher poked its head out of its burrow to watch him pass. All this would be no more if the Gualich returned, for their evil would strip everything of life. There was so much resting on his and his friends’ shoulders.

  He hadn't thought much of the Axeman at first meeting. But the giant had proven to be an amusing and surprisingly thoughtful companion. And that black-bladed axe was a truly terrifying prospect for any foe, be it man, beast or demon.

  He didn't know what had possessed him to call Liang dear-heart. The words had just tumbled out, and truth to tell, had felt good. He hadn't realized how much he’d missed her the last few years. And the gods of his people be praised, it appeared she shared similar feelings toward him.

  Reaching the stream with no sightings of Bahktak, he hobbled the gelding and cast around for the distinctive plant. He didn't have to search long, for it grew in abundance in the moist earth. Uprooting a goodly number, he stuffed them into a large sack, which he tied to his saddle pommel.

  He led the gelding to the stream and let it drink its fill. Kneeling beside the horse, he too drank, then splashed water on his head and face, before filling his flask.

  Climbing back onto the gelding, he headed back toward Petralis.