Suddenly the toe of his boot caught on something and he went sprawling in what he quickly realized was fresh dung and dry grass. A small campfire burning a few feet away revealed two very startled peasant boys.

“Hello,” Alec grunted in Plenimaran.

They gaped at him, then dashed away into the darkness, leaving him alone in the muck with a flock of black-tail sheep. Climbing to his feet, Alec wiped his face on his sleeve and turned around slowly, trying to make sense of what had just happened. His lightstone was nowhere to be seen. From what he could make out in the firelight, he was in the middle of a meadow on a steep hillside. In the direction the boys had run, he could hear dogs barking in the distance, and could make out a few small cottages, firelight showing through a square window here and there. As he watched, these disappeared one by one in quick succession, as if someone had closed the shutters. Down the hillside some miles away lay a small town surrounding a squat, round tower. It looked like a rough hike, but he judged he could reach it before dawn.

The barking was getting louder and he caught sight of a pair of dark shapes running toward him. They were coming on fast, barking and snarling with their heads low and their ears laid back. Rather than run and be chased, Alec stood his ground, clutching his sword. The sheep were slow to scatter, momentarily slowing the dogs’ headlong pursuit. As they neared the edge of the firelight, snarling and slavering, Alec could see that they were a pair of starved-looking mongrels with short, mud-colored fur. He raised his left fist, first and little fingers extended, and turned it as if it were a key in a lock, performing the simple dog charm Seregil had taught him. “Peace, friend hounds.”

But the spell didn’t work. The dogs attacked, knocking him to the ground and snapping at his face and arms as he tried to fend them off. His sword useless, he drew his black-handled dagger and stabbed at them as best he could. The blade found its mark often enough to drive them back yelping, but not before he was badly bitten.

One dog lay heaving on its side by the fire. The other one stood over it, barking and growling, never taking its eyes off Alec. His fallen sword lay within reach, but he knew the moment he moved, the dog would attack again. Still he had to chance it. As his hand closed around the hilt the cur charged. He got the blade up just in time to catch it in the chest. Its own momentum drove it onto the razor-sharp blade and it staggered and fell on its side. With a final shudder, it died.