Sooner than Klamath had hoped, the Magisters began unleashing their Decimates. After that, the night became a frantic blur. Following his army, the General goaded his horse through night and snowfall.

By turns, Solace and the other Magisters slumped in their saddles; rested along the necks of their mounts. If they had any effect, it did not show. The cavalrymen kept coming. When Klamath looked back, he glimpsed their blurred shapes through the snow.

One after another, the pestilence-wielders drew on their dwindling reserves. Behind them, beasts stumbled. Riders fell. The General’s forces gained ground.

In response, the pursuit slowed. The priests could sense sorcery. They gave up their attempt to simply overrun Klamath’s forces. Instead, they matched his pace at a distance, waiting for his horses to fail.

That moment might come soon. And the stamina of the Magisters would not last much longer.

Despite the snow, the brilliant white of the priests’ globes exposed them. They stayed behind the leading cavalry. Nevertheless Klamath feared that they were near enough to hurl their explosions or unveil some other form of attack.

Abruptly, a priest confirmed the General’s concern. A shining ball came arching through the snow.

Warned by a shout, Magister Crawl dismissed the globe with a sweep of flame.

Later, Hegels took the army toward a line of shale bluffs that Klamath recognized. There some ancient upheaval had lifted up a wall against the west. The bluffs did not extend far on either side, but they blocked passage except through a narrow defile. Long ago, a river must have run along it. Now the cut was dry.

As General Klamath entered the defile, the Decimate of fire erupted from the rims of the bluffs.

Advised by his Bellegerins, the First Captain had sent Crawl’s comrades racing up the shallow slopes on the eastern side. When Klamath was safe in the defile, the fire-wielders struck.

Their first blast was a massed attack. While the riders farther back skidded to a halt, the whole front of the enemy’s rush was caught in an incinerating wash. Staggered waves of flame followed, taking every living thing that they could reach.

Klamath found himself panting in time to his mount’s urgent gasps. He needed only moments to pass between the bluffs. As he emerged, he saw that Magister Brighten and her comrades had accompanied the fire-wielders. At once, they attacked the sides of the defile. Their bolts tore through the shale, sending it down in jagged sheets. Rubble clogged the cut. Even beasts like Rile’s would snap their legs if they tried to run there.

The General risked a brief halt. His soldiers scrambled to water the horses, snatch a few bites of food for themselves. The Magisters sat their mounts to eat. Too soon, Klamath ordered his people to resume their flight.

A dawn that he could barely discern found them laboring eastward through the snow.