Stragen’s eyes also became very bright. ‘Well now indeed, Your Grace,’ he agreed.
‘Never mind, you two,’ Sephrenia said sharply.
‘Stragen,’ Sparhawk added as an afterthought, ‘tell Kring that there’s no real need to hurry. We might as well conserve the horses. Nobody out there is going to go anywhere or do anything until we get to where we want to go anyway.’
It was eerie to canter through that perpetual murky sunrise. It was neither cold nor warm nor damp nor dry. The world around them was silent, and unmoving birds dotted the air. Serfs stood like statues in the fields, and once they passed a tall white birch tree that had been brushed by a passing breeze just before the Troll-God Ghnomb had frozen time. A cloud of motionless golden leaves hung in the air to the leeward side of the tree.
‘What time do you think it is?’ Kalten asked after they had ridden for several leagues.
Ulath squinted at the sky. ‘I make it about sunrise,’ he replied.
‘Oh, very, very funny, Ulath,’ Kalten said sarcastically. ‘I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starting to get a little hungry.’
‘You were born hungry,’ Sparhawk told him.
They ate trail rations and moved on again. There was no real need to hurry, but the sense of urgency they had all felt since they had left Chyrellos nagged at them, and they were soon cantering. To have proceeded at a leisurely walk would have seemed unnatural.
An hour or so later – though it was really impossible to tell – Kring came up from the rear. ‘I think there’s something behind us, friend Sparhawk,’ he said. Kring’s tone had a respectful awe about it. It’s not every day that one can talk with a man who stops the sun.
Sparhawk looked at him sharply. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked.
‘Not really,’ Kring admitted. ‘It’s a feeling more than anything. There’s a very dark cloud low to the ground off to the south. It’s a goodly way off, so it’s hard to tell for sure, but it seems to be pacing us.’
Sparhawk looked towards the south. It was that same cloud again, larger, blacker and more ominous now. The shadow could follow him even here, it appeared. ‘Have you seen it move at all?’ he asked Kring.
‘No, but we’ve come quite some distance since we stopped to eat, and it’s still just over my right shoulder where it was when we set out.’
‘Keep an eye on it,’ Sparhawk said tersely. ‘See if you can catch it actually moving.’
‘Right,’ the Domi agreed, wheeling his horse.
They set up camp for the ‘night’ after they had covered approximately the distance they would have gone in a normal day. The horses were confused, and Faran kept watching Sparhawk with a hard-eyed look of suspicion.
‘It’s not my fault, Faran,’ Sparhawk said as he unsaddled the big roan.
‘How can you lie to that poor beast like that, Sparhawk?’ Kalten said from nearby. ‘Have you no shame? It is your fault.’
Sparhawk slept poorly. The unchanging light was always there. He slept for as long as he could, and then rose. The others were also stirring.
‘Good morning, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia said ironically. Her expression was a bit put out.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘I miss my morning tea. I tried to heat some rocks in order to boil water, but it didn’t work. Nothing works, Sparhawk – no spells, no magic – nothing. We’re totally defenceless in this never-never land you and Ghnomb have created, you know.’
‘What can attack us, little mother?’ he asked gravely. ‘We’re outside time. We’re somewhere where nothing can reach us.’
It was about ‘noon’ when they discovered just how wrong that particular assessment had been.
‘It’s moving, Sparhawk!’ Talen shouted as they approached an immobile village. ‘That cloud! It’s moving!’
The cloud which Kring had noticed the day before was definitely moving now. It was inky-black. It rolled across the ground towards the small cluster of thatch-roofed serfs’ huts huddled in a shallow dale, and a low rumble of sullen thunder, the first sound they had heard since Ghnomb had locked them in time, accompanied its inexorable march. Behind it, the trees and grasses were all dead and decaying, as if that momentary touch of darkness had blighted them in an instant. The cloud engulfed the village, and when it had passed, the village was gone as if it had never existed.
As the cloud drew nearer, Sparhawk heard a rhythmic sound, a kind of thudding as of dozens of bare heels striking the earth, and accompanying that, a brutish grunting as might come from a throng of beasts uttering low, guttural barks in evenly spaced unison.
‘Sparhawk!’ Sephrenia cried urgently. ‘Use the Bhelliom! Break up that cloud! Call Khwaj!’
Sparhawk fumbled with the pouch, then threw his gauntlets to the ground and tore open the canvas sack with his bare hands. He lifted out the Sapphire Rose in both hands. ‘Blue-Rose!’ he half-shouted. ‘Bring Khwaj!’ The Bhelliom grew hot in his hands, and that single spark of red appeared in its petals.
‘Khwaj,’ Sparhawk half-shouted. ‘I am Sparhawk-from-Elenia! Khwaj will burn away the dark which comes! Khwaj will make it so Sparhawk-from-Elenia can see what is inside the cloud! Do it, Khwaj! Now!’
Again there was that howl of frustration and rage as the Troll-God was compelled against His will to obey. Then, immediately in front of the rolling black cloud there rose a long, high sheet of roaring flame. Brighter and brighter the flame grew, and Sparhawk could feel the waves of intense heat blasting back at them from that wall of fire. The cloud advanced inexorably, seeming to ignore the wall.
‘Blue-Rose!’ Sparhawk snarled in the Troll tongue. ‘Help Khwaj! Blue-Rose will send its power and the power of all the Troll-Gods to help Khwaj! Do it! Now!’
The answering blast of power nearly knocked Sparhawk from his saddle, and Faran reeled back, flattening his ears and baring his teeth.
Then the cloud stopped. Great rents and tears appeared in it, only to be almost instantly repaired. The flame undulated, rising then falling into sickly glimmerings, then flaring anew as the two forces contended with each other. At last the darkness of the cloud began to fade, even as night fades from the sky with the approach of dawn. The flames grew higher, more intensely bright. The cloud sickened yet more. It grew wispy and tattered.
‘We’re winning!’ Kalten exclaimed.
‘We?’ Kurik said, picking up Sparhawk’s gauntlets.