“Hear me out. This thing is dangerous. Let’s gather a few more wizards and dragoneers, then come back.”
“And when the king hears what is happening here and orders you to leave me in Arabel, you will deny him and bring me back?”
“I suppose not, but it was an idea.” The wizard motioned toward the broken ground behind them. “After the ghazneth finds our trail, it won’t take the thing long to find us.”
“Longer than you think,” said Rowen. “These badlands stretch for a hundred miles along the base of the mountains, and the canyons are deep. It isn’t easy to see into them even from the rims-much less high in the sky.”
“I hope you’re right, Rowen,” said Tanalasta, “but Edwin Narlok theorizes in his treatise Falcon Fun that the eyesight of birds of prey is far more acute than our own.”
Rowen looked slightly embarrassed. “I haven’t read that book, but the idea makes sense. Otherwise, it would be pretty difficult to hunt from on high.”
“Of course, the ghazneth is not a bird of prey-“
“But it’s wiser not to take chances.” Vangerdahast took a linen glove from his pocket and folded it into his palm, where he could reach it instantly. “Remind me not to wager with you anymore, Princess.”
Tanalasta narrowed her eyes. “If you even think of-“
“A bet is a bet,” said Vangerdahast. “This is for the ghazneth. When it finds us, blast the thing with everything you have. You need to buy me a little time.”
Tanalasta continued to eye the glove, but nodded. “As you wish.”
She consulted Rowen’s map stick, then led the way around the basin into a cool, shadow-filled canyon suffused with the smell of damp earth. The gorge was as deep as a well and so narrow that Vangerdahast sometimes found his knees brushing both sides at once. Even at its broadest, two horses could not have stood side by side, and it twisted and turned like a snake. The wizard could not recall a worse place to be ambushed, and he kept a constant watch on the crooked slot of sky above.
He saw the ghazneth twice over the next four hours. The first was when he glimpsed a tiny V streaking across the narrow strip of sky ahead of them. It was no larger than his fingernail, and visible for such a short time it could have been a large vulture instead. The second time, the wizard had no such doubts. It appeared over the canyon behind them, large enough now that its wings and body formed a distinct cross, slowly circling and peering down into the labyrinth.
Convinced the phantom had finally found their trail, Vangerdahast suggested again that it might be wise to teleport back to Arabel. Tanalasta’s only reply was to ask him to leave the extra horse, and so they pressed on in silence for the rest of the afternoon. With the sun hidden most of the time behind one canyon rim or the other, it was difficult to mark the passing time, but Vangerdahast was convinced it had to be near evening when the gorge suddenly felt less murky. The walls did not seem to rise quite so high above their heads, and the musty air grew warmer and more arid.
“We’ll leave the badlands soon,” said Rowen, “It’s only a short ride then to where I last saw Alusair.”
“One of the opened tombs?” Tanalasta did not wait for the ranger to answer. “That will be interesting.”
Vangerdahast was about to quote the old aphorism about cats and curiosity when a soft thud sounded next to him. He looked down and saw a two-inch crater in the dried mud, a gleam of gold barely visible in the bottom. The wizard frowned, trying to imagine how a golden coin had come to fall into the canyon-then looked skyward and shouted the alarm.
“Watch your-“
A squarish shape came tumbling down into the canyon and struck him in the chest. The breath huffed out of Vangerdahast’s lungs and his feet flew out of the stirrups. He found himself flat on his back, gasping for air and groaning in agony. The canyon was filled with screaming voices and flashing magic and dancing hooves, and it finally came to him that he was lying on the ground with the battle already raging.
Vangerdahast pushed himself to a sitting position and found a legless, headless torso sprawled across his legs. He shoved the thing away in horror, then recognized the filthy armor as that of the orc he had used as a decoy. In his grogginess, he failed to see any humor in having it returned to him.
A horse hoof came down on Vangerdahast’s ankle. A sobering bolt of pain shot up his leg, and he grabbed a hock and shoved the beast off his throbbing foot. Tanalasta’s voice rang out, trolling the incantation of her one spell, and a flash of golden magic brightened the canyon. Vangerdahast shook his head clear and saw Rowen’s boots dart past on the other side of the horse, and it occurred to the wizard he had better do something before the ghazneth killed them all. He opened his hand to discover that the glove he had been holding was gone.
“Vangerdahast!” cried Tanalasta. “I can’t stall any longer!”
Vangerdahast glanced over and saw Cadimus turned sideways in the canyon, the princess sitting astride his back, pointing up the canyon wall and slapping ineffectually at her wrists. She had already used the bracers to discharge one set of magic bolts and the single combat spell she knew to fire another, and it would be some time before she could attack again. The bracers needed only a few moments to recharge their magic, but in the middle of a battle, a few moments could be a lifetime. The wizard followed the angle of Tanalasta’s arm and finally saw the ghazneth.
Too large by far to fly into the narrow gorge, the thing was climbing down the canyon wall, descending headfirst with its huge wings gathered up alongside its body. It was already halfway down, its white eyes glaring at the canyon floor, where Rowen stood ready to meet it with nothing more than a sword and rust-coated dagger.
This was going to be easier than Vangerdahast thought. He fetched a wad of sticky spider web from his cloak pocket and flicked it in the phantom’s direction, at the same time uttering his incantation. The ghazneth’s head swiveled toward the sound of his voice, then the thing pushed off the canyon wall and dropped, its long-taloned hands already drawing back to rip Rowen open from shoulder to hip. A circle of web blossomed on the wall behind it, burbling out to engulf the phantom up to one knee and bring its dive to an unexpected halt.
Vangerdahast sighed in relief then rolled to his feet and found his glove lying beneath his mount. He plucked it from under the beast’s dancing hooves and shook the dust off, then blew into the collar and whispered his incantation. The fingers wiggled once, then it drifted from his hand and began to float in the air before him. The wizard pulled a vial full of dried fireflies from his pocket and placed one of the tiny insects in the palm of the floating glove.
As Vangerdahast worked, the ghazneth spewed a string of unspeakable curses and beat its wings against the cliffside, trying to knock itself free of the entangling web. When that did not work, it twisted around and curled up toward its feet, drawing its arm back to slash at the web. The filament parted with a low pop, and the phantom came plummeting down the cliff backward. Rowen was on it as soon as it landed, beating aside its arms with two powerful sword strokes, then hurling himself forward to plant his orange dagger deep into its collar.
An unearthly shriek filled the canyon. The ghazneth rolled, slamming its wing into the ranger and launching him up the canyon to crash into Cadimus. Tanalasta and Rowen fell with the beast in a tangled screeching heap, and the phantom rolled to its feet. Though the hole Vangerdahast had blasted in its chest a few days earlier has completely healed, the rusty dagger remained planted firmly in its collar, with gouts of dark blood pumping out around the blade.
Tanalasta’s voice rang through the gorge. “King’s bolts!”
Four golden streaks shot past in front of Vangerdahast, but the ghazneth was ducking behind its wing even as the bolts struck. The leathery appendage grew white and translucent, revealing the fanlike network of delicate bones within.