Yulen continued to stare up at the little man sitting astride the black mare. He refused to believe what he was seeing. He refused to accept the fact that somehow Tosh Karv had returned from the dead.
A man whom Yulen knew beyond all doubt had been killed when Atty’s arrows took the man out more than five years ago.
“Karv?” His voice was harsh, grating, his throat raw from breathing in the smoke. He coughed again and took several more gulps of water.
The man who used to be his second turned around in his saddle and waved at a soldier. A roan mare was brought up, and the reins were handed to him. Yulen accepted them as he got to his feet.
Something was very, very wrong. That, or he was unconscious and dreaming all of this. But it didn’t feel like a dream. It didn’t smell or sound like a
