And what was Jackov’s plan once they found this hidden Horde city named Thrall? Simple: find the Dark Priest; find the mother. They would have to dress as Horde, of course.

Silvie quit protesting the lack of a more detailed plan soon enough. Until they saw what they were dealing with, they could hardly plan with any confidence, Jackov insisted.

In the late afternoon they came upon the battlefield where 137 of the Third Fighting Group had been slaughtered.

Silvie raised her hand as she rode up the dune just north of the battle scene. The sun was hot, despite the wind. A single dead Scab lay half-buried by sand on the crest, just ahead. His black battle dress flapped lazily in a stiff breeze. A vulture hidden by the folds of the tunic squawked noisily into flight, beating wide wings.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Silvie asked. “We should go around.”

“We have to look for the saddlebags,” Johnis said, but she could hear the dread in his voice.

They crested the dune, and the valley beyond came into view. Silvie stopped, stunned by the sight below them. The valley was perhaps seventy-five paces across at the bottom, filled now with hundreds of black-clad bodies. Fallen Guard speckled the field in brown leather armor.

Not until then did she see the other black beasts feeding on the dead bodies. At first she thought they were vultures, but then she saw their faces, and chills of terror washed through her chest.

“Shataiki!” Johnis whispered.

As one, hundreds of large black Shataiki bats swiveled their long snouts and red eyes toward them. The valley froze for a moment, and then the Shataiki bats sprang into the air, screeching shrilly.

The horses snorted, rearing back, and it was all Silvie could do to keep her mount from bolting. The Shataiki winged down the valley and swept toward the south. To some undiscovered Black Forest.

“Take it easy!” Jackov snapped. “You’re spooking the horses. Haven’t you seen vultures?”

Of course, he saw only the vultures, not the Shataiki bats.

“They’re feeding on Guard!” Johnis bit off angrily. “Have some heart.”

The Roush have stayed conveniently out of sight, Silvie thought. Michal had said they were on their own, but she’d half expected at least Gabil to make an appearance. Not a whisper, though. And if they’d consulted with the Roush before this expedition of theirs, the furry white bats would have undoubtedly warned them off.

Johnis led them down the valley, over the badly eaten bodies, and up the slope to the place where he and Silvie had fought off the Horde.

No sign of the saddlebags.