What felt at once like both a moment and an eternity later, I regained consciousness in bits and pieces. I first became aware of wind rustling the trees above. When a cloud passed overhead and the sunlight filtering through the canopy warmed my brow, that awareness started to become thought.

Thought became a jolt of energy that snapped my eyes open. Light lanced into my skull and made me groan, awaking half a thousand aches and bruises my unconscious mind had been blessedly unaware of.

"Don't move," a rasping voice hissed. "It's still out there."

It? And who was speaking? The voice wasn't familiar. Bizarrely, I almost thought of Hezrebog the bridge troll. It reminded me of the old sentinel, with that unsettling quality that only a not-quite-human throat could produce.

Something big padded near my head. Whatever it was, it had four legs and barely disturbed the dead leaves on the forest floor. I caught a flash of movement in the corner of my vision, something sleek and dark with tufted ears and a long tail. Then it vanished into the undergrowth and was gone.

I waited ten minutes. After that I started testing my limbs. Nothing broken, which seemed miraculous to me. I was tougher than an ordinary mortal, but that constitution could mostly be attributed to fast healing. I could reinforce my muscles with aura and perform feats of preternatural strength, but only in short bursts.

Falling out of the sky in a wooden coach should have turned me to pulp, not left me passingly sore. Something had saved me. That thing that'd just gone off into the woods? And where was the Carreon girl?

I stood, wincing and gritting my teeth as my right leg nearly gave out. I'd sprained it badly, and pain shot up into my thigh in bursts like a hot iron digging into my muscle. My back felt like one enormous bruise, and blood dried on my face.

The woods were littered with debris. The coach had been smashed to pieces, which made my survival even more a mystery. Entire trees were broken, marking the path the vehicle had fallen.

And no sign of Emma. In a flash I remembered that thing entering the coach near the end. The same being who'd attacked us?

I started limping in the direction the creature had gone. About two hundred feet away I found the corpse of one of the crow griffons. It still had the weapon that'd killed it stuck into its side.

Incredible shot, I thought as I circled the body. The spear, a solid length of black iron, had taken the chimera right through the heart. It must have died instantly. When I stepped forward to inspect the weapon closer, I felt heat beating off it like I stood near a fire. The iron that fashioned the weapon looked warped, the material spiraling like a corkscrew about halfway down.

Where was the other one? Had it somehow survived, like me? It seemed doubtful, but…

"I told you to wait."

The voice was the same one from before. Slowly I turned and found an animal staring back at me. It looked like a big cat, perhaps the size of a dog or a bit smaller, with reddish-black fur and tufted ears rising above its head like horns. It had a long tail with thorny protrusions at the end which whipped back and forth in irritation.

It stared at me with bright, pale green eyes. I recognized those eyes.

"You were the driver," I said aloud. This was also the same creature which grabbed Emma out of the coach as we fell. Reading the sensation in my magic I realized exactly what it was. "You're a Briar Elf, just like the one who brought me to you both last night."

"I am but a servant, Alder Knight. A vassal of Lady Nath, loaned to the service of Astraea's descendent. Much like you."

I shivered. Something about that name… I didn't recognize it, but the flame in me did and did not like it. "You know what I am? And you didn't tell the girl?"

The faerie cat shrugged, an oddly human gesture. There was something human about the shape of its shoulders, a small tell of its elfish nature. "If you wish to keep your past a secret from the child, then that is your business. I will say nothing unless she commands me to do so."

I understood then. "You're her familiar. So she really is a witch?"

"What she is cannot be contained within a single word, but it is true by your people's beliefs. I am Qoth."

"And where is your mistress, Qoth?" I asked the familiar.

"Near. Follow me, Ser Knight."

The fey cat took off into the woods. I struggled to keep up on my bad leg, but we didn't go far. A small clearing lay about fifty feet on, with most of the coach's main body — little more than a frame and the yoke that'd held the chimera — lying in the middle of it.

Emma stood next to the remnants of the coach. Her braid was in disarray so dark hair fell wild around her shoulders, and she bore some scratch marks from branches, but otherwise seemed unharmed. She stared at the corpse of the second beast who'd pulled her vehicle, its limbs and neck twisted and its body lacerated by the canopy.

She barely tossed me a glance as I limped over to her. I studied the carnage, then reached down and grabbed my axe where it lay trapped beneath a half broken wheel. Of course, it was unharmed.

I slung the weapon back into my belt ring as Emma finally pulled herself from her reverie with a sharp breath. She'd recovered her sword, and clutched the leather sheath tightly in both hands.

"This belonged to my parents," she said in a hoarse voice. "A treasure of our House."

Something about her expression told me this wasn't a case of an irresponsible youth who regretted losing their parent's expensive toy. Qoth's green eyes watched me, and I saw a warning in them.

"We need to get moving," I said. "Your familiar told me the one responsible for this might still be near."

Emma closed her eyes and turned to face me, suddenly composed again. "Of course, you are both right. I believe these woods lie near a village which isn't far from my manor. It's some miles on foot, but we should be able to reach my home soon enough."

I nodded. "Do you know what direction?"

She hesitated, looking uncertain. "I…"

"North," Qoth rasped. "I know the way, but it is more than just a few miles. We should be able to reach the manor before nightfall if we hurry."

Emma looked startled. "But it's barely noon!"

I started moving north at a limping pace. "I'm guessing you haven't traveled through the wilderness on foot before, Lady Emma. A few miles can be further than you think."

"Don't you get tired walking around in that armor?" Emma asked.

I suppressed an annoyed sound. After we'd left the clearing, the girl's melancholy had quickly vanished. Her pompous attitude had not.

"I got used to it," I said flatly. The coat of iron rings clinked with every step. The glamour woven into it made the armor unnaturally light and quiet in darkness, but in the daylight it was just weighty metal, both loud and uncomfortable.

My limp improved as we went, my fast healing proving its worth on the minor injury. I still felt sore, tired, and less than enthused about my present circumstances. Emma seemed to agree with all of those points, and the endless trekking through mostly featureless woods quickly lost its charm for her. Qoth appeared occasionally, but mostly kept a furtive distance and made sure we stayed on the right path.

Or at least I hoped he kept us from going astray. A Briar Elf as a familiar… dangerous and foolish, but it fit a disciple of Bloody Nath.

As a distraction from the hiking, I decided to ask the girl about our attacker. "So the one who threw that spear… is that whatever's hunting you?"

Emma was quiet so long I almost thought she wouldn't respond. Then in a less acerbic tone she said, "Yes."

I'd been keeping my senses open to the woods. If anything preternaturally dangerous drew near, then I would know. Or I hoped so. My powers weren't' infallible, and I didn't know the nature of our attacker well enough to trust my purely spiritual abilities. I watched the forest with my eyes, and listened with my ears.

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"Tell me about it."

Emma clearly wasn't used to traveling rough, and even with my half healed leg she struggled to keep pace with my stride. I slowed a bit so she could speak more easily. She remained quiet a while as she gathered her thoughts.

"It's a revenant. The people of this land call him the Burnt Rider."

I came to a stop. Emma almost bumped into me.

A revenant. Damn it. No wonder she'd been reluctant to say anything before.

"That's a problem," I said in epic understatement and started walking again.

"Why?" She asked pointedly, audibly annoyed at my vagueness.

"Revenants are monstrous bastards to deal with. There are a thousand varieties of undead, and I'd count this as among the worst of them. They don't stop."

Damn Nath, I thought bitterly. Damn Donnelly, and Eanor, and all the rest. It could never be simple.

Emma hastened to catch up. "Lady Nath assured me you could be of assistance."

I shrugged one shoulder. "Revenants can be dealt with — bound, sealed, rendered nearly powerless, or sent to Draubard and gaoled. It's difficult."

"Can you do it?" Emma asked.

Could I? I was no priest. My powers were meant to smite evil, and smiting revenants could be counter productive at best. They had a nasty tendency to grow stronger the more you fought them and fed the curse they manifested. That curse could be its own problem, just as tricky and dangerous as the creature itself.

It posed another question. Why did Nath need me to protect her acolyte from a restless spirit? Surely, she had the power to destroy all but the most potent undead.

I doubted Lady Emma had any answers to the rogue Onsolain's motives, so I kept my peace on that. Aloud I said, "I can protect you from it if it shows up again."

Maybe, I did not add aloud. It'd taken our coach out of the sky with a thrown spear of all things, in broad daylight, which told me it was goring dangerous. I wasn't at all sure I could fight it, but wasn't going to say as much out loud.

"As for destroying it," I hedged, "I think Nath is probably more interested in keeping you alive. Tell me more about this spirit. Do you know who they are, or were? How long have they been after you?"

"He started appearing in this region about five years ago," Emma said. "My family had just arrived here from the Westvales. He's… killed many people close to me. He's terrorized the hamlets near the manor, sickened crops, raided traveling caravans, started forest fires. Turned my life into a battlefield. It feels like I'm besieged."

"Is it just you he targets?" I asked. "Or is it your whole family?"

She didn't answer. For a while the only sound was the crunching of leaves under our boots and the rustling of the canopy.

"I am the last," she said quietly. "The last Carreon. He hunts me and me alone, Ser Red, but has no qualms about butchering any who draw near."

The last. Part of me expected something like this after her reaction to the destroyed coach earlier, but getting confirmation cemented that knowledge into my head and forced me to grapple with it. The girl was an orphan.

"Alken."

"Pardon?"

I glanced back at her. "My name is Alken, not Ser Red."

She gave me a strange look, as though I'd surprised her with this admission. Turning away, I noted the position of the sun and winced.

"It'll be dark soon." I'd been unconscious for hours, and we'd walked long enough that noon had passed long since. "Where is that thorn elf of yours?"

Emma frowned and searched the woods, then let out a sharp whistle. "Qoth! I command you to return."

Silence, save for a stirring of wind. My hand went to my axe, loosening it from its ring.

"Wind's died," I said. Emma went very still.

But it didn't stay dead for long. A breeze stirred the suddenly silent woods, and there was something in that gust. It looked like flecks of snow, only they were gray.

Ash.

The flecks quickly filled the woods, flying gently in a slow advance even when the breeze faded. I heard no birds, no distant woodland rustle, only an abiding and ominous quiet. The hairs on the back of my neck and arms stood on end.

Through the soles of my feet, I could feel a steady thrumming. It wasn't anything physical, but a reverberating beat that seemed to travel up my entire being as though a great heart thumped out of rhythm deep below the ground.

Something dark drew near. Something that did not belong in this land.

I turned, and in the distant woods stood a rider on a tall steed. The beast was a horse, or something like a horse, lean and thin. It looked made of bad leather, pitch black and cracked as though it'd been turned half to stone and then rapidly heated. Twin spiral horns weighed down its head, and it watched us with a long, narrow face set with two red eyes.

On the burnt horse's back sat a knight clad all in fire-scarred iron. He looked like the victim of an inferno, thin and stretched, the metal turned into a shell fused to the body beneath.

He looked like a shadow, a soot stain in the world. Rider and horse watched us, silent as ash blew through the woods. I caught a scent in the air, something bitter that took me a moment to place. Rotten eggs.

No. Brimstone.

Emma stared at the rider from just a few feet to my right. She didn't move, didn't speak, but all the blood had drained from her face. Sweat beaded her brow, and I realized she was trembling.

The knight reminded me of the Briar Brother from the previous night, only I saw no sign of thorned vines and his presence didn't read to me as fey, even of a dark variety. I'd never felt anything like it before. A demon?

Maybe, but it didn't quite feel the same. My powers warned me of an otherworldly presence, but something felt off.

Steeling myself, I stepped between the distant shape and Emma. Lacing my voice with aura to give my words more authority against a supernatural being, I spoke to the rider in a voice that filled the woods like low thunder.

"This girl is under my protection. If you attempt to harm her, you will have to go through me."

No respond. The ash continued to drift. Already patches of gray were beginning to form where it collected on the grass or the branches of trees, like an early snowfall.

Putting more force into my voice, I spoke again. "Name yourself! I am Alken Hewer, Headsman of Seydis and Doomsman of the Choir of Onsolem. You will identify yourself or begone from this place."

Such compacts often bound magical beings, but only those with close ties to the land. Specifically to this land, to Urn. I could wield a limited authority over elves and other ancient beings considered vassal to the powers who'd woven my magics, but the effects were less useful against more alien entities.

So what was this revenant? If he hailed from the Underworld or served some other power with ties to the subcontinent, then he'd have to answer my question or be compelled to fall back. Once answered, then he'd be free to attack.

But if he was something else, then all bets were off.

"No." Emma's voice was small. "I'm not… I didn't…"

She coughed, grabbing at her throat. I caught her by the shoulder before she fell, but she kept coughing. Smoke came out of her mouth, like she'd just ingested dust or ash.

"Girl! What's wrong?" I looked at the rider, but he remained perfectly still and at a distance. Just watching. Some kind of sorcery?

Emma continued to wretch. Gritting my teeth, I laced as much power as I dared into my voice and let my words boom through the woods.

"I command you, specter. Leave her. She is under my protection. You will not touch her while I live."

Golden mist plumed out from my lips. Some of the leaves remaining on nearby branches suddenly stiffened and turned to gold. The light seemed to brighten around me where the sunlight broke through the canopy, making the spot the Burnt Rider stood look darker by comparison.

I held out my left hand, palm facing forward, and wove the magic I'd just released into a more defined shape. The golden armlet on my left wrist wasn't a proper auremark, but I'd had it sanctified and it functioned just as well as a focus. It began to glow like molten gold.

I cast the Art, and clean fire flickered into existence between me, the girl, and the rider. It filled the woods with light.

I began to sweat. Fire started to curl along my fingers, burning the hair off the back of my hand and leaving behind red welts. I winced at the pain. Something like a dark wave moved across the forest between me and the revenant. I didn't see it as more than an oncoming gloom, like a cloud moved overhead. It hit the bloom of light around me, and my entire left arm was suddenly engulfed in flame.

My skin blistered, close to boiling. Half of this backlash came from me using so much of it, just like with the wraiths back at Caelfall, but…

This creature was strong. I didn't see any sign of an Art, no ritual motion or outlet of aura. He and his horned horse just stared at me, perfectly still in the same pose they'd started while I threw my whole will into fighting back.

I wavered. What had I come across?

Emma couldn't breathe. She kept choking up more ash, and she'd slumped to the ground. The woods grew darker, and my shield started to crack. Can't hold it much longer.

I could drop the defense and charge, but Emma would suffocate to death before I reached him. What did I do? Could I cleanse his power from her?

You know you can't, a voice in the back of my head said. You've lost that. Your hand cannot heal, not anymore.

I'd try if it came to that. Then I'd smite this thing. Growling, I took a step forward and forced more of my will into the barrier. It regained some of its shape, but still flickered and spat, the aura I poured in dissipating fast as I could conjure it. I started to feel cold, an odd sensation considering the burn marks crawling up my arm.

Emma suddenly lifted her head, and her eyes turned white as they rolled up into her skull. She spoke, but it wasn't her voice that came out.

"This is what sin tastes like, daughter of shrikes."

And just like that, the pressure beating against my will vanished. Emma fell to the ground limply, and my aureshield scattered in a shower of golden flame as it broke. I fell to one knee, cold sweat covering my skin. My left arm had been cooked up to the elbow.

The rider simply turned his mount and vanished down the slope of a hill. I watched him go, unable to do anything to stop him, then turned to the girl. She looked pale, and her lips were blistered as though burned. To my relief she still breathed.

I sat with her until the foliage rustled and Qoth reappeared. The faerie cat's hackles were up, but he seemed unharmed. "I could not find you," he hissed angrily. "What happened?"

"That Burnt Rider appeared. He did something to her."

Qoth spat something in a language I didn't recognize and made a terrifying yowling sound. "He has power over members of her bloodline. We need to get her behind a threshold, and quickly."

"How far to the manor?"

"Close enough that we can reach it before sundown, if we hurry."

I nodded and started to pick the girl up, intending to carry her, but she pressed a palm to my shoulder. When she met my eyes, hers were hard and full of more anger than fear.

"I can walk," she croaked in a dry voice. "I will not be carried."

She looked near death, but the spark in her eyes made me think it would be a bad idea to ignore her wishes. I just nodded and helped her stand. She let me, but then shoved away and stumbled after her familiar.

I followed her, glancing back only once in the direction the rider had vanished. Ash continued to fall throughout the woods. I'd encountered my enemy twice, and become certain of two things.

This was no ordinary undead, and he was very likely stronger than me.

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