“I—I am sorry I failed ye, Captain,” he gasped.

Lil squeezed his hand. “You did well, Andri. Very well. Don’t think otherwise, hey?”

She could only watch as life faded from him.

“Remember me,” he pleaded with a whisper.

“I will.”

By then he was gone. Lil gently closed his eyes. “Rest well,” she whispered to him.

Before he was lifted away to the pyre, she unclasped his brooch from his plaid sash and placed it in her belt pouch with all the others she had removed from the dead. She nodded to Ludriane to ignite the fire.

If they hadn’t had to ride up the mor, Andri might have survived with proper care, but the retreat was necessary. Had she left him behind, the empire’s craven jackals would have hacked him to pieces. She carried away all wounded and dead whenever possible, to prevent such desecration.

Andri was the last of the mortally wounded to pass on to the Birdman’s care. Some had to be helped along, humanely, with a sharp blade. They would now have a blazing pyre atop the mor for the dead, allowing their souls to lift easier to the heavens in the smoke, and the bright fire consuming them would bring light amid the blackness of the empire’s deeds. It was a good night for light.

Despite the deaths, the mission had been a success. Hadriax el Fex sat nearby, all alone, his wrists still bound behind his back by a tendril of wild magic. She knew it must cause him intense pain, but only a great mage could undo it, which meant he’d have to endure it until they reached the king’s army. He looked to have been tortured, with open wounds bleeding, but he’d live. Eventually Merigo would dress the wounds, as soon as she finished with the more seriously injured. El Fex did not complain, nor did he ask for help. He bore his pain in silence.

As Andri was laid beside his brothers and sisters on the burgeoning pyre, she thought Hadriax el Fex had better be worth it.

Breckett, her lieutenant, appeared at her elbow. Blood streamed down his temple, but he paid it no heed. The wound would be just one more scar among many others.

“How long do you think we’ve got?” he asked.

“Not long enough. I stabbed him three times, but it will slow him down very little.”

“Aye, he is an unnatural bastard, that Lord Varadgrim. He’s got the magic of the Black One on him, he does.”

“Next time I’ll just take his head.”

“He’d probably grow it back.” Breckett made the gruff chortle that was his laugh. “Nay, that one won’t die.”

“Hollin and Dane will gain us some time with the wards,” Lil mused. “But we dare not linger here.”

“Agreed.”

“I want you to lead everyone back toward the king’s position. Alex will bear el Fex. This will be more a contest of stealth than speed, hey?”

“I understand. Where will you be?”

“Bringing up the rear.”

Breckett gazed suspiciously at her with those dark piercing eyes of his. “And what would you be planning?”

Lil patted her horn, which always rode at her hip. “A slight diversion.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to obey your captain.”

Breckett grumbled. “Then we best make good use of our time.”

They gathered together all the Riders, wounded and unwounded, and linked hands in a circle beside the pyre. By the grace of the gods, the breeze carried the smoke and stench away from the summit of the mor.

Lil turned her face to the moon and began a litany all too familiar, one that was the Green Riders’ own: “Aeryc, receive these souls into the heavens, may they walk beside you among the stars. They’ve fought the Dark One who would usurp your eminence with his one demon god, and murder all your children on this Earth. These souls fought bravely in your name, and were loyal.

“Even as you embrace these souls, please look down upon our circle and watch and protect us so we may fight on.”

“Fight on,” the Riders repeated in unison.

Lil turned her face from the moon and looked over each of her Riders in turn. Born in war, born for war. None of them cried, for there were no longer enough tears in the world to be shed for the fallen. Nearly a hundred years of war had devastated their people, destroyed their way of life. No one, not the smallest of children, was left untouched.

Children were quickly orphaned, as Lil had been herself, as both her parents marched off to war. Young orphans and children went to work at smithies and fletcher shops, to make the tools of war. Older children bore the tools they made to the battlefield. No, this was not a world for children.

Disease and starvation had wracked the Sacoridians, and Lil was convinced it was only by pure tenacity to survive that the clans had not given in to Mornhavon the Black. Of all the lands, besides Argenthyne, Sacoridia had been the most devastated.

She glanced at Hadriax el Fex. He had done much of the work himself as Mornhavon’s right hand. She saw him lead the slaughter of thousands, his own blade dripping with blood. He spared not the young or the old, the infirm or the simple. He ordered prisoners to be tortured at will, even knowing they possessed no useful information. If he was not the key to turning the tide of the war, she’d take him apart layer by layer, piece by piece, rubbing salt crystals into his wounds as she went. Oddly, the fates had now made her his protector.

He didn’t look so mighty just now, bent over and bleeding, sandy hair hanging in his eyes.

Turning back to her Riders, she said, “It is time for remembrance. I remember Andri.”

“Andri,” they responded.

As they went around the circle, each named a fallen Rider, and as a group they repeated his or her name. The lack of tears did not mean each death didn’t hurt like a spear hurled into one’s chest. Each Rider would handle each death in his or her own way.

“I remember Telan,” Breckett said.

Breckett’s back was to the pyre, and it seemed to Lil that someone walked behind him and into its light, and watched. It was a shadow figure, like an apparition, more night than substance. She kept her eye on it, warily, fearing it might be a trick of Varadgrim’s.

The flames flared, and she had the impression of a woman’s form.

Daron squeezed her hand. “Your turn,” she whispered.

Lil blinked. She’d been so intent on the apparition, she hadn’t realized they’d gone full circle with the remembrances.

She cleared her throat. “Riders, remember the names, for they are names of honor. Let us carry our fallen comrades in our hearts forever.”

“Remember, Riders, so long as a few of us stand together, our circle shall never break.”

They raised their clasped hands above their heads.

“Aeryc, be our witness! We serve you, and so long as a few of us stand, our circle shall not break!”

They all whooped and yelled deprecations off the mor, all intended for the ears of Varadgrim and his warriors.

Even when the Riders went back to work preparing for their escape down the mor, Lil kept an eye on the apparition. No one else was aware of her.

The apparition watched all that went on around her, and when Lil strode toward her, a startled expression crossed her face.

Odd behavior for an apparition, she thought. Not that I’d know . . .

As Lil approached the figure, warmth rippled outward from her brooch. Surprised, she touched it, and it seemed to her the apparition grew sharper in her vision. She emanated a silver-green sheen, and wore her hair in a single braid down her back. Most astonishing of all, she wore a Rider brooch.

“Who are you?” Lil demanded. “Are you a demon spirit sent to haunt me?”

The apparition spoke, though Lil could not hear the words. If this one had been in life a Green Rider, Lil did not remember her, and that would be impossible. She remembered every Rider that served with her. It had to be some trick of the enemy, some illusion. The apparition licked her lips, then tried to communicate again.

A Rider galloped his horse onto the summit.

“It’s Hollin,” Breckett called to her.

The young man spotted her and rode right up to her, passing through the apparition. He did not see it. The apparition gazed at herself up and down, as if checking to see if she remained whole.

“Cap’n,” Hollin said, gasping for breath, “Varadgrim is remounted. He’s snuffing out our wards like candles.”

Lil frowned. Time had just grown even more precious. She swept away from the apparition.

“Breckett! Get everyone mounted and ready to ride on my word.”

He grunted in assent and did as she bade. Merigo was hurriedly staunching el Fex’s wounds, a green glow of mending flowing from her hands.

“Merigo!” Lil snapped. “You are exhausted and the night is not yet done.”

“But—”

“Bandage him if you must, and make it quick. Don’t use your gift. He is our prize, but he won’t be for long if you don’t get a move on.”

“Yes’m.”

As Lil moved among her people, encouraging the wounded and yelling at the others to hurry, she was peripherally aware of the apparition walking with her, absorbing the scene. She had stopped trying to speak.

When finally everyone was mounted, Lil placed her fists on her hips and said to them, “You will go down the west ridge. Varadgrim will not expect it, for it is steep. Traverse it with stealth and care, but quickly. A few shall go at a time, hey? Follow Breckett. He knows the way.”

“What of you, Cap?” Olin asked.

“I’m going to be leading a charge.” And that’s all she would tell them. “Pensworth? I need an illusion. The rest of you will go. Now.”

“Aye,” said Breckett, “this way then.” He led the Riders toward the west ridge of Kendroa Mor. Lil prayed none of their horses would stumble. She prayed Varadgrim truly did not expect them to use so hazardous a route. She prayed he would fall for her ruse.

“What d’ya want, Cap?” Pensworth asked, reining his horse over to her.

“The appearance of Green Riders fortifying the summit, as though we intend to make a stand here.”

Pensworth’s brow crinkled in thought, and she knew he was considering whether or not his gift was strong enough. He scrubbed at his chin, eyed the moon, and brightened perceptibly.

“Silhouettes,” he said. “Much less taxing than full-bodied.”

She clapped his leg. “Good man! Do you think you can make them, eh, noisy?”

Pensworth smiled craftily. “I’ll have ’em spouting every curse known at ol’ Varadgrim. It’ll make his face turn purple.”

Lil laughed until she remembered the apparition. She wondered if it would flit off to Varadgrim to warn him of her plans. But no, the apparition stood there, hands clasped behind her back, watching curiously.

Lil turned back to Pensworth. “Set those illusions now, and as soon as you’re done, you ride after the others, hey? No hesitation. You will be rear guard till I catch up.”

“Aye, Cap.”

Lil set off to unhitch her own horse, Brownie, who she had tied to a low growing, twisted pine. All her horses had been named Brownie. A long time ago she had lost track of how many Brownies she had gone through. She couldn’t afford to get attached to the beasts, so they all got the same name regardless of their color. She did have to admit that her current gelding was one of her more sensible, if uglier, Brownies.

Before she mounted, the apparition picked up a rock and dropped it at her feet. The apparition wanted her attention, and got it.

“I can’t hear a thing you are saying,” Lil said, “and I’ve no time for the likes of you.”

The apparition’s eyebrows narrowed and she looked none-too-pleased. Then she extended her hand.

Lil regarded the outstretched hand warily. Obviously the apparition wanted her to take it, but what would happen if she did? If this was one of Varadgrim’s ploys, might she be whisked away to Blackveil and imprisoned? No, she decided, for her brooch tingled, not in warning, but in encouragement.

Lil grunted, and reached for the hand. Their hands merged, and a shudder rippled down Lil’s spine, for she felt as though she were reaching across the ages. The apparition grew more solid.

I’m Karigan, the apparition said. Karigan G’ladheon.

Lil almost jerked her hand away in shock at hearing the imperial word.

“I do not,” Lil said. “You wear a brooch, demon girl. A brooch you should not be wearing. You dishonor us. Are you a slave of Varadgrim’s?”

Cries and shouted insults erupted on the summit making Lil jump. She turned to find Pensworth’s illusion at work. Flat, parchment-thin figures of black leaped about the summit waving swords and nocking arrows to bows. There were even a few horse silhouettes. One particularly large female silhouette, endowed with Lil’s voice, screamed a phrase so foul about Varadgrim’s mother that the real Lil’s toes curled in her boots.

Pensworth grinned most proudly, saluted her, and trotted away toward the west ridge, and disappeared beyond the roiling flames of the pyre.

Turning back to the apparition, she said, “I don’t have time for you.”

This had been a terrible night. Crossing the battlefield with its carnage left her gasping. Witnessing the pyre and inhaling its acrid stench of burning human flesh sickened her. She just wanted to sit down and weep.

How could Lil and her Riders stand it? Were they simply used to it? She thanked the heavens that she lived in the times she did, times of peace. Otherwise, this could be her life. Battle and the burning of dead comrades.

Now as she faced the First Rider on the summit of Watch Hill, she understood why the legends of her heroics endured. Here was a leader with the wit to meet a trap with a counter trap, and carry off Mornhavon the Black’s closest friend. Here was one who could lead her Riders in mourning. And here was the leader who was about to divert the minions of Varadgrim so her Riders could escape in safety.

Lil glanced across the summit at the whooping and hollering silhouettes—another wonder among many—and nodded in satisfaction. She touched her brooch to fade out.

The force of it acted on Karigan. It absorbed her into the body of Lil Ambrioth with such suddenness that she could do nothing to prevent it. Lil’s rage at the intrusion crackled at her like bursts of lightning.

Within Lil, Karigan could feel the reins of the horse in her hands as though she held them herself. The beat of Lil’s heart and the pulse of her blood became Karigan’s too.

“Get out!”

Karigan heard it both through Lil’s ears and in her mind.

I would if I could, Karigan informed her. I think it’s because our brooches are linked.

“Linked?”

We wear the same brooch. It seemed idiotic to be telling her the same information she had once told Karigan.

“I’ve told you no such thing,” Lil countered. “I have never seen you before. Now get out! I’ve got to go.”

“You’ve done that enough, I’ll wager,” Lil grumbled. “I don’t trust you.”

Lil growled and mounted her horse, apparently accepting the inevitable, and kicked her horse between obscenity-shouting silhouettes. As Lil caught her thoughts, Karigan was privy to all the thoughts streaming through Lil’s mind: Were her Riders all right? What if Varadgrim had the west ridge guarded? Where was Varadgrim? Had he become powerful enough to detect her even when she used her gift?

Lil’s senses heightened as she guided her horse down the south ridge at a walk. No sense of flying down it when she was virtually invisible, and at a walk, her horse—also under the spell of fading—would be less likely to make a noise that would endanger her. She gazed into shadows and sniffed the air, seeking some tell-tale sign of Varadgrim and his troops.

Karigan was amazed at how effortlessly Lil wielded her ability. There was no headache, no veiling of gray over her sight. There was a wave of nausea, but it had nothing to do with the use of magic. Surprised, Karigan felt yet another life within Lil. She was pregnant.

Lil glanced over her shoulder at the summit as her horse ambled down the south ridge. The pyre continued to rage, and the silhouettes bounded about, hurling their mockery at the empire. They were thoroughly convincing. Lil grinned, and pulled her horn to her lips. Her lungs expanded, and she blew the Rider charge.

When she was done, Karigan became aware of movement down the slope. Orders were shouted and arrows shooshed into the air, but they flew wide, clattering into rocks far away from Lil. The moon glinted on a blade or two, and Lil attempted to discern the path of least resistance. It was too difficult to tell, really, and with a shrug, she kicked her horse into a headlong gallop, blowing the charge again as she went. Dropping her horn, she unsheathed the saber she wore at her hip.

The ride was terrifying. The big horse leaped down the slope, his hooves skidding down the solid granite ledge, almost convincing Karigan his legs would fly right out from beneath him. He jumped crevices in the rocky slope and almost stumbled to his knees a number of times on loose scree. Lil jolted sickeningly in the saddle, unfazed, while the headlong dash frayed Karigan’s nerves.

Soon they came upon the enemy. Bewildered by the sounds of the charge and the silhouettes on the summit, they weren’t sure of what to shoot. They heard Lil’s horse upon them, but saw nothing. They died beneath her blade.

Leaning close to the horse’s neck, they leaped a downed log and the two soldiers who’d been crouched behind it. A large hoof smashed a head, and they kept running.

Lil left more and more bodies behind her, clearing a swath through the troops, driving the enemy into confusion. They were unsure of where the attack was coming from, or where it would go next.

Sweat drenched her face, but her arm did not tire. She killed with a routineness that stunned Karigan. Lil was not bothered by the killing, but not triumphant either.

The enemy randomly fired arrows, trying to take out the unseen menace by chance. One arrow skittered across the horse’s rump. He bucked and whinnied, but Lil dug her spurs into his sides so he’d keep galloping.

She spotted Varadgrim ahead, barking orders at his troops from behind. Lil laughed with glee. She veered the horse toward him, trampling and hacking down soldiers as she went. She readied her sword for his head.

Varadgrim knew she was coming, but was unable to discern her precisely. The blood drained from his features, and his cruel eyes widened in fear. He swept his sword before him, the jewels on his fingers flashing in the moonlight. He screamed at his soldiers.

“Here! She is here!”

Lil gritted her teeth, leaned over the horse’s neck, and lowered her blade to the level of his throat.

Arrows rained all around them, impaling the saddle and skimming the horse’s neck. Lil rode relentlessly toward her target, undaunted.

Pain! It exploded in her back. Her scream was Karigan’s, too. The iron arrowhead tore through flesh, scraped rib, the wooden shaft sliding in after it.

Just short of Varadgrim, Lil’s sword slipped from her fingers and clattered to the rocky ground.

The horse galloped on past him, Lil’s back arched and mouth open in a soundless cry, blackness closing in on her. The arrow twisted inside with each lunge of the horse’s stride, and she listed precariously in the saddle.

No-no-no! Karigan cried. Lil’s insides ripped like they were her own. They then began to divide, the pain fading, Karigan becoming herself, and Lil a separate entity tottering in her saddle. She lost the fading, becoming visible to the enemy. Varadgrim took up pursuit.

No! Karigan couldn’t let this happen. No one knew how or when the First Rider died, but Karigan couldn’t let it happen now. She couldn’t let Lil fall into the hands of Varadgrim, knowing what a prize she would be to the forces of the dark.

Even as Karigan felt herself sinking through the horse’s haunches, she touched her brooch and reasserted her energy into it. At first nothing happened, but then Lil’s brooch resonated, and she was drawn back in. The pain was unbearable, and Lil was just on this side of consciousness. Karigan withdrew enough so the pain did not overwhelm her or she didn’t fall unconscious herself, but she remained merged with Lil enough so she could lend strength and support to keep her in the saddle.

Stay with me, Karigan pleaded her. We’ve got to find your people.

“Stay . . .” Lil murmured.

Karigan buoyed her arms so she might guide her horse. She gripped him with her legs to keep him galloping, to keep Lil in the saddle.

Tell me where to go, Karigan said.

Lil breathed raggedly, so close to incoherence.

Karigan shook her from inside and the pain of the arrow brought her a little more awareness.

Where do we go? Karigan shouted at her. Where is King Jonaeus?

At the king’s name, Lil revived a little.

“West,” she gasped. “West to Black Duck Lake.”

Karigan knew the place, for the name had not changed over the ages.

She paced the horse so he wouldn’t kill himself before they reached safety. From her observation of the other Riders, Lil had one of the “finer” steeds among them. Several had looked ready for the knacker’s wagon.

Pursuit fell off behind them at the base of Watch Hill. Apparently she had been able to maintain invisibility. Now she just had to keep Lil in the saddle and alive long enough to find help, not an easy task considering the blood loss and rigors of the ride.

Karigan never did reach Black Duck Lake. They came upon a patrol of king’s soldiers riding reconnaissance, which had also intercepted the fleeing Riders.

As they helped Lil from her horse, the Rider-mender Merigo came forward with a green glow clouding her hands.

It was the last Karigan knew, for the traveling swept her away through time once again.