They weren’t far beyond Mika’s stone when, ahead of them, Captain Sedge reined in and signaled the small column to a halt. Looking past him, Klia saw a tall, black-cloaked figure standing in the center of the road. It struck her at once that it was not just tall, but too tall for a man. It raised its arms as if to embrace them, and she saw with a cold, sinking feeling that the edges of the figure’s garments were wavering like smoke. It raised its head and she saw that it had no face, just a black hole where it should have been.

“Stay back!” she ordered as Sedge and the others drew their swords. “That’s no man.” Drawing out the amulet that Thero had made for her, she rode up beside Sedge and held it up. “Begone, foul demon! You can’t touch me.”

To her surprise, the thing let out a weird, hooting call, made her a chilling, misjointed bow, and disappeared into thin air.

“Quickly, Highness!” cried Zella. “We must return to camp and find Lord Thero.”

They wheeled their mounts to retreat, only to find themselves facing a crowd of the shifting, wavering phantoms. With blinding speed, they rushed the column and Klia watched in horror as each of her companions was attacked. A black figure attached itself to a person, then phantom, rider, and mount winked out of sight. In the blink of an eye, she alone was left facing at least a dozen of the foul creatures. One darted forward and disappeared up her horse’s nose in a black mist. Poor Moonshine shuddered horribly, then staggered in a drunken circle and took off at a gallop down the road away from camp. Klia dragged on the reins, then tried to turn the possessed horse, but it thundered on, and she had no choice but to hang on as best she could. The air went dreadfully cold around her. Tangled in the stallion’s white mane, Klia’s fingers went numb.

She was in serious danger of falling off, but just as she was bracing for it, Moonshine foundered and went down under her. She hit the ground hard and rolled away, narrowly missing being pinned under the horse. It knocked the breath out of her and she could only lie there helplessly and watch as gouts of black blood erupted from the stallion’s mouth and nostrils. He gave a last convulsive kick, then went limp. Black mist streamed from his bloody mouth and faded to nothing on the still air.

“Illior’s Light,” Klia gasped, making a two-fingered warding sign. Still fighting for breath, she staggered to her feet, clutching Thero’s charm and trying to get her bearings. What she saw took her breath away all over again, as powerfully as if she’d suffered another blow.