First Rider's Call

Laren was incredulous. “There was nothing else for her to ride?”

“Remember Ty had said many of the beasts were slaughtered by groundmites?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” How could she forget? She closed her eyes, and saw again Ty sitting on Ereal’s Crane, not his Flicker.

“What I got from Karigan is that the surviving beasts were used to bear the injured. It wasn’t until some of the injured died that she had a mule to ride.”

“She is settled in, then?”

Mara nodded. “She about collapsed on her bed. It was all Dale and I could do to pull off her boots and shortcoat.”

“Excellent. Let her rest as she will. I will speak to her when she is ready and able.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Laren left barracks, moving slowly toward officers quarters to savor the quiet of the dew-laden night. The scent of horses came to her as she passed Rider stables, and the lush smell of the pasture grasses beyond. A crescent moon shone sharply in the sky. She discerned guards standing high up on the wall that wrapped around the castle grounds. They were dark silhouettes against a field of stars.

Seemingly everything was normal and as it should be, but she knew this was not so. Talk of the battle and the loosing of the wraith had shaken her. If ancient, dark powers were awakening into her world, how could anything be normal?

Her only hope was that they would be prepared when the time of need was upon them.

Journal of Hadriax el Fex

Alessandros has devoted much time thinking about another people who inhabit these lands. The Clans of Sacor call them Elt, and seem to keep their distance. From what we understand, the Elt live in various kingdoms, the closest being the peninsula to the east of the Bay Ull-um. Captain Verano took us for a sail around this peninsula in his gig, but could find no safe landing, for the reefs and currents are treacherous. I am drawing these into the charts I am drafting for the Empire.

Alessandros is keen to find the Elt, for the chief of Hill-lander Clan claims they have much command of etherea. Alessandros plans to mount an expedition into their lands.

BACK TO BARRACKS

Mara Brennyn, burdened with a platter of steaming food and a pot of tea, tapped lightly on Karigan’s door with the toe of her boot. There had been no sign of life here all morning, and Mara was reluctant to awaken her. But now, as it neared early afternoon, she figured hunger pangs might have surpassed Karigan’s exhaustion.

When there was no response to her initial tapping, she tried again, more soundly. When this elicited no response either, she nudged the door open with her foot and found, to her astonishment, the room empty.

Fresh air curled through the open window, and with it the sweet scent of grasses from the pasture. Mussed sheets on the bed indicated Karigan had slept here—her arrival last night hadn’t been simply a dream of Mara’s despite the late hour.

She lowered her burden to the table and blew a crinkled tendril of hair from between her eyes, feeling a bit put out after having carried the platter all the way from the castle kitchens to Rider barracks, only to find Karigan gone. If Mara had been in Karigan’s place, she reflected, she’d still be in bed, sleeping for a week or more. And that’s where Karigan should be—in bed, recovering from her horrendous journey.

Where is she?

Mara moved to the window, which looked out over the pasture, and then she knew.

Karigan waded through the tall grasses of the pasture to check on Condor, the dark dream that had aroused her earlier finally beginning to dissipate. In the dream, black tree limbs had crashed through her window, the moon gleaming cold and sharp on shattered glass strewn across the floor. Tree limbs had snaked into her room, seeking her, beckoning . . . When she tried to run away, glass shards splintered into bare feet.

She shuddered, though the sunlight fell warmly onto her shoulders. The dream had interrupted an otherwise lovely sleep on a bed with a real pillow. How long since she had last slept on a bed? All she could recall was rocks and roots. She had made up for some of the lost sleep this morning by wallowing in a blessedly hot bath for over an hour. The still fresh memory of it made her smile.

She came upon Condor grazing in the middle of the pasture, apparently enjoying the sunshine beating down on his back, which gleamed a rich chestnut from the attention Dale had lavished on him.

She checked his wound and was satisfied with how well it had healed. There was no sign of festering or swelling and it even appeared there would be little scarring. She sensed it had more to do with the evaleoren salve of the Eletians than anything else. The Eletian who had provided the initial treatment slipped her a pot of the salve, which she used up on the journey home.

She found nothing else to warrant concern. Condor huffed as though annoyed by her attention and moved away to crop at another patch of grass.

I guess I know when I’ve been dismissed.

Karigan watched after him as he ambled across the pasture, flicking his tail in lazy fashion at flies. There were a few other horses grazing as well. A butterfly flit tered over the tops of the grasses, and the song of birds lilted to her from clumps of trees at the base of the wall that bordered the pasture and surrounded the castle grounds. She couldn’t quite reconcile this peaceful scene with the darkness of her recent journey. It was as though she had been plucked right out of a nightmare and dropped into this pastoral, tranquil setting.

Nightmares . . . She figured she’d be having them for a while. Who wouldn’t?

She turned to head back to barracks only to find Mara striding purposefully toward her. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">