Vehel busied himself, helping the Fae to pack bags of food and blankets, and fill containers with fresh water. He ended up side by side with Nimbus, back in the little cottage, while Warsgra and Orergon got the ponies ready. The Fae was a strange looking little creature, but he certainly seemed to know what he was talking about. He wondered how old the Fae were. They lived even longer than the Elvish, so this one might be several hundred years old, though it felt rude to ask.
“You can help her, you know,” Nimbus said from beside him, “if you just stop being so afraid.”
Vehel straightened at his words. “I’m not afraid!”
“Yes, you are. You’re afraid of your magic. You’re afraid of your family’s reaction to your magic. If you learn to embrace it, you could be very powerful. Dela the Dragonsayer is going to need someone like you by her side in the very near future.”
Vehel didn’t want to admit it, but the Fae was right. The more he’d used his magic, the more he’d become fearful of its power and what it might do. It had brought the four of them here, after all, and he hadn’t planned for that to happen. He could have helped Dela with the Hunter fly sting, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it, worried that something would go wrong and he’d end up hurting her.
“I don’t know how to embrace it,” he admitted eventually. “No one has ever taught me. My magic was always something to be ashamed of, and even feared.”
“It’s a part of who you are. You need to learn to trust yourself.”
Vehel nodded. “Yes, perhaps you’re right.”
He’d doubted himself his whole life. The idea of trying to trust himself and the power within him that he’d spent most of his life trying to suppress was almost as overwhelming as the incredible journey they had ahead.
They finished filling the water bags and went outside to join the others.
Four ponies had been selected and were already loaded with the items they needed for their journey. The piebald was the biggest of the animals and would clearly be Warsgra’s. Dela stood beside a white pony, the smallest of them all, and was stroking its nose and talking to the animal as though it were an old friend. Orergon had a chestnut pony that was similar in color to the horse he’d ridden to the Southern Pass. The fourth and final animal was a dappled grey, and he assumed that pony was meant for him.
“How long will it take us to reach Drusga?” Orergon asked Nimbus.
“That depends very much on yourselves.” He shot Vehel a look that Vehel was sure was supposed to mean something. “It may take days, or it may take weeks. There are too many variants to be sure.”
“How about you tell us how many miles we have to travel, then,” Warsgra said gruffly.
“I’ve never been there myself, but I would take a guess at one hundred and fifty, at least.”
“But it could be more?” he prompted.
Nimbus shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Or it could be less.”
Warsgra glanced over at Vehel and widened his eyes, as though to say, ‘what does he know?’ Vehel thought the Fae knew far more than he was letting on, however.
“Thank you for all your help, Nimbus,” Vehel said. “Perhaps we’ll see you on our way back down.”
Nimbus chuckled. “Or perhaps not, though I appreciate the sentiment. I hope to hear great tales of your achievements coming from the south in the months to come.”
“I hope so, too.”
The four of them caught up the rope harnesses that were around the ponies’ noses and led them back to where they’d thrown down their weapons upon entering the Fae’s village. Dela didn’t have anything to retrieve, as she’d been paralyzed when they’d brought her in and the Fae hadn’t noticed the dagger at her waist, so she pulled herself up on her pony’s back. She didn’t seem any worse for wear after her ordeal with the Hunter fly sting, though she was still, understandably, a little shocked with the news of what she apparently was.
Vehel was happy to retrieve his bow and quiver of arrows. His back had felt bare and exposed without it. From the look on Warsgra’s face, he felt the same way about getting his axe back. Orergon also smiled when he slid his spear into the holder on his back.
They mounted the ponies and looked back to where the Fae had all gathered to see them off. They were a strange looking group of folk, but, despite their initial resistance, they’d been welcoming and more than helpful. Vehel hoped that if they met any others on this next leg of their journey that they would be equally as hospitable.
He kicked his mount’s rotund belly, and they got moving, heading toward Drusga and whatever lay between.
Chapter Twenty-six
Dela
AS THEY LEFT THE FAE village far behind, Dela found herself constantly glancing over at Warsgra riding the piebald pony, and having to clamp a smile behind her lips each time. It wasn’t only that his feet practically dragged on the ground; it was the sullen expression on his face as he urged the animal forward. His muscular thighs were spread across the pony’s wide back, and the whole setup simply looked ludicrous, and Warsgra knew it. Orergon didn’t look much better, but he held himself with a certain poise that Warsgra was lacking. Only Vehel barely had his feet above the ground, and even he was too tall for the ride.
She leaned forward and scratched her pony between the ears. “What shall we call you, huh?” she said, half to herself. “Well, you’re white, so we could go with something to do with that. Snowy doesn’t seem right. What about Ghost? Yes, I like that. Ghost, it is.”
“Are you talking to your ride?” Warsgra called over to her.
“Yes, he makes a better conversationalist than you,” she teased in return.
Warsgra rolled his eyes at her, but she saw him holding back a smile.
It was true, she couldn’t remember the last part of their journey, but she was still thankful they were no longer on foot, and that they had basic supplies as well. A canvas to sleep beneath. Blankets for comfort. Containers to carry water. They were simple things, but they made everything else far more bearable. She still hadn’t fully processed the idea that she had some kind of connection with dragons, but she couldn’t deny what she’d seen when Orergon touched the ring, or the feeling of flying she’d experienced most of her life. Something must have rung true to her, or she wouldn’t be doing this, would she?
Night would be creeping in soon. Maybe they should have spent the night at the Fae village, but it made sense for them to cover as many miles as possible before they were forced to stop. At least now they had blankets and a canvas to sleep beneath. It would make for a far more peaceful night than sleeping beneath the stars with only Warsgra’s shoulder protector as a pillow.
They were heading in a different direction to how they’d traveled here. Though they’d always been going south previously, and they were now riding back north, they no longer had the river to follow. Their previous route had brought them more south-west than directly south, but now they were definitely heading directly north.
Dela couldn’t stop her thoughts from going to what Nimbus had told her about the ring around her throat. Had she always dreamed of flying, or had the dreams only gotten more powerful once she’d been in possession of the ring? She wanted to take the ring off the leather cord and put it on her finger, but her fingers were far smaller than the ring, and she was sure she would lose it. She wished there was a way she could wear it properly, however. Maybe that would help give her more of an insight into what she was supposed to be able to do.
They traveled in good-natured silence, each of them lost in thought. The ponies plodded on, seemingly unaware of the massive difference in size between their usual riders and their new ones.
The river and trees they’d passed through before reaching the Fae village were replaced with rolling hills and grasslands. A herd of hooved animals Dela had never seen before, with long necks, stripes, and curled horns protruding from the tops of their heads, stampeded across the plain ahead of them. The animals paid them no attention, though O
rergon made comments about them being good hunting stock.
The birds that circled overhead were also like none Dela had ever seen. They were huge, with a wingspan as large as her outstretched arms, orange heads, and blue feet. They circled in the warm eddies, dipping lower and lower, before suddenly soaring back up again. Their movements reminded Dela of her dreams, and she experienced a strange combination of jealousy and nostalgia.
They continued for another hour or so. The sun began to drop in the sky, and at some point soon they would need to stop for the night. Dela’s stomach was still comfortably full from the splendid meal the Fae had provided, but she was unused to riding, and already her thighs and rear end ached from the steady motion of the pony. She’d have to get used to it. They might have another week or more of riding, and she wouldn’t be able to walk at this rate. She wanted to reach Drusga and find out the truth about what Nimbus claimed about her as soon as possible, but the last few days—few weeks, even—had been taxing, and she was exhausted.
Dela thought of what she knew about Drusga. The place existed, but, because of its heritage, it had almost mystical qualities. It wasn’t an area of Xantearos anyone would ever want to visit. The landscape was volcanic, and though the area’s fire mountains weren’t believed to be active, it wasn’t as though anyone went there to confirm. Sometimes, down in Anthoinia, the ground trembled beneath their feet, and people would whisper how a fire mountain had blown in Drusga, but none of them knew if such a thing was actually true or not. It was just something they said.
If nothing else, Drusga was an inhospitable land. It wouldn’t be easy to reach.
Through the tall grass, Dela spotted something up ahead. She narrowed her eyes in that direction, trying to make out what it was, and lifted her hand from Ghost’s reins to point. “What’s that?”
In a small clearing in the grass, a large lump appeared to be twitching. A moving black line ran to and from the lump, cutting its way through the meadow.
Warsgra frowned. “I’m not sure.”
They slowed, pulling the ponies to a halt so they could get a better look. Dela’s fingers tightened around the reins, and her heartbeat tripped in her chest. She was ever conscious of her experience with the Hunter fly, and she didn’t want to go anywhere near whatever that was.
Her teeth dug into her lower lip. “We can go around it, right?”
Orergon sat up taller on his pony, craning his neck to get a better look. “I think so. It depends on how far those lines reach out.”
“What are they?” she asked.
Orergon shook his head. “I’m not sure, but because of the grass, it’s hard to tell how far out they run.”
They had no choice but to kick their ponies on and get a little closer to see what they might have to deal with. As they did, the black blobs took on the definition of giant ants, each one the size of a small dog. The creatures moved with military efficiency. They crawled over the larger lump, and, as a small area cleared, she saw the lump was one of the birds she’d seen circling. As she watched, the bird feebly flapped a wing.
Dela shuddered right down to her core and turned her face. She didn’t want to look at the poor creature. There was nothing they could do for it. They couldn’t risk attracting the ants to them. They might be able to fight one or two of the giant ants, but not a whole colony.
“This way,” Warsgra said, jerking his head to their right and pulling his pony’s head in the same direction. “We should be able to avoid them.”
The thought of that bird being eaten by the ants made her skin crawl. Something similar had almost been her fate, too. If Vehel, Warsgra, and Orergon hadn’t come after her, she’d be dead now instead of on a crazy quest to unite Xantearos. She didn’t even know how that was going to work. Even if she was able to somehow connect with dragons, and the dragons were actually alive, she had no idea how she was able to use that ability to prevent a war and bring the four races together.
They gave the ants and their meal a wide berth, and put some distance between themselves and the critters before stopping for the night. Out in the open, with only wilderness surrounding them, it was impossible to find somewhere they’d be completely safe from all local wildlife. All they could do was get a fire going, set someone to keep watch, and hope that was enough to keep any monsters away.
Vehel and Dela set about putting up the canvas shelter, while Orergon got a fire started and Warsgra sorted out the food. Now they’d been provided with equipment, they no longer needed Vehel’s magical abilities to start a fire. A flint and steel would do.
As night fell, Dela and Vehel worked together with easy grace. Even though Vehel was an Elvish prince, he didn’t have any of the airs and graces she’d assumed someone of stature to possess. When they’d first met, he’d clearly looked down on humans, but she definitely didn’t get that impression from him now. If anything, they’d almost gone the opposite way, and he treated her with a kind of reverence. She didn’t want this news about the Dragonstone to change anything between them, though. She wanted him to see her only for who she was, nothing more.
With the shelter erected, they moved beneath it, rolling out the bedding rolls. When they were finished, they dropped down to sit side by side.
Vehel spoke up. “I owe you an apology, Dela.”
“No, you don’t.”
He nodded but wouldn’t meet her eye. “Yes, I do. Warsgra and Orergon asked me to use my magic to try to bring you around when you were paralyzed, but I refused. I could have done something to help, but instead I was too frightened of what might happen to even try.”
She reached out and placed a hand on his arm. He was so intense, so serious. His light blue eyes looked silver in the moonlight, and the tips of his white-blond hair were still stained red with mud.
“Vehel, you climbed into a fly’s burrow to save me. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”
“I could have done more ...” His teeth caught his lower lip, and he glanced away.
She reached out and touched his chin, drawing his face back to hers. “Stop it. You did more than enough.”
“No, I—”
She quieted his protest by leaning in and placing her lips to his. The kiss surprised him into silence. Her fingers remained against his skin, and she leaned in closer. He responded, his lips parting, and their tongues touching.
Dela hadn’t been planning this; it had just happened. She didn’t want Vehel to think she liked him any more than she liked any of the others. Up until this point, she hadn’t really thought of any of them that way, had she? Okay, she might have admired Warsgra’s muscles, of Orergon’s dark eyes and protective nature, but not romantically. They were all different races. This wasn’t how it was supposed to work.
She broke the kiss and turned her face away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”
“No, don’t be sorry.”
She glanced around to see where the others were. Warsgra was spearing food onto a stick, and Orergon was seeing to the ponies, making sure they were all secured, with fresh water and plenty of grass underfoot for them to eat. She didn’t know why the thought of either of them seeing her kiss Vehel bothered her. Was it because they were different races, or was it that she didn’t want either of them to assume she’d chosen Vehel over them? It wasn’t as though she would ever want to turn Vehel away. She just didn’t want to have to turn any of them down. They’d protected her and cared for her in a way she’d never experienced before, and she found she liked that feeling. She liked having all of them around and couldn’t imagine a time when they’d all have to go their separate ways. But they would have to at some point, wouldn’t they? They’d each have to return to their people. If a second Great War began, they might even find themselves on opposite sides, forced to fight each other. Such a thing would be unbearable.
“Are you all right?” Vehel touched the back of her hand and ducked his head to look at her in concern.
“I was thinking about the future, and what will
happen to each of us. I could never bear it if I was forced to think of any of you as my enemy.”
Vehel nodded. “I feel the same way, and that’s why we’re doing this, isn’t it? Because we should all be united, no matter what our races. The whole of Xantearos should be like we are now.”
She grasped his hand like a lifeline. “You’re right. This is what we’ll be fighting for. I’m just frightened I’m going to let everyone down.”
“You won’t. We’ll all be here for you. I won’t let you down again either, Dela. I promise you that.”
Footsteps approached, and they released hands.
The Moerian and Norc appeared in the gap, holding chunks of cheese and cured meat and loaves of bread in their hands.
“What are you two gossiping about?” Warsgra slid under the canvas to join them. “Like a couple of old maids.”
“Just discussing your cooking, Warsgra,” said Vehel. “Wondering if we’ll make it through the night.”
“If anyone knows how to cook meat, it’s me,” he replied.
“Vehel doesn’t eat meat.” Dela smiled.
Orergon sat down beside him. “More fool, him.”
Vehel laughed. “I can make do. There’s plenty of bread to eat, and a hunk of cheese.”
“Maybe we’ll come across another river soon, and then we can catch more fish for you,” she suggested, reaching across to help herself to some of the bread and meat. Though she’d been full from the Fae’s meal not so long ago, she was surprised to discover a hollow place in her stomach that was grateful for more food.
“Maybe, but the bread and cheese will keep me alive just fine.” Vehel took a big bite out of a chunk of bread, as though to make a point.
“We’ll reach the coast eventually,” Warsgra said. “We can’t keep traveling north and not expect to hit the sea.”
“That’s true.”
Dela chewed and swallowed, half covering her mouth with her hand when she spoke. “What sort of creatures do you think live in the waters of The Lonely Strait? The seas are far warmer up there. I imagine things could grow to extraordinary sizes.”
Chronicles of the Four: The Complete Series Page 18
