77

Ash

My eyes widen as the exhausted horse stumbles to his knees. The only thought I have while pitching out of the saddle is the certainty that I will hit the ground, which happens a breath later. I land hard on my shoulder, and as much as I would like to lie there, close my eyes, and sleep, I struggle to my feet and catch the dangling reins. Poor beast doesn’t even have the strength to run away.

I guess things could have been worse. We’re on a narrow goat track, at the cold crack of dawn, skirting a ravine, and I didn’t roll to the bottom with the horse landing on top of me. But then I see his front legs, and I change my mind. “Oh no…” The fall did me little harm, but my mount’s dead lame, his left knee already swelling badly. He’ll go no farther tonight.

Marcus quickly assesses. “Double up, Ash, and be quick.” I frown at his lack of concern. But I suppose, since he can see I’m in one piece, I guess there’s no need to ask if I’m all right or need help.

I go to untack the horse and turn him loose.

“No time!” Marcus calls as he moves on.

“Ridiculous,” I say under my breath and unbuckle the girth anyway. The saddle hits the ground, then the bridle. “Safe be your path,” I whisper in the loyal horse’s ear. When I look up, Kaylin extends his hand.

“Ride with me?”

“Yes, but a little warning. I—”

“She stinks,” Tyche interrupts, wrinkling her nose.

Heat spreads across my face. “Not what I was going to say,” I grumble, “but probably true.”

“I don’t care.” Kaylin takes my hand.

I mount up behind him, circling my arms around his waist. It seems like decades since our roles were reversed and Kaylin rode double with me on Rita. “This is different.”

“Aye.”

From him, I detect the faint scent of river water and campfire smoke. “You’ve been washing in the ice-cold streams.”

“And you haven’t.”

I smile, though he can’t see it. “This coat was ripe when I got it.” We follow the others, my lame horse dogging along behind us until it can’t keep up. I hate this marathon we run. But we have no choice. The very thought that Baiseen might share Aku’s fate…

By late afternoon we’ve reached a wide, shallow river where the horses drink their fill.

“How close are the Aturnians?” Marcus asks Samsen.

“An hour back. They’re having trouble tracking us. I’ve called their dogs off course more than once. But we’ve more immediate trouble.”

“More?”

“A large bat and a condor are circling to the south,” Samsen says. “Together.”

I frown as I wash in the stream. The water is freezing, but it wakes me, and more importantly, it cleanses the dirt and sweat away. “Must be phantoms.”

“Gollnar alters often take the form of large bats. But if it is from that realm, what is it doing in Palrio?” Marcus asks.

“Your city might be under attack from more than one quarter.” Kaylin’s knee-deep in the water, holding our horse. For a moment, he closes his eyes. “This is the Suni River, if I have my bearings right.”

I shake my head and tighten my sword belt. “Your bearings astound me.” We smile at each other openly for the first time in days. The questions I have for him go unasked and unanswered, but holding onto him since dawn has had a healing effect. Our closeness comforts me, renews my spirit, and the explanations can wait.

“I know my waterways,” he replies.

“If this is the northern branch of the Suni, it puts us seven hours hard riding to Baiseen.” Marcus gets that faraway look again. “We must—”

“Ride on?” I supply the words as I study the horses. They don’t look like they have seven hours at a dog walk left in them. “And if those things overhead are phantoms?”

“We’ll keep to the trees and not be spotted.” Marcus rubs the back of his neck. “We’ll stick to a trot, conserve strength, and reach Baiseen by midnight.”

“He’s an optimistic lad,” Kaylin says as we move under the pines that fringe the western trail. “One moment he’s beaten down, bereft of hope, the next he’s a shark headed to the frenzy.”

“That’s Marcus,” I murmur. “But you’re one to call him lad. He must be your age, or even your senior.” I pinch his waist. “How old are you?”

He pats my thigh. “Old enough.”