Walking the same street for the tenth time that evening, Captain Corbyn Cauldron of the King’s Own 25^th Lancers couldn’t believe the orders in his hand. The Captain cut a dashing figure in his green, perfectly tailored lancer uniform. Six foot, eleven inches tall, massively broad shoulders displayed corded muscles running down his arms; the Captain was the perfect example of the best type of officer. While the uniform bore the rank of Captain on the shoulder lapels, the medal insignias filling his chest spoke of a warrior having seen many successful battles.

The Captain fumed at his Sergeant, shaking the orders in the Sergeant’s face. “I realize we must obey our commanders. By the high moon above, why in this world or any other is a lancer regiment off their horses, searching like mad men through the basements and attics of every ducal manor in the royal quarter of the city? Are there no infantry divisions to tread into people’s homes?”

Sergeant David Wise, hiding a smile behind a military expression, nodded sagely at his commanding officer. He took the crumpled orders from his Captain’s hand and gave them off to Private Donont for the fifth time that night. Wise was almost as tall as his Captain. While his green uniform wasn’t as neat as his leader’s, he bore almost as many medals on his chest. As an officer, Cauldron had to be clean-shaven, but a Sergeant could sport a thick beard and long hair, and that’s what Wise liked to do. A few gray hairs coursed through the beard, but Wise was fond of saying, “I’ve earned every one of those hairs in the King’s service.”

With the moon high, irritation at silly orders forced Cauldron into a nervous pacing. Wise stood back, waiting to carry out orders and remembering many a time when his leader rode into the thick of battle, displaying not the slightest bit of tension. The good Captain showed himself to be a coiled spring of irritated energy now.

For some strange reason, unknown to the normally in-the-know Sergeant, his leader displayed more power and deadly capability when the moon was full and high. The Captain’s magical ability proved itself greater during the times of the full moon as well. Magic-using battle leaders weren’t that uncommon in the King’s regiments, but his Captain was something special.

Corbyn proved himself a deadly swordsman and a crafty spell-user in the service of the human empire of Dulse. In past conflicts, Wise witnessed Corbyn’s eyes glow the color of the moon and saw moon-colored lightning leap from Cauldron’s hands to burn enemies massing in front of their battle position.

Known as a lucky officer among his men and the other cavalry regiments, there wasn’t another leader in all the armies of the King that Sergeant Wise would rather follow. “I can see you don’t like what we’re doing. Begging your pardon Sar, but this work detail is easy as details go. You could look at it this way; we’re saving the lives of servants in these manors who would be forced to fight and die at the talons of zombies.”

“True, I’ll give you that, Sergeant,” Corbyn replied. “The zombies are crazed things; their best attack seems to be a charge straight ahead with talons extended. So far, troopers with a good blade in their hands have been able to down such monsters with practiced strokes.”

Wise munched on the last of the pastries he grabbed from the manor kitchen they had just inspected. His Captain was relaxing so the Sergeant could as well. “Besides, there are excellent kitchens in every rich man’s home, and everyone knows zombies often hide behind freshly baked cream puffs,” Wise said with a mouthful of food. Both men laughed, and the lancer regiment continued searching.

In the hours that followed, they found several zombies on Gold Street and dispatched them. The head of a zombie had to be cut off, or the creature rose again, no matter how many wounds it suffered in a battle.

“Sergeant, what do you think is causing all of these zombies to rise?” Corbyn asked, knowing the answer but wanting to discover if his Sergeant knew as well.

“There are several ways to make a zombie,” Wise replied. “An evil priest can raise the dead. Some powerful wizards skilled in death enchantments can make them. These that we’re killing are from a demon. Common knowledge dictates when a Nevil Demon feeds, it sucks the life out of a person, leaving an enchanted corpse to rise and search hungrily for its lost life essence. Zombies in their hundreds, appearing all over the rich quarter of the city in the past few weeks, speak to an unusually powerful Nevil Demon doing its evil mischief.”

On this pleasantly warm summer’s evening, with the full moon rising in the sky, the regiment marched onto Silver Street. Corbyn turned to the long column of men and shouted his orders. “Corporals, each of you take ten men and search these manors. Don’t take no for an answer. When servants try to stop you, mention the orders from the King and proceed. Sergeant, you and the remaining men and I will take the White Goose Inn for ourselves.”

The squad walked to the end of the street. Porters and city watch roamed the area with weapons ready. This White Goose had been left alone in past searches, more orders from above. This time, Corbyn was going to search it as well.

The good Captain snorted, noting night watchmen going by. “These streets are guarded better than some of the forts we’ve been in.” Corbyn gestured to the many mansions all around them. “I see night watchmen. I see Ducal guards at every mansion gate. Some of them armed and armored better than we are. By the gods above and below, was there ever such a waste of time?”

Then the Captain’s eyes fell on the inn. Famed all over the city, the White Goose Inn presented the best in food and entertainment for the elite of the capital city of Sanguine. The inn was also a place reserved for the rich and royal of the kingdom to play and have fun away from the lower classes. Normally, a Captain and Sergeant couldn’t get near the establishment.

“Sergeant Wise.” Corbyn turned toward his Sergeant with a gleam in his eye.

“Sar!” Wise said, coming to attention.

“In the last nine times, we’ve searched this street. We haven’t gone to the White Goose Inn, have we Sergeant?”

“No, Sar!” Wise rolled his eyes, knowing the look and tone of voice. The massively muscled Sergeant enjoyed a good scrap as much as the next man, but he didn’t enjoy dealing with royals. His big, calloused hands clinched tight as he dreaded the orders he knew he was about to hear.

“I think it’s time we obeyed the orders we have to the letter. Follow me.”

Wise would normally have cautioned his Captain about the folly of entering a royal establishment. The set of his leader’s square jaw and the look of pure bedevilment in Cauldron’s gray eyes told Wise not to bother. We’re in for it now.

Smiling, Captain Cauldron stepped lively to the double doors. The inn was a huge, two-story stone structure more than five hundred years old. A sign displaying a white goose in a copper kettle proclaimed the name for any passersby. The connecting stable had long ago been converted into a gambling den and theater for the rich. The fresh white paint on the stonewalls, and the many stained-glass windows, displayed an elegance not found in most inns.

People in the know claimed the current King loved this place, but Cauldron doubted it. He thought the King would never be able to fit through the double doors of its entrance.

Dressed in white, the doorman stood beside the large portal. With a disapproving grimace, the lackey walked in front of the inn doors. An impressive, well-used mace appeared in the liveryman’s hand. The powerful weapon’s handle displayed wear; the business end clearly showed lots of use. “Why are you at our door lancer Captain?”

There was a smile on Corbyn’s lips as he shifted position so that the porter would have to take a wide swing to hit him instead of a short jab. It would be a very long swing to reach Corbyn, and the lackey would be dead long before the mace landed on its intended target.

Corbyn tried to defuse the situation with a bit of humor and good will. “We’re on the King’s business, don’t you know. My orders are to search every house for zombies and their like. My men and I will disturb your guests as little as possible. Please, won’t you let us inside?”

“I’m sorry, Captain. Only military Colonels and above, with their retinues, are allowed to cross this threshold. There are no zombies in here; I can assure you,” the lackey answered.

“The nerve of the idjet.” Private Stonefist shouted, his blood up. “It’s been a long night already. I’ve been ripped by a zombie claw a street back. Let me at ‘em Captain. I’ll soon . . .”

“Steady on Private,” Sergeant Wise interrupted. He shifted to his Captain’s right, brandishing his nine-foot-long halberd. The weapon was a twig in the big man’s hands. “Our Captain’s up front doing his job. You remain in the ranks and do yours.”

Suddenly, with a hand signal from the Sergeant, they all drew their curved lancer sabers, the hiss of steel sounding deadly.

The eyes of the door steward grew wide. “Ahem, I see. I’ll tell the mistress you are here. Please wait outside.”

The lackey went in. Corbyn turned to his men. “Sheath your blades. There’ll be no waiting at this door. Who knows how many zombies are escaping out the back of this place right now?” The huge grin on his face showed he wasn’t serious.

“Left column, search this floor and any basement or wine cellar you find. Be discrete. Right column search upstairs--if there’s rogering going on in a room, it won’t have zombies, so leave them to their fun. I don’t want any Duke complaining to the King that one of my men rousted them from their important royal endeavors. Sergeant Wise, you come with me.”

Corbyn pushed open the door and walked into a riot of light. The front entrance to the inn dazzled the senses. Blazing hearths sparkled with firelight. Blindingly reflective copper kettles hung from the ceilings everywhere; each held an ivory goose. The place clearly deserved its silly name.

“Never been in a room where I’ve sunk in the carpet like this,” Corbyn said.

The place smelled of flowers, without a single flower in evidence. Corbyn cocked his head and sniffed. “Magic or clever architectural design, I wonder. Most inns smell of beer and sweat. This place smells like Teka roses.”

“I thought only elves could grow Teka roses,” Wise mused.

“You know, David, a hundred years ago, I favored sleeping under an oak covered in Teka vines.” Corbyn shook off the memory, indicating he was back to business.

A gorgeous longhaired blond and her companion, the famous Duke of Tens, rushed to confront Corbyn. The Captain’s men ignored the Duke and filtered up the stairs and into all the chambers off the first-floor landing, seeming ignorant of the wealth and nobility around them. All the troopers in the King’s armies knew the Duke of Tenn. He’d served for years in the King’s regiments in the cavalry and was the commander of all the infantry armies. The Duke grew famous for his love of being in the thick of every action. Retired now, he still commanded respect.

“Captain, I must protest,” the fair lady at the Duke’s side spoke in an excited rush.

Corbyn silenced her with his hand and a winning smile. The worried lady strained the Captain’s eyes as he drank in her full-figured beauty.

Her ample bosom overflowed the dress, and her long blond hair spilled onto her bodice in curly waves. The lady’s cheeks shone bright crimson from her irritation. Her fan, studded with gold and gems, was easily worth more than Corbyn made in ten years on a Captain’s pay. It moved with stunning swiftness across her bodice. Corbyn offered a courtly bow to the lady and the Duke. His eyes never left the Duke’s face.

The Duke was a swordsman, evidenced by the well-used grip on his expensive rapier. Corbyn moved to the unweaponed side of the Duke, a move the Duke acknowledged with a turn of his body and the shifting of his stance.

“Is this search really necessary Captain?” the Duke asked. “Surely this inn, filled with the Dukes and Counts of the land, harbors no zombies.”

“I’m positive you are correct, my Lord,” Corbyn’s tone was polite. “The men will be in and out as quickly as possible. I’m sure you realize when the King orders every building in the city searched, his wishes must be obeyed.”

“Err, well, hurmph,” the Duke replied. “You are jolly well correct, sir. I served in the King’s regiments myself and know a good officer when I see one. Lady Eve, we must let the men do their work. Come, Captain, and sit with the Lady and me at our Blood & Guts table while your men go about their business.”

“But Percy, there are delicate negotiations upstairs. What of them?” the hostess protested.

Corbyn took her tiny white hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. He noted the red of her cheeks increasing somewhat. That was all right with him because he liked what he saw.

Corbyn found the innkeeper far too lovely to keep distressed. “The lancers are following orders to be discrete, and they will be. You have my oath as a gentleman and King’s officer on that dear lady. No one wants to interrupt spirited negotiations.”

The Duke put a protective arm around her, and she rapped him with her fan to show she didn’t want protection.

“There you have it now,” the Duke told her. “When a king’s officer gives his word, you have nothing to worry about. Come, come, Lady, and bring the good Captain and his capable-looking Sergeant some of the house biscuits. I wager they haven’t had their like before. Searching houses is hungry work, what?”

The gambling chamber of the inn held ten large Blood & Guts tables. The huge room showed itself lined with tables heavy in food and drink. Kettles of all sizes, covered in gold, hung from the ceiling and walls. The gold brilliance of each light-shedding kettle stunned the eyes as each increased the illumination given off by the lanterns and fireplaces. The food smelled wonderful, and servants constantly removed cold platters, replacing them with warm ones. The jewels and wealth displayed on the ladies and men in this chamber could pay the salaries of entire armies for years.

Corbyn was sure there wasn’t royalty less than a Duke among the fifty men and women playing at the tables. He recognized several court Earls and Counts among the throng.

Naturally, the Duke led them to the center table. Three other lord types played there. One of the lords was massive, easily as tall as Corbyn with plowshare, handle-wide shoulders, and a deep booming voice.

Corbyn noted the man’s weapon was an unusual axe. The weapon’s long handle rested against the gambling table at the side of the Duke. Corbyn’s moon-enhanced powers sensed magic about the weapon. Axes were not the usual weapons of choice among royals. As Corbyn looked at the axe, his magically enhanced vision showed it to have a dark mist all around the blade. He could also smell a bitter odor of dark magics on the weapon. Whatever it was, the blade was dangerous. All the rest of the Lords wore swords at their hips, even the older players.

The other two men at the table were local Earls, men who followed the King and helped collect taxes. They smiled politely at Corbyn but clearly dismissed him as unimportant.

“Will you play a few hands, Captain?” the Duke of Tenn obviously tried to be charming, and Corbyn appreciated it. Blood & Guts was one of Corbyn’s favorite parlor games, and an offer to play with such powerful men wasn’t something to refuse for a Captain of the King’s lancers.

“What’s the buy-in, my Lord?” Corbyn asked.

“Oh, we like to keep things simple here. It’s a hundred gold for the red and two hundred for the white. If you can’t afford it, we’ll understand. I’d offer to take whatever marker you wished to give, but as you know, that’s forbidden at a Blood & Guts table.”

The buy-in was a lot for a Captain in the King’s 25^th Lancers. For some reason, Corbyn didn’t want to appear any less in the eyes of these men. He also wanted to observe the big axe-owning Duke during the game. Corbyn twisted his hand, causing a large moon opal to appear in his palm with a slight of hand trick, and threw it to the dealer. The opal was easily worth two thousand gold. The dealer gave him a red and white token, a silver round player marker, and seven-hundred-gold in seven sliver-thin gold bars. He was shorted a thousand gold but expected nothing less in a gambling establishment. Corbyn wouldn’t be in for many hands at this rate.

Blood & Guts was a kingdom-wide popular dice game with many strategies. Each player bought into the game getting a red marker (blood token), a white marker (guts token), and a colored player marker. Each player had their own particular color to mark them from the rest of the players. The gold was spent on tokens collected at the center of the table for the winner of the game. One of the players rolled two dice into a bladder at the center of the table. The bladder prevented dice cheats, allowing the dice to tumble down a long tube and out onto the table. The number rolled out determined what the roller could do at the table.

Corbyn loved the game because he was a lucky roller. He also liked to see how others handled the roll of seven. One could tell a lot about a person by how they played Blood & Guts.

Corbyn was introduced to the Duke and Earls, but the big axe man, the Duke of the Eastern Forests, held his attention the longest. The Captain instantly took a disliking to this Duke. Corbyn acted on his deadly hunch. He motioned for Sergeant Wise to come over and whispered: “The good Duke over there, the one with the bloody great axe, stand a bit behind him. If and when I dance with him, I’ll signal you and the dance will start with you ripping that axe away.”

Not blinking or showing his surprise, Sergeant Wise nodded and slowly moved about the room, getting into position.

Corbyn’s dislike was just a soldier’s hunch. Still, there was enough evidence in Corbyn’s mind to make him wary. Dukes were rarely as heavily muscled as this one was. Generally, as a group, they didn’t have time to do physical things, being too busy governing their lands or enjoying themselves. The magic on the axe was another sign. The humans of the empire didn’t generally like magical weapons. Magic put intelligence in the heart of a weapon. Often that intelligence demanded a price for service. Finally, there was a deadly look about the Duke of the Eastern Forests. Even as he smiled at Corbyn, the Captain could sense death and danger hanging about the man like a black cloak.

As the new player, he rolled the dice first. He picked up the two wooden cubes, hesitated for a heartbeat, and tossed the dice into the top of the bladder. Smiling, he watched a seven come out at the bottom. The others sighed, not liking the roll and what would happen next. He pushed four of his gold bars into the tiny circle, thus doubling the wager amount.

“Everyone roll.”

Corbyn, senses on high alert, discovered something when he picked up the dice. The cubes were magicked in some way. Without careful study, he couldn’t figure out how the enchantment affected them. He reached for the dice on the table, needing to sense their nature with his own magic. Closing his eyes so that no one would see them glow, he held the dice for a heartbeat in his fist and coated them in the invisible essence of the moon. It was a minor mirror magic preventing anyone else from adding magic to the dice. He passed the cubes with his eyes closed to the Duke of Tenn. Eyes open again, he watched the Duke roll a five.

“Damn it all.” The Duke forcefully tossed in his blood token.

“Bad luck, Percy.” The axe Duke picked up the dice, and as he rolled them, he grimaced. There was the slightest puff of smoke as he hurriedly tossed the dice into the bladder. The Duke stared at the red cubes as if they were his enemy. He’d rolled an eight, forcing him to toss in his blood token. The other two Earls rolled nines and tossed in their blood tokens as well.

Corbyn felt moonlight on his shoulders and looked up to see the full moon from a large transom in the ceiling. Welcoming its energy, he knew he’d need all its power tonight if his suspicions were true. He noted his Sergeant well positioned behind the Duke of the Northern Forests.

When it was Percy’s turn to roll, he made a ten, forcing him to throw in his guts token as well.

The Forest Duke picked up the dice with his fingertips and flipped the cubes into the bladder as if each was a blazing thing. Corbyn thought he noticed a darkening of the Duke’s flesh. It was very possible the moon enchantment burned his fingertips. A roll of double fours allowed the Duke to make the wager eight hundred gold. Everyone but Corbyn turned in his guts token. Poor Percy threw in his all-in-marker and was out of the game. Corbyn threw in his blood token.

On their turns, the other two Earls rolled a six and a five, forcing them, according to the rules, to throw in their player markers.

“Lady Eve, could I have a large flagon of wine, please?” Corbyn asked.

The chamber was filled with punch bowls and tiny cups. Corbyn could see by the looks of the men around the table that he was thought incredibly boorish to order Lady Eve about like a tavern wench.

“Of course, Captain, I’ll see what I can find for you,” she graciously replied.

Before he rolled his next play, there was a large tankard of dark wine at his elbow. He rolled a nine and was forced to throw in his gut’s marker.

The Forest Duke smiled as he still had his last token. He reached for the dice and quickly tossed them into the bladder. There were clear burn marks on his fingers. A large cockroach crawled out on his sleeve. Such things were common everywhere. No one thought a second about the bugs, but this time in the intense action of the game, the Duke slipped up. With tables full of food all around, he shouldn’t have reached down smiling as he picked up the cockroach. He bit into the bug with great relish, and Corbyn beheld a Nevil demon.

A seven came out of the bladder.

Corbyn raised his heavy tankard as if to salute the Duke and signaled Wise by balling his other hand into a fist.

The Sergeant pulled the axe away from the table and the Duke’s reach. Corbyn threw the entire contents of the large tankard into the Duke’s eyes. Lady Eve screamed in shock. Corbyn rose, beginning the dance of death. Corbyn drew his sword and, in one smooth and perfectly timed lunge, sheathed it into the heart of the demon.

That didn’t end the matter, as his worst fears were realized.

The room filled with screams as chairs flew back and weapons were drawn. Those with common sense rushed out of the gambling hall.

The demon-Duke sat there laughing. With a sword in its chest, it slowly wiped the wine out of its eyes, and its body grew larger as it transformed.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted.” The deep base of its expanding throat revealed a deadly menace. The creature’s voice rasped into a barely understandable growl. Tusks erupted from its mouth. Its manicured fingers turned into huge razor-sharp talons. Inhumanly large muscles burst through its silk shirt and pants. “Little human, you and I must dance for a bit. I really need to take your soul since you took away my fun.”

Corbyn stood his ground as the creature rose and reached for him. Using the essence of the moon, light streaming down on him, he cast a deadly spell. A huge crash of lightning erupted from his hands and smashed into the demon. The creature flew back twenty feet into the wall. Hitting it with a bone-crunching smack, the demon rippled down the wall to the floor.

Laughing, it got up and grew even taller and broader.

“You can’t kill me, little human.” The creature’s growing voice was terrifying. People around the demon froze in fear at just the sound of the monster’s words. “You don’t have a demon dagger here. I can sense those, and they’re all at the palace. I’ll be eating you, and there’s nothing you can do that won’t make me grow larger and stronger.”

Corbyn mentally sorted through his options, noting his sword still in the monster’s heart, not slowing it down at all. His deadliest spell made the creature grow more powerful. As the demon moved toward him with its talons outstretched, taking its time and enjoying itself, Corbyn signaled to Wise to try the axe.

With a huge swing, the tall Sergeant smashed the blade of his newly acquired weapon fully into the neck of the demon. A small weal of blood appeared on its throat, and the thing grew even more massive with the axe bouncing off its hide.

Dukes, Earls, and Counts rushed for the only door and jammed it up so that no one was leaving the chamber. Suddenly intense fire bathed the demon from head to foot. Trying to protect a lady behind him, a Duke used a potent magical ring on the demon. While Corbyn respected the effort, all it did was make the monster grow even larger.

Corbyn’s only option seemed to be running, and he didn’t like the chances of getting away from an eight-foot-tall demon from the pits of hell. Some of his lancers cleared the press of the entrance and rushed into the room with their swords drawn.

Corbyn shouted at them. “Men, throw wine in its face. David, to me!”

Corbyn jumped onto a food table and tried unhooking the largest cauldron in the room. It was a huge thing, coated in gold.

Sergeant Wise helped him get it unhooked; the weight of the thing required two strong men to move it. “What in the world are we doing with this thing?” Sergeant Wise asked, pulling the ivory goose from the pot.

There was lots of wine in punch bowls all over the room. His men splashed the head of the demon with gallons of the stuff.

“Owe, that hurts!” The demon whined as it constantly opened its eyes, was dashed with wine, and squeezed them closed again to shed the stinging liquid. The demon blindly picked up two of the lancers and bent them in half. The sounds of their spines breaking were lost amid the shouts of fear as the last of the guests dashed from the room. The alcohol raised puffs of grape-colored smoke from the eyes of the demon, but the creature blinked the liquid away.

Corbyn and Wise rushed forward with the heavy cauldron and threw it over the demon’s head. The kettle barely fit.

Corbyn pulled his sword from the heart of the creature with a twist.

“Stab it! Chop it! Kill it!” Corbyn ordered his stunned men into action while he repeatedly lunged his blade into the creature.

His men chopped and cut as well. Wise used the magical axe. The weapon started screaming a battle song. The attacks failed to kill the monster, and the demon grew and grew. In seconds, the inches-thick kettle became wedged tight around the head of the creature. Its talons raked the metal and gouged grooves in the cauldron but didn’t penetrate all the way through the thick metal.

The size of the monster grew to fifteen feet, but the kettle held the massive head of the creature in a deadly vice the monster couldn’t tug free.

Wounds would close magically, but the lancers put hundreds more into the creature. The massive monster finally fell to the floor, twitching its last. It took thirty minutes of constant stabbing for the creature to die. At death, the demon turned to dust, and the dust vanished back to its demonic plane of existence.

In the quiet of the chamber, Corbyn looked around to see Duke Percy standing over Lady Eve with his sword drawn and a deadly look on his face. She’d broken her leg and fainted at his feet.

The mountain Duke, who used the magic ring, checked his still unconscious lady and rose up to shake Corbyn’s hand.

“It’s the damndest thing I ever saw. I’ll make sure you’re nominated for a King’s Commission for this; damned if I won’t. You’ve saved the lives of hundreds of royals. Damned clever, choking it in that pot. How did you ever think of that one?”

Corbyn wasn’t going to tell the Duke; he only wanted to put it on the demon’s head so that he could gather everyone up and retreat. “The King’s training, of course, sir. We’re supposed to think clearly in any situation. I was just lucky the effort worked.”

Percy handed him a large leather bag with a white goose emblem on its side. Later Corbyn would discover several thousand in rubies and diamonds and his moon opal.

“The sack is just a remembrance of the good lady Eve and me. Well done, Captain. I, too, will make sure the King knows of your effort and considers you for a King’s Commission.”

Corbyn took his command and left the inn smiling. He treated his men to many rounds of drinks at a much friendlier inn. Corbyn Cauldron’s star was clearly on the rise.

Far, far in the distance from Corbyn’s camp, enchanted lightning cracked over the heads of the Hunt pack. Finally, they’d found the real trail. The first part of the night wasted itself as the Hunt pack chased blind lead after blind lead into dead ends. Winters Bark thrown down everywhere tricked up the scent and expended magical protective energy on behalf of someone or something. The Hunt Master loved following Winters Bark trails. In four hundred thousand years, it had only found seven of these trails, and anything different was welcome in an eternity of hunting. These enchanted bits of bark always meant a formidable foe lurked at the end of the hunt.

The first trail it followed held the trace of demon. Hours later, the demon element was gone from the trail, and humans and their horses filled the scent trail. The demon was forgotten. The Hunt Master had killed many demons in the past; it was glad its prey was free of their taint.

For half the night, the pack roamed over the human-held lands looking for who spread the Winters Bark. The trail took the Hunt Master past one dangerous pool of elemental power. It didn’t like the wild energies centered on the dwarven-built stone structure. It was able to go around this place to pick up the trail in a new location. Shivering, it remembered the hunts made on dwarves and didn’t like any of those memories. Dwarves were much like it. The Hunt Master was an elemental force taking power from all the hunts going on around the planet. The dwarves took part of their strength from the elemental force of the earth itself, and this made them wild and dangerous opponents. Most of the Hunt Master’s permanent scars were from dwarven hunts. However, this time it hunted humans on horses, and there was a taint of something elfin as well in the mix of smells to be tracked down. By the time the thin crescent moon was high in the sky, the Wild Hunt would be upon the prey, and there would be a wonderfully satisfying feeding of souls. Cracking its yellow whip of life-essences, the Hunt Master urged pack and chariot steeds to a faster pace.

“By the moon, that hurts!” Corbyn sat up with a stab of pain deep in his skull.

The pressure on his brain forced Corbyn painfully awake from his deep sleep. The foreshadowing ache of deadly danger settled around him like a cloak. His spirit-eye filled with the moon-granted image of the Hunt, the Wild Hunt. Corbyn’s mind filled with the night-vision of a charioteer and its horrific pack of beasts searching the land for what could only be Corbyn and his lancers. The good Captain did not know how he knew this was so; he just knew the Hunt chased him tonight. The light and magic of the moon granted him visions sometimes. This time he could see the Wild Hunt in all its glory. The Hunt Master supporting huge elk horns on its head, not bowed in the least by the massive weight, stood tall in Corbyn’s chariot-filled vision. This manlike beast, hugely muscled, wore little in the way of fur clothing. Its skin almost seemed like tree bark, with jagged edges showing here and there on its dark body. Its eyes glowed with a wild yellow fire, and its head constantly moved back and forth, obviously trying to sense something. That something was Corbyn.

As the Captain looked at its face, the Hunt Master looked back, laughing a deep, dangerous laugh. “Yes, I’ll find you this night or know the reason why.”

Corbyn’s vision pulled back to see the entire Hunt. Giant bone spears bristled from quivers along the side of the chariot. The chariot itself, equally horrific as its creator appeared made out of the bones and skulls of long-dead victims.

The Hunt Master flicked a yellow whip of pure energy spurring its pack of hunting creatures forward. The lightning and thunder the whip made could be heard by Corbyn in his vision and very faintly in the distance to his ears. The four demon horses pulling the chariot whinnied in fear with every crack and leapt ever faster through the night forest. Their hooves struck sparks of yellow fire with every contact of the earth. Corbyn thought he recognized the land the Hunt trod as ground his lancers traveled yesterday.

The hunting pack appeared as terrifying as their master. A mixture of huge hound-things and terrible lizard-things, each of the creatures appeared larger than the horses pulling the chariot. The hounds howled their thrill of the chase; their massive canine bodies flowed through the thick underbrush like it wasn’t even there. Each one of the lizards ran bent over with huge tails balancing the rest of their massive bodies. Their heads, all fangs, and glowing yellow eyes, bent low to the ground. One brushed a piece of Winters Bark, causing it to magically become dust at the attention. These lizard-things made no sound, and the thorns and thick underbrush rebounded off their scaly hide, never making a scratch.

The moon, rising in the night sky, filled Corbyn with its energy, giving him magical clues and foreshadowing the fate of his lancers if he didn’t do something instantly. The Wild Hunt searched for his men. A wild, elemental force, legend told that to be the prey of the Hunt was to be assuredly dead. Moving to where Wise slept, he grabbed the man’s shirt and lifted him out of his bedroll like a rag doll.

“It’s the Wild Hunt, David. We’re all dead men if you don’t do exactly as I tell you.”

Sergeant Wise blanched in the firelight. His eyes wide and full of fear; his first thought was easy to read. The Wild Hunt destroyed entire armies in the field. No one survived the Wild Hunt.

“Mount the men up as quickly as you can and get them moving toward Arrow Heart Crossing. Take my horse as well. The Hunt hasn’t picked up our scent yet. I can feel them casting about over the land, far in the distance. It’s been raining on our back trail, but the gods only know if that’s going to slow the Hunt down. I’m betting they’ll be here in less than an hour. I’ll stop them somehow for a bit; if I’m not with you by the time you get to the crossing, continue without me. Here is the packet of emeralds and the command word for the magic bag. It’s your only hope of getting an elf to give up their brooch. Now get moving. I know you would stay and fight by my side, but it’s the time for running now, my friend. Go. You’re all in deadly danger until the dawn, so keep moving until then.”

In seconds, the men were rushing about in wild abandon. As the lancers swirled around him, mounting up in confusion, Corbyn ignored them. Concentrating on the challenge ahead, he sliced the palm of his hand and mashed the bloody cut into the earth at his feet. His freely given blood would serve as a challenge to the Hunt. Standing, he backed up several paces and raised his bloody hand into the air. Glowing with the light of the moon, a beam of lunar enchantment flowed down from the sky, covering his palm and then his body with a luminescent glow.

With stern discipline, Sergeant Wise hurried the men away through the moonlit forest so fast they didn’t have time to see the eerie magics playing out behind them. The trail through the woods was easy to follow, and an hour from now, the men would be long gone from the area.

Whispering in the wind, Corbyn called on his oldest friend in the telepathic language of the unicorns, “Moonborn, I need you.”

The answering whinny barely touched his mind, but that was enough to light a happy grin on Corbyn’s face.

The Wild Hunt, still many miles away, approached, and Corbyn planned on being their only prey tonight. For untold thousands of years, the Wild Hunt roamed where it wanted in the world, hunting dragons, elves, dwarves, and humans. The Wild Hunt was the stuff of legends. Mothers of every race scared their children into obedience using the deadly Hunt’s name. Normally, the Hunt stayed away from civilization and roamed the untamed places of the world. It was one of the ten wild elemental forces known by scholars and wizards alike. Anything was possible with the Hunt, and now it was on his trail and drawing closer with each heartbeat.

His stalwart ally, Moonborn, hurtled from another dimension into the glade. A unicorn stallion, its blinding white main flashed in a gust of cool lilac-scented wind, announcing its presence to the Captain.

The creature reared high in salute to its friend. The unicorn stallion appeared as a powerful and commanding presence. Humorous thoughts filled Corbyn’s mind. “Sure, and what have you gotten us into this time, my moon-struck brother?” The thoughts of the unicorn were like spoken words to Corbyn.

“The Wild Hunt approaches,” Corbyn said in hushed tones. “If you and I try to travel the dimensions as of old, the Hunt destroys all my men. I can’t allow that, so we seek to bargain with the Hunt Master. Stalling for time, maybe my men can get free of the Hunt with the dawn’s light.”

“Bargain with the elemental force of the Hunt. Well, if they do not start calling you Lord of Fools and Chance Taker from tonight’s actions, they never will. No one gambles like you do, moon brother. In thousands of years, none have thought to bargain with the Hunt. Sure, and if we live, we’ll have an interesting story to tell our young.”

Corbyn slapped his horse blanket and saddle on Moonborn. Cinching the straps, he muttered to himself and the unicorn all the legends he’d heard of the Wild Hunt. None of his memories were helpful or reassuring.

“During the light of the moon, the Wild Hunt searches out prey all over the magical lands of the planet. An elemental force having no respect for wealth or race, it scents out victims, rides them down, killing them for sport. It’s said only the wildest miracles can stop the Hunt as it searches out its prey. One legend holds that a griffon fleeing through the night went through an elfin army marching on its way to a battle. The army sought to stop the Hunt, thinking it was an attacking foe. All through the long night, the creatures of the Wild Hunt battled thousands of elves. At dawn, the elfin army lay totally destroyed to the last elf. The Hunt rode in the light of the next full moon sporting the heads of the leaders of the elf army on the front of the Hunt Master’s chariot. To the good of that story, the griffon was never hunted again. Some legends speak of heroes and wizards who would become prey and defeat the Hunt Master in one-on-one combat. Those legends always give tragic ends to the victors as fate and ill luck plague them till their dying days. So, even if we win out this night, bad luck might follow us until we’re dead. Now that’s a comforting thought.”

“We unicorns have a story of a lone unicorn stallion hunted to its death. The unicorn galloped all night through the dimensions, as is our power. The Hunt traveled to these wild places as well and never lost the trail. One of the Hunt Master’s bone spears sports a unicorn horn for its tip. None of the legends among your people or mine talk about running being the best way to win over the Hunt Master.”

“Bide with me in my moon circle,” Corbyn said. “We’ll await the coming of the Wild Hunt. I thank you, Moonborn, for standing with me in this time of great danger.”

“Sure, and I still owe you a few from the time of trolls. Work your magics, and I’ll lend you what energy I can.”

The unicorn moved behind Corbyn, and its horn lightly touched Corbyn’s shoulder. The legendary magic of the unicorns flowed through the horn and strengthened Corbyn with added unicorn magical power.

Once more, Corbyn raised his now moon-healed hand into the air and gathered the protective energies of the moon to himself. He snapped his fingers, and a bright beam of power flowed from his other hand, and he used it to burn the earth in a large circle around their position. As the beam from his hand hit the earth, it boiled, turning the dirt into shiny glass. In ever-quickening heartbeats, the moon's glass circle, now complete around man and unicorn, glowed with the same light as the orb in the sky.

“Would you mind, my moon brother, if I ask you a question while you work these magics of yours?”

“Not at all. I’ve a few I would ask of you as well.”

“Sure, my two-legged brother, you do some amazing things with the magic of the moon. I can see the power of the first circle you’ve created. Now I’m seeing that you’ve put a strange set of lacy web energies behind the first one. I don’t understand why you’re reinforcing the circle with webs of magic defenses instead of putting all your energy into that first moon circle barrier you’ve enchanted?”

Corbyn added web layer after web layer of protective spells to the inner circle of the moon barrier. From the inside of the circle, the energies looked like fancy laces intertwining a thousand times on top of each other.

“I’ve seen the creatures of the hunt. All I want to do is stop them until their master, and I have a chance to talk. Not all the protections in the world could stop what’s coming for us when they marshal all their strength. I spin many levels of protection around us because each one supports all the others, and many layers are much stronger than just one. It’s just something I’ve used before, and if it doesn’t work, then we’re both eaten, and I’ll have learned an important magical lesson as the last of me is gulped up by the pack we’ll be seeing in just a few heartbeats.”

“Sure, and I’m so glad I asked.”

“Now, my turn. Why is it that when I ask you to come, I’m always smelling lilacs around you?”

“Female unicorns are shy creatures and loners as well. That’s why there aren’t a lot of my unicorn kind about. I learned as a young one that the pretty females of my race love the smell and taste of lilacs. I often rub through a bush or two, and many’s the time I make my resting place in a lilac hedge just to interest the females of my kind with my scent. This saddle you’ve put on me feels funny and has some magical taint on it. What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” Corbyn replied. “I’ve a few surprises packed in that saddle which is the sum total of all of our chances of surviving the night. We’re going to do a little testing of the good equipment Baron’s work this evening. There, the last of the barriers is up. It should be very interesting to see how my work holds against the elemental forces of nature. Life is full of little mysteries, and one is about to hit us in the face, like as not.”

Corbyn’s head throbbed, and his jaunty manner was all an act for his old unicorn friend. Corbyn, the planner, didn’t like unexpected surprises and especially deadly ones. He stood at the center of his magical circle, having done all that he could to survive the next few hours. He’d hoped it would be enough, but there were too many unknowns.

Leaping out of the darkness, a hound bigger than any hound had a right to be, bounded right at Corbyn’s throat.

After seeing the brutes in his vision, Corbyn expected just such an attack from them, and he’d totally prepared for it.

“Awrow!” The dog-monster bounced off Corbyn’s magical protections and sat on its haunches howling in pain a few feet away. Then the night filled with the baying of hounds.

Three more of the dog-things rushed in to have their noses bashed as well.

“Not very bright creatures, are they.”

“They don’t have to be bright; they have very intelligent fangs.” Corbyn felt the magical strain of maintaining his barriers against the smashing force of the canines. As long as they hit it one at a time, he was sure he could hold out. Then the lizard-monsters rushed in.

The monsters were massively powerful now that Corbyn got a closer look at them. Reptiles of some type, as each came into view, they circled the glade, always looking in toward the protective moon circle. Huge reptiles, their scaly flesh, looked greasy and silver in the nighttime forest. There was something unclean about these creatures, and their yellow eyes moved with deadly intelligence. Sniffing and harrumphing the ground, they circled ever closer, and more of them joined this strange dance. Soon there were twenty lizards all circling closer and closer. These monsters never rushed the circled or tested its strength. Hounds were continually pawing or noshing at the circle and howling in pain at the effort, but not the lizards.

“Moon brother, they work the ring of threes on us.”

“We can’t stop them. I know it means trouble, but our defenses will hold long enough, I hope.”

The unicorn constantly shifted his position, watching one way and then another. “I can probably kill two or three of those scaling things, but I’m leaving the rest to you. By the way, you have all the dogs as well. Sure, and I just thought I would mention that before we begin what promises to be a very ugly and short dance.”

There was an amazing amount of doubt in the thoughts of the unicorn.

Suddenly, the smallest of the lizards dug into the ground close to Corbyn’s moon circle but never touched the circle's edge. Clods of earth flew up and out with each talon strike. All the other lizards watched to see what would happen to the digger.

The unicorn had to ask, “How deep did you make your protections?”

“Deep?” Corbyn said in amazement. “Who would have believed a ten feet tall monster would dig to get at its prey?”

“Well, that’s reassuring, and it’s a good thing I have a few sons and daughters to live on after I’m eaten. One can only hope these digging devils find the flesh of a unicorn tough and stringy.”

Several of the lizards looked up from their digger-watching and glared right into the eyes of the unicorn.

“Oh great. Sure, and you think they might be able to hear my thoughts. The gods wouldn’t be cruel enough to make them read minds as well as be big and ugly, do you think?”

Suddenly, the Hunt Master and its chariot stormed into the glade spilling hounds and lizards to the left and right as they hurtled themselves to the sides to avoid getting run over. A ten-foot-long bone spear flashed from the hand of the Hunt Master and bounded off Corbyn’s protective circle in a shower of moon sparks.

A deep laugh filled the glade. The chariot stopped with the Hunt Master leaping off its vehicle. With a bone spear in each hand, the Hunt Master walked up to Corbyn and his unicorn, stopping at the moon circle edge.

In a deep booming voice, like rolling thunder, the Hunt Master announced itself and its intentions. “I’ve thrown down castles. I’ve torn apart mountains. Prey can’t hide from me. Your little moon barrier can’t stop me if I want to get past it.”

“My name is Captain Cauldron of the King’s Own 25^th Lancers,” said Corbyn, defiant to the last.

“No, your name is Prey,” snarled the elemental force in front of them.

The Hunt Master sniffed the air and knelt on the ground sifting the bloody dirt with its fingers.

“I gave of my blood freely to give you the scent of me. That surely allows me a few words,” Corbyn asked.

“No,” the Hunt Master snarled. “Prey, you gave your blood so I wouldn’t hunt the twenty other humans and thirty horses you sent away from here an hour past. Why should I not kill you and continue this excellent hunt?”

Standing, the Hunt Master’s elemental power washed over Corbyn and the unicorn in a wave of force. Stabbing one of its spears deep into the earth, the Hunt Master raised a shovel-sized hand up to the barrier and pressed the barrier. Sizzling sparks and fantastic heat met the hand. The smell of burned flesh filled the glade.

“Moon magics fill this barrier,” the creature said. “That was a mistake, Prey. Let me tell you what few know. The moon’s own light is part of every night hunt. It grants me power and gives me life. In the thousands of years of my existence, I’ve been killed seven times, and each time the hunter’s moon draws my spirit back to this world as all creatures of the world hunt, lending energy to my being. Your magics, Prey, are powerful, but I’ve used the light and power of the moon for eons.”

Stabbing the earth with his other spear, he clapped his hands together and then pushed at the magically moon shield. All the magical barriers Corbyn worked so hard to set up sparkled into moon dust and vanished.

Corbyn drew his main gauche and long sword. “If you’d bide a heartbeat before killing me, I have a proposal to make.”

“Pray that talks and stands to fight with a smile on its face,” acknowledged the Hunt Master, “now that’s something new. You seem to be a pleasant diversion. Divert some more.” There was humor in the manthing’s voice. Just the stance of its body kept its hunting pack from rushing in. All those deadly creatures waited on their master’s command.

Corbyn could sense the massive elemental power of this man-creature.

Ignoring the tips of Corbyn’s sword and dagger, the Hunt Master boldly walked up to Corbyn. Standing eight feet tall, the man-thing glared down at Corbyn with its wild yellow eyes.

“I’ve offered my blood in a challenge,” Corbyn said boldly. “My life is my wager. I mount my unicorn; you give me twenty-one heartbeats, and the chase is on. I’m wagering you won’t catch us.”

“I’ve hunted unicorns before. If I allow this to happen, you may not walk the dimensions using the unicorn’s powers,” snarled the now-interested elemental creature. “You stay on this plane of existence, and I will think about allowing your twenty friends to escape me this night and forever. As you must know, once I give up a hunt, I’m not allowed to ever hunt that prey again.”

“Then it’s a wager?” Corbyn asked.

“You know my pack is faster than your unicorn, don’t you?” queried the Hunt Master.

“I don’t doubt it,” Corbyn answered, and in those few words were volumes of unspoken acknowledgement of the futility of his effort.

“If you’ve lied to me and the unicorn walks the dimensions, I will not only hunt you to your death; I’ll hunt the entire unicorn herd that spawned this creature and all of your relatives to their deaths, including the elfin ones I can even now sense,” the Hunt Master warned.

Corbyn sheathed his weapons, showing the creature before him that he wasn’t afraid of the huge spear in his face. “We’ve a bargain Hunt Master.”

Corbyn mounted the strangely silent unicorn and waited for the Hunt Master to begin counting.

The Hunt Master released the binding magic of threes his lizards cast over the unicorn and Corbyn and held up its spear, holding Corbyn back. “You’re barely human. Humans don’t usually ride unicorns. Humans also don’t shape the magical energies of the moon. Prey, what are you really?”

“I’m a proud Captain of the King’s lancers,” Corbyn shouted in defiance. “You’ve unjustly come to hunt me down and kill me, and I’ve honestly struck a fair bargain with you. This night we contest against each other, and you’ll find me a bold enemy. You call me prey; I call you fool. Catch me if you can!”

Ignoring the spear, Corbyn gave the mental urging for Moonborn to race into the night. The unicorn was ten hoof beats away before the surprised Hunt Master thought to start counting. It was a minor victory but a win nonetheless for Corbyn.

“One, two, three!” shouted the Hunt Master then it stopped counting.

In the opposite direction from Arrow Crossing and his men, Corbyn directed the galloping Moonborn.

The unicorn raced on, but there was great fear in his thoughts. “I won’t walk the dimensions bringing that deadly creature down on my females and young, my Moon Brother, even if it means our deaths.”

The unicorn strained every muscle to speed away as fast as possible. The sound of the held-in-check hounds filled the forest behind them.

Reaching down, the elemental force that was the Hunt Master scooped up the bloody earth left by the unexpectedly interesting Prey. A creature of strict habit, it would use the blood as a last resort in case the Prey proved to be as tricky as the Hunt Master thought the rider and unicorn could be. It shook its head, smiling as it mounted the Hunt chariot. Never in thousands of years had Prey challenged it. It had fought and died against Prey in those years, but the Prey had always battled in trapped desperation. This new one was pleasantly different. The strength of the moon flowed in its veins as the moon’s hunt strength flowed in the Hunt Master. The rider wasn’t an elemental force, but it was powerful. After hundreds of heart beats it sent the hounds after the Prey. Holding the raptors back to follow the chariot, the Master snapped at the reins. It hoped this would be an eventful hunt and smiled a deadly smile of death.

Further in the forest, lancer and unicorn moved quickly along the trail.

“Is there a plan to your madness, or am I just galloping along until their fangs pull me down, and they rip out my bloody heart after I’ve killed nine of them for their effrontery, of course?”

“By the moon that made me, I haven’t a plan, exactly. I’ve got some very good ideas. I even have some solid thoughts. There was no real time to form a plan. Are you getting tired already?” Corbyn amusedly asked.

“Sure, and I could race the wind like this all night. On the other hand, the pretties behind us seem better at running than I am. Imagine that of creatures having run for eons.”

“Well, before they see us and begin ripping your legs off for a light snack, let’s try idea number one.” Corbyn reached behind and felt among several saddle tabs for the tab with a raised number one. He yanked this one, ripping open a long pocket along the back of the saddle. The up-and-down action of the unicorn’s backside threw hundreds of bright bits of metal high into the air and in all directions behind them.

“You can’t see idea number one in action. Let me tell you, in just a few minutes, I’m hoping we’ll be hearing the effects of caltrops cutting into the paws of those rather quick-moving hounds of the Hunt Master.”

“Caltrops? You mean those three spiked metal things your human friends use to slow down horse charges. That’s a nasty thought. I’m very glad I’m not following you right now. Are there more bright ideas like this in their future?”

“Unfortunately, there is only one blast of that type of idea. We have a few others ready when. . .” Corbyn stopped when he heard the sound of the hounds in pain.

Arro, Arro!

Riding through the night, forest branches whipped at the pair. It was easy for Corbyn to imagine the hounds getting their paws caught in the razor-sharp caltrops. The only thing he couldn’t count on was how many of those beasts he’d slowed down. The howls fell far back in the distance. Corbyn started counting the gallops to measure how long of a lead they had when compared to the howling behind them.

After several counts of a thousand, he could hear nothing from the wounded beasts. All that meant was that the reptiles were assuredly on their trail now.

“Those metal spikes won’t get them all, you know.”

“Right as always,” the Captain answered. “It’s time for idea number two.”

Reaching back, Corbyn pulled packet number two. Red powder flew into the air in all directions.

“Whew! What’s that stuff? Even moving away, it burns my nose?”

“When I was thinking of the things I wanted in this saddle, one of the possibilities occurring to me was that I would be tracked while riding. That red dust is dried talen root. It’s not only going to make sniffing us out impossible; it’s going to make them lose breakfast, lunch, and dinner all at the same time. Take the first deer trail you run across. We can’t keep following this straight merchant’s road North. They’ll surely move up it for miles in hopes of picking up our spoor again. I want to generally head back the way we came for the last several days, but I don’t want to use the main trail to do it unless speed is our last option.”

The Hunt Master wasn’t pleased. The Prey employed an evil trick to ruin the paws of some of its hounds. Six were rolling in pain with metal slivers tearing up their paws. The rest of the hounds howled in anguish and confusion at the suffering of their brothers and sisters. Stupid but loyal creatures, they didn’t know whether to continue following the Prey or stay to protect their wounded siblings. With a wave of its hand, the Hunt Master sent the wounded ones back to their elemental homeland. They healed with the rise of the next moon.

With a mental command, half of the raptors rushed off on the trail. Their scenting abilities were stronger than the hounds, and their talons would be affected by these tricky bits of metal. This Prey was proving worthy of the Hunt. The Hunt Master gathered its life essence and caste the magical elements of the earth and the moon out before him. Taking it slow, it made all the bits of sharpened metal glow with the light of the moon. Then all those located bits rose up and joined into a ball at the center of a moon circle. The Hunt Master had his steeds use their demonic fires to melt the slivers. This Prey trick wouldn’t work twice if the quarry decided to back track on the trail. The Hunt Master sent protective magics to cover all the remaining members of the pack. More of these slivers of metal would now glow with the light of the moon and wouldn’t catch his pack unawares.

Looking up, the Hunt Master could hear gagging in the distance. By the forces of nature, what was happening now?

Riding up to the next disaster scene took many minutes; its four horses began rearing and refusing to go further. This reaction by the horses had never happened before! The trail was wide here, and, in the distance, it saw all of the raptors sent ahead. They were on the ground dead. Springing from the chariot, the Hunt Master carefully approached, snapping its fingers, caused elemental protective magics to surround it.

Scenting the air, its nose started to burn. Poison! The Prey had somehow managed to poison the trail. Raising its hand into the air, the Master summoned the forces of the moon into itself. Foggy mists began streaming from its nose into the surrounding area. Every time the mist touched some of Corbyn’s red dust, the dust glowed with the pulsing heartbeat of the Hunt Master. The dust was everywhere along the trail. The powder thickly crusted the dead noses of the raptors. Detecting every effect of the red root, the Hunt Master knew it would make his raptors sick. Raptors couldn’t regurgitate their food, and so each had died gagging to death.

“Ripper, Talon, my strong beasts. You both first gave me life all those long years ago. I thought you and I would go on through the ages forever. Rest well, my brothers. I will avenge your souls,” wept the Hunt Master for the first time in its long life.

Raging at the moon and its fate, the Hunt Master gathered even more energy from the moon.

This was not to be born! Over half of its pack was ruined, and the moon not at its zenith yet. There had never been a Hunt like this. Mentally cautioning a hound and a raptor, the Hunt Master sent only a pair ahead on the trail to find the prey. The rest of the pack stayed behind the Hunt Master’s chariot. Moving far around the red glowing poison area, the Hunt Master gained new respect for this Prey.

Galloping through the night, the unicorn raced along deer trails and often followed creeks to hide its scent. In less than two hours of travel, all the effort was for naught as the baying of a single hound began dogging their trail. Far too quickly, the hound and raptor closed on the heels of Corbyn and Moonborn. The hound howled its thrill of a quarry found once more.

“How many more good ideas do you have?”

Looking back, Corbyn could see a hound and raptor gaining on their trail.

“I’ve only one more thought, and I really wanted to save it for more of the pack. It seems a waste to use it on just two of them.”

“You’re right. If the Wild Hunt is only going to send two of the pack after us at a time, we should turn and kill them? You take the lizard. I’ll take the hound.”

“Your idea has definite possibilities. Let’s do it.”

Turning, they clearly surprised their two pursuers. The unicorn used its hooves to crush the skull of the hound before it even knew the Prey closed to meet them. Corbyn thrust his longsword into the mouth of the raptor and pierced the creature’s brain. It stopped dead and tumbled over.

Magical moon-bright sparks struck Corbyn in the chest and hand. He clutched his heart in pain and hit the ground.

“What’s wrong, did the lizard fang you?”

“No, someone or something is tugging at my insides. I’ve never felt anything like this before. The pain is terrible.” Corbyn fell from his saddle, clutching his stomach.

The unicorn licked Corbyn’s face, tasting a new magic circling him. Now that the unicorn held Corbyn’s essence on his tongue, he could sense a strange white thread. It came from his friend’s chest and went out into the night.

“The Hunt Master has some type of spell connecting it to you. Saddle up; we’ll try to get past the limits of whatever spell is being cast on you.”

Corbyn weakly got in the saddle, and Moonborn shot forward.

In heartbeats, the Hunt Master came across its two dead pack members. Shaking its head, the Master called itself a fool for sending more of the pack to their deaths. The Master loved each pack creature, and it should have known this Prey was too deadly to send just two out after them. Holding the bloody dirt in its hand, the Hunt Master used the essence to sense the pair in the distance. The Master hadn’t liked using this tactic for the hunt. The blood magic would allow the Hunt Master to catch up to the Prey wherever they went, but the effort was an admission of weakness. The spell tainted the Master’s sense of honor.

The Hunt Master wasn’t pleased to feel the blood connection cut. The Prey used lunar magics to shield itself from the blood link the Prey had with its own essence. Closing its eyes, the Hunt Master used ancient moon magics of its own to try to sense the Prey. Ah, yes, there they were, racing down a deer track in the distance. The two had made a mistake. The Prey used moon magics to shield against the blood magics used against it. The Hunt Master was also a creature of the moon. The lunar spells called to the Hunt Master, and suddenly the trial was clear. The Hunt Master whipped its horses forward to full speed. As long as the Prey used the moon, they would be easy to locate.

“My magical shields seem to be holding the tugging at bay. Change direction once more and fly as fast as you can along the main trail. We must rely on speed now. Let’s see how fast you can go. I have one good idea left, and then there is another forming in the back of my skull if this idea fails.

Moonborn’s night vision easily copped with quick movement through the trees and brush of the ancient forest. In minutes, the unicorn raced on the main trail running north and south. Heart pounding, the unicorn put on a rare sprint of speed and fairly flew up the trail heading north.

Both groups raced through the long night. The speed of the unicorn amazed the Hunt Master. Many hours after the chase began, they were only now within several spear-throw lengths of the Prey. To the Master’s questing senses, they were a brightly outlined moon glow image just ahead. Now that it was close enough to see them, the Master let the pack pull ahead of the chariot. The baying hounds and deathly silent raptors would rip them down. The pack surged forward, thirsting for the kill.

“I’m sorry, I just wasn’t fast enough.” Growing tired, the unicorn asked for Corbyn’s forgiveness as the pack gained on them.

“Don’t say that,” Corbyn answered. “There’s few in the world that could keep up with your speed, and they had to be supernatural to do it. I’ve one more little surprise for these bastards. Just as they close in, we’ll try my final thought. Start moving from side to side along the trail. I know it’ll slow you down a might, but I have to wait until they’re almost on us anyway.”

Hearts pounding, the two heard the pack gain on them. The hounds baying for the kill filled the pair with terror. A feeling of helplessness sunk into their bones and numbed them. There were too many of the pack to fight. They weren’t moving fast enough to escape them. The Hunt Master and its demon horses were right behind. The forceful magics of the Hunt made the two just want to stop and surrender.

Courage from a thousand successful past battles allowed them to continue on when all their senses and their very spirits cried to surrender to the chasing death and end the horror of being hunted by an unstoppable foe.

As the pack rushed to biting distance, Corbyn pulled his last tab. The ripping sound faded in the fizzling bang of the huge gas cloud erupting from the back of the saddle. In seconds, the smoke engulfed the pack. Howls of pain and gasps from the raptors filled the night.

“Well, I hear them back there. What’s happening to them?”

“It’s a special gas blinding them and causing them to choke,” Corbyn said grimly, smiling. “The gas only lasts a minute or two, but anyone closely following us gets a lung full, slowing them down a lot. With any luck, none of the pack will be any good until dawn. That’s all the tricks the Baron’s saddle is giving up tonight. My only other thought is to run for the Red Dragon inn. There’s something strange about that inn and its master dwarf. I think it’s a good place to make a last stand. It’s going to be a race now between the sunrise and the Hunt Master recovering in time to get after us.”

Choking and gasping for breath, the Hunt Master dragged his sick horses out of the cursed fog. It had sent all its choking hounds back home. All of this pack’s raptors lay dead on the ground. Never had Prey destroyed all its pack in eons of years of hunting. Using healing water magics, the Hunt Master cleared up most of the effects of the fog on his elemental horses.

The Master threw its whip to the floor of the chariot in disgust. Trying to drive the horses to a quicker pace was useless. The healing magics could only do so much. These were faithful beasts and would give their all to catch the Prey ahead of them. The sun would soon rise, and it was up to the Master to reach the Prey before that happened, or the quarry would be free, and that wasn’t something to be born!

Traveling in hours, what had taken the lancers three days, the unicorn stopped in front of the huge gate of the Red Dragon inn. Amazingly, the double gates opened, and the Red Duke greeted the pair with open arms.

“Captain, my Captain, how good to see you again,” the happy Duke said. “Look at this wondrous unicorn. The ladies inside will be impressed, come, come in, and we will talk.”

Looking back the way he came, Corbyn had to tell the truth. “Duke, I’ve a bit of bad news. The Wild Hunt is chasing me. I probably shouldn’t come in, but I’d like to make my last defense here in front of your gates if you wouldn’t mind?”

That was a preview of Wolfoid. To read the rest purchase the book.

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