Karim did not like this but he could not argue with his mistress. Rik did not like it for his own reasons. It seemed obvious to him that Asea had her own death on her mind.
Even as that thought occurred to him, he saw her eyes widen. He felt something too, an increase in the level of ambient magic, an intensification of the spells being worked in the sky above them.
“We need to move very quickly,” Asea said. “They are going to try and open the Gate tonight. It’s the full moon. That will be the best time for it.”
“We’re not ready,” said Rik.
“Nonetheless we need to go. Otherwise it will not matter whether we are ready or not. We will be too late.”
As he jogged along, the Barbarian decided to speak what was on his mind. All around them the land looked eerie in the moonlight.
“There’s no way they’re going to get away,” he said. “You know that and I know that.”
Weasel altered his pace so that they were running alongside each other and looked at him directly in the eye. “What’s your point?”
“If the deaders overtake them, they’re all going to die. There’s too many walking dead and not enough bullets and not enough soldiers.”
“I’m surprised that you can count that high.”
“I can count high enough to know when there’s going to be a massacre and so can you.”
“What are you suggesting we do about it?”
It was funny, the Barbarian had thought that Weasel was brighter than this. “We don’t have to go back. We can get away. You and me are still fit and we can both run fast enough.”
“Particularly if the others are left behind to distract the deaders.” There was something strange in Weasel’s tone. The Barbarian could almost have sworn that it was disapproval. He could understand that. He did not exactly approve of what he was hinting at himself.
“Exactly correct.”
“Are you suggesting that we do that?”
“I don’t like the idea but I don’t see what’s to be gained from making a heroic last stand either. We’ll all die together but we’ll die all the same.”
“How long do you think we’ll live for, on our own, out here in a land infested by the undead?”
“Long enough. Longer then we will if we wait to be overtaken by that army of walking dead.”
“And you’re willing to leave little Lorraine and her brothers to fight our battles?”
“I never said that.”
“And you’re going to show those walking dead a clean pair of heels?”
“I never said that either. I just brought the subject up because I didn’t think you would want to die.”
“That’s very generous of you, thinking of my feelings like that. I would hate to think that you brought it up because you were afraid. I’ve always thought better of you Northmen.”
“So you’re saying that you don’t want to run away then?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Well I’m glad that’s settled. I would hate to think that you were the sort of coward that would run out on his friends and companions when the going got tough.”
“Well, good we settled that to your satisfaction. Unless I am much mistaken that farmhouse on the hill there will make a good camp.”
“Yes, I think you’re right. We’d best be getting back. The others will be wanting to camp down for the night.”
“Ready?” Tamara asked.
Rik gazed up at the massive structure of the Palace through the gathering gloom. He was awed by its size and the power he felt flowing through it. He was garbed in black, armed with blade and pistols, and profoundly wished that he could carry truesilver bullets through the Shadow Realm. With all his heart he feared what they were likely to encounter within the Palace.
“As I will ever be,” he said. “Are you sure they cannot detect us? If I can spot you as you pass through the shadows then surely they can spot us.”
“They did not seem to be able to when I arrived last time. Now does not seem to be the right time to be discussing the metaphysics of sorcery. It’s a bit too late to back out of this now.”
Rik smiled and studied the deep shadows. They whispered to him. “It’s never too late to back out of things.”
“You feel like running?” she had the look of someone who only needed the slightest encouragement to run away herself. He considered it. This was most likely his last chance to get away, to have a chance at living, at least for a little while. They could use their powers and head off. But that would mean leaving Asea in the lurch and all the other people who were depending on them.
He shrugged. “I’m curious to see what’s inside the Palace,” he said.
“Feeling larcenous?”
“Well, if we see any good loot, I’ll be having it.”
“We’d best go then.”
He concentrated, reached out across the shadows and opened his path. He sensed the inside of the Palace, scanned around the shadows and found one far from the nearest guard. He stepped forward, passed through the whispering void and emerged on the other side. As he did so, he tried the twisting sorcery, he had done the first time, cloaking himself in shadows and making himself invisible.
A moment later he sensed Tamara arriving. “Rik?” she whispered, “are you there?”
He reached out and touched her. It felt as if he was insubstantial or she was immensely dense. “I am here,” he said. She glanced around fearfully and said, “What are you doing?”
“A trick I thought of.”
“Are you sure it’s wise, that you can control the magic?”
“If it lets me walk through this place undetected…” She nodded and worked sorcery herself, her outline shimmering and changing until she looked like a Palace guard. Rik doubted that the disguise would fool Asea or a truly potent sorcerer but it would deceive an ordinary Terrarch.
“Watch over me,” she said. Rik nodded even though he doubted that she could see him, and moved as quickly and quietly as he could in her wake as she moved towards the door.
Sardec looked at the ruined farmhouse and wondered if this was the place where he was going to die. It was not the most inspiring of spots but it was the most defensible position for miles around. It looked as if the building had been abandoned long before the plague. It had that sort of feel. Ivy overgrew many of the walls and the shutters were partially rotted. Any glass that might have been in the windows had been removed a long time ago. It was valuable and would have been carried away when the occupants had left.
It was a sort of place that featured as a haunted house in the stories he had read when he was a child. It seemed appropriate to be making a last stand here against an army of the walking dead.
The building lay near the top of the slope and it had clear fields of fire all the way down the hill. If Sardec had had a company of men and they had been fighting against ordinary foes he would have felt confident that he could have defended the place for a week given enough supplies.
In the distance, despite the fading light of the early evening, he could see their pursuers moving like a dark tide through the valley below. There were so many of them and they moved with a deceptive slowness that hid the fact that they were tireless and implacable pursuers.
He cursed their bad luck. They had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time and crossed the path of a wandering horde of undead monsters.
He kept looking at them, hoping that it was a mistake, and that the creatures would pass on along the trail. Perhaps it was just a coincidence that they were on the same path.
For a moment, his hopes were raised, for the creatures passed where the Foragers had left the road. They streamed past the narrow trail as if they intended to continue along the valley. Sardec let out a long sigh of relief but then one of two of them stopped, looked around with a sort of stupid puzzlement and began to follow the pathway up to the ruined farmhouse. There could be no mistake. They had not missed the Foragers trail after all.