White Road

took some time to whistle in enough of them to give chase.
    The moon was on the rise by the time they did. The snow was sparse on the ground and the mud was frozen, but Rieser managed to determine which way they’d gone after a little casting around. He cursed himself for a fool for leaving the small tayan’gil with them. There was more to these strangers than he’d given them credit for. Either the crippled Tír was craftier than he looked, or the other ones weren’t quite as helpless as their shiny new swords suggested.
    Seregil and the others rode hard through the remains of the night, expecting at any moment to get an arrow in the back. They left the trail when they could to confuse the chase, wending up wooded hillsides and riding down ice-rimmed streams, spelling the horses as long as they dared, which wasn’t long. The way grew steadily steeper, forcing them back to the open trail. They stopped to change horses when the moon set.
    “Do you hear that?” asked Alec, looking back over his shoulder.
    Then they all heard it, the distant sound of the horn the witch had called an oo’lu. But this time it was more than just one, and seemed to be coming from different directions.
    The sound of them sent a nasty shiver up Seregil’s spine. “Come on, let’s go.”
    He took Sebrahn to give Alec’s arm a rest and they set off again. As they rode, Seregil hoped it was just a trick of the wind that made it seem like the oo’lu sound was coming from in front of them now.
    Just before dawn, they entered a narrow divide—only to find their way blocked by several huge trees across the trail.
    “They didn’t just fall,” said Micum, reining his horse in close to the nearest. “They’ve been cut down with an axe.” He reached down to touch one of them. “The sap is still running.”
    Behind them they could hear the sound of hooves on stone, and the jingle of harness as their pursuers came on at a gallop.
    “If they’re behind us, then who the hell did this?” Alec wondered.
    “Most likely whoever was playing those horns,” Seregil muttered, looking around frantically.
    There was no question of riding around the obstruction; steep stone faces penned them in on both sides.
    When Seregil dismounted to look for a way over, an arrow whistled close to his ear and embedded itself in one of the massive trunks. It was short and crudely fletched; not ’faie work, that was certain. Taking cover behind Star, he stared up into the shadows above them and thought he could see someone moving about at the top of the rock face. The sound of the horns was getting louder, too.
    “Here they come,” Micum said, looking grim.
    Unarmed and trapped, there was nothing they could do but wait under the brightening sky.
    The man in the wolf mask was in the lead. As soon as he saw Seregil and the others, he signaled a halt and dismounted, holding his hands wide to show that he wasn’t armed. Behind him, however, Seregil saw several archers with arrows ready.
    “You’re not going any farther, no matter what you do,” the man shouted to them.
    “You know what will happen if you attack us,” Seregil retorted, jerking a thumb at Sebrahn, who was now peering out from behind Alec. Or that’s where he thought he was. Instead, Sebrahn had darted out in front of him and was hurrying back toward their pursuers.
    “Sebrahn, no! Come here,” Alec shouted. Micum caught him by the arm as he started after him. The strange rhekaro came out to meet Sebrahn and hoisted him up in his arms.
    “No!” Alec cried. He pulled loose from Micum, only to be grabbed and held by Seregil.
    “You see?” the man in the wolf mask called to them. “The call of his own kind is too strong. So long as we don’t directly attack you, we are as safe with him as you are.”
    “That leaves us at a bit of a stalemate,” Seregil shouted back. The sun was coming up, and now he could clearly make out a number of people on the rocks above them. At least one had a long horn. Turmay and the other witch were with the masked riders, both with oo’lus in hand.
    “Bilairy’s Balls,” he muttered, then, to the man in the mask, “What now? Are you going to stay there until we starve?”
    “That was not my plan. Give us the ya’shel and you and the other ones can go.”
    Seregil tightened his grip on Alec’s arm. “You know we’re not going to do that.”
    “And we can’t let you go, Aurënfaie. Not with him.”
    Seregil folded his arms and gave the man a