“This plague could destroy all human life in Lyrian,” Borial bristled. “The only sure way to contain it is by never making exceptions.”

“Exceptions have already been made,” Ferrin countered. “Maldor has sent spies into Ebera more than once. He will do so again. If he can use the plague as a weapon, he will. He must be stopped. He represents a much greater threat of contamination than our modest delegation. He is the enemy we seek to dethrone.”

“We’ve been attacked by one group of worm-infested maniacs already,” Drake asserted in a steely tone. “Despite your powers of reason, I’m not finding much difference between you and your less civil countrymen, except in numbers.”

“Drake,” Farfalee cautioned.

“What?” Drake replied coldly. “You see where this is going. It won’t end politely, so there’s no use in squandering valuable time.”

“Does this one speak for all of you?” Borial asked, eyes darting.

“We need horses,” Farfalee said. “With horses we could easily cross Ebera without becoming contaminated.”

“Perhaps,” Borial considered. “We would have to visit the lord of our settlement. If you explain your need in full, he might grant what you ask.”

An arrow appeared in Farfalee’s hand, ready to fly, her bow suddenly stretched. Jason could not say how she had nocked and pulled it so quickly. “We won’t walk into any traps. You cannot imagine the import of our mission. Let us continue on our way, and we will let you return to your duties. You need to dismount now, or your reasoning dead will lose another able warrior.”

Borial smirked. “Farfalee, there are many others like me—mounted, well equipped, and ready to do anything to prevent you and your comrades from leaving Ebera. They know where I am. They know when I should return. Listen to reason. Do not act rashly. Lay down your arms. Join us. Trust others to take up your cause. Your road must end here, for the good of all.”

“I don’t want to harm you,” Farfalee said, unflinching. “We need your mounts, and I can’t have you warning your fellow sentinels.”

Borial did nothing to conceal his outrage. “I have spent more than a hundred years protecting you!” His eyes shifted to Drake. “And you.” Then to Nedwin. “And you. Yet you threaten me because you find the precautions necessary to safeguard humankind inconvenient?” He plunged a hand into a satchel and pulled out a heap of little gray balls piled onto his palm. “Hibernating goma worms. Of no threat to me. But potentially quite problematic for you. Should I toss them in your direction, at least half of you will face infection. That might alter the tenor of our conversation.”

Jason prepared to dive behind the nearest boulder. The other horsemen had each grabbed their own handful of worms.

“Is there any room for compromise here?” Farfalee asked, her arrow trained on the center of Borial’s forehead.

Before Borial could reply, his hand burst into flame. So did the hands of the other two riders. So did all three satchels from which the goma worms had been withdrawn.

“Fly!” Borial cried, face contorted in pain. The three riders wheeled their horses about. Farfalee put futile arrows in two of their backs. Nedwin darted from amid the boulders and tore one rider from the saddle before his horse could pick up speed. Extending a hand, Rachel flung Borial from his saddle with a gesture and a word, then dropped to one knee, one hand pressed to the hollow of her temple, blood leaking from one nostril.

The third rider was getting away, beyond the reach of any in the company—until Kerick leaped out of hiding and tackled him from his saddle. Jason could hear Rachel murmuring Edomic from her kneeling position.

“Knock it off,” Jason said. “You’re wiped out. You haven’t healed.”

She glared up at him defiantly, brows knitted in pain. “We need the horses.”

Jason noticed that the horses had slowed and were coming back around. “Okay, good point, but we’ve got it from here.” She bowed her head. He knelt beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You okay?”

She nodded, eyes squeezed shut. “Ever had an ice cream headache?”

“Sure.”

“Picture having a really bad one and then guzzling down a freezing shake.”

Jason winced. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Bad luck. I was barely starting to feel a little better. At least the commands worked. Did the zombies get away?”

Jason looked up. “We’ve got them. And the fires are out. We have the horses, too. Good job.”

CHAPTER 24

THE WILD CLAN

The three horses made all the difference. Suddenly Rachel could ride instead of hobble along, one scout could thoroughly explore the territory ahead, and another could effectively monitor the country around them.

Nollin had been loudest in his desire to slay the injured sentinels. Farfalee contended that Borial was indeed engaged in a noble cause and should be given the maximum possible leniency. Nedwin noted that the riders must have ranged far on horseback, and on foot would probably not find their comrades in time to cause harm. Nollin argued that search parties might find Borial in time to mount a pursuit. In the end, they left Borial and his two countrymen alive but without footwear.

For Rachel, the first day on horseback was agony. Her sore, swollen wrist was the least of her problems. It felt like her skull had shattered into irregular fragments and was now only held together by her scalp. Every jolt as her mount plodded forward stabbed painfully throughout her head. Rachel felt Corinne trying to contact her telepathically, but even the simple effort of will that allowed Rachel to understand the messages was too great. She could hardly think through the pain, let alone attempt telepathy.

Nedwin gave her a preparation for the pain, but despite the unfortunate taste and unpleasant medicinal smell, the concoction did nothing to ease her suffering. What if the damage from the overexertion was permanent? What if the pain never subsided? What if the injury was to her mind rather than merely her brain? Worries plagued her as the pain gnawed persistently into the night.

By the next day, her body showed signs of recovery. Her joints were stiff rather than sore, her wrist was less bothersome, her appetite was returning, and the ache in her head had eased to an uncomfortable tenderness that flared less violently than the day before.

Rachel wondered what exactly the magic had done to her body. Were the headaches a side effect of the forces called into action by the Edomic commands or a direct result of overextending her will? Could she expect similar symptoms after overtaxing herself in the future, or would she face a new set of unwelcome consequences? She hoped never to find out.