Frostfell_ The Wizards - Mark Sehestedt [19]
A sudden gust hit him, almost as if the wind itself were laughing at him. Jalan pushed himself to his feet, and the beginnings of panic set in as he noticed the trembling in his legs. He knew he couldn't keep this pace up much longer.
Jalan looked up. All he saw was featureless steppe in every direction. There might well be other dry gullies, running like cracks throughout the plain, but he'd never see them until he was on top of them.
He forced himself onward but slackened his pace a bit. He'd been lucky. Another foot into a hole and he might well break an ankle. As a boy, he'd seen it happen to horses, and if a healer wasn't around, there was nothing to be done but a quick jab to the thick vein along the beast's throat. A fountain of blood, an ear-splitting cry that would sometimes go on far too long… then it was over.
Jalan risked a quick glance over his shoulder. Nothing crested the rise behind him, but when he turned back around he saw pale things flitting over the plain to the north. Gray, in the dusklight they almost blended in to the steppe. Only their movement gave them away-and they were headed right for him.
A sob shook Jalan. He turned and headed south, following the shallow valley between two hills away from whatever the things were. But he'd seen how fast they were moving. Unless he found somewhere to hide, they'd be on him in no time.
He figured he'd gone almost a quarter mile when he saw a ghostly shape pass him several dozen paces off to his right-and two more off to his left. They were surrounding him. He glanced behind him and saw five others a hundred paces behind him. None were close enough for Jalan to make out distinct features, but he could tell that they were large-pony-sized at least.
The ones to the sides began to close in, and soon Jalan could hear them panting. Like dogs. One of the two to his left put on a sudden burst of speed, ran ahead, and stopped a stone's throw from Jalan. It was the biggest wolf Jalan had ever seen. His first impression had misjudged it. This thing was far larger than the Tuigan ponies. Its shoulders were easily the height of the famed Hiloar stallions that were the source of wealth for his mother's family. The wolf, its head low to the ground, stood still, watching Jalan, a deep growl rumbling from its throat.
Jalan stopped and fell to his knees. Part of him was glad. He'd seen wolves take down prey before. It wasn't pretty, and unless they managed to snap the creature's neck, it looked extremely painful. But it was still better than suffering whatever fate the northerners and their cold leader had meant for him.
The huge wolves circled him, pacing and watching and drawing their circle closer until the nearest was no more than five or six paces away. Their breath formed a nimbus of cloud around them. The stink of them hit Jalan and he coughed. Sweat poured freely from his skin, but now that he'd stopped running, he realized how cold it was. He'd slept many times out on the steppe, and the autumn nights often left a covering of ice on water by morning, but this cold was far worse. An uncontrollable shivering seized Jalan's body, and he realized what it meant.
"Oh, no."
The wolves to his left parted for the figure in the ash-colored cloak as he approached Jalan. The grass crunched and crackled beneath his feet, like the breaking of minuscule icicles. Jalan's tears froze on his cheeks.
The figure stopped in front of Jalan and looked down on him. "Our mounts have arrived," he said.
The man's voice made Jalan cover his ears. It was not unlovely, but there was something altogether wrong with it. Not just unusual, but twisted, like a choir of voices where half the voices sang off key.
"Good of you to come and welcome them."
CHAPTER SIX
Arzhan Island, the Lake of Mists
in the lands of the Khassidi
"He's awake."
Amira started. She was sitting by the lakeshore, her open spellbook in her lap, so absorbed in her studies that she hadn't heard