Allison stuffed her hands into her armpits. They felt half frozen and she’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be warm all over at the same time. The slavers had all complained long enough until Ubira, in a rare good mood it seemed since he hadn’t cut someone’s head off at the request, had allowed it. They’d been fortunate to run out of daylight near a grove of trees bare and blackened from a wildfire, providing plenty of fuel that caught fire and burned easily. Even the captives were allowed fires at Ubira’s direction.

“Rest tonight,” he told both slavers and captives. “Tomorrow we start our journey into the mountains and there will be nights when we camp on the edge of cliffs with nothing but the howling wind for a blanket.”

If the speech was meant to raise morale, Allison thought it did a terrible job. Many of the captives, already thin with dark circles under their eyes, looked ready to give up and die at the news. But for Allison, the announcement warmed her insides more than any fire could. This would be their chance. In the mountains, there would be places to hide from Shakraa’s searches, places of nothing but cold stone where they could not be tracked or chased.

“I don’t see why we don’t keep the mules and horses and long as we can. How else will we carry our riches?”

Allison looked up from the tight huddle she sat in with Kattoh, Myri, and Professor Ruggs. One of the slavers — a friend of Tapuk before he’d been killed — stood before Ubira and gestured to their bundles of stolen goods from the traders.

“By all means, take whatever you can carry,” Ubira said with a lazy, dismissive wave of his spear. “But if I were you, I would pack an extra blanket, and as much food as you can.”

“You did not answer the question,” Kycha said. The slaver had stolen a pair of long knives from the traders and she wore them at either hip. Her hands rested on them now. “We have followed you all this way, and you have promised us fortune, yet what is there to show for it? Where does our trail end?”

By now, all the slavers who weren’t watching over the captives had gathered around Kycha and the man who’d complained about leaving their animals.

Allison craned her head around, looking for Shakraa, but the black bird was nowhere to be seen. When had she left? It wasn’t hard to miss the stench and absence of the bird, or the constant threat that she might grab one of the captives and eat them, just because. Whenever Shakrra wasn’t close by, the grumbling always started up, though after Ubira had killed Tapuk so easily, Akkusin didn’t understand why the other slavers thought they would stand any better chance of overthrowing Ubira. Maybe they planned to attack him all at once?

“What if I told you I have friends coming to meet us and they will be bringing llamas and donkeys to pack all of your wealth?” Ubira hadn’t even bothered to stand up, though Allison saw he was casually rolling his spear across his palm.

“Who are these ‘friends’ you speak of?” Tapuk’s friend asked. “When will they be here?”

“We want answers,” Kycha snarled. The other slavers behind her muttered in angry agreement. “We have followed you on faith far enough. It was only luck that we came across the trader caravan, otherwise we would have nothing to show for an entire season of raiding but some half-dead slaves.”

Ubira leaned back and spread his arms. You couldn’t tell because of the red scarf covering the lower half of his face, but Allison had a feeling he was smiling. The rest of his body language was smug enough. “How about we make a deal? You wait until our guides arrive and then you can decide if you want to continue into the mountains or not. If not, you can take the horses, mules, and all of your looted wealth and go wherever you please. How does that sound?”

“Or we could do that now, and take the slaves as well,” Tapuk’s friend said. “There is no need to cross the Wakar. We could reach the Fire Bison tribes before the snow flies and sell the slaves there. He is only one man.”

Allison couldn’t believe the slavers were dumb enough to make a repeat performance of Tapuk with Ubira. At least this time, they had him mostly surrounded and on the ground. Ubira didn’t seem concerned. Allison glanced at the slavers, who were supposed to be standing watch over the captives. The confrontation had drawn them in. They were all several steps away, watching the conflict unfold. Professor Ruggs must have sensed what Allison was thinking, because he nodded. They might not get a better chance than this. If a fight broke out, they could escape in the dark. The light of the fire would make it harder for the slavers’ eyes to adjust. Maybe, just maybe, they could get away. Allison passed a look to Kattoh. She’d told him they planned to escape, and he’d agreed to join them. Since she was only seven, they hadn’t told Myri anything in case she accidentally spilled the beans.

“That is true,” Ubira admitted. “If you think you can beat me and take what you want. And if you do that, are you forgetting that you’ll have to cross hundreds of miles of Storm Horse lands? They aren’t all as small as the camp we raided, and their storm horses can out travel any of our animals.”

This gave the rest of the group pause, but Tapuk’s friend was apparently too dumb to realize the logistical problems with his plan. “Give us the totem, too,” he said, drawing a curved sword and spitting at Ubira’s feet. “The totem, the loot, and the slaves for your life. You can sit here and wait for your friends, or you can die. The choice is yours.”

Ubira let out a long sigh, the kind Allison made when she was reminded for the third time to take out the trash and threatened with a grounding if it wasn’t done “right away young lady.” He stood, using his staff to pull himself up, not caring that he took his eyes off the gang of slavers and exposed his back as he did. That would have been when Allison struck, but Tapuk’s friend hesitated.

“I must be getting soft in my old age,” Ubira said. “If someone had spoken to me like this five years ago, they would already be dead.”

To the credit of Tapuk’s friend, he didn’t waver. Probably because he had a dozen other slavers on either side of him.

“That is all you are,” Kycha said. “An old liar. We joined you this spring because Ubira the Slaver was a legend. Maybe you were once, but your mana is weak.”

“Be ready,” Professor Ruggs whispered in Allison’s ear. “We must be quick.”

Allison nodded and leaned over to pass the word on to Kattoh.

“What are you two talking about?” Myri asked. “What’s going on?”

Shushing her, Allison turned back to the impending fight.

Ubira’s shoulders raise in a soft chuckle. “Old and weak, yet it takes more than a dozen of you to fight me? Where is the challenge in that? When you joined me this spring, I was told you were hardened raiders. It seems caring after slaves has made you cowards.”

Ubira’s words had their intended effect. Instead of rushing him as a group, the slavers muttered angrily, each wanting to prove themselves. The distraction was a good one from Ubira’s point of view, but the longer they stalled, the more likely Allison thought the slave master would end a fight before it began. Now that Ubira was on his feet, spear in hand, those closest to him looked like they would have preferred greater distance or a few more bodies between them.

“Don’t listen to his twisted words!” Kycha yelled to the others. “He knows he can’t fight us all, so he delays. We’ve talked enough. Kill him.” She drew her knives and rushed Ubira, along with Tapuk’s friend. The mob followed. Ubira struck out like a coiled snake.

“Now!” Professor Ruggs hissed as the fight broke out. He stood in a flash surprising for his age, sweeping Myri into his arms and running into the night. Allison jumped to her feet and yanked Kattoh after her.

“Come on!”

Either the other captives had been waiting for the same chance, or they saw what Allison and the rest were doing and decided it was a good idea. A moment later, they ran in every which direction. As Allison followed Professor Ruggs into the dark, still holding on to Kattoh’s wrist so she didn’t lose him, she heard the clash of weapons. Mules brayed and horses screamed. It seemed some of the captives had gone after them. In hindsight, Allison thought that would have probably been the best move, but it was too late now.

“The slaves are escaping!” someone shouted.

Allison glanced back. She briefly saw Ubira holding a dozen or more slavers at bay with his spear, while the rest turned and set off in several directions after the scattering captives. The shriek of an enraged bird of prey cut through the night air. Allison’s heart almost stopped. Shakraa had returned.

“Hurry!” Professor Ruggs gasped out. He wasn’t in bad shape, but he wasn’t a man in his prime anymore either, and carrying Myri slowed him down further. The girl cried in his arms, a blaring alarm for anyone chasing after them. They were only running at about half speed, more like a jog now they’d started uphill into the edge of a boulder field. A path wound its way through the endless rocks of all shapes and sizes.

They stuck with it for a short time until Professor Ruggs needed a break from carrying Myri. Immediately, Allison scrambled onto a large rock and Kattoh followed her. They both looked back at the camp. None of the slavers were heading their way, though a pair of captives, an old woman and a middle-aged man, were starting into the boulder field on the same narrow trail.

Allison sat down to scoot off the rock when shouts and surprise rose in the air. She looked again just in time to see several slavers fall to the ground, arrows sticking out of their chests. Where had those come from?

“Come on,” she told Kattoh. “We’ve got to keep moving.”

They slid down to the ground and caught up to Professor Ruggs. The professor leaned on a boulder, hands braced on his knees as he sucked in air. Sweat trickled off of his nose. Beside him, Myri sat on the ground, still crying.

“It’s going to be okay,” Allison said, squatting down next to the girl and wrapping an arm around her. “The bad people are gone now. We have to keep going or they’ll catch us. Can you be really quiet? Like the quietest mouse?”

Myri sniffed and sucked in a couple more sobs, then nodded.

“Are you okay, old man?” Kattoh asked Professor Ruggs.

The professor still sucked in air like he was drinking a fresh milkshake through a straw, but he straightened up. “I’ll make it. Let’s keep going.”

The trail bended around a boulder the size of a truck. On the other side, it ended. Allison saw nothing but a jumble of rocks ahead, and that only a short distance before the darkness consumed everything.

“The going will be slow, but I don’t think the slavers will follow us in here,” Professor Ruggs said. “Not when they need those horses and mules. We will go for a while and then crawl down into the gaps between the rocks to rest.”

“Good plan,” Allison said.

Each rock seemed like a different sized table someone had tossed off the top of the mountains high above them. They were all flat-sided and roughly rectangular slabs, which made them hard to climb. The only trick was jumping the gaps between them, especially in the dark. Kattoh took the lead and picked out a path for them while Allison followed, helping Myri while Professor Ruggs brought up the rear.

When they stopped again, Allison guessed they were probably a mile from the camp. Most of the shouts had died down now, and Allison couldn’t see or hear the other captives who’d followed them into the boulder field. Silence surrounded them. It was far from comforting.

“We’ll go a little farther, then find a place to rest,” Professor Ruggs said in a low voice. “The going will be slow and we won’t be able to look for food or water until tomorrow evening.”

From what Allison had seen of the boulder field in the daylight, it formed a short of skirt at the very base of the mountain cliffs. She guessed the plan was to follow alongside the mountains in the boulders where they would be hard to spot and then walk out of the foothills once they thought the slavers weren’t following them. Thinking back to the path they’d taken into the boulder field, she hoped their tracks wouldn’t be too easy to see. The trail had been well defined. Randomly, she wondered why it was there and who traversed it enough to keep it worn in.

She was just about to ask the others about it, when all around them, dozens of figures rose from the cracks in the rocks. In the moonless night, with hoods pulled over their heads, they looked like a gathering of phantoms. The thought crossed Allison’s mind that they actually might be ghosts.

“Do not attempt to flee,” a woman’s voice, harsh and chilling, said. “You are surrounded.”