Curse of the Shadowmage - Mark Anthony [97]
Another bloodcurdling cry rent the air. This time, the companions did not hesitate; they urged their mounts into a wild gallop. As they rode, Mari risked a glance over her shoulder. The ghost of Verraketh had vanished. However, she noticed that the sky had grown darker. Even as she watched, the clouds began to swirl in a spiral, faster and faster. High above, the unseen shadowsteeds screeched again, and this time their cries were not cries of hunger but of anger. Ghost or not, Verraketh was doing something that the winged steeds of the shadevari did not like.
The four horses raced toward the distant ridge that lay in between them and the vale of the Shadowstar. Mari gripped Farenth's mane with white-knuckled hands.
"Hold on, Caledan," she whispered urgently. "We're coming as fast as we can. Hold on just a little while longer…"
But the cold wind snatched the words from her lips.
*****
Hooves clattering against loose stone, Mista scrambled up the last few feet to the summit of the knife-edged ridge.
"Good girl," Caledan said, leaning forward in the saddle to stroke her neck. Despite the chill, her pale coat was flecked with foam. "I knew you could do it."
Mista nickered uncertainly in reply. She did not like this place. Nor did Caledan. He gazed down into a dark hollow in the blasted landscape. The vale of the Shadowstar.
"Well," he said. "We're here."
Though he had never seen this place before, Caledan had an eerie sense that he was coming home. Perhaps, in a way, he was. A thousand years of shadow magic ran in his veins. This was where it had all begun.
The vale itself was not so much a valley as it was a crater-a circular pit gouged into the surface of the world by a terrible, otherwordly force. The walls of the vale were formed of jagged black stone. Hot steam rose from countless fissures in the crater's floor, creeping around jagged spire of rock that stood like a sentinel in the vale's center. He shut his eyes, and he could almost see it: the fiery streak plunging down through the sky to strike ground with a flash as bright as the sun and a sound deafening as two worlds colliding, leaving in its wake a gaping wound on the face of Toril.
Caledan opened his eyes and studied the steep slope leading down into the vale. Slowly, he dismounted. His joints ached fiercely, and he was horribly dizzy. Somehow he managed to stand upright.
"I'm afraid this is where we part ways, old friend," he said haggardly.
Mista gave a firm snort, stamping her hoof in protest.
Caledan shook his head. "You can't make it down that slope, Mista, and you know it. Frankly, I'm not certain I can, either." He sighed. "But I have to try."
The ghostly gray mare let out a worried nicker.
He encircled her strong neck with his arms. "I swear, I will come back for you, Mista, if it is at all in my power, I think that you're the only one I really remember now. I know that there are others… others who were important to me once. But I don't know their names anymore, or their faces." He gave a bitter laugh. "Damn, but I hardly even remember my own name anymore."
Mista nuzzled his cheek. She bared her big yellow teeth and bit his ear, but the gesture was only half-hearted. Caledan slapped her affectionately. "Good-bye, old friend," he said softly. With that, he turned and began picking his way down the treacherous wall of the crater. The going was agonizingly slow. Rocks skidded beneath his boots. Sharp edges sliced his hands when he reached out to steady himself. He was perhaps halfway down when his feet set a whole section of loose scree into motion. The small rocks were as slick as marbles, and there was nothing for Caledan to grab on to. With a cry he fell, tumbling down the slope in a small avalanche of loose rock. When he came to a stop at the bottom, he was surprised to find he was still alive. Groaning, he pulled himself from beneath a pile of rubble and staggered to his feet. He was bruised and bloodied, his clothes