Lonen made a game of observing as Oria practiced her magic in subtle ways, teaching himself to recognize what occurred naturally and what was due to her sorcerous nudging. He did it in part because it gave him something to do. Having Alyx and her warriors along relieved him of the need to scrutinize every sound or flicker of shadow—but he also needed to remain alert. The residual sleepiness from the extensive healing beckoned him to doze, which he couldn’t allow. Focusing his attention on Oria, trying to feel her subtle magical shifts, and predicting what she might try next kept him occupied without distracting him entirely.
Also, he wanted to hone his ability to know where her attention was. If they were to work together in a productive partnership that would allow her to use the mask without becoming the monster he feared—and would possibly have to destroy, if it didn’t kill her first—then understanding how she wielded her magic would be key. As they traveled through the short afternoon and into the early nightfall, he paid attention to when she’d fallen into the mask-induced trances, how long they lasted, and signs that she’d emerged.
He got good at spotting the twigs that curled like fingers, or the flocks of birds that rose from the canopy and then flew in sculpted formations before dispersing. He refrained from teasing her—much—though the sound of her amusement and tart rejoinders reassured him that she remained the woman he knew, and hadn’t been taken over by whatever ruthless force occupied the mask.
They made it to a cabin Alyx knew a few hours after dark. Another reason he appreciated that she and her troop had chosen to accompany them. He vaguely knew of the ridge of mountains that his mother had indicated housed the derkesthai colony, but he’d never been there. He certainly wouldn’t have known the location of the cabins stocked with supplies for travelers going this direction. He and Oria might’ve gotten lucky, but they were trusting to fortune enough as it was.
Alyx and her women seemed invested in proving themselves, too, insisting that he and Oria take their ease while the rest of them got the fires going and cooked food. He had to admit, the perks of being king made situations like this far more comfortable.
Oria sat by the fireplace, tending to Chuffta as Vycayla had demonstrated. The derkesthai seemed to sleep as deeply as ever, but his limbs and joints moved easily enough as Oria gently manipulated them, rubbing oil into his scaled hide to keep it supple. Lonen found himself missing the derkesthai’s antics. Chuffta would’ve loved to help tend the fire. He could only imagine how much more Oria must grieve over the lizard’s injured state, though she’d said little about it. Neither of them did, somewhat superstitiously avoiding the topic.
Now, however, he crouched beside her where she sat on the hearth, legs curled beneath her and Chuffta on his blanket before her. “Any changes?” he asked, choosing the question carefully.
She shook her head, lovingly petting her Familiar, as if her touch could heal. “He seems weirdly the same, like he’s some kind of doll and not a living creature at all anymore.”
Lonen frowned to himself, making sure he didn’t show his worry. “Well, derkesthai are magical creatures, yes? Maybe they don’t react like other animals or people.”
She glanced up at him, eyes opaque. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. But as we were riding and I was practicing…” She lowered her voice so none of the others could overhear. “I worked at listening to other minds—yours, Buttercup’s, the other horses, birds in the trees.”
“What about the other Destrye?” he asked.
Oria shrugged a little. “I made an effort not to. It seemed like too much an invasion of privacy.”
“But you don’t mind invading mine?” he pressed, deliberately frowning at her now.
Her mouth fell open, a look of distress on her face. “Lonen, I—oh! You…” She narrowed her eyes and sudden dizziness assailed him, tipping him onto his ass.
Blinking in surprise, he took in her merry smile. “That was you? Well done.”
She glanced around, but the others weren’t paying attention to them, rather studiously giving them privacy. “Thank you. And no, you have no privacy from me. That way I’ll know if you look too long at the pretty Destrye ladies.”
“If you’ve looked in my mind, you know I have eyes only for you, love.”
She blushed, making it clear she had a very good idea of the sorts of things he thought about where Oria was concerned, then looked again at Chuffta. “I wish we could get there sooner. Where are these Taal Mountains? It seems like we’re only going into colder winter, not somewhere…”
“Warmer?” he filled in, crossing his legs and sitting more comfortably. “I wondered about that, too. But the Taal Mountains have a lot of volcanic activity, which would provide a lot of heat for a colony of derkesthai. Isn’t that where Queen Rhianna went when she recruited Chuffta for you?”
“She never said,” Oria murmured. “She was… vague about a lot of things to do with him.”
“Maybe this will be an opportunity for you to get answers then,” he offered with a smile.
“Do we even know how to approach them, what to say?” she asked.
He shook his head, keeping the smile in place. “My mother hasn’t been there. She’s seen them fly and she’s studied some about them. But she said you have to be invited into the colony itself. They have considerable ability to defend themselves, as you might imagine.”
Oria’s brows forked with concern. “Why didn’t you tell me that—how are we supposed to get an invitation?”
He shrugged cheerfully. “My mother figured you’d be able to, since you’re bound to one of them. Surely they’ll recognize and admit you, if only because you bring Chuffta with you.”
“So much that’s not certain,” she murmured, stroking Chuffta’s rounded belly, then looking at him, her gaze troubled. “I hope this side trip won’t be a gigantic waste of time and effort. We’re risking a great deal by doing this, and might gain nothing from it.”
“No sense trying to change the direction of the arrow once it’s loosed from the bow,” he replied firmly. “And we may gain a great deal from it. Remember—Arill is guiding us.”
Oria made a face. “I will never understand how you can put so much store in a goddess you don’t even know exists.”
“It’s the barbarian way,” he answered cheerfully. “Besides, I put store in you and you are very, very real.”
They left early the following morning and traveled fast with few breaks, making better time than predicted. Alyx pushed them on to a more distant cabin and, despite the late night, they rose at dawn, arriving at the derkesthai colony after only a couple of hours’ ride. It was the morning of the fifth day after Nolan had issued his challenge, and two days’ hard riding from there to make it back in time.
Ah well. It would be what it would be.
As his mother had promised, Lonen easily recognized the landscape as their destination. Steam rose from pools of unnaturally colored liquids—oranges swirling with red and pink, and greens as luminescent as Chuffta’s flame. If the steam rising thick in the chilly morning air, shrouding the landscape in stinking fog, wasn’t evidence enough of the intense heat under the ground, the barren rock terrain with no snow cover proved it. Indeed, as their horses picked their way along the narrow trail—a path they’d been repeatedly warned not to deviate from, lest they fall through a thin crust masquerading as solid ground—heavy snow began to fall. The downy, wet flakes that quickly whitened Buttercup’s black mane disappeared as they hit the ground, leaving no sign that they’d fallen. Lonen fancied that he’d hear the hiss of them burning from ice to steam if not for the pervasive popping and bubbling noises the virulently colored pools made.
With the snowfall the fog thickened even more, growing so dense that Lonen could barely see Buttercup’s ears, much less the horse ahead of them on the trail.
Oria made a surprised sound, startling a little in his arms.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. He hadn’t meant to whisper. There was no reason to, but something about the hush of fog and sinister bubbles had him feeling as if they walked into an ambush.
“I hear them,” Oria replied, just as quietly. “Lonen—there are so many of them! Lots of minds, a chorus of derkesthai voices.”
“Talking to you?”
“No—to each other. I’m not sure they’re aware of us yet. It’s more like hearing birdsong in the forest.”
She sounded rapt and wondering, and for a brief moment he envied her the ability to hear those inaudible voices. He’d only heard Chuffta’s mind-voice at the oasis in the desert, when something about the magic there had allowed it. “Can you tell what they’re talking about?”
Making a little sound of impatience, she shrugged. “It’s like trying to hear one conversation in a vast feast hall where everyone is chattering. I can pick out words here and there, phrases sometimes, but nothing that—aha! They’ve noticed us.”
“Incoming,” Alyx called at the same moment. “Stay alert.”
“Treat them as friendly unless I say otherwise,” Lonen called. “Oria will talk to them.”
“I don’t like being on this narrow trail,” Alyx replied grimly.
“Stay on it,” he ordered. “No matter what. The price for deviating is too high.”
“They’re here,” Oria said, and the rhythmic whoomph of wings in the thick air approached them.
Bright green points showed through the fog first, then the slightly darker white bodies in the swirling fog. Three of them hovered before Oria, bobbing in the mist, the one at the leading point of their triangle easily three times as big as Chuffta. It seemed they shouldn’t be able to hover like that—certainly not with their wings beating no faster than a relaxed heartbeat—but he let it go. He had no idea how a living creature could breathe burning flame, and yet he’d seen it.
Perhaps one day, when he and Oria had lived long lives together, and produced sorcerous children, he’d be accustomed to the strangeness of magic and the things it wrought.
“We greet you,” Oria said aloud, for his benefit and the others, as she could speak to them directly mind-to-mind if she chose. “May I present His Highness King Lonen of Dru, the human name for the lands on which you dwell.” She paused, the lull filled with a hiss of escaping steam from something hidden in the fog.
“I am Oria, late of Bára, and now a denizen of Dru, married to Lonen.”
One of the horses stamped, blowing out breath through its lips, restless at the halt. Not Buttercup, who remained steadfast and still.
“In time that may be so,” Oria replied. “I’m sure His Highness will be happy to entertain negotiations. But we have pressing matters at the moment that—”
She shifted, glancing at him over her shoulder, a meaningful look he couldn’t interpret. “I understand,” she said, speaking to them again. “I apologize if I offered insult. Of course we will discuss it now. I am clumsy in the ways of derkesthai etiquette.”
To his surprise, she laughed then, a delighted giggle. “It’s true that Chuffta is not the most discreet of ambassadors.” She pushed back her cloak, unbuckling the sling carrying her Familiar against her breast, then unfolded the furs to reveal his quiet form. One of the derkesthai behind the leader zoomed forward, abruptly landing on Lonen’s knee, while the other two flew off into the mist. Their visitor, only about twice Chuffta’s size, folded its wings with a clap, and dug in. He thanked Arill that he wore thick leather, though he still had to steel himself not to flinch—and that Buttercup knew Chuffta well. Even an unflappable warhorse might be expected to shy under such circumstances.
Given the potential death trap around them, that eventuality became especially daunting.
Oria had fallen silent as the derkesthai examined Chuffta. It bent over the unconscious Familiar, studying him, sniffing, flicking out a forked tongue to taste, and even using the nimble thumbs at the wing tips to prod him. It looked up at Oria finally, and they communed for another long space of silence. Buttercup flicked his ears, betraying the impatience he sensed in Lonen to know the verdict. Lonen clamped down on his frustration. The warhorse was far too sensitive to his subconscious signals. But Lonen really hated waiting. And not knowing.
Oria made a choked sound and he risked leaning around for a glimpse of her face. Silent tears tracked down her pallid skin, her lips on the violet side of their usual pink, from the cold—and perhaps chilling grief. Still she remained locked in silent conversation with the strange derkesthai, and he knew Oria wouldn’t appreciate an interruption. Possibly not the derkesthai—who very saliently still had talons gripping Lonen’s thigh—either.
An exercise in restraint, then.
Finally, and blessedly, the derkesthai released its pinching grip and took off with another startling clap of wings, immediately swallowed by the thick fog, and increasing snowfall.
“Oria?” he asked.
“We’re to follow,” she replied, voice thick with tears.
“Follow what?” Alyx called from ahead. “I can’t see an Arill-blessed thing.”
Oria sniffed, swallowed hard. “The path.”
“I don’t like it…” Alyx trailed off, a warning in her voice.
“I can see what they see,” Oria said, bundling Chuffta up again. “I’ll get down and—”
“Absolutely not,” Lonen cut her off. “Alyx—follow the same trail. Oria will let us know if we need to deviate.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” she replied crisply and neutrally, all doubt and caution gone. The horses moved.
“Tell me,” he urged Oria. “Are our worst fears realized—is he lost to us?”
“No. Oh, no,” she hastily assured him, then hiccoughed on a small sob. “He is alive, and they think they can bring him out of it.”
Relief flooded him, a sweet and clean release of tension he hadn’t realized gripped him so hard. “Then why all the tears, love?”
She scrubbed a hand over her face. “Because I did it to him, Lonen. I caused this because I’m a monster. It’s time we both faced that reality.”