hunch she was close, even pick up a hint of her scent.
As he did now. It was stronger than it had been since heâd picked up her faint trail some while back. She wasnât far.
Ah, these fields were fine to run through, country not recently trampled by the feet of people making war. The air was clean and laced with stable magic. He could smell food cooking in the farmstead homes. One or two polite growls at someoneâs back door and heâd be served well, no doubt of it.
The airâs scents had told him many things as he loped through the night, which his mind would translate when he changed back to human form. The other cities â he had passed Faifen in the night â were in a panic for some reason, perhaps the same reason that had caused the ground to rumble and shiver, and for the very peculiar currents to pass in the upper airs. In fact if Far Gaze judged right, it looked very much like the influx of a new, strange and â surely not â foreign magic flooding in.
He would, had his human mind engaged with it, have had an idea of what all this meant. For a while now heâd heard enormous rumbling and playfully pretended the sound was caused by the thudding of his own feet.
And â there! Twisting up in the distant morning sky was a thin spiral of disturbed energy, like a line scrawled in fading ink from the horizon to the clouds. It would have looked to Far Gazeâs human eye suspiciously like her work. The mage in the green dress, that âwomanâ named Stranger.
After what happened in the woods near Faulâs, he didnât credit for a moment that she could truly be human. Heâd stood as much chance against her as a child with a toy sword fighting an armed, trained soldier. There was one moment alone â as sheâd cast that pillar of light in Faulâs yard â when sheâd been distracted enough for him to get his teeth around her throat.
Heâd almost got her too. In her ensuing casts were little flourishes and touches which would have been delighted laughter, had they been translatable to human expression. There had been something playful about the combat from the outset, as though she was showing off to (at last!) an audience able to appreciate her arts.
Knowing he couldnât beat her, heâd hoped only to keep her away from Anfen and the Pilgrims. Whatever she truly was, she was great, surely greater than the Arch (himself about as great as humans could become). Ah, how dearly heâd have paid to learn what she was, and where her power came from.
The spiralling twist of spent energy was recent, and yet it had almost faded. It had to be her. A normal mage, even one skilled, could not mask his casts this well. She too would be seeking the remaining Pilgrim. He surged forward with greater speed in the direction of the cast spell.
When a mile or two passed the southern skies had a funny look to them. There was a shimmering redness in the distance. In fact, the Wall should be in sight by now. For some reason it wasnât â¦
Suddenly the wolf saw what the nightâs scents had tried to tell him. He skidded to a halt, growled low in his throat and then, for want of better ideas, howled at the sky.
2
Another nightâs run through Outcast country, past some villages emptying of people, through others looted and abandoned. At one, bandits had begun slaying families in some kind of casting ritual. They had people tied, waiting in grim silent groups while homes were plundered. Far Gaze the man might have stopped to do something about it. But the wolf did not, any more than a man on urgent business would risk himself taking sides in a vicious fight between wild wolves.
There now was more of that disturbing scent. The wolf held a vast library of scents in memory, easily recalled minute variations and combinations of each one. This scent was not in there.
Never mind that â there was meat close by! It didnât smell too
As he did now. It was stronger than it had been since heâd picked up her faint trail some while back. She wasnât far.
Ah, these fields were fine to run through, country not recently trampled by the feet of people making war. The air was clean and laced with stable magic. He could smell food cooking in the farmstead homes. One or two polite growls at someoneâs back door and heâd be served well, no doubt of it.
The airâs scents had told him many things as he loped through the night, which his mind would translate when he changed back to human form. The other cities â he had passed Faifen in the night â were in a panic for some reason, perhaps the same reason that had caused the ground to rumble and shiver, and for the very peculiar currents to pass in the upper airs. In fact if Far Gaze judged right, it looked very much like the influx of a new, strange and â surely not â foreign magic flooding in.
He would, had his human mind engaged with it, have had an idea of what all this meant. For a while now heâd heard enormous rumbling and playfully pretended the sound was caused by the thudding of his own feet.
And â there! Twisting up in the distant morning sky was a thin spiral of disturbed energy, like a line scrawled in fading ink from the horizon to the clouds. It would have looked to Far Gazeâs human eye suspiciously like her work. The mage in the green dress, that âwomanâ named Stranger.
After what happened in the woods near Faulâs, he didnât credit for a moment that she could truly be human. Heâd stood as much chance against her as a child with a toy sword fighting an armed, trained soldier. There was one moment alone â as sheâd cast that pillar of light in Faulâs yard â when sheâd been distracted enough for him to get his teeth around her throat.
Heâd almost got her too. In her ensuing casts were little flourishes and touches which would have been delighted laughter, had they been translatable to human expression. There had been something playful about the combat from the outset, as though she was showing off to (at last!) an audience able to appreciate her arts.
Knowing he couldnât beat her, heâd hoped only to keep her away from Anfen and the Pilgrims. Whatever she truly was, she was great, surely greater than the Arch (himself about as great as humans could become). Ah, how dearly heâd have paid to learn what she was, and where her power came from.
The spiralling twist of spent energy was recent, and yet it had almost faded. It had to be her. A normal mage, even one skilled, could not mask his casts this well. She too would be seeking the remaining Pilgrim. He surged forward with greater speed in the direction of the cast spell.
When a mile or two passed the southern skies had a funny look to them. There was a shimmering redness in the distance. In fact, the Wall should be in sight by now. For some reason it wasnât â¦
Suddenly the wolf saw what the nightâs scents had tried to tell him. He skidded to a halt, growled low in his throat and then, for want of better ideas, howled at the sky.
2
Another nightâs run through Outcast country, past some villages emptying of people, through others looted and abandoned. At one, bandits had begun slaying families in some kind of casting ritual. They had people tied, waiting in grim silent groups while homes were plundered. Far Gaze the man might have stopped to do something about it. But the wolf did not, any more than a man on urgent business would risk himself taking sides in a vicious fight between wild wolves.
There now was more of that disturbing scent. The wolf held a vast library of scents in memory, easily recalled minute variations and combinations of each one. This scent was not in there.
Never mind that â there was meat close by! It didnât smell too
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