The dreggan blade came whistling around, slashing into the rider’s right shoulder. But as it did, the warrior felt no resistance against it.

Doing no harm, the dreggan flowed through the intruder’s body, then down through his mount as though they were ghosts, burying itself into the trunk of a nearby tree. The warrior frantically struggled to free the blade, but could not. His eyes wide, he looked up at the miraculous opponent who had just bested him. The being’s face was hideous, terrifying.

“Who are you?” the warrior demanded.

Staring down at his bewildered enemy, the being atop the horse smiled. He raised one arm.

“I am a Darkling,” he said quietly. “But you won’t live to tell anyone.”

The warrior’s organs exploded like those of his fellows, and he fell dead to the ground. His dreggan-still caught in the tree trunk-glinted softly in the light of the three red moons.

Saying nothing more, the rider guided his horse down to where Gaius and the five other Minions were camped. The dark gap in the pass sealed itself, leaving no trace of the exit that had just formed.

In the end, the sleeping warriors at the bottom of the mountainside would fare no better than their brothers.

CHAPTER II

DESPITE THE COOLNESS OF THE NIGHT, TRISTAN WASsweating. Its blade shining in the moonlight, his dreggan felt cool to the touch as he held it vertically before his body. A stout Eutracian maple tree was at his back. He had been hiding at the edge of the forest for some time. Taking a deep breath, he peered around the tree trunk.

Wigg and Jessamay were quickly making their way down the hill. The crippled wizard Faegan was close behind, levitating his wooden wheelchair as he went. The trio would soon near the nondescript cottage in the clearing. Then they would know.