They tore down the path, Saul, Olivia, and Irene along with Simon and his art-children. They could all agree at once they would rather not be devoured by the gern casting its immense shadow over the entire surface of the planetoid where they ran. Hush streaked ahead of them, trailing a wake of flames that hung in the air over their heads, keeping lesser gern from falling upon them at will.

  They ran, gasping, stumbling, desperately trying to escape the gaze of the huge being’s countless wide blue eyes. Saul and Olivia matched each other stride for stride. Irene kept ahead of them, but far behind Eagle and Crow, who raced along the path, far swifter than any human had a right to move. Vulture and Simon maintained a pace right on Saul and Olivia’s heels.

  The first long, reaching tendril from the gern above them, swept through the trees ahead of Saul and Olivia, breaking branches and limbs with its passage. He stumbled as broken fragments filled the air. But he could not stop completely and passed through the cloud of debris anyway. Bark and thorns rained around him. Dust made him cough when he tried to breathe. Olivia kept her stride up but looked back as Saul began to slow.

  “No way are you stopping in here,” she said and seized his wrist. They took off, Saul drawing in deep breaths.

  More tendrils lashed down into the forest. Some raked the path like the first one, though none came as close to hitting as that first swing. Others stabbed into the forest or path straight down. None of them found a human, but the earth burst open as each one struck and then retracted.

  Saul clenched his oven rod in one hand. A stitch began to form in his side.

  “Nat,” he said. “Hop us forward whenever a shadow fully covers us.”

  “I will try,” said the art-child.

  They kept running. Crow and Eagle built a substantial lead but circled back, weapons readied.

  “You have to be kidding me,” Saul wheezed.

  The two art-children prepared to strike as Olivia and Saul approached them at top speed. They let Irene between them. Saul knew he and Olivia would not get the same treatment.

  “Nat,” said Saul. “Can you hop us past those two?”

  “Hush’s fire is making that difficult,” said Nat.

  Saul grunted. Olivia extended her reinforced cattle prod. They charged toward Crow and Eagle, who stood like a gateway, blades pointed inward and ready to scissor apart whoever passed between them.

  The fiery trail above them flickered, then went out.

  “Prepare yourselves.” Nat dragged them through shadows.

  The world washed into darkness around them. When light returned they were on the edge of the path, near another clearing, half a mile or so ahead of where they had just been. Olivia and Saul stumbled to a halt, still holding onto each other.

  “That was trying,” said Nat. “Have either of you gained weight recently?”

  Hush circled over them, no longer trailing fire. Irene’s voice spoke through his beak. “Simon and his children are getting bogged down back there.”

  She sprinted toward them, then slowed, gasping for air A few cuts on her legs trickled blood. She clutched her side and took a few deep breaths. Once she regained her composure, she looked up at them with a prim expression.

  “Shall we continue?”

  Saul nodded. His taph’s spark was already replenishing some of his physical stamina from its reserves. He turned to Olivia. “Take Nat with you. Earth-born tire faster than makers, and he can help you keep up.”

  She raised her eyebrows at Saul. “How come you two don’t need help?”

  “Our sparks can supply us with additional stamina,” said Irene. “Useful, but not limitless.”

  Nat glided to Olivia’s shoulder. He looked up at her with beady eyes. “Do you have a spare pocket?” he asked.

  She gave a tired breath, but smiled and indicated one at her coat’s waist. Nat fluttered down and then dropped inside.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  The three humans and two art-children fled into the next clearing and then took another path, moving toward Grandtalon.

  * * *

  They drew close to Grandtalon. Another hour’s hike through the Tangle to the edge, and from there a few minutes to cross the stalk would see them to the art-child settlement. Saul knew better than to feel relief yet. Another few miles through the flowering, gern-filled forest, was not an easy proposition, even without Simon’s children right behind them.

  He took the lead with Irene, though Olivia did not lag much, despite being Earth-born. She kept looking around warily. Saul understood, with Olivia’s keen sense for gern, this forest had to be unsettling.

  Shadows crept oddly, expanding from the trees as the lights from above began to dim. Day ended. They emerged into a series of clearings, cast in the fresh lights of pinprick stars far above.

  “Just a little further,” Irene said. “From here it should be less than a mile to the stalk.”

  Olivia grunted. She glanced across the clearing, which appeared more oblong than circular, unlike many of the others. A few flowers glistened with internal white light. Saul stared in the same direction, squinting in the gloom. He found a flicker of red and blue, shifting, blooming, twisting into strange shapes. The colors went back to red, then to yellow as he watched.

  He knew all too well what that was. He had stood before more than one world gate during the chase the previous year. This one was familiar, and not the sort created from a human body by Luther.

  Saul had made this one himself and used it to return to Kerenger. Without thinking, he pushed toward the light. “That’s it,” he said, “My gate.”

  He remembered it, felt it so close… and knew it was dangerous. The world gate in the archway stood in shadow, but it illuminated the interlaced branches like a small star. Saul crossed the clearing,

  Olivia right behind him. Hush circled, but Irene followed after only a moments’ hesitation.

  Saul forged ahead of the others. He broke through the branches and into the archway’s small clearing, what had been a pond before Apahar had taken over Luther’s body completely and then drained the water. Every speck of dust in the air, every droplet of moisture, glimmered in the shifting color of the world gate.

  He stared into the archway. Though he would not have thought it at the time, was one of the greatest works of this world. This gate responded to the will of any conscious being, designed to transport a person to any world he or she desired.

  Through the mist and glow, he heard water running. The scent of bitter flowers that bloomed with silver petals from the trees around the gate became intense.

  Pinprick feet alighted on Saul’s shoulder. “Beautiful is it not?” said a soft, feminine voice.

  He frowned down at the creature on his shoulder. He had thought by her feet that she had been Nat, but the voice was unmistakably not that of Saul’s art-child. To the eye, this creature was far different as well.

  At least three sets of wings spun of silvery thread, folded back into tiered levels. A tail far longer than the creatures’ body whipped back and forth. Two dark blue, human-like eyes, looked up at Saul’s face, but the rest of the body resembled a dragonfly.

  She spoke again, her voice lilting. “You made this place. I am in your debt, maker.”

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “The name my maker gave me is Torhaut.”

  “Who was your maker?” He could not sense a taph within the creature. Curious, but there was presence all around them.

  Her oceanic eyes twinkled.

  Olivia fought through the crisscrossing branches behind Saul. “She’s a gern,” Olivia shouted. “Saul, stand back.”

  “Well guessed,” Torhaut fluttered off of Saul’s shoulder and landed on top of the archway.

  Olivia’s cattle prod extended from her sleeve. She gripped the weapon tight. Her gaze followed Torhaut.

  “My maker’s name…” The tiny creature’s shadow stretched out long behind her, filling the clearing. “…Is Apahar.” A rustle in the foliage on the far side of the clearing drew Saul’s attention. A pack of four dog-like gern emerged from the undergrowth. Though they appeared mostly canine, each one bore a white-glowing mark upon the forehead. Their fur was black, and their eyes gleamed blue.

  Torhaut looked down at Saul from over the world gate. “These are my candle hounds.”

  A ripple of motion passed through the light in the archway. Then, the tall form of a humanoid gern emerged into the clearing. His chiseled face was bright with mirth.

  Torhaut whistled a few notes of a song Saul did not recognize. “I believe you have met Mho.”

  A chill of fear tickled his spine. Saul took a step back from the gern blade master. Here he stood with only an oven rod for a weapon.

  Mho folded his arms, no sign of preparation or drawing his passage blade. “How lucky do you feel now, humans?”

  “You,” said Irene. “It’s time I destroyed you.”

  “Bravado is funny. I remember our first meeting did not end well for you.” Mho planted his feet in front of the world gate. “It’s time for you to meet the master of creation, Burton. Apahar has called for you.” He glanced at the top of the arch. “Mother, may we begin?”

  “Not yet,” said Torhaut.

  Mho frowned. “The wind is dying. My scouts say a Selerian expedition is already on its way toward us.”

  “Precisely,” said Torhaut. Let us draw them closer. I do not doubt their so-called Dancer will spot a lost cause from a distance. Personally, I would like to trap them all.”

  “Of course, mother.” Mho grinned at Saul. “I suppose we have some time to kill.”

  The candle hounds sniffed around the gateway. Irene stepped up on Saul’s side, opposite Olivia. “When this begins.” She pointed at Mho with a steady finger. “I’ll kill you first.”

  “Please. Try.”

  Hush landed on a branch over Irene’s shoulder. He said nothing, and his wings were dark. Saul did not dare hope the gern would not notice the bird. His hand found the oven rod in his pocket. He gripped it tight.

  The distinct cry of a lear bird on the wing carried into the clearing around the archway. A leonine roar followed it, with the swish of wings. Saul raised the oven rod.

  “Take them,” said Torhaut.