The Outcast (Summoner #4)(49)

Arcturus looked on as Edmund and Alice delved in their quivers, where they had stored their summoning leathers in a handy compartment. The pair knelt in the moist earth and unraveled them, then together they summoned their demons in a flash of white light.

It was with some surprise that Arcturus saw Edmund had a second demon—a Canid. It was a lean, long-legged beast with a pelt of slate fur and a long muzzle, not unlike a giant greyhound. The demon was almost large enough for Elaine to ride, with its back reaching the height of Arcturus’s chest.

Mere moments after it had materialized, the demon hared toward Sacharissa, its tail wagging excitedly at the sight of another Canid.

“Back, Gelert,” Edmund called as the two Canids crouched on the ground, paws extended, play fighting as dogs were wont to do. “Leave that pup alone.”

But Arcturus was not looking at Gelert—for Alice’s demon had brushed against his legs.

He recognized the creature from his demonology book—in fact it was one of the first he had learned of, but it made the beast no less fascinating to his novice’s eyes. It was a Vulpid, and he was instantly smitten.

Its lustrous fur was a yellow white, like finely threaded gold, coating what appeared to be the body of a fox, complete with the animal’s narrow muzzle and broad triangular ears. But most beautiful of all was its tail—or rather, tails: three of them, in fact. Each was as thick and bushy as the real-world counterpart, and the trio of brushes whirled excitedly with every step.

Arcturus had to resist the temptation to stroke the beautiful creature, and suddenly understood Elaine’s obsession with Sacharissa.

“She’s beautiful!” Elaine said, hugging her arms to her chest. “What’s her name?”

“His name,” Alice corrected. “It’s Reynard.”

Arcturus smiled. Sacharissa had competition.

Even as Arcturus watched the three demons meet ahead of them, circling each other with excitement, the faintest echo of a sound broke through. Barking, drifting on the wind.

It pricked up all three of the demons’ ears, and Arcturus spun round, looking in the direction they had come from. His view was obscured by the vegetation, and their pursuers were too far to see regardless, but now he saw the trail they had left—the broken stems and parted vegetation they had pushed through. There was no doubt in his mind which group the hunters would follow.

There was no need to say another word. Together, they turned and ran. It seemed endless, hearts pounding, breaths coming thick and fast, quivers rattling and bouncing along their backs. Rotter was setting an impossible pace, the hardy veteran used to marching long hours.

Elaine was the first to go down. Arcturus knew she had tried, tried harder than any of them, for he had kept a watchful eye on her as they had sprinted along the uneven ground, ducking low-hanging branches and hacking through where the path had become overgrown. There was no room for stealth now; they knew the hunters were chasing them. The barking seemed to be getting louder.

He did not see it, but heard her fall, tripping on an errant root worming its way across the path. She had been too tired to notice it. Too tired to get up.

“Elaine!”

Arcturus ran to her side and hauled her to her feet. She could barely stand, hanging off his arm like a sack of potatoes.

“We need to take a break,” Arcturus gasped at the others.

Rotter turned and held up a hand, chest heaving.

“Let me think,” the soldier said, looking back behind them. “They’re already faster than us, even if I carry her.”

He looked around, then fell to his knees, pushing his hands deep into the dirt. The ground he kneeled on had been torn up by the thoroughfare of animals, and puddles had formed in their tracks, creating a makeshift water hole. The air was tinged with the smell of animal feces and urine.

For a moment Arcturus thought he was praying. Then the soldier pulled out a dollop of mud and kneaded it in his hands.

“Take off your clothes,” he said, standing and removing the red-cloth surcoat that covered his chain mail.

“Are you joking?” Edmund said.

“There’s no bloody time; take off as much as possible. Do it, quickly!”

Arcturus stared at the soldier as if he were mad, but still he did it, tearing at the metal buttons of his uniform and pulling at his shirt until he stood bare-chested beside Edmund. The two girls still wore their lace undershirts to protect their modesty, but their jackets and overshirts were off.

“Wipe your sweat with them—get as much on there as you can,” Rotter growled, mopping at his brow with the surcoat.

In truth, Arcturus was soaked in sweat from his run, and it was a relief to wipe away the salt that had been stinging his eyes.

“Which of your demons is fastest?” Rotter said after they were finished.

“Gelert can run like the wind,” Edmund said proudly.

“Good,” Rotter said, bundling the clothes together in a makeshift knot with his surcoat. “I need you to give him these and send him running down there for as long as you feel comfortable with. Then order him off the path, get him to bury the clothes and roll around in the mud, and take a roundabout path through the bushes before coming back to us. Can you do that?”

Edmund nodded grimly, and the large Canid took the clothing in its mouth. Then, after a quick hug from Edmund, it was off, haring down the path faster than Arcturus thought possible. Soon the demon was out of sight.