Miach grunted. It was all he could do. Heaven help him if she found out any of his real secrets.
Morgan drew his arm over her shoulders. She was surprisingly strong for a woman. He was not given to fat, but he was tall and solid. He did, however, find it somewhat satisfying that she staggered just a bit while trying to keep him there. She looked about them once more, then shivered.
Miach understood. The stench of evil was overpowering.
"I don't like this," she said quietly. "There are three times the number who came against us at Istaur. "
Miach nodded. Only this time, they had come against just him and Morgan.
Something foul was afoot.
He hated appearing weak, but he was desperately tempted to ask Morgan to either stop or carry him on her back. There was magic, of course, and then there was magic. And killing magic did not come without a desperately high cost, both in its execution and in the price it exacted from his soul. It was one thing to face an opponent with a sword and give him a fair chance. It was another thing to take his powers and destroy life when that life had no chance to defend itself.
Though he supposed Lothar's creatures, if these were actually Lothar's creatures, were better off being free of Lothar's influence.
It was cold comfort, indeed.
He stumbled along for miles, waiting for some of his strength to return to him. He finally pulled Morgan to a stop, leaned over, and took several deep breaths. Then he heaved himself upright.
"Let's run," he said.
Morgan opened her mouth, no doubt to ask him if he was up to the challenge, but then she shut it and nodded.
She made him run in front of her, which he supposed said quite a bit about her opinion of his recovery, but he didn't object. It took all his strength and determination just to put one foot in front of the other and fling himself forward.
It was afternoon before they could see the others and their camp. Morgan caught him and pulled him back. She motioned for him to follow her as she walked carefully and silently through the woods.
It was then that Miach realized they were still wearing his spell of un-noticing.
He stumbled and landed heavily on a stick that snapped as it broke in two. Morgan glared at him briefly before continuing even more carefully. Miach examined his spell and found it completely intact.
He followed Morgan back to camp. They walked past Paien without him even looking in their direction, so Miach knew the spell was good. Not that he would have doubted that anyway. Unfortunately, it raised a very several unsettling question.
How had those creatures seen through it?
He dissolved the spell as they walked into camp. Well, Morgan walked into camp; he hobbled there. Everyone rose, wearing varying expressions of astonishment. He made it to the fire before he dropped to his knees. He could hardly keep his eyes open. He suspected he could have slept on a bed of sharp rocks and been grateful for it.
He listened to the conversings going on around him but could make no sense of them. This certainly wasn't what he would have preferred?to be looking like a feeble old man in front of Morgan, but he was past aiding himself. He knelt there and concentrated on breathing.
"Miach."
He couldn't even look up at Adhémar. "What?"
"What was it?"
"Fell things that attempted an ambush."
Adhémar squatted down in front of him. "Lothar?" he asked quietly.
"Of the same sort that attacked you near Tor Neroche." He put his hands on his knees and straightened. "We must break camp. Keep moving."
"Why?"
"Did you not hear me? There were two score and ten of them, at least! Who knows what else lies in wait. "
Adhémar drew himself up. "Id like to see for myself. "
"Very well then," Miach groaned. "An hour back, if you must go look."
