16

Ash

“Lean back a bit,” I say to Kaylin as I urge Rita down the rocky bank, never more aware of anything so much as his arms around me, the warmth of his body against my back. The water runs gentle but deep, the surface green as spring grass, smooth enough to mirror the giant weeping willows that grace the banks. It’s a beautiful river.

“Tell me horses can swim.” he whispers in my ear as the mare wades into the stream.

His lips so close to my skin send shivers up and down my neck. If there wasn’t a thread of worry in his words, I might have laughed. As it is, I can’t control my pounding heart, and I’m sure he feels it through my coat. And then there’s the blushing. If I would just stop turning around to look at him, he wouldn’t see my glowing face. But here I am, looking over my shoulder, our faces only inches apart, his eyes smiling in his tanned face.

“It’s a fact,” I say. “All land animals can swim from birth—all but us. We have to be taught.”

“An animal expert, are we now?”

Hardly.

But my inner voice is zeroing in on semantics, and I’d much rather it tease me about those than him. I face forward and use my knees to urge Rita into the water.

“And were you taught?”

Huh?

“To swim.”

I turn, again, and blush. “I must have been because I can, even though I don’t recall. I promise it wasn’t Master Brogal, though I could ask. Not that he’d answer—”

“Babbling like this creek,” my ever-helpful inner voice comments.

“Do you not remember at all?” Kaylin asks.

“I have a strange half memory of diving for copper pennies in the deep tide pools near the harbor.”

“Do you really want to explain your orphan, non-savant upbringing at the Sanctuary?”

No. All stocked up on pity here.

I direct the conversation back to Kaylin. “I’m guessing you swim like a dolphin.”

“People from Tutapa start out as landers, just like everyone else.”

“Start out as what?”

He leans in close and repeats the word in a low, rumble of a voice. “Landers. It’s what we call those who cannot swim.” In the next breath, he vaults off Rita, his feet plunging into the knee-deep water without making a splash.

“What are you doing?”

“I prefer to swim alongside at this point.” Kaylin peels off his bloodstained shirt and ties it to the back of the saddle. “I had no time to wash.”

He has his hand on the mare’s neck as he strides into the middle of the stream with us.

“Isn’t it a little cold?” The water seeping through my pantlegs is decidedly frigid.

“You’ll feel it for yourself soon enough. The Navren runs cold and deep this time of year.”

The morning sun filters through the willow branches as the trees close in, making it hard to see much farther ahead. The banks are narrow and steep, and as Kaylin warned, the water is soon chest-high on the horses. I’m glad the donkey went south with Samsen; otherwise she’d be dog-paddling the whole way.

Rita bobs before kicking harder, her hooves meeting only water as the river deepens dramatically. I float off the mare’s back and hold on to the pommel of the saddle as the water reaches the horse’s neck. “It’s freezing!”

Kaylin chuckles.

This will test my scroll cases, the ones not ruined by those marauders. They are meant to be waterproof, but I’ve never had the nerve to fully submerge them and find out. My skin prickles with goose bumps. “You do love the—”

Marcus signals us. “Hold back!”

It’s impossible to follow the command. The horses are not going to tread water like we can. And saying “we” is generous, as only Kaylin, Belair, and I swim in this group. The others, by my sailor’s definition, are “landers,” holding on to their saddles and letting the horses lead the way. Even Marcus can’t follow his own advice.

“Did you just say, ‘my sailor’?”

Shh. This is serious.

“I’ll see what it is.” Kaylin swims to Marcus and then quickly drifts back to me. “Aturnian soldiers crossing upstream. Back the way we came.”

We manage to turn around, which puts Kaylin and me in the lead with Rita. We’re the first to spot a break in the sheer banks, and Rita lunges out of the water and up it without hesitation. The others follow, crashing through the undergrowth behind us.

Marcus signals for quiet, waving his hand downward in short, quick motions, but the horses don’t know the command. They lower their heads, stretch out their necks, and shake like wet dogs, brass buckles and stirrups clanking, leather slapping their sides. We are all dripping wet, holding our breaths, but there’s nothing to be heard save for a few blue jay calls and distant crows.

“We better scout the area, track where they’ve gone,” Piper says.

“No phantoms,” Marcus whispers. “We each take a different direction from the crossing point.”

Kaylin is already slipping away, heading north after a quick wink at me. Happily, I’m too cold for my face to heat this time, and I simply smile back. The others fan out, stiff and limping from last night. I’m left holding all the reins, not an easy task with four wet, restless horses on my hands. I take a deep breath and hope with my whole heart that they won’t whinny or startle while I’m on my own. Peeking through the undergrowth, there is nothing but endless woods, brilliantly colored oaks, hickory, birch, and sweet eucalyptus. Like living fire, the autumn leaves are a wash of red, burnt orange, dark yellow, and pale green. No troops in sight.

If I can’t see the enemy, they can’t see me. Right?

“Not really the case.”

I’m compelled to correct myself, it seems.

By the time they all return, I’m shivering uncontrollably. The Aturnian scouts have ridden past, I’m told, their tracks lost as falling leaves cover them like ochre snow. “So it’s find Samsen, then on to Mount Bladon?” I ask through chattering teeth.

Marcus’s eyebrows go up. “If Kaylin knows the way.”

“I do.” He moves next to me and vigorously rubs circulation back into my arms.

Before we mount, a very large falcon lands in a nearby oak. It’s blue-black with huge talons and a yellow beak. “Samsen’s phantom.” Piper has no doubt.

Soon Samsen appears on Frost, leading the donkey. Unfortunately, the donkey and Belair’s bay gelding see fit to greet like long-lost friends. The donkey sticks out her head, opens her mouth, and brays for all she’s worth, sending hee-haws echoing throughout the woods. The bay gelding whinnies a reply and paws the ground.

“That’s going to give us away!” Marcus shoots a glance to Belair.

“Don’t just stand there.” I give the Tangeen a push. “Quiet her down.”

Belair leads his tall bay to Samsen, churning up leaves and snapping branches until their urgent greetings are replaced by soft whickers. Samsen dismounts, drops to one knee, and calls in his phantom.

“Water,” he says, and Piper trades his empty skin for a full one. “They need a drink, too.” Samsen nods at Frost and the donkey before taking a long swig. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ten Aturnian guards cut very close to you. I’ve been hiding until they were well past to the south.”

“Then let’s ride over this hill and on to Capper Point. There’s still time.” Marcus squints at the late-morning sun.

We mount up and are off quickly, but the deeper we go into the woods, the less sure I am of direction. “Where’s Mount Bladon exactly?”

“Over that rise.” Kaylin points as he pulls on his damp shirt.

“You’ve a scope?” Marcus asks from behind us.

Kaylin nods to the donkey. “In my pack. If there are any tall masts in the harbor below the cliffs, we should see them from Mount Bladon.”

“Tall masts are bad?” I keep my eyes forward this time.

“Not inherently.” Kaylin tightens his arms around my waist even though we are at a walk.

I know he’s been doubling with me for only a few hours, but already his touch feels familiar.

“Does it now?”

I huff.

“Too tight?” he whispers in my ear, sending tingles down the left side of my body.

Marcus clears his throat. “You were saying, about the tall masts?”

“Here they mean the Aturnian Navy. I trust you don’t want your identity revealed to them.”

My blood runs cold at the thought.

“We are savants on our journey to Aku,” Marcus says in a rehearsed voice. “But you’re right. I’d rather not. In any case, we’ll check the view from Mount Bladon before riding on to Capper Point. From there, with all speed, we sail straight to Aku, hours to spare before the gates close.”

We all give a round of hushed, “Hear! Hear!” and ride on.

I find myself in the lead as Kaylin guides us. The ground begins to climb and the trees thin. There’s a stream of midday sun warming my head and shoulders. My clothes dry out, limbs thawing, but I jump at every twig snap and birdcall.

It isn’t spoken, but we all know we’re sitting ducks if they’re watching us.

“I don’t think they’re watching, lass.” Kaylin’s warm breath tickles my neck.

Oh, I guess I let that last fear slip. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because we’re all still alive.”