“That old man,” Kirisin continued. “He did something to me. Without even being there, he was able to hurt me. He just looked at me from out of the flames and made me answer his questions about the Loden. I didn’t tell him where it was, only that I lost it. But I think he knew I wasn’t telling him everything. Then he hurt me so badly I thought I was going to scream from the pain. Just by looking at me, from somewhere else entirely, he could do that.”

Logan looked off into the night, his eyes on the landscape ahead. “He’s a very powerful demon. The leader of all of the demons, maybe. I saw him once, years ago, when I was still a boy. He led the attack that killed my family. He looked at me, too. In a different way. But I remember those eyes. I won’t ever forget them.”

“Will he come after us?” Kirisin asked.

“Like a wolf hunting sheep.”

“Maybe we can outrun him.”

Logan Tom didn’t answer.

They drove on in silence for a time, putting miles between themselves and the skrails, watching the eastern sky lighten with dawn’s approach as the stars faded. Kirisin was thinking of the old man, remembering how he had been made to do whatever the other wanted, how humiliated and helpless he had been made to feel. It was bad enough that he had almost lost the Loden to the skrails. But to know how easy it was for the demon to take it away from him if he should catch him with it another time was terrifying. He didn’t think anyone could survive an encounter with such a creature—not even a Knight of the Word. He didn’t think magic was enough—not Elfstones and not a Knight’s black staff. This demon was much more powerful than the ones he had encountered. If he caught up to them, it would take something special to escape.

It might take something that none of them had.