"It's too early for snow," Vanya said as she frowned up at the gray sky.

It'd started early morning before sunrise, a light fall that'd already coated the land and completely altered the country. I stared out across the rolling rural countryside, an uneasy feeling settling in me at the sudden change. One of the gifts of my powers was that I often knew when the weather would turn before it did.

I hadn't felt this coming.

Emma looked less impressed by the snow. She opened her mouth to speak, pausing mid-word as a cutting wind sent drifts of misting snow and dead leaves across the hill. "We often had early winters back in the Westvales," she said. "I still remember them."

"That was mountain country," I noted. I knelt, took some of the skyfall on my fingertips, then pressed it to my tongue. I spat it back out. "It's not just snow. There's ash mixed in."

Emma pursed her lips. "Explains the color. What do you think it means?"

Vanya spoke before I could answer. "We're too far west for ash rain." She clasped her hands together, shivering at the bitter air. Emma wore a heavy coat that fell down past her knees and the maidservant had pulled out a winter dress, but this air cut.

I didn't know what it meant, not exactly. It could have been an ash storm blown in from the east, originating in those blighted lands where Golden Seydis once reigned. That didn't explain the sudden cold, though.

Emma glared up at the sky as though it had personally offended her. Then with a tsk she turned to Qoth. The irk reclined in the shadow of an apple tree nearby, tossing one of its prematurely spoiled fruits between his gloved hands.

"Will it arrive today?" She asked.

When the familiar nodded, she adopted a pleased look. "Finally. I'm tired of being stranded here."

"You're having chimera delivered here?" I asked.

"Chimera and a new coach." The young noble adjusted her coat and blew out a misting breath. "I doubt it'll fly, but it should let us travel about the demesne more efficiently. I will not appear before Brenner's knights on foot like some churl."

We heard it not long after. The rolling of wheels over dirt track, the deep thud of shod hooves. I looked down the hill, and saw a coach making its way up the winding path that connected the manor grounds to the rest of the demesne. It moved easily over the thin snowfall.

"How did you get this so quickly?" I asked. It'd been six days since my arrival, four since my conversation with Nath. Emma's wounds were healed, though she'd taken some days to rest. Now the girl was full of energy, and tired of being cooped up.

I felt the same. Vanya proved good company once her anger towards me faded, but she'd remained standoffish and Emma surly. Qoth was Qoth, and I rarely saw the creature. There'd been little conversation among the four of us in the past week. I kept expecting the enigmatic Rider to appear, but the land remained quiet. Almost serene.

Until the ash started to fall.

"Brenner isn't the only nobleman nearby," Emma said in satisfaction. "And I still have some treasures to trade. Qoth made the arrangements."

The changeling bowed like any well trained court servant. I wondered if he'd told his lady about our escapade with the priest, or that Nath waited nearby and observed all of this.

I'd managed to convince her that attaching ourselves to Lord Brenner's "grand hunt" for the revenant would be a smart play. Even if the Huntings proved insufficient to the task, it might give me the opportunity to confront the Burnt Rider in a more controlled fashion.

I had not told her that it would also allow me to speak with Renuart Kross again. Of anyone in this fief who might have the knowledge I needed, it would be the knight-exorcist. I'd have visited him earlier if I wasn't worried that leaving my charge alone for a prolonged trip to Brenner's castle would end with her being attacked while I was too far to do anything.

Emma didn't want to talk about her family, so I wasn't sure she'd appreciate me snooping on it in my own time. Better if I asked my questions quietly during this hunt.

The coach pulled up, driven by a man with the look of a commonborn teamster. He clamored down from the bench and tipped his hat to the young noblewoman, which told me he probably wasn't a local. The vehicle wasn't nearly as fine as the Night Coach, and looked old and well used. Emma sniffed at it.

It still had the look of highborn transportation, with a single door, a small window with a curtain, and cushioned seats on the inside. A luxury.

The chimera who pulled it were docile creatures with canine heads, equine bodies, and long hair that gave them a distinctly mellow look. They let me pet them and feed them apples, and to my pleasure it seemed the driver had taken better care of the beasts than the carriage.

Things took a downturn when the coach driver insisted the deal was just for the vehicle itself, not his animals, and Emma started dressing the poor man down. I dissolved the situation and convinced the girl to pay for the beasts, which were a common breed of riding stock I recognized and not worth much in any case.

Emma had Qoth pay the man from a lacquered chest that was probably worth near as much as the coach itself. It turned out to be full of solid gold coins. The driver's eyes widened when the familiar offered him a small purse. He took one of the three animals he'd brought and left us the rest.

I side-eyed Emma after. She studiously ignored me.

Seemed like the young noble wasn't quite as destitute as I'd guessed. Then again, the fact she'd quibbled over price did seem suspect.

"Brenner is gathering his knights at Orcswell today," she said and nodded to the coach. "If we intend to join them before they set out for their little game, I'd suggest we get moving.

"Best be off," I agreed.

More ash-mixed snow fell as we traveled, soon covering the whole land in a dour layer of pale, nearly white gray. Trees barely beginning to feel the touch of fall rained dead leaves, which blew across the fields in swirling eddies.

Orcswell was an idyllic looking community. Too small to be a proper town but large for a village, a moat fed by creeks from the nearby hills surrounded the central settlement. Most of it remained spread out across gentle fields scattered with light copses of wood and apple orchards tended to by the locals.

"It's pretty," I noted. Qoth drove the coach, leaving me and the young warlock inside in a mirror of our first meeting.

"This used to be a wilderness," Emma told me. "Full of irks and trolls and monsters. The Huntings earned their name by claiming this place by the sword. They were warriors. Now they're led by an ambitious merchant with an inflated ego."

There wasn't much conversation after that.

A church rose on a small hill at the edge of the village, the auremark displayed like a warship's banner in defiance of the threats lurking beyond the mountains just visible to the west. Qoth brought us down the track and over the village's southern bridge into its main square.

Shrouded in the same veil of ashen snow as the rest of the countryside, I felt as though I beheld the petrified carcass of a community, as though the whole village, its homes and shops and orchards and fields, had all been entrapped in filmy stone.

Brenner's war party waited for us in the square. They'd gathered around an ancient well, which I guessed to be the source of the settlement's name. It reminded me of a troll bridge, green and covered in uncanny looking moss. He'd brought no less than twenty knights, each with a full lance — a classic chivalric unit consisting of the knight, a squire, a heavily armed shieldbearer, and one or two archers.

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"He looks ready to wage a war," I said.

"What they hunt has remained undefeated for a century," Emma said darkly. "No power in the Westvales could stop the Burnt Rider, who near single-handedly caused the downfall of that realm's greatest House. Brenner is a proud man, and believes he will solve this and earn a place in my family's saga. Or perhaps he thinks that history will only remember us as part of his?"

"I want you to let me take the lead here," I said. "We're not here to win glory on this hunt. Most likely, these men won't even make the Rider blink. I'll talk with Kross and we'll work out a strategy."

Emma glared at me. "I will not sit idly by like some dainty maiden. This is my foe, and I shall be part of whatever end he meets."

We matched glares for a minute. I knew the look in her hawk's eyes. I'd seen it often enough in my queen back when I'd still served as her champion. She'd been impossible to argue with in those moments. I'd learned the hard way to keep close, keep sharp, and keep anything with a sharp edge away from her neck.

Just like old times, I thought with a sigh.

The soldiers formed a handsome sight arrayed under the ashen sky, peaked helms and tall spears glinting in the wan daylight. Their kynedeer mounts looked like something elves might ride, bearing a certain fairy-tale aspect with antlers decorated in precious metals and colorful barding.

Probably most of his fief's military strength, discounting the commoner levies. I saw them standing on their porches and arrayed around the square, watching. Many eyes followed our coach, and I sensed the intensity of those stares.

Emma glared out at them, clearly frustrated. No doubt she'd hoped to appear at this event in more lavish style. The secondhand coach stopped in the middle of the gathered soldiers. Qoth opened the door. I stepped out first, taking up position next to the carriage and holding out a hand without thinking about it. Emma took my proffered hand and I helped her down.

Strange. The old habits still came so effortlessly. I'd almost expected Rosanna to appear from within the coach. The realization that she wouldn't, that I'd never be at her side again as a knight, came almost as physical pain.

"Good of you to join us, Lady Carreon!" Brenner's voice cracked off the whitewashed buildings with booming volume as he approached. He made for an impressive sight all on his own, decked in green wyvern-scale armor reinforced with plate, his antlered helm sporting a white plume flicking about in the unseasonable wind. A heavy war sword hung at his hip, and his bristling beard formed a stormy mane over his gorget.

He definitely looked the image of a warrior, not a puffed up merchant as Emma claimed.

The Carreon gave her own muted greeting to the lord, maintaining an aloof countenance. Brenner snorted at that and turned to face his bannerets and men-at-arms.

Ser Renuart Kross nodded a greeting to me from near the well. He tended to a chimera I recognized from that first night at the manor, something like a huge gray dog crossed with a shaggy lion. It had huge paws rather than hooves, and was clad in rich tack of similar shadowy colors to the paladin's own garb, with the Priory's distinctive winged auremark worked into a steel cap on its heavy skull.

"I admit," Brenner said to Emma. "I wasn't sure you and your bodyguard would make an appearance. Perhaps the tales of you Shrikes are true, and you do have a love of blood sport. You will find we have an appetite to match."

Emma smiled thinly. "I doubt it, my lord, but I'm sure you will find ways to impress."

Brenner's expression soured. I took note of the big hounds his people had brought along, not unlike larger versions of Valiant from back in the manor. Big, fey-eyed beasts with sleek frames and bloodred coats. He really is treating this like a hunt, I thought.

Hendry, the lord's burly and sad-eyed son, approached us and gave Emma a bow. She ignored him, though I noted her demeanor became more pensive. He took this in stride and turned to the Hunting lord.

"Father, our scouts have started erecting the lures you requested. The countryside should be dotted with them for roughly three miles around the village by the end of the hour."

"Lures?" I asked. Kross had finished tending to his mount and approached us. He gave me a curt nod and a smile, which I barely returned. I still hadn't forgotten our last conversation and felt uneasy around the man.

"Ser Kross's idea." Brenner gestured to the Priory exorcist. "We know the Burnt Rider was once a man. A knight, no doubt with a sense of honor and obviously harboring a grudge. My scouts are placing… well, let's just call it a challenge. I think you'll enjoy the irony, young Carreon."

Emma looked perplexed. "What exactly are you doing, Hunting?"

"There's a type of frog common in this region," Kross said blandly. "Small and harmless, but still chimeric in nature, altered to adapt to climates its kind are usually unsuited for. They're more mammals than amphibians, but they have the right look. His lordship's trappers are very good. We took other small animals as well, enough to space them out densely enough that they'll be easy to spot."

"I don't…" Emma realized what they were talking about the same time I did, and the blood drained from her face.

"Do you know how members of your House got their nickname?" Brenner asked the girl with a cold smile. "What shrike birds are known to do with their prey?"

I stared at Kross. "This was really your idea?"

The man shrugged. He didn't look as smug as Brenner, but neither did I see apology on his stark features. "We know the Burnt Rider was an enemy of House Carreon in life. If we want him to come out and face us on our terms, then we must enrage him. This was the most effective bait I could think of, besides dangling the child herself in front of our enemy. Would you have preferred that?"

He had a point. Even still, this felt macabre. Emma seemed to agree. She looked like she might be sick.

This was a problem. I'd expected the hunt to be a slower process, multiple days of scouring the landscape in small parties until our quarry was located. I'd also wanted to talk to Kross about my theories and get a better idea of what exactly we faced.

No time. I had a bad feeling about this development.

"Do you smell that?" Hendry was frowning and staring up at the sky, his nostrils flaring.

Brenner cast an annoyed look at his son. "What are you—"

"Yes." Emma frowned and sniffed. "It's like rotten eggs."

Kross closed his eyes and seemed to exhale. I scented the air and felt a thrill of dread go through me.

I recognized the scent. A bitter smell. It was just like—

The vision came immediately, with ferocious aggression. I watched as—

A bolt of green lightning splits a high, verdant peak towering above the golden valleys. The ensuing shockwave is unlike anything I've ever felt. When it passes, fire boils forth from the mountain, like blood from a sword stroke.

More images flash, assaulting me with greater speed moment to moment. Molten rocks rain from the sky, splintering tall towers, cracking proud avenues. Droves of people, mortal and fae, flee in a mad rush from a threat that is all around and can't be escaped. Knights hold against Recusants wearing the colors of a hundred traitor lords, but some of those knights are burning as well and they are the worst.

Monstrous things crawl across the smoldering walls, or feast on the ichor bubbling up from maimed eardetrees. Leathery wings and feral howls fill the air.

Over all of it, standing on a high rampart, a towering warrior with the head of a lion watches, his rumbling laugh of mirth echoing through the streets like thunder.

I see Fidei reaching out for me, trying to take my hand. I remember stepping away, horrified. I remember—

"Keep your oaths then, and see if they warm you!"

"Alken?"

I blinked, back in the village. It took me a moment to collect myself, and I winced as a spike of pain went through my skull. When I pressed my fingertips to my temple, I realized I'd broken out into a cold sweat.

The scars on the left side of my face were burning with pain.

Kross had a strange look on his face as he stared at me. "You froze for a minute there. And your eyes…"

Damn. I recalled when Ser Maxim had been taken by his own visions of the Fall, how golden aura had spilled out of him. What had the warrior priest seen? The others? Many were staring at me.

"I'm fine," I said. I took a deep breath, unable to keep the slight tremor from it. "It's sulfur. I can smell sulfur in the air."

Ser Kross nodded slowly, though his gaze lingered on me. "Yes, that is what I smell. I don't believe we are near any springs or active volcanoes, but…"

We both felt it at once. To me, it seemed as though a great shadow suddenly stretched out from the distant horizon to flood the village with its touch. Nothing visibly changed, but to my less physical senses I suddenly felt as though I stood on a black lake. I had to make an effort not to stumble.

Then a more familiar sensation struck me. From that impression of a titan shadow fallen on the land where I stood, I felt and heard the unsteady thumping of a great heart. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-ba-bump.

A Thing of Darkness drew near.

Kross's head snapped up, his face stilling into an iron hard mask. Emma, auratically aware as well, shivered suddenly as though struck by a chilling wind. Only, the wind had gone dead. The snow had stopped falling as well, only a few tardy flecks still spinning down to settle on the village square as all went quiet.

"There!" One of the archers called out, breaking that spell of silence. Our eyes went to him, then followed his pointing finger to the northernmost hill overlooking the village.

A light had appeared there. A dour, smoldering red light, like a great ember suddenly bursting to life on the ridge line. Squinting, I could barely make out a shape within. Tall, made all of jagged lines, I beheld an armored rider on a tall steed. The beast and rider both were clad in charcoal black armor, and the red light burned from them. I could see fire clinging to both, dully burning, but could make out few minute details from this distance.

From that hill, the echoing sound of a bestial snort fell on us. It came from the thing the armored rider rode, which seemed to me very much the classical horse save for the curling ram horns emerging from its long skull and eyes of smoldering flame.

We all watched as though in a trance as the rider held aloft the object in their left hand — a tall lance, blackened and warped. As the rider lifted its barbed tip to the sky as though in challenge, there came a sudden flash. A cloak of flames sprouted from the armored rider's shoulders, flaring out behind them like a princely train.

Or wings.

Brenner's eyes had gone wide. "Queen of All Lands and Heir of Onsolem protect us. It's him. It's Jon Orley."

"Congratulations, my lord." I made no effort to hide the caustic edge in my voice as I began loosening my axe from its ring. "Your ploy worked."

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