Page 26

Back in the Saddle (Barely)

I wake the following morning feeling much better. As I sit up, I know I’m ready to move again—just maybe a little slower than usual. The burning pain in my side has faded to a dull ache. My head is clear.

I’m going to live!

I’m taking stock when Thanouq approaches. He squats down in front of me and studies me. “You’re better?”

I nod. “Yes. I think we can move today.”

“Good.” He straightens. “We leave in thirty minutes. I’ll get your horse ready. Have some food.” He turns and strides away. I look around for Khaosti, but he’s nowhere to be seen, and his horse is gone.

For a second, panic grips my insides. Has he left? I scramble to my feet, clutching my side, and turn in a circle, searching for him.

“Don’t worry,” Zayne says from behind me, making me jump. “Your new boyfriend hasn’t dumped you. He’s just gone to check out the area and make sure there’s nothing nasty around.”

I sniff. “Don’t be an ass.” But my heart rate settles, my appetite miraculously reappears, and I head in search of food.

Zayne stands there, looking thoughtful, as if he wants to say something.

“What?”

“He almost lost it when you blacked out. He’s been driving us all crazy. Spent most of the time hovering over you, the rest in wolf form, howling his head off.”

“Oh.”

“I still hate him,” he says. “And by the way, thanks for saving my life. I’d be dead if you’d run. So I’m sort of glad you didn’t. And very glad you’re going to be okay.”

“I’m glad as well.”

Half an hour later, and we’re ready to go. Well, everyone but me is ready. I’m just pretending. I’m in the saddle—with Zayne’s help—I’m just not sure how long I’m going to stay there. But Stella will look after me. I hope.

Khaosti is back, but he seems to be keeping his distance—physically and mentally—now that I’m no longer dying. Maybe he regrets showing his softer side. Maybe he thinks it makes him appear weak. Or perhaps he’s keeping his hands off me, like Zayne told him to. Though somehow, I can’t see that happening. I doubt Khaosti ever does anything he doesn’t want to. But who knows? He’s an enigma.

Zayne rides at my side as we set off. He keeps casting me little sideways glances and looks twitchy, as though he’s ready to leap to the rescue if I start to slide off. Or throw himself off as well so I have a softish landing. I’m tempted to see how fast he can move, but I’d probably end up splattered on the ground, and I’m so not up for that.

The day is dull, with gray clouds hanging low in the sky and a mist shrouding the land. Thanouq had handed me a jacket before we set off, made of soft leather. It’s a little too big, but I appreciate it now, hugging it closer to me. We need to backtrack because, when we made our deviation, we were apparently going the wrong way. We ride past the area of the fight, and a tremor sweeps over me. The ground is black with disgusting monster residue, and there’s a faint stench in the air, a mix of sulfur and decay. My stomach churns; it gives me a flashback to the thing’s fetid breath as it leered over me.

The first half-hour is agony, every step jolting me, but after that, I learn how to hold myself so it doesn’t hurt as much. We ride slowly, which I’m sure is for my benefit. I can feel them watching me, and I do my best to sit up straight and look strong.

By the time we stop for lunch, I think I’m about to faint. I’m not the fainting type; really, I’m not. But right now, sitting on Stella and contemplating the vast distance between me and the ground, unconscious feels like a good option. I close my eyes, and my head starts to spin.

When I force them open, everybody else is down off their horses, and I’m still sitting there, peering at the ground, not sure whether I’ll make it. And if I do, I’m pretty sure I won’t manage to stay on my feet.

Zayne takes one look at me, drops his reins, and comes over. He holds out his hands. I’m still not sure it’s a good idea, but finally, I force myself to drag my leg over the saddle and lower myself to the ground. He catches me around the waist, unfortunately, just where my wound is, and I let out a shrill screech.

“God, sorry, Amber,” he says, putting me on the ground. “I didn’t think.”

Sweat is beading on my forehead, and little pinpricks of stars flash in front of my eyes. I’m a mess. I have an almost overwhelming urge to bawl my eyes out. Instead, I lean against Stella for a minute, slowly breathing until I’m sure I can stand up straight on my own. I clear my throat. “I’m good,” I say, “all good. Don’t worry.”

I turn around slowly; everyone is watching me. “I’m good,” I repeat, “I’m not lying; give me something to eat.” They still all look worried, but they move about, getting the horses some water and releasing them to graze. I totter over to a fallen log and gently lower myself onto it. I’m not going to touch my side; I don’t want to see what I’ll find. I have a sneaky suspicion it’s bleeding again, but if I don’t look, it won’t be real.

Someone hands me a mug of water, and I swallow it down, then a sandwich. I don’t even taste it, but I force myself to chew and swallow, chew and swallow. I need my strength. When the food and drink are all gone, I sit there, dreading the moment we have to move again. I think about asking if we can stay, but part of me doesn’t want to. I need to get this journey over with; I need to reach the end of it and find whatever’s waiting for me there.

When it’s time to get back in the saddle, I try not to think about it. I shuffle over to Stella. Zayne has already tightened her girth, and she’s ready for me. He gives me a leg up, and I sit there, holding tight to the pommel. It’s not so bad after all; I can do this.

The mist is all around us now, and I can’t see anything of where we’re going. We just plod on. The ground is quite level, and there’s grass underfoot. On and on, it seems to go on forever until everything is a blur of pain and exhaustion. Finally—I think it’s late afternoon—the mist rises, revealing a flat plain in front of us. It seems to stretch on forever. Far in the distance, I can see birds circling. Big birds: they’re too far away to tell anything else. But we’re heading in their direction anyway.

As we get closer, the stench of death fills my nostrils.

They’re some type of carrion bird, and they’re eating something on the ground—lots of somethings. Pecking and poking at mounds of what I presume are bodies, but bodies of what? The birds are as black as the pit, with demonic yellow eyes. They rise into the air as we draw near, then circle overhead, calling raucously in protest. I can almost feel their anger at being disturbed from their meal.

I don’t want to look because the brief glimpse I got showed me that these were—or had once been—people. There must be about twenty to thirty of them—I don’t want to count—and some are small, like children.

Thanouq and Therion are on their feet, walking between the bodies. They come back to us, and Thanouq’s face is grim.

“Who are they?” Khaosti asks. “What happened here?”

“It’s a slave line,” Thanouq replies. “No doubt they’re heading for the mines in Athalia.”

“You have slaves here?” I ask, my tone horrified. “What sort of world is this?”

“A broken one,” Thanouq replies.

“So why are they dead?”

“I’m guessing this was a clean-up job. Maybe these were ones who could no longer keep up—the weak, the injured, the old… or the young. So they resolved the problem.”

“Why didn’t they free them?” My voice sounds small, but this is horrible. So horrible. I can see the body closest to me. It’s a child—a girl—maybe five years old, and there’s a wound in her chest. Her face stares sightlessly at the sky—the birds have pecked out her eyes. Bile crawls up my throat, hot and bitter, and I turn away, unable to look any longer. I swallow.

“We need to go after them,” Therion says.

Thanouq tosses him a dark look. “We spoke of this, and you know my answer. They’re long gone, and we don’t have the manpower. Looking at the tracks, there are hundreds of slaves. That means there’ll be lots of guards, and likely they’ll slaughter the slaves if they think they’re going to be defeated, so it’d be no good. And we have other things to do.”

They both look at me. Thanouq’s face is devoid of expression. Therion, on the other hand, looks pissed off. Like I’m a problem that he wishes would go away.

“But we have to do something,” I say.

Thanouq sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “We will, just not today. One thing at a time. And right now, we need to get you somewhere safe.” I stare at him, and a tic starts in his cheek. His nostrils flare. “You think I like this any more than you do? I told you it’s impossible. Now let’s go.”

I don’t move. “If there’s a chance we can save these people, then we do it. Nothing is more important.” I sort of hate what I’m saying. I really want this journey to end, and the thought of adding miles makes my stomach churn. But at the same time, I will never forgive myself if we don’t try. That little girl will haunt me forever. And how many more will meet the same fate? I might not know who I am, but I don’t want to be the sort of person who would turn her back on others in dire need. I glance at Khaosti, but his expression is impassive, and he says nothing.

“Look at you,” Thanouq growls. “You can hardly sit on your horse. We’ll have to ride and ride fast to catch them. You won’t manage it.”

I hate to admit it, but he’s right. “Then leave me here and go after them.”

“Not happening,” Khaosti says, speaking at last. “There could still be shadowguard around. We’re not leaving you unprotected.”

I stare at the bodies and think about how terrifying their last moments must have been. And the days before, stolen from their homes, driven… How can we do this? I look at my little group and try to get my brain to work. I can’t ride much longer, or I’ll fall off. My gaze settles on Thanouq, and an idea occurs to me. Yeah, it’s a crazy idea, but all the best ones—and the worst ones—are. Which type is this?

And I’m not sure he’ll agree. Maybe there’s some sort of shifter code about these things.

Zayne comes up beside me. “What are you thinking?” he asks. “I can almost see your brain working.”

“I’m thinking…”

“Come on, out with it.”

I switch to Valandrian because Thanouq needs to hear this. “Okay. I’m thinking that Thanouq is right. I’m weak and pathetic and—”

“I never said that,” he growls. “You’re injured. You nearly died only two days ago.”

“Okay, I’m weak and injured. I’ll never make it on horseback. But…” I lick my lips and look him in the eye. “You could take me.”

He frowns, and then I see dawning understanding in his eyes. I hurry on before he can shoot me down. “I’m too weak to ride a horse, but if you flew me there, it would be quicker and I’m betting, smoother. The others could follow and bring the horses to meet us close to this slave line.”

“What’s going on?” Zayne asks from beside me, and I can hear the frustration in his voice.

“Later,” I murmur, not letting my gaze shift from Thanouq.

It’s Khaosti who speaks first. “Hell, no.”

I turn my gaze on him. “It’s not your choice.”

I expect him to argue, but while his nostrils flare and his eyes narrow, he doesn’t answer. Or at least he doesn’t answer me. He turns to Thanouq. “Tell her you won’t do it.”

But Thanouq is thinking about it. I know it, and excitement bubbles inside me.

“It could work,” he says slowly. He waves a hand at the bodies. “These are maybe twenty-four hours old. But the line is big; it will be moving slowly. In the air, I could make that in maybe a couple of hours.” Now he looks at me. “Can you do that?”

It occurs to me that if I fall off Stella, then I’ll likely survive. But if I fall off a griffin in mid-flight, I’ll be splattered—like blood and brains everywhere splattered. But maybe they can tie me on really tight.

“Hell, yeah,” I say. “Piece of cake.”

Half an hour later, I’m strapped on a griffin’s back. Just when I think my life can’t get any weirder.

It took quite a lot of effort to get me up here. There are stars swirling in my head, and my knuckles are white where I’m gripping the leather strap around Thanouq’s neck. I stare down at the others standing on the ground below us. My gaze catches Khaosti’s and I try to think of something deep and meaningful to say. Just in case. But in the end, all I can come up with is, “Thanks for looking after me.”

He nods almost curtly and turns and strides away, his whole body tense.

I turn my attention to Zayne.

“Don’t fall off,” he says.

I huff. “I’ll do my best. In fact, it’s my number one priority.”

“Okay then. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I guess. You take care as well. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Hah. How likely is that?”

Thanouq makes a low rumbling noise. And somehow I know he’s asking if I’m ready for take-off.

Hell no. “As I’ll ever be,” I mutter.

He pushes to his feet, and I sway, grabbing his mane again and letting out a squeak.

Then Thanouq spreads his wings. They are huge. I swallow and consider clamping my eyes shut. But in the end, I decide, however scary this is, I want to see every moment.

The wings beat powerfully, and we are rising. I shift my grip to the leather strap and hold my breath as we go higher. I risk a quick peek down and see three faces staring up at me. I catch Khaosti’s gaze and hold it for a second.

“Remember—don’t let go!” Zayne shouts, and I break my focus. He actually looks more scared than I do.

Then we are flying.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck!”