Beneath his feet, the steep incline was beginning to level. Although he could see nothing in the darkness, Dani’s aching calves told him that they had reached the hill’s crest. He began to breathe a bit easier.

“Still with me, lad?” Uncle Thulu shouted the words.

“Aye!” Dani tossed the wet hair from his eyes. “Still with you, Uncle!”

Thunder pealed, and a forked bolt of lightning lit up the sky. For an instant, the terrain was revealed in all its harsh glory. And there, looming in the drumming rain, was one of the Fjeltroll.

Its lean jaw was parted in a predator’s grin. In the glare of the forked lightning, its eyes shone yellow, bifurcated by a vertical pupil. Rain ran in sheets from its impervious grey hide. It said something in its own tongue, reaching for him with one taloned hand.

Dani leapt backward with a wordless shout, grasping the flask at his throat. Beneath his bare feet, he felt the hill’s rocky crest crumble. And then it was gone, and there was nothing but a rough groove worn by flooding and him tumbling down it, the afterimage of the horrible Fjel grin seared into his mind.

“Dani!”

Borne by sluicing water, he slid down the hill, his uncle’s shout echoing in his ears, vaguely aware that Thulu had plunged after him. It was worse than being caught in the rapids of the Spume. Beneath the torrent of rainwater, rocks caught and tore at his flesh, tearing away the makeshift sling that had held his left arm immobilized. He grunted at the pain, conscious only of his momentum, until he fetched up hard at the base of the hill. There he lay in the pouring rain.

“Dani.” Uncle Thulu, illuminated by flickering lightning, limped toward him. Reaching down, he grabbed Dani under the arms and hoisted him to his feet. Beyond them, a dark figure was picking its way down the slope. “Come on, lad, run. Run!”

He ran.

It was no longer a matter of pain. Pain was a fact of existence, a familiar sound in the background. His limbs worked, therefore no new bones were broken. The clay vial was intact, bouncing and thumping as he ran. For the first half a league, sheer terror fueled his flight. Then his steps began to slow.

It was a matter of exhaustion.

As hard as his lungs labored, Dani couldn’t get enough air into them. He gasped convulsively. Lurid flashes of lightning lit the sky, blinding him, until he could see nothing in the pouring rain but scintillating spots of brightness everywhere. Pain blossomed in his side, a keen shriek piercing the chorus of aches. Though he willed himself to ignore it, he couldn’t stand upright. Hunched and dizzy, he staggered onward until Uncle’s Thulu’s hands grasping his shoulders brought him to a halt.

“Dani.”