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Day’s end found Orielle, Grim, and Sangrior settled in the last rays of sunshine, on a bench outside the Elder’s House.
A large flock of birds crossed, chittering and twittering as they sought shelter for the coming night. Crone’s Moon would rise late, so the birds and smaller prey searched for their night’s shelter.
In the early afternoon they had reported the morning’s events for the entire village, gathered into the square, much as they had gathered when Orielle and Grim first entered the Haven. The Haven swirled with the chaos of losing two mentors plus Trebetha, voted mentor but never accepted onto the Council. Fortis’ betrayal staggered everyone. His fellow Fire Rho had argued until Hackett and the Earth Rho recounted the battle they had glimpsed. Then they had mourned Surrect, Trebetha, and Fortis’ woman, named Ellisia. Grim was praised, Orielle admired, yet the villagers still gaped at Sangrior.
The Kyrgy knight had not yet spoken of his return to Lady Bone. Orielle dared not ask. As the Haven milled in disarray, flailing about without orders from their lost mentors, Sangrior posted himself at Orielle’s left and refused to budge.
Grim was as determined to stick to her right hand.
Hackett took charge of the sentinels and sentries, calling them away to maintain Iscleft’s protection, for the sorceress and her wyre remained a threat.
Orielle did not think Hackett would remain in the Haven, not without Tobit. She hoped for a quiet word. He would be both friend and guard if he accompanied her to the Citadel. He’d fought Frost Clime when the Citadel had no hope of gaining ground. If the Rho renewed the alliance, the Citadel allies of Fae, wizards, Rho, and mundane could force Frost Clime back into the Wilding and then the frontier and on to the Wastes.
As the sun disappeared behind the mountains, the sole mentor Lillias wearied of the lingering crowd. Anger warred with grief, neither winning and both likely to shred the woman, but she ordered the Rho to select new mentors. “No decisions can be made until mentors are chosen for Earth, Water, and Fire. Those must be voted upon before we scatter ashes for those we lost. Gather as Elements and begin your conference. Air will meet here, in the Elder’s House.”
The Rho had left the well square first, then the unmagicked of them returned to their dwellings. A few children played at lane’s end.
Hands on hips, Lillias had watched them disperse. When only a few lingerers remained, she turned to Grim. “You’re not going inside? You’re Air. Your vote is needed.”
He didn’t stir a finger. “Tobit didn’t welcome me back to the community. And what vote does Air need to have? You’re the mentor.”
Planning to be stubborn, Lillias crossed her arms and canted a lean hip. “I will act as elder until the new mentors are chosen, but I’ll not accept elder rank. Others are better suited. Others are better suited as mentor for Air. Grim, you would be a better mentor.”
“I’m not looking for the rank.”
“All the more reason to take it. The best leaders never want rank. Surrect didn’t. Tobit didn’t. Fortis was eager for it.”
“I remember you claimed not to want Air mentor, and now you claim not to want elder.”
Lillias scowled. “If Tobit had welcomed you, I could drive you inside and let Air decide. The clan can welcome you. No elder needed. You don’t want mentor rank, then serve as my second. You know as well as I what the rank needs. What this Haven needs.”
“I return to the Citadel.” He moved then, unfolding his arms, dropping a hand to Orielle’s thigh. “I go with Orielle, as soon as her mission is complete, as soon as we deal with this sorceress and her wyre.”
The mentor didn’t like his answer, but she dropped the argument. “Tell me we have no more wraiths in the Haven.”
“None that escaped in our presence.” Orielle shuddered as she remembered the drain on her life essence. “Hackett was in time to prevent any after Tobit’s death, and Mentor Surrect confirmed none in the village.” The mentor’s expression shadowed with grief when Orielle mentioned the healer. She’d known Lillias and Surrect were close. They must have been much closer than she’d reckoned.
Yet she’d only had two days since she’d met the both of them.
“No wraiths,” she added, to assure her answer was clear, “but the sorceress and her wyre are still out there, waiting to attack again. Fortis planned for them to come into the Haven, after he became elder.”
Lillias swore. “One good thing. That didn’t happen, so they can’t come.”
Orielle didn’t want to look back on that battle with Fortis and the wraiths. She needed to focus on the battle with the sorceress and the remaining wyre.
“Will the sorceress know that Fortis is dead?”
Orielle winced. How can I know? “Only if he bound himself to her,” she guessed. “She will know his daggers have been used.”
“You found no other strange knives in Fortis’ dwelling?”
Grim had that answer. “None.”
“And no other signs of sorcery?”
“None.” Sangrior ground the single word. He sat statue-still beside Orielle. He’d recovered his marble-white skin. The black veins that had starkly marked his face had receded. Those black eyes were hooded. Death no longer courted him.
Lady Bone was danger enough. The Kyrgy lady had only attacked the sorceress to retrieve Saircuista. Would she ally with Orielle against the sorceress again?
Lillias looked away from them to the second flock of birds arrowing overhead. She watched sentries head to their posts at the gate and the towers that overlooked the walls. Following them were sentinels going to their posts in the valley. Then she saluted them—Grim, more likely—and headed into the Elder’s House.
Twilight deepened. A sentry came through at twilight. He carried a flaming brand and lit the torches around the square before he headed on.
The Kyrgy knight inhaled sharply.
“Sangrior?”
He ignored Orielle. He stood and stepped several paces away from the Elder’s House.
Grim nudged her. “We need to hunt up a bed for the night.”
Brok had likely abandoned his dwelling and still bunked with Waren and Malva. Grim would not want to stay in rooms that had seen battles with wraiths or recent deaths. “You’ve spent two nights in gaol. I battled wraiths and fought a sorceress. Sleep is welcome. Do you have a suggestion?”
“Another friend, although the first one didn’t work out.”
“We can take a chance on another friend. I don’t mind.”
“Nor do I. Only thing I care about is that we’re together.” He touched her chin and turned her face to him.
Yet as their lips met, light flashed bright and blinding.
Orielle and Grim jerked away from each other.
Sangrior stood before them. Beside him, newly arrived in the transition, was Volk.
Lady Bone’s consort knight looked fully healed. He and Sangrior looked like twins, with a cascade of white hair and depthless black eyes, their white faces glowing in the darkness, the one clad in a storm-blue cloak, the other in ice-blue.
Volk extended a hand to Orielle, just as he had the prior evening. “Come. Lady Bone awaits.”
Orielle stood, but she didn’t take the knight’s hand. “The Lady lost so many riders. I did not think she would lead a Hunt tonight.”
“The Lady always rides the nights of Full Moon and No Moon.”
Grim placed his body before hers. “Do you hunt the sorceress and the wyre?”
“If we find them, they will suffer for attacking the Kyrgy in their Wilding.”
“The Aiwaz Solsken must come,” Sangrior said. “She vowed three rides.”
“I’m not refusing,” Orielle started, but Grim still blocked her.
“I will go with Aiwaz Solsken. I am her guard.”
“You are Rhoghieri. No Rhoghieri has ever ridden the Hunt.”
“I will. Guard to Aiwaz Solsken.”
“Then come,” Volk said. “Give me your hand. Solsken, take Sangrior’s hand. The Lady waits.”
The transition was just as blinding as before, just as disorienting. Sangrior released her before she was steady. She heard the Lady’s twinkling laugh and then another laugh, deeper, mellifluous ... darkly dangerous.
Orielle blinked rapidly.
Sangrior and Volk had joined the Lady, a blur that sharpened as Orielle grounded herself in the transition.
“You came,” the Lady said.
“As I vowed.”
“The mundane and the wizards always seek a way to break their vows. The Rhoghieri do not, but this is not your ride, Rho.”
“I am the Solsken’s guard,” Grim insisted, as if the transition had not disoriented him.
Orielle curtsied. “I did not expect to ride tonight, Lady Bone.”
“We are not so weakened, for we join with my brother. Lord Skull leads tonight’s Hunt.”
The Kyrgy lord came out of the shadows. He wore his silver hair cropped close to his skull. His face looked narrower than the Lady, with bones as sharp as blades. More riders appeared behind him, looming out of the shadows. Mostly knights, a few women, the riders were twice the number that had ridden with Lady Bone.
The lord was taller than his sister, broader of build. He wore steel armor worked with Fae scrolling. He had no gauntlets, and his marble-white hand thrust forward the hilt of a moon-bright dark sword.
Then he smiled, all black eyes and sharpened teeth, and he looked very like Lady Bone. He laughed at Orielle. “Surprised, Not-Wizard?”
She felt like a weak opponent before a mad king looking for blood. She curtsied again, more deeply than before, and Grim bowed stiffly. “You read us well, Lord ... Lord Skull.”
“You shall ride beside me, Not-Wizard. Your guard is behind us.” He extended a hand.
When she grasped his hand, the chill of his icy skin shot into her, straight to her bones, straight into her blood.
“To the Hunt!” he shouted.
Riders flooded past them, heading for horses as black as the sky behind the stars.
“We will enjoy our Hunt, Solsken, and then we will feast.”
. ~ . ~ . ~ .
With the help of Lord Skull and Lady Bone, Orielle and Grim will continue the fight against the sorceress and her wyre in To Curse the Wyre ~~ Coming Soon!
