by Brandon Mull
Skye gasped, putting both hands over her mouth. “No!”
Cole had never met the Hunter but knew about him—an Enforcer who had been chasing them since Sambria. In his pursuit of Mira, the Hunter had captured the slavers Ansel and Secha back in Carthage to wring information from them. The Hunter had a scary reputation. Evidently the trail had led him to Skye’s home.
“Your mother ordered me to find you,” Jepson said.
Skye dropped her hands. “Before or after the Hunter seized her?”
“After,” Jepson said. “The Hunter would gladly exchange your mother for a child called Mira. An escaped slave, it seems.”
Skye’s gaze took in the moonlit landscape. “Were you followed?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Jepson said. His distress won out again as he wrung his hands, tears glistening in his eyes. “There is no time to waste. What do you know of this Mira?”
“He was followed,” Joe said, gripping the hilt of his sword.
“You see something?” Dalton asked.
“The Hunter wouldn’t miss such a golden opportunity,” Joe said. “If he sent a homing pigeon, it didn’t come alone.”
Rattled, Cole squinted into the moonlit dimness beyond their encampment. He saw the shapes of trees and shrubs and the empty expanse of a brushy field, but no movement.
“Is there any chance you were followed?” Skye asked the butler heatedly.
“I suppose,” Jepson replied. “I had no orders to take precautions against such measures. My concern is the safety of Lady Madeline.”
“Get to the horses,” Joe said, hurrying away from the conversation. “Saddle up. We may already be too late.”
They scattered. Cole rushed to his horse, flopped the saddle pad in place, heaved the saddle on top, cinched it, then hopped on one foot while hastily poking the other one at the stirrup. After several clumsy misses, Cole got his foot in place and mounted. Nearby, Dalton fumbled with the straps of his saddle as his horse stamped restively. Cole jumped down and joined his friend, securing the straps while Dalton held the bridle and calmed his horse.
By the time Cole was back on his mare, the others had mounted up as well. Jepson waited nearby, unruffled by all the urgency.
“Go back and check the way you came,” Skye told the butler. “Try to mislead anyone following you. Take them as far from us as possible.”
“You are not yet my mistress,” Jepson reminded her. “My instructions are to—”
“Doesn’t matter,” Joe interrupted, pointing.
Partially screened by shrubs and trees, at the far side of the brushy field, mounted shapes bobbed in the dimness. It took little more than a glance to see that the shadowy forms were riding hard in their direction.
“Enforcers,” Cole said, a jolt of panic coursing through him.
“Lots of them,” Dalton added.
Cole counted at least seven or eight. In Sambria they had encountered three Enforcers and defeated them. But last time Cole and his friends had better weapons and managed to surprise them. There were more Enforcers this time, and they looked ready to fight.
“Ride for the Lost Palace,” Skye urged. “Use the road. Jepson, you’ve served their purpose. Go home!”
The others turned their horses and started riding hard toward the Red Road. Cole tugged the reins and nudged with his heels, but his horse held perfectly still. He kicked a little harder only to discover that the sides of his mare felt hard as a rock. A quick hand to the horse’s neck revealed the problem.
His mount had turned to stone.
CHAPTER
2
RED GUARD
Trying to collect his panicked thoughts, Cole slid off the stone horse, keeping the petrified animal between himself and the oncoming riders. His previous encounter with Enforcers had taught him that they had shaping abilities. In Elloweer that meant they were enchanters, capable of creating illusions and changing living things. Cole recalled the soldier, Russell, who had survived an encounter with Morgassa because an Enforcer had turned him to stone.
That explained the fate of his horse.
Dalton and the others were racing out of sight. The other horses all appeared to be fine. Cole was glad they were getting away but terrified at being left behind. Would his friends notice he wasn’t with them? How long before he became the next statue?
Everything went dark. Cole blinked and strained his eyes, but there was absolutely no light. He could hear the thundering approach of the mounted Enforcers.
Fear threatened to suffocate him. Fighting the impulse to run blindly, Cole battled to stay calm. The sudden blackness had to be some sort of illusion. He kept a hand on the stone horse to retain a sense of his location. The Enforcers pounded nearer.
When they had fought Morgassa, wearing the animal masks had prevented her from working changings on them. If a mask could frustrate Morgassa, it should provide plenty of protection from the powers of some Enforcers.
Reaching out in the blackness, Cole felt the saddle. None of the gear had turned to stone, which made sense, since changings only worked on living things. The mask was in a saddlebag on the other side of the petrified horse. To get it would mean exposing himself to the oncoming riders. Would the darkness hide him, or could they see through it? Maybe it wasn’t darkness. Maybe he had lost his sight.
Cole ducked under his horse and blindly fumbled open the saddlebag. He yanked out the mask and hesitated for a second.
The last time he wore the mask he had been terribly wounded by Morgassa. He had abandoned the mountain lion form on the brink of death. Might the mountain lion have recovered somewhat? Could it already be dead? What if the mountain lion form was still horribly injured? If that was the case, Cole supposed he could quickly take the mask off again.
As he placed the mask over his face, a flurry of disorienting sensations overwhelmed him. Cole tipped, spun, and grew.
Suddenly Cole stood on four paws. He felt balanced, and calmer. The new form was familiar and most welcome. With his heightened hearing and smell, Cole knew the position of each of the oncoming riders. Their mounts smelled peculiar. Cole could sense they had been changed. No natural horses were so large and strong.
It felt as if his previous injuries had never occurred. No soreness lingered. Cole supposed that made sense—when wearing the mask, he was the cougar. It didn’t exist elsewhere. The wounded mountain lion had been erased the instant he removed the mask. When he put the mask back on, it had changed him into a healthy mountain lion, not a wounded one. That meant he could heal any injury to his cougar form simply by taking the mask off and replacing it! He wished he had known that when they fought Morgassa.
Cole’s first instinct was to attack the riders. But what about his friends? They needed to know the masks were safe to use. Jace’s wolf and Skye’s bear had been badly wounded as well. If they hesitated to put on the masks, the Enforcers might work changings on them.
Powerful paws pulling at the ground, Cole bolted after his friends, thrilled by the rapid acceleration. He rushed ahead low and fast, muscles churning. No regular mountain lion was this large and strong. No ordinary mountain lion was this fast. Cole knew from experience that he could maintain a full sprint all day without tiring.
Cole swiftly exited the dark patch and once again could add sight to his other senses. Glancing back, he saw a black sphere that reflected no moonlight concealing his stone horse and the surrounding area. The Enforcers rode hard, but despite the impressive speed of their enhanced mounts, Cole was faster than them. Leafy forms of shrubs and trees whipped by as he plunged forward through the gloom.
Before long, Cole reached the Red Road. Benefiting from a head start, his friends galloped away on the smooth pavement. All except one. Dalton had halted his horse and was looking back. He waved when he saw Cole.
Cole dashed to Dalton. He was glad his friend had noticed h
im missing, but stopping his horse had put Dalton in greater peril. The Enforcers were close behind.
“Put on your mask,” Cole cried. “It’s your best protection.”
Dalton started digging in his saddlebag. Cole did his best not to notice how tasty his friend and his horse smelled.
With the Enforcers closing in, Cole sprinted past Dalton. It didn’t take him long to catch up to the others. The Enforcers would soon overtake their ordinary horses without much trouble.
“Use the masks!” Cole called. “Our animal forms aren’t hurt!”
Looking back, Cole saw a dark sphere where Dalton had been. Cole slowed and was about to turn back when a huge bull charged out of the blackness.
Cole let his friend catch up, then rushed to rejoin the others. While still riding, they were putting on their masks. Tumbling from her horse, Skye became a huge, shaggy bear. Jace transformed into an enormous wolf. As Mira reached into her saddlebag, her horse slowed and turned to stone beneath her. Cole and Dalton stopped to stay with her.
Mira put on her mask and dropped to the ground as a bighorn sheep. After reining in his horse, Joe was the last to change form. He hadn’t worn a mask before, so he used Twitch’s eagle.
Everything went dark again. Growling, Cole spun to face the Enforcers. Sound and smell told him exactly where the nearest horse was charging. Attacking low, Cole dove into the legs, biting down with his powerful jaws and swiping with his claws. The large mount was moving at great speed, and though legs and hooves crashed into Cole, making him flip and slide, the mutant horse got the worst of it, pitching forward violently onto the pavement. The rider went down hard, armor clanging and scraping against the Red Road, and Skye fell upon him savagely.
In his wolf form, Jace took out the next horse much as Cole had done. Before the rider could rise, Dalton came at him with his horns lowered, goring and trampling him.
Cole rolled over and crouched for another attack, but the other riders were swerving off the road. Six remained on their mounts, fanning out. Strange tingles sparked across his hide, and Cole realized that changings were being cast against him and failing. As expected, the changing caused by the mask was too potent for other changings to take hold.
Something lanced into his side, and Cole swiveled to discover a crossbow bolt protruding from his ribs. By the sudden difficulty in his breathing, Cole knew it had punctured a lung. He let out an angry yowl, noticing as he did how easy it was to switch from his human voice to his cougar growl. Skye let out a roar as well, deeper and more rumbling than Cole’s.
The darkness lifted, revealing that all of the Enforcers had bows or crossbows trained on them and were firing at top speed. An arrow hit Jace in the neck, and two already protruded from Skye. In his eagle shape, Joe soared upward, flying out of range.
Skye tore off her mask, and immediately stone walls appeared between the horsemen and their targets. Cole knew the stony seemings were intangible, but at least they would make aiming difficult. He dodged to the side and pulled off his mask. His world spun and flipped, and he returned to two legs, but no sooner had he become himself again than he replaced the mask, passing through another whirlwind of sensation to emerge as an uninjured mountain lion.
Beside him, Jace did likewise. Still in her human form, Skye retreated down the road on foot. “Run!” she called. “Make for the palace.”
The Enforcers rode forward through the stone walls, and Skye covered their heads with wooden crates. They batted futilely at the illusions. Cole lingered, ready to attack again.
Mira crouched near Skye, allowing her to climb aboard. Once Skye had mounted, the big ram took off down the road. Cole felt more tingling as additional changings failed to alter him. Their remaining horses turned to stone. Deciding to forgo more attacks and follow Mira, Cole turned on the speed, exhilarating in the stretch and pull of running as a cougar. Jace and Dalton sprinted beside him.
Skye put on her mask, rolling off Mira to become a bear again. A glance back told Cole that as soon as Skye replaced her mask, the illusionary crates had dissipated. Skye could only maintain seemings while in her human form.
Once again the Enforcers took up the pursuit. Cole pushed to his maximum speed, his paws slipping a little on the smooth pavement. The Enforcers charged after them, gradually losing ground.
Up ahead, four mounted Enforcers rushed onto the road. Two of them held a flaming net between them, barring the way. Another readied a huge bow, while the fourth leveled a lance at them. But Cole didn’t smell the horses, or the Enforcers, or the fire, though he heard it crackling.
“Fakes!” Jace shouted.
“Seemings,” Skye agreed.
The closer Cole came to the Enforcers, the more certain he became that they had no scent. He and his friends barreled through the insubstantial Enforcers and continued down the road. Dalton laughed, Jace gave a quick howl, and Cole let out a snarling roar.
A rearward glance showed the Enforcers even farther behind, allowing Cole to wonder where the chase might end. Would they take the Red Road all the way into the Lost Palace? Putting themselves back into Trillian’s power could prove more dangerous than fighting the Enforcers. What if the gates at the end of the road were closed? That would force a showdown unless they veered off to one side and kept running. Might Trillian send help? What if the help he sent turned into even bigger trouble?
Settling into a steady sprint, Cole let his worries get swallowed by the joy of running. Something about being a mountain lion made it much easier to tune out fear. He wasn’t fleeing in terror—it felt like a race, and he was confident that he could keep stretching his lead.
“Why run?” Jace complained, dashing at Cole’s left. “They want a fight. Let’s give it to them.”
“I feel the impulse too,” Dalton said from the other side. “My bull side wants to turn around and plow through them.”
“It’s not just my wolf side,” Jace replied. “We could take them.”
“They have pretty good aim with those bows,” Cole said. “They didn’t miss many shots until Skye put up those walls.”
“It would be harder for them to shoot us if they were dead,” Jace growled. “They’re made of meat. Let’s eat them.”
Cole didn’t want to admit how tempting that sounded.
“Keep running,” Skye called back from a few paces in front of them. “These Enforcers will give Trillian something to worry about besides capturing us.”
“Nobody is going to capture us with these masks on,” Jace said.
“Remember the sky castle rules,” Mira said. “Don’t fight when you can run. Why risk arrows bringing us down if we can get away?”
“She’s right,” Cole said.
“Whatever,” Jace said. “Is it bad to hope we get cornered?”
“It’s not healthy,” Cole said, though he also felt the strong urge to fight. What if Skye returned to her normal form and raised some illusions so they could attack out of hiding? The Enforcers would be down before they knew what hit them.
The conversation ended. They ran onward in silence, the rumble of hoofbeats receding.
In the moonlit distance the Lost Palace rose into view. The skeletal castle looked like it had barely survived a bombing raid, but Cole knew that for anyone who passed the front gate, the charred building became a shimmering wonder of pearl and platinum. Cole had never figured out whether the real version was the scorched ruin or the fairy-tale palace. Maybe they were both seemings.
“Riders,” Mira said.
Peering ahead along the road, Cole counted at least ten riders approaching, shrunken by the distance. “Another illusion?” he asked.
“They’re pretty far off,” Skye said. “I think they’re real.”
“Red Guard or more Enforcers?” Dalton asked.
“It’s hard to recognize color in the moonlight,” Skye replied. “They seem to be
coming from Trillian’s prison.”
Joe came swooping back from the direction of the Lost Palace. “Red Guard!” he called. “Twelve of them.”
“Think they’re here to help?” Dalton asked.
“If not, it’s their funeral,” Jace said.
“Leave the road when they get near,” Skye said. “If they ride past us, we’ll know they’re after our foes.”
Cole had heard that the Red Guard were dangerous, though on his previous visit to the Lost Palace he had only seen a few people besides Trillian. But that proved nothing. Other members of the Red Guard could have been out on assignment, or they could have been hiding.
Running at top speed, Cole watched as the galloping riders rapidly drew closer. Still charging hard, Skye led Cole and the others off the road as the riders came near. With hardly a glance to the side, the riders raced by them, except for a woman who slowed her chestnut stallion to a stop. Coldly beautiful, she gazed down at Cole and his friends as they also came to a standstill.
Cole recognized her. It was Hina, the woman who had escorted him around the Lost Palace.
“What are your intentions?” Skye asked.
Hina turned and looked down the Red Road, where her fellow guardsmen were about to engage the Enforcers. She waved a hand, and the number of guardsmen suddenly tripled.
“Are any of them real?” Cole asked.
“Eleven,” Hina said, her voice calm and rich.
“Should we go help?” Jace asked.
“Not necessary,” Hina assured him.
Just before the clusters of horsemen collided, Hina made a curt gesture, and for a moment the Red Road beneath the oncoming Enforcers flapped like a towel in the wind. All but one of the Enforcers went down in a calamitous tumble as the Red Guard reached them.
Cole watched as the Red Guard cut down the single Enforcer who remained mounted and wheeled to engage the fallen ones. It was hard to catch many details. The skirmish ended quickly.
