Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,104

against the darker hillside. A sudden weight crashed into her back, knocking the wind from her. A black arm encircled her neck like a collar of steel as reeking, tattered cloth filled her gasping mouth. She sought to reach her attacker with the hunting knife, raking with desperate strokes. Several strokes found their mark, but the creature made no sound in reply, and the arm encircling her neck did not loosen.

It tried to wrench her from the saddle, and she scrabbled at the saddle horn to keep her seat. Just as she began to slide, the mare lurched forward with a shriek. The huntress strained to peer downward. She saw more of the creatures wrapping themselves about the horse’s legs, and in a split second the entire mass was pitching from the tail in a thrashing tangle of limbs.

The sloping, uneven ground and the night sky exchanged places, whirling together in a dizzying dance. The huntress was thrown free, and she screamed in pain as rocks and roots dug into her flesh and crushing weights came down atop her. Somehow she twisted violently in midair as her parasite shifted its grip, and she kicked free from it to tumble alone, end over end, down the hillside. She sprawled at last to a stop, wheezing and spitting blood from smashed lips.

When she raised her head, she saw that Shien still lived, for the moment at least. The mare was kicking and heaving, trying to roll to a standing position once more. Pinned beneath her glossy black bulk, the duller black of several crooked figures swaddled in cloth could be seen clawing at the ground, their unblinking eyes fixed upon the downed huntress.

She cast about for a weapon, but her knife and bow were both lost somewhere on the dark slope. She felt for her quiver, and found it gone. The creature on her back must have torn it away. Faint glimmers in the grass nearby marked where several of her arrows had come to a scattered rest. She crawled toward the nearest, groping as she went for a rock she could pry loose from the ground and use against her attackers. The instant her fingers closed around the missile, she knew it for one of her precious black arrows, and she groaned.

A grip like iron seized her ankle, and she rolled, lashing out with her boot to hammer kick after kick into the gaping creature. It came onward, undeterred, pawing and crawling its way over her like she was a rope to be climbed. Its face drew near to hers and the soulless wells of its eyes fixed upon hers, the mouth opening wide in some hideous, silent parody of mortal speech. An ebon fist drew back, trailing coils of tattered cloth.

She lunged forward with both hands and jammed the black arrow into the yawning mouth and up into the thing’s brain.

With a savage flare of satisfaction tinged by regret at the waste, she bore witness to what a small fortune in gold could purchase from a master arcanist, and to the fate she had planned for her malevolent quarry. A crack of thunder split the air, and a brilliant flash of light stole her vision. A rush of heat blistered the skin of her hands and face, and the weight vanished from atop her.

Blinking away the colors popping before her eyes, she cast about and found the mangled remains of the black thing lying in a motionless pile several yards distant. Thick tendrils of noxious smoke rose from where its head had been but moments before.

Rapid footsteps intruded upon the ringing in her ears. She twisted toward the sound, trying to face her attackers, but heavy blows rained down upon her and she knew no more.

Amric reined in his bay gelding, peering into the distance where the flash of light had erupted and then faded just as abruptly.

“Did you see that?” he asked.

“Do you think me blind?” Syth grumbled. “Of course I saw it.”

The thief sat astride Valkarr’s restive blue dun, and if he scowled down at the horse in distaste, it was no worse than the spiteful glares the beast bestowed upon him in return. The others drew rein behind them, with Halthak and Valkarr riding double on the Half-Ork’s chestnut mare and Bellimar on his placid, sturdy old nag.

“What in the heavens was that?” Halthak said.

“I have no idea,” Amric replied with a shake of his head. “But it was no more than a few minutes up the