His pursuers were arguing. Feren tried not to pant, his back against a tree. He chanced a look down, pulling his sliced robes open to see, and blanched.

A pus-filled wound at his side. It was only partially closed; instead of healing, the potion had let the growing infection accelerate. He bit his tongue—put a hand to his side.

It must be washed and cleaned. I’ll be dead if I drink another potion. My only chance is to remove the infection and try another potion. Or I’ll be sick, dying in a forest with no [Healer] and no hope—

But first he had to survive his pursuit. So he waited, listening. They were gathering.

“Lord Lantal is summoning us back, Ser and Dame Knights.”

“The [Necromancer] is on the run! Would you have us just abandon the chase?”

An angry voice from one of the [Knights]. Idiots. Feren aimed his wand around the tree. He was

[Invisible], and he couldn’t run far. But if they came—

They died.

He would die, but better to take one of them with him. The guards were more intelligent.

“It’s a dangerous thing, to hunt a master of death in these forests, Ser Knights. They can get the drop on us, especially invisible. We need a larger, coordinated hunting party.”

“Ser Dalimont—it’s true. Most are too wounded to give chase.”

“Damn. Then…at least one hour’s chase. I will lead it.”

Feren groaned. But the guards agreed, and a party set out after Feren. He braced himself, teeth clenched.

Gewilena, I’ll see you and the others—

The [Necromancer], invisible, aimed his wand at a golden figure in armor riding through the trees. He waited. The man rode right past him. The wary figures with bows and spears passed by. The

[Necromancer] sagged against the pale white bark after they had gone.

He was alive. He sat there, panting, clutching at his burning side. For how long? He didn’t know.

My apprentices are dead. The idiots. Worthless, corpse-grabbing idiots. Nothing like the others.

Necrophiliacs. Murderous exiles and…

He groaned and gritted his teeth, suppressing the sound. Even so, they had been the reason they’d had a shot at this. Without them he’d have a tiny horde; all the undead were gone and probably being burned.

Damn that [Princess]. Damn the so-called intelligence. Damn…

He must have passed out, because the next thing Feren heard was the hunting party coming back. He sat there, holding his breath, as they trooped past him once more. Incredibly, they still didn’t sense him.

“We will have [Trackers], Ser Dalimont. Experts—Afiele has a few, and we will send for others from villages.”

“Just so. It must be done, you understand? The honor of Calanfer and Noelictus…”

Calanfer and Noelictus. Two famous kingdoms. Feren spat as they faded into the distance once more.