The south road wound around a low hill. By starlight he couldn't tell if horses or carriages had come this way recently-the sand was too soft, and any tracks made by Joren's or Artulle's conveyances would have been quickly obscured by the wind. The eastern track was marked by a row of trees on either side of the road. It was plain the trees had been planted by human hands as a windbreak, so he decided the left-hand path must be the road to Argivia. Hitching up his belt, which was sagging under the weight of the sword, Edgur started down the eastern track.
A distant dog howled. He turned back to look over the starlit fields and saw nothing but the vague shadows of clouds passing over the waving grassland. Once under the trees, the night closed in around him. Stars and breeze alike were blocked out by the closely growing cedars. He heard a flap of wings overhead and ducked. There were creatures of the night abroad in the country, creatures unfriendly to lonely travelers. Edgur drew his sword and quickened his step.
Without the wind to mask it, he detected all sorts of rustlings and stirrings in the brush on either side of the road. Edgur skirted first one side, then the other, determined not to let anything spring on him from the shadows. At one point he thought he spotted a pair of glowing green eyes in the ferns and thrust at them with his weapon. A bird flew up, shocking him. It flew away, screeching. Edgur muttered a curse and hurried on.
He was tired. The sword was heavy, his wound throbbed, and he hadn't eaten since noon. His mind went back to the elaborate repast Joren's servants had brought to the duel and spread out on fancy woolen carpets. Joren had offered him cold fowl and white wine then. Edgur haughtily refused his rival's hospitality. Now he'd give his left hand for a bit of roast chicken.
Wait-were those footfalls behind him? Edgur whirled, sword ready. He couldn't see beyond ten paces, but there was nothing to see. Backtracking a bit, he found large, five-toed footprints in the dirt. They were like cat tracks, only much larger and more robust than any cat print he'd ever seen. He knelt beside the tracks and found he couldn't cover the strange prints with his spread hand.
The night was very quiet. Too quiet, in fact-all the crickets had ceased singing, and the stray rustlings in the underbrush were still. Edgur stood up and ran. He didn't know what he was running from, but he was certain he didn't want to find out.
After his initial burst of fear-induced speed, running degenerated into a painful chore. Puffing with fatigue, Edgur slowed, then stopped. It was still eerily calm around him. Facing behind him, he waited and watched, straining every sense to discover who or what was trailing him.
There was a rapid shuffle of feet, followed by a crash off to his right. Edgur had had enough. He shoved his sword in his belt and broke into a hard jog away from his unseen stalker. He hadn't gone fifty paces before he saw a glimmer off the road among the trees. A light! Light meant people.
He made for the north side of the road, expecting to have to cut his way through brambles and brush. To his surprise, Edgur found a neat hole in the hedgerow and evidence of a well-worn footpath, leading directly toward the dim, yellow light. With frequent glances over his shoulder, Edgur made for the small glinting beacon. From its soft color he took it to be an oil lamp. It didn't waver like a flame but gave off a steady amber glow that flickered only because Edgur was darting among tree trunks and hedges.
The narrow path took him straight to a clearing about twenty-five paces wide. Offset from the center of the clearing was a patriarch among oaks, easily twice the size of any other tree in the area. Stout limbs branched off the trunk at low levels. Perched on one limb was a child of undetermined sex, perhaps twelve years old. A lamp rested on the ground below the child's dangling feet.
This was so unexpected a scene Edgur stopped dead in his tracks. The child sat with his (her?) back against the mighty trunk, eyes closed and hands folded. Edgur slowly approached, the unseen menace behind him forgotten. Twelve steps away he stopped again, this time because the child suddenly opened his eyes. Edgur decided he was male.
"Who are you?" demanded the boy.
"A traveler. I've lost my way," Edgur replied.
"You carry a sword."
"For my own protection."
"You were running. I heard you."
Edgur mopped his brow with a handkerchief. "Something was after me. I never saw it, but I found its tracks." He stuffed the kerchief back in his pocket. "What's a sprig like you doing out on his own in the middle of the night?"
"I live nearby." With a single swing of his hands, the boy leaped down from the limb, landing lightly in front of Edgur. He was just five feet tall, slender-almost gaunt-and had vivid green eyes and pale hair. He was dressed in a faded gray shift that came down to his knees. The old garment was threadbare and had been mended many times.
"My name's Dare."
"Edgur." He offered his hand, but the boy stared at it as if he'd never seen the gesture before. "Where's your home, Dare?"
"Over there," the boy said with a vague wave of his hand. "I go where I want and do as I please. I spend a lot of time at this tree."
"Don't your parents mind?"
"Parents?"
A throaty snarl interrupted their conversation. Edgur fumbled for his sword, while Dare scampered up the oak tree with the agility of a squirrel.
"You know what's out there?" asked Edgur, putting his back against the tree.
"Panther warrior," said the boy. "He's been after me for a long time."
Edgur started to sweat. "Panther warrior? Aren't they just legends?"
"They're real. I hope there's not a whole pride of them."
Edgur swallowed hard and gripped his sword with both hands. He'd been outfought already today by Joren, and he felt none too confident of his ability to hold off one of the fearsome panther warriors, a twilight race of panther men who haunted the forests of Terisiare.
He said, "I wish I had more light!"
"Take up the lamp if you want," returned Dare.
Keeping his eyes on the darkness, Edgur squatted and felt about until his fingers closed around a smooth, warm rod about as thick as his thumb. It was stuck in the moss at the foot of the tree. He plucked it out easily and brought it up to eye level. Only then did he see it clearly. The lamp was shaped like a snake, about ten inches long and rigid as an axe handle. It emitted a warm, yellow light.
Edgur let out a yell and dropped the glowing reptile. The same time it hit the ground a dark shape moved across the periphery of his vision. Blindly, he lashed out at the moving form and felt the sword tip dig into something yielding. He recovered, and a gut-wrenching snarl, very close, drove him to strike out again.
This time Edgur's blade met real resistance. He leaned against the hilt, and the sword ripped into whatever it was. Something whispered past his face, followed by a spreading sensation of heat. Suddenly there was a crack, and his sword came loose. Edgur found himself tumbling in the dirt. Terrified, he struggled to his feet. The ironmonger's second-best sword had snapped off half its length.
Fingers tapped lightly on his shoulder. Edgur spun around, broken blade out. Dare caught the iron stump in his small, pale hand. In his other hand he held the strange snakelamp.
"Be at ease, Master Edgur. The panther man has fled. "
Breathing hard, Edgur lowered the ruined weapon. "I never even saw him, " he gasped.
"He saw you, all right. " Dare rubbed a finger across Edgur's cheek. He had three parallel scratches on his face, all bleeding. The boy showed him the blood.