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“We’re after being close now.”

Bahzell’s voice was low as his companions—hradani, human, and courser alike—gathered about him and Walsharno. He sensed their tension, their dread of what awaited them. But he also tasted their grim determination and their hatred for the evil they’d come to find.

“How can you tell?” It was Battlehorn. Even now he sounded sullen, resentful, yet the question was genuine, not a challenge or statement of skepticism.

“It’s a sense Himself is after giving his champions,” Bahzell replied levelly, answering the question with the honesty it deserved. “It’s not something as I can be putting neatly into words, but I’m after sensing the presence of the Dark much as you’d see a cloud against the sun. And what it is that’s waiting up ahead there is after being the very stormfront of Krahana herself.”

Muscles tightened, and jaws clenched, but no one looked away.

“What is it you want us to do?” Kelthys asked simply.

“It’s little I know of exactly what we’ll be facing,” Bahzell said grimly, “but this much I do know. There’s after being two battles waiting for us—one as will attack physically, with claw and fang or blade, and one as won’t be using weapons most of you will be so much as seeing. I’ve a nasty enough sense of what’s ahead to know as there won’t be anything of the mortal, natural world about it, physical or not. But anything as is solid enough to be after hurting you is solid enough that you can be hurting it. I’ll not say as how you can be killing it, but at the least, you can be after holding it in check.”

He paused for a moment, surveying his allies, then flicked his ears.

“I’ll not be lying to you. It’s in my heart and soul to wish as how you’d none of you come, beyond us of the Order, but you’d have none of it, and I knew it. And, truth to tell, I can’t but be admiring the guts as brings each and every one of you to this. You’ve made us sword brothers all, by your courage. Yet men—and coursers—are after dying in battle, brothers, and it’s in my mind as how some of us will be doing that this night.”

Dozens of eyes look back at him, levelly, despite the tension ratcheting higher and tighter behind them.

“There’s a part of this battle as will be mine to fight,” he continued. “It’s not one as any of the rest of you can be after joining. But what you can be doing is to keep the rest of whatever it is we’re facing off of me while I’ve the fighting of it. Will you be watching my back for me, brothers?”

“Aye.” It was Luthyr Battlehorn, his voice cold and hard with promise despite the dislike still showing in his eyes. “Aye, Milord Champion, we will.”


Chapter Forty-One | Wind Rider's Oath | * * *