Burrian’s eyes widened. He wet his lips. “Sir, I….”
Dunnald cocked his head. “Are you refusing my order, Burrian?”
Burrian shook his head. “No, sir.. It’s just….”
Dunnald gestured at the track in the snow. “Tanglemane walked across it without harm. Look here—one of his hooves actually touched it.”
“He’s a centaur,” Arvin interjected. “Perhaps centaurs are immune to it and humans aren’t.”
“Humans crossed the symbol once already,” Dunnald countered. He glowered at Burrian. “Get down from that wagon, Burrian.”
The soldier swallowed. “Yes, sir.” He glanced at Arvin, lowering his voice to a whisper. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Arvin said, less certain now. “The sergeant’s right about one thing: we did pass across it once already in the wagon. But I’m no wizard. I don’t know how these things—”
“Trooper Burrian!” the sergeant snapped. “Now!”
Reluctantly, Burrian climbed down from the wagon. He started to walk up to the track in the snow, then turned around again and came back to wrench a board off the wagon. He laid this across the track, visibly screwed up his courage, and took a long step across, taking care to keep both feet on the board. As his foot touched the board on the far side of the track, however, he crumpled to the ground.
Karrell gasped then leaped out of the wagon. Arvin shot to his feet, calling out a warning to her, but Karrell had the presence of mind to stay well back from the line in the snow. She dragged Burrian away from the dark line in the snow, lifted his arm, tugged up his sleeve, and pressed her fingers to the inside of his wrist. “He’s dead,” she announced, staring accusingly at Dunnald.
Dunnald’s eyes narrowed. He wheeled on Arvin. “This is your fault. You said the center of the symbol was what killed, not the—”
Arvin leaped out of the wagon and caught Dunnald by the collar of his cloak. The sergeant tried to draw his sword, but Arvin batted his hand aside. “Not another word,” Arvin growled. Shoving the sergeant aside, he stared at the dead man who lay facedown in the snow, feeling sick. Then he squatted to study the symbol. The line was darker than it should be—blacker than the shadows that filled it. Though both Burrian’s body and the board he’d tried to use as a bridge had been drawn back across it, scuffing deep gouges in the snow, the line itself remained intact.
“Can you dispel it?” Arvin asked Karrell.
She looked doubtful as her eyes ranged up and down the symbol in the snow. “It is so large. But I can try.”
Spreading her hands, she began to pray. As she did, Arvin watched the line in the snow. When Karrell completed her prayer, there was no visible change. The darkness was just as intense.
The sergeant, meanwhile, rotated his hand in a circle. “Tanglemane! Turn the wagon around and go back across the line. Return to the fort and fetch one of the clerics. We need someone who can dispel this thing.”
The centaur snorted, his ears twitching.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” the sergeant said. “You crossed it once already. Go on—move! What’s the matter—what are you afraid of?”
“Afraid?” the centaur snorted, his breath fogging the air. His eyes narrowed. “You’re the one who’s afraid, human. Cross it yourself.”
Arvin was still staring thoughtfully at the line in the snow. He noted the ruts the wagon wheels had made as they traversed it and the spot where one of Tanglemane’s hoofs had touched the symbol. Perhaps the captain was right about Tanglemane being immune to its magic. Then again, perhaps he wasn’t.
Arvin stood and pulled out his lapis lazuli. “Sergeant, there’s no need to send another person across. I can use mind magic to send a message back to the fort.”
Dunnald wasn’t listening. His face red, he glared at the centaur. “That’s an order, Tanglemane,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t forget, you are one of the baron’s soldiers now. Shall I report to Lord Foesmasher that you broke your vow by failing to carry out your duties?”
Tanglemane shook his head, a pained look in his eye.
“Then return to the fort,” Dunnald ordered, pointing back at the distant bridge.
“As you order… sergeant.” Tanglemane began to turn the wagon.
Arvin rushed forward and grabbed the harness. “Tanglemane, wait.” He turned to the sergeant. “We don’t know how the symbol’s magic works. Maybe trying to leave is what activates it.”
“Leaving it is what we need to do,” said Dunnald. He pointed. “And quickly. The centaurs are headed this way.”
Arvin glanced in the direction the sergeant had just indicated. The herd that Karrell had spotted earlier had turned around and was moving toward them at a brisk trot. Arvin glanced at Tanglemane. “Are they hostile?”
“Of course they’re hostile,” Dunnald snapped. “They’re wild things. Not like Tanglemane, here.”
“They will be angry, if they see me in harness,” the centaur said in a low voice. He started to unbuckle the straps across his chest. “Already they have drawn their bows.”
