Without further discussion or delay, she pulled him to his feet and braced him by his shoulders so he was facing her. "Can you use your magic? Are you strong enough?"

He shook his head hesitantly. "I don't know. I don't know what I can do at this point." He looked down at himself. "I don't even know if I can move. Everything feels numb."

She sat him down again, took his hands and rubbed them between her own, first one and then the other, then spent several more precious minutes working on his feet and legs. "We're being hunted. They're out there looking for us right now. I don't know if I can defend us both. I need you to help me. Can you do that? I'm sorry I have to ask this, but I don't have any choice. I need you to be able to defend yourself."

He stared at her as if she were speaking another language, and she slapped him hard across the face. "Can you do that?" she snapped angrily.

His hand went to his face, and he nodded slowly, the light coming back into his eyes. "I can do whatever I have to if it means getting out of here."

She took his hands in her own and squeezed them. "Stay close to me. Follow my lead. I won't leave you, I promise."

He nodded. "I'm not going back, no matter what."

"Then be strong, and you won't have to."

Still watching him, she shape-shifted back into her animal form, all muscle and sinew and rippling power. Drawing him after her, she moved to the tent opening, hesitated for a moment to peer through the flaps and make certain no one was lying in wait, then together they burst back outside.

CHAPTER Nineteen

Redden Ohmsford was still struggling with the idea that he was free. One minute he was locked inside that cage surrounded by thousands of creatures out of the Forbidding, dragged along on an endless slog by a merciless demon intent on accomplishing something that defied explanation, and the next he was rescued. He had lost all perspective. He was starved and dehydrated and his body was aching and raw from being poked and prodded by the creatures that kept him prisoner. He had heard Oriantha's whispered words, saying that help was close, but he had half believed he must have dreamed them.

Now he was struggling with loss of physical strength and a psyche that was fragile and not altogether reliable. He kept drifting in and out of memories of the cage, of Tael Riverine's madness and cruelty, of the death of Khyber Elessedil, and of his time imprisoned at Kraal Reach. A pervading sense of hopelessness kept whispering over and over that this was only temporary, that it couldn't last, that his hopes were destined to turn to ashes faster than the setting of the day's sun.

But Oriantha was there to keep him grounded, and he took strength from her, changed back now into her sleek, muscular cat form as she led him out from the tent and into battle against their pursuers. There was a sense of indestructibility about her, an endurance that both defied all of the dangers that threatened and pushed back against the fears and doubts that plagued him. She had done for him what should have been impossible, and he would never forget it.

Oriantha was running the moment they went through the tent flaps-not so swiftly she outdistanced the boy, but fast enough to make him work at keeping up. Redden was still weak, and his legs would only allow him to move at a hobble. He was shaky, but he was also determined. The thought of going back to that cage was a nightmare he could only barely keep at bay. All of his concentration went into putting one foot in front of the other and staying upright in the process. He took his lead from her; wherever she went, he stayed close behind.

The pursuit was swifter in coming than he had expected. Growls and shrieks descended on them almost immediately, coming from behind and to the left. Oriantha seemed oblivious to them, moving ahead as if she didn't hear them. Redden tried to do the same, but felt himself cringing nevertheless. Don't listen to it, he told himself. Just keep going. Just run.

Then a body hurtled at them from between the tents, dark and swift and dangerous. Oriantha wheeled into it and left it lying in its own blood. Another creature appeared in front of them and she went right for it, putting it down so fast that Redden couldn't even be sure how she had managed it. He was aware that he was supposed to try to defend himself but, physically, such an act was impossible. He was debilitated to the point that a strong push might overthrow him.

What he had to rely on-if he could manage to bring it to life-was the magic of the wishsong.

Oriantha kept moving-a few steps one way, a few the other, always heading west, back toward where she said she'd left Tesla Dart. Shouts and cries pursued them, but the tents were thinning ahead and the way out onto the flats was open.

Then an ogre lumbered into view from one side, surrounded by demon-wolves. It carried a club studded with spikes and roared in challenge. The wolves, keeping pace, snarled in concert, and began fanning out to either side of their bigger companion.

Redden tried to summon the wishsong, his voice raw and dry and empty. He could feel the magic fizzle and spark, but there was no power behind it.

Oriantha crouched in response to this new threat, gathering herself as the ogre trudged toward her. She waited until it was close, then exploded into action, leaping onto the creature and running up its huge body to its head, driving claws and teeth into its eyes and face, leaving both in tatters. She was off it in seconds, but now the wolves were on her, bearing her down. She fought to throw them off, getting clear and breaking for safety, but they gave pursuit and brought her down again. The ogre was stumbling about close at hand, stamping at the earth in rage and pain, trying to find something to hurt. It caught one of the wolves by mistake and finished it. The others cringed away as Oriantha rolled close to the ogre's huge feet but somehow managed to keep out of reach. She was bleeding from a dozen lacerations, her sleek muscular body streaked with dirt and sweat.

Redden watched as one of the wolves noticed him for the first time and turned his way. It slouched forward, shaggy head lowered, muzzle drawn back to show rows of gleaming teeth. Oriantha was too far away and there were four more wolves between him and her. Redden was on his own.

He again tried to summon the wishsong, and again he failed. The magic would not respond.

The wolf was crouching now, gathering itself, preparing to leap. Oriantha had thrown herself into the midst of the other wolves in an effort to break past them and reach him, but her effort was hopeless. Redden braced himself, fear racing through him, his nerves raw, his terror so strong it had eclipsed all sense of reason. He went down on one knee, fighting his panic, remembering his promise, his word, his determination ...

The ogre stumbled back into view right in front of him, cutting off the wolf, then turned toward him as if it could smell his fear. Its face was all bloodied and torn, and it roared in dull recognition of what it had found and might now act against. Great hands groped outward, reaching down.

Abruptly, Redden's voice exploded out of his throat, the wishsong a primal scream that gathered up the very air and turned it into a savage wind and changed particles of dust into deadly shards. Both tore into the ogre and the wolves, ripped them to shreds and threw them away.

Then Redden regained control of himself and stumbled forward, catching up with Oriantha. Her smooth feline face swung toward him momentarily, and there was satisfaction in her bright eyes. Teeth showed in an attempt at a smile, and the cat bolted ahead onto the open flats.

Redden stumbled after, trying not to look at what was left of the creatures he had just destroyed. He had that sick feeling again-the one had experienced in the Fangs when he had fought back against and destroyed his Goblin attackers-as if something had been stolen from him by using the wishsong this way.

They raced onto the flats and crossed toward a series of low hills marked by clusters of boulders and deep ravines. He was stumbling badly, but forced himself to keep his feet and press on. He glanced back once for pursuit. He could see movement at the perimeter of the camp, but no organized effort was giving chase. Maybe they had given up, he thought. Maybe what he had done to the ogre and the demon-wolves had been enough to discourage them.

He looked away again quickly and tried not to think about anything but keeping up with Oriantha.

Then suddenly Lada appeared, scurrying out from the rocks to greet them, darting this way and that, his eyes bright as he chattered and jumped about. For reasons Redden couldn't explain, seeing the little Chzyk gave him such pleasure and generated such a strong feeling of hope that he almost wept in response.

"Lada," he whispered as the Chzyk leapt onto his boot and off again in the blink of an eye.

The little creature chattered in response and darted away again.

Ahead, Tesla Dart popped out from between the rocks, hopping from foot to foot as if impatient with the whole business and in no mood for anything even approaching delay.

"That took a long time!" she snapped at Oriantha.

There was something of an apologetic look reflected in her rough, whisker-fringed features as she shifted her eyes to Redden. "Well," she said, "it did."

She started to say something more, became completely flustered, and made a dismissive gesture instead.

"We should get out of sight," she said finally and turned away.

They hid in the rocks afterward while Oriantha, still in her animal form, licked her wounds with a long black tongue and Tesla Dart sat with Redden, talking softly. Now and again, one or the other would glance over the tops of their shelter to see if there was any activity from the demon camp, but there was still no sign of pursuit.

"Did they hurt you?" the Ulk Bog asked the boy.

"Some."

"Nothing broken?"

"My pride. My confidence, a little."

"You were frightened?"

He nodded.

"Tael Riverine is very dangerous. You were lucky."

"More so than all the others that went with me."