Guardians of the Lost by Margaret Weis Page A

It has pursued them since. Though they could not see it, both horse and master felt its evil presence trailing them. His master was wounded by the thing the first time it attacked. He has grown weaker since and these last few days he could not eat.”
    â€œStrange,” said Wolfram, frowning and scratching his chin. “Why would the thing pursue the knight? Usually creatures of the Void kill and have done with it. Odd this is. Very odd.” He rubbed his arm. The bracelet on his arm was warm to the touch.
    Bashae knelt beside the knight. Reaching out, he rested his small hand on the knight’s breastplate. At his touch, the breastplate changed to liquid silver. Bashae squealed in dismay and scrambled backward, took refuge behind the horse. Jessan sucked in a hissing breath. Something had at last impressed the unimpressionable Trevenici.
    The armor flowed over the knight’s body and disappeared, leaving him clad in plainly made, trail-stained breeches and a leather jerkin, such as any traveler might wear.
    â€œI told you the armor was magic,” Wolfram said irritably. He examined the knight’s face, moved closer. “I’ll be swiggered. Lord Gustav, he said his name was. And I never recognized it. The Whoreson Knight being chased by a thing of the Void. Now I just wonder…” He stared down at the knight, musing, his thoughts a tangle of new and possibly profitable possibilities.
    â€œWhat made it do that?” Jessan asked, eyeing the knight warily.
    Looking around, Wolfram located the pecwae, who was crouching behind the horse.
    â€œCome back, Bashae,” the dwarf called, waving his hand. “It was your gentle touch that lifted the enchantment. See if you can determine what is wrong with him. Come along.” He motioned again. “Nothing will hurt you.”
    But even as he spoke, he looked again at the black-armored figure. He did not like hearing that Gustav had thought he’d killed it,only to have it rise again and pursue him. Albeit, Wolfram reminded himself, that was the horse’s version. Wolfram loved horses as all dwarves love horses, but he had no great faith in the beast’s perspicacity.
    â€œHe’s an old man,” Jessan exclaimed, examining the knight’s lined face, his gray hair and beard. “Old as Grandmother Pecwae. And yet he is a warrior.”
    Small wonder he was astonished. Few Trevenici males or females live to a peaceful old age.
    â€œYes, he is old,” said Wolfram. “He is the eldest of the human Dominion Lords and the most honored .” He added that, in case the knight could perhaps hear him. What was truly said was that this knight was the most addled.
    Bashae squatted near Gustav. The pecwae laid his ear on Gustav’s chest, listening for the heartbeat. He opened an eyelid, peered into it. He opened the mouth, examined the tongue. Shaking his head, he looked over at the black armor.
    â€œYou say that thing was evil?” Bashae asked.
    â€œMost assuredly.” Wolfram was fervent.
    Bashae nodded. He raised up, sniffed the air, very much like a hound on a scent, and then left them, darting into the darkness. He returned after a few moments, bearing a sprig of fragrant smelling leaves in his hand.
    â€œSage,” he said, waving it in the air. “Strike a light,” he ordered.
    Jessan brought out tinder and flint, struck off several small sparks. Bashae held the sprig to the flame. The dry leaves soon caught fire. Bashae let the sage burn a moment, then blew out the flame. Murmuring words in his own language, he waved the smoking sprig over Gustav, beginning with his head and working his way down to the feet.
    â€œThis will drive away the evil,” Bashae explained.
    Last, he held the sage to Gustav’s nose, letting the knight inhale the smoke. This had the desired effect of rousing Gustav, whether because the evil had been driven away or because the knight thought he was about to