"Only a kuang-shi could do this to a man." Han indicated the shriveled corpse that lay before him.
"Yes, but these were not drained of pran. Their throats were torn out. This one fed on their blood."
"I noticed." Han tapped the pommel of the dao sword at his side. "I hate to imagine a breed of kuang-shi worse than the type we already know. We need to find out what did this and kill it."
"That simple, is it?"
"It is for me."
A shout from ahead brought them to their feet. They ran until they caught up with the rest of the Huntsmen, who circled around the cause of the alarm. Some of them turned away in revulsion.
Nyori looked almost a little girl as she viewed the butchery. She had led them there, in complete dread of what they would find. Rhanu placed his hand on her arm. The Shama jumped with a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes were wide, her face waxen.
"You don't need to see this."
"I'm not a child." The quaver in her voice betrayed her. "I will be all right." Still, she turned and walked a few paces from the others before exhaling deep, shaky breaths with one hand on her stomach.
Rhanu turned to the grisly scene.
On one side were the remains of a horse. Its limbs had been ripped from the body; the stomach split open, the blood-drenched entrails poured across the ground. On top of the pile of parts was the head. The eyes stared in stark terror; the tongue lolled out the mouth.
Even worse was the display beside the beast.
It had been a man. His limbs were contorted and twisted, a putty doll mishandled by a depraved child. His eyes almost bulged out the sockets as though they sought to escape the unspeakable agony, his mouth out of proportion in a never-ending scream.
The body was crimson streaked, unrecognizable because the skin had been completely removed. It hung from the branches of a nearby tree, jerking whenever the wind touched it.
Rhanu swallowed hard to fight the bile that rose in his throat. Han walked a wary circle around the scene. His normally unflappable calm was marred by the tightness around his eyes and the paleness of his face. Marcellus was stone, his face unreadable. Dradyn knelt with his face in his hands.
Meshella stared at the corpse in disbelief. "What would do this, Ra? What kind of creature would take the time for this?"
"I'm not sure. I have never seen the like before." Rhanu knelt and forced himself to look again. "No flies. Not a single fly, raven or buzzard. Completely unnatural." He lifted his voice to the Huntsmen. "Let's bury these bodies and move out. I have no wish to tarry here any longer."
He motioned Han over. "We're going to have to keep a sharp lookout. He may come for us."
Han's characteristic casual manner was replaced by a look of simmering anger. "I hope he does. We can handle any single kuang-shi, no matter what this one is. Even a Co'nane would think twice before attacking us."
Rhanu gave the macabre display a final glance. "Just the same, double the watch at night. No point ending up dead for the lack of watching eyes."
Marcellus gazed at the scattered corpses with an unreadable expression. "These were soldiers of the king."
"Not anymore." Rhanu studied Marcellus from the corner of his eye. The man was remarkably different from when Rhanu had last seen him. He had been broken, inconsolable at the graves of his wife and child. Things had changed since he mysteriously vanished. He had the lithe build of a predator, and his eyes were almost fanatical in their intensity. Every movement was sinuous, like a coiled cobra waiting to strike.
Rhanu pulled him to the side. "I'm surprised to see you still here. You have had the look of a man ready to bolt since we first came upon you."
A hint of a smile touched Marcellus' lips, though his eyes remained flat. "You observe well. I meant to be gone days ago."
"Then why stay?"
Marcellus said nothing, but he turned to gaze at Nyori. She spoke softly to Shiru, unaware of their attention.
Rhanu slowly nodded. "Not so easy to abandon one you care for, is it?"
"It's because I care for her that I should leave," Marcellus said. "But now we find this." His expression darkened when he looked at the corpses. "Something is out there, and it might be hunting her. I'll stay long enough to see her safe."
Rhanu wondered if there was anywhere 'safe' left in the land, but didn't bother to voice the concern. "What happened back at your manor, Marcellus? How did you leave without any sign of passing?"
Marcellus stared at nothing. "You don't want to know."
Rhanu felt the closure of the statement and decided not to press the issue. "Well, since you are here, why do you hide who you are? The men feel you could convince more people to join our cause. They say the army of the king will follow you to Stygan's Gates if you led them."
Marcellus hesitated only a moment before shaking his head. "Once, maybe. I am no longer the man I once was."
"In your eyes that may be true. But I have heard of you in every land I have traveled in these parts. You are a beloved hero, a living legend." Rhanu paused. "Never have I heard of a man spoken of the way the people speak of you. You may have died to your former self, Marcellus. But in the eyes of men…legends never die." He clapped Marcellus on the shoulder. "Think on that."
Marcellus gazed at the approaching clouds. They were dark and foreboding, suitable for such a dismal morning. "A storm is coming. It will be a bad one."
THE STORM WAS WORSE than expected, catching them on the road as they sought shelter. The winds howled as though insane as they buffeted the hapless band. Dradyn led with Han and Shiru, but Rhanu could not see how they knew where to go. Visibility was as bad as nighttime. Worse even, due to the accursed snow.
He sucked an intake of breath and reined his horse in with a jerk as his senses expanded. Time slowed to a snail's pace. Each individual snowflake spun slowly through the air, frozen crystals that shattered like glass when they struck the ground. A myriad of scents tickled his nostrils: the odor of the horses, the leather saddles, the lavender soap Meshella used last night, the onions on Fregeror's breath. Another scent overpowered all others from beyond his range of vision, potent enough to make his eyes glaze over. His ears caught the sound of the riders before they appeared.
"What is it?" Marcellus broke his trance by grabbing his arm. "Is someone approaching?"
"Death." Nyori spoke as if in a dream as she pulled her horse closer. "Death is approaching."
They quickly rode to the front of the line, where Dradyn, Han, and Shiru had halted. Han said nothing, but pointed into the heavy snowfall in front of them.
Four riders advanced from the curtain of swirling white. The leader was swathed in a black hooded cloak. The others were decked in gleaming white from their boots to their helmets. Their long coats shimmered metallically, though they appeared highly flexible and were textured like snake scales. Their trousers, gloves, and boots were of the same material. Snug fitting houndskull bascinet helmets covered their heads completely, the pointed visors carved into bestial faces. Even the eyeslits were covered by reflective glass, obscuring any glimpse of their features.
The leader's face was uncovered, almost boyish under his cloak's heavy cowl. His mouth twisted with scorn. "I have been looking for you Huntsmen."
"Who are you?" Rhanu's hand tightened on the grip of his bow. "What do you want?"
The man dismounted from his horse. "In my former life, I was known as Tristan. The Bright, they called me. That was a long time ago, of course."
Marcellus' eyes widened. "No."
Rhanu frowned. "Who?"
"A legendary knight of another age." Marcellus kept his gaze on the approaching stranger. "Long thought dead after he and his men vanished in search of the Sword of Deis."