The change in climate from the Great Dividing Range meant they no longer needed the thick furs they’d been gifted by the Norcs. She was sure she’d need them again, but figured she could use them for something else for the moment. She stopped at one of the tall stones and placed the egg onto the ground, and then surrounded the egg with the furs, just as she’d done back at Warsgra’s hut. Though she felt guilty for putting the egg down, it was good to have her hands free again.
“What is this place?” Vehel asked Orergon, looking around.
“It’s a place of worship,” Orergon explained. “Each of the stones represents a single god, and the inner circle of stones represents the passage of the sun over the year.”
“Did the Moerians build it?” Dela asked.
Orergon nodded. “Our ancestors are believed to have built it, but not within any living memory.”
She looked around at the expanse of grasslands that stretched on every side. There were no cliffs or quarries anywhere around, yet the solid slabs of stone rose high into the air. “But how did they get the stone here?”
Orergon shrugged. “We’ll probably never know.”
“Magic,” Vehel suggested.
Oregon’s lips twisted. “The Moerians tend not to get involved with magic—nothing beyond a little herbal healing by a shaman, anyway.”
The dark magic inside him now separated him from the rest of his kind, and she put her hand on his arm as comfort. They didn’t need to say anything, a moment passing between them.
“So this is our meeting place now,” Orergon continued. “It’s where all the important decisions regarding our tribes are made. New tribe leaders are anointed here, marriages take place. We welcome our dead into the spirit world.”
“It’s an honor to be here.”
Slowly, she walked around the circle of stones, looking up at them towering into the air. They were each about two meters tall, some with carvings on them that reminded her of the wooden door that had led to the Seer’s cave, while others had perfect circular holes, through which she was able to see the sky. If she stood in certain positions, the sun shone through the holes, and she was sure when they were here at night, she’d also be able to see the moon, and perhaps even stars. The stones definitely had an aura about them. She wondered how old they were and what Xantearos must have been like when they were erected. Was everyone divided back then, as they were now, or did the races not even know about each other?
“How long until the other tribes get here?” Warsgra asked Orergon.
“Could be a while,” he replied. “Might as well make ourselves comfortable.”
Other than the stones, there wasn’t much else on the hill. They hunkered down together, taking up positions on the ground. They’d brought water flasks with them from the Norc huts, together with some dried meats to chew on. They’d all eaten well back at the Southern Trough, so they didn’t need anything big as sustenance. Though she didn’t want to impose, she assumed the Moerians would provide them with food at some point, assuming this all went well. They were hunters, after all. Things would go a whole lot differently if the Moerians turned against them, however, and they would be thankful for whatever they’d brought with them then. Of course, she didn’t think they would turn against her. They might say no to joining her, and sending some of their men to join the Norcs and human army at the Southern Pass, but they had no reason to want to fight or attack her. Not that she knew of, anyway. It occurred to her that it was ironic how she’d felt more threatened by her own kind than she did any of the other races.
Her backside and legs were growing stiff from sitting on the hard ground. Though she shifted around, she couldn’t get comfortable. With a sigh, she pushed herself to standing.
“Everything okay?” Vehel asked her.
“Sure.” She smiled. “Just stretching my legs.”
Not in any rush, she wandered around the outskirts of the stones, looking up at each one, and then out across the surrounding countryside. How quickly would word of their arrival spread around the separate tribes? Some might be closer than the one they’d left and so would be arriving sooner rather than later, though she had no idea what direction they would come from. She raised her hand to shelter her eyes from the sun and squinted across the grasslands, trying to see if there were any dark spots in the distance that might signal another tribe’s arrival. They had at least another twenty-four hours before people were supposed to be here, but that didn’t stop her wondering.
Not that she minded it being just them. Things felt right when they were all together, like she could be herself and not have to worry about everything else. With them she could just be Dela. Not Dela the Dragonsayer who had to worry about the future of the rest of the world. She glanced back at where they were all sitting together. They seemed content with each other’s company, too.
A hot wind gusted from the west, lifting her hair and ruffling her clothes. The gentle lilt of children’s laughter touched her ears, carried in the wind, light and carefree. Dela frowned. She could see for miles around, and there were certainly no children nearby. Were one of the tribes approaching? She could smell something in the wind, too, a sweetness that stirred memories inside her, but that she couldn’t quite place.
She turned to look at the others. “Did you hear something?”
Orergon frowned. “No, not a thing.”
“Are you sure? I thought I heard children laughing.”
She looked to Vehel and Warsgra, too, but both had matching expressions to Orergon.
Had she imagined it?
She glanced up into the sky, trying to spot the dragon, but he’d flown out of sight for the moment. Anxiety twisted in a tight knot in her chest. What was she suddenly anxious about? Of course she had the meeting with the Moerian tribes, but that wasn’t the cause of her sudden apprehension. Something else was brewing; she could feel it in her bones.
Dela wove between the standing stones to come to a halt at the edge of the hillside. The flat grasslands stretched for miles around. What had set her nerves on edge? The grasses were high, and if there was a threat like the insects that had attacked them in the mountains, she might not be able to see them approach as they wove their way through the tall strands. But no, the creatures had been large enough to flatten the grass as they moved, and they came in huge numbers, which she would surely be able to see.
Besides, she didn’t really think it was another swarm that had set her nerves on edge, did she? They were hundreds of miles from the Great Dividing Range out here.
She stared out into the distance. The yellowed grasses flattened as another gust of wind swept toward them. It was as though a living, invisible thing flattened the vegetation, and then it hit her, the hot wind a blast in her face, and once more, she heard the childhood voice.
Not children’s voices as she’d first thought. But a childhood voice. Her heart hitched. Ridley? It was a sound she knew from numerous summers, that of her and her brother playing as children. And yes, she placed the scent now, too. The warm pastries baked for the market stalls that she and Ridley would always beg for and occasionally steal.
Her heart fluttered and she stared out across the grasslands. Could he be out there somewhere? Had Warsgra been mistaken when he’d said Ridley had been taken by Vehel’s brother? Was it possible he’d been taken by the Moerians instead, and brought here? Could Warsgra have been trying to protect Orergon by not telling the truth?
Strong fingers wrapped around her arm, yanking her back. She hadn’t even realized her feet had started to move, carrying her down the hillside.
“Dela, where are you going?”
She looked back to Orergon watching her in concern, and confusion filled her. “I ... I’m not sure. I thought I heard something.”
But, like a dream that lingered for only a moment before wakefulness took hold, the memory of what she thought she’d heard slipped away.
She retraced her steps, helped in part by Orergon pulling her back up the hi
ll using his hold on her arm. “Sorry, it’s nothing. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Did anyone else hear anything?” Orergon asked the others, apprehension creasing his features.
The men shook their heads and exchanged worried glances.
“It’s fine,” she insisted. “It must be the wind. It does strange things to the acoustics around here.”
“What wind, Dela? It’s as still as anything up here.”
She frowned. “What? No, it isn’t. There’s this hot wind that’s been blowing.”
Orergon’s concerned expression deepened, and a spark of worry shot through her. “What direction is the wind coming from?”
She pointed out to the west. “It’s coming from that way. I can see it moving the grass, flattening it right down. How can you not have felt it?”
Warsgra was looking at Orergon. “What are you thinking, Orergon.”
“This is no ordinary wind.”
“What are you talking about.”
“There’s a wind that blows across the Vast Plains called the Foehn.”
“The Foehn?” There didn’t appear to be any kind of wind now, and it had just been a gust of hot air. “I might have imagined things.”
“Maybe, but this wind is known to play with your head. It can make you see things—things you don’t want to see. It’s been known to drive men crazy. Some have even killed themselves because of it, or have ended up putting themselves in a situation that’s killed them.”
“What?” She shook her head. “I’m sure it’s nothing like that. I was just hearing things.”
“Or it was the spirits speaking to you,” Orergon suggested.
She’d never had spirits try to speak to her before. In fact, spirits and spiritualism wasn’t really something she’d ever given much thought to before. She knew they existed, and she’d been brought up to acknowledge the gods, just like every other child growing up in Anthoinia. But spirits speaking to her?
“I don’t know, Orergon. It didn’t feel like that. Not that I’d really know what that felt like.”
Orergon’s brow drew down and his dark gaze flicked over her shoulder. Wondering what was happening now, she followed his line of sight.
“What’s Warsgra doing?” she asked.
Orergon’s nostrils flared. “I’m not sure.”
The big man had moved away from the group while they’d been speaking. He stood on the outskirts looking out over the Vast Plains, his long hair blowing back.
“His hair!” Dela exclaimed. “Something is blowing it.”
Vehel nodded, his eyes wide. “You’re right. Can you feel anything?”
She shook her head.
“I can’t either,” said Orergon.
Dela’s heart picked up pace. “What’s happening?”
The Moerian’s lips thinned. “It’s the Foehn.”
“Why aren’t we all feeling it at the same time?”
“Oh, we will,” Orergon said gravely. “It’s just testing us right now.”
Warsgra’s massive form suddenly lurched down the hillside, just as she must have done only moments before.
“Stop him!” she cried.
It was as though he was in a daze, or perhaps sleepwalking, and didn’t know what he was doing. What was he hearing, she wondered? The childhood voices of someone he’d once loved, or something completely different? What was the wind using to call him away?
They chased after him. He was so much bigger and stronger than all of them, and it took all three of them holding onto his arms to be able to yank him back. What would happen if they didn’t? Where would he have gone, and what would he have done? Something to put his own life in danger?
Warsgra blinked and frowned, then pushed his hand through the straggles of his long hair. “What happened?”
“The same thing as with Dela.”
“By the Gods,” he growled.
Dela looked between them all in fear. She couldn’t have them all caught up in this thing and wandering out into the Vast Plains. It would be easy to lose someone in these endless stretches of grasslands, wandering around lost and alone, with no idea how to find each other again.
“How do we get away from it?” she asked.
Orergon’s teeth dug into his lower lip. “We need to find shelter somewhere until it passes.”
She shook her head in dismay. “But where? There’s nothing else around. All I can see for miles are the grasslands.”
“What about the stones?” Warsgra asked. “Is there anything we can do to them to create a shelter?”
Orergon shook his head. “We can’t move the stones. It will anger our gods.”
“It’ll anger me if something happens to Dela because we weren’t able to find shelter for her,” he growled.
“Vehel, what about your magic?” she asked. “Is there anything you can do to help us?”
The Elvish prince screwed up his face. “Like what? I can try to move us again?”
She looked between them. “No, we can’t leave. What if the tribespeople get here and find us gone? I can’t let them down like that.”
“Call the dragon back,” Warsgra said. “Get him to take us back into the sky.”
Orergon scrubbed his hand across his mouth. “That isn’t going to help. The wind is part of the sky. And honestly, I’m not sure I like the prospect of a dragon being around when the Foehn is blowing. What if it can affect the dragon, too? It’s one thing a human or a Norc hearing and seeing things, but it’s far more dangerous for a dragon.”
Dela understood what he was saying. The dragon might try to hurt them, thinking they were someone else. Even exhaling fire in these grasslands could cause massive destruction. Together with the wind, the fire could spread for miles around, destroying the habitat and killing both the Moerians and the wildlife.
He was right. The dragon had saved her on several occasions now, but this wasn’t going to be one of them.
“Can you still hear something?” Vehel asked her.
Dela strained her ears, but there was nothing more than the usual sounds she would have expected—the buzz of insects, the distant squawk of birds, the sound of their breathing.
“No.” She shook her head. “Nothing more than I’d expect, anyway.”
“What did you hear before?”
She thought back, trying to remember. “I’m not sure.”
“You were going somewhere. One moment you were just standing there, and the next you took off down the hill.”
“I honestly can’t remember.” It was an unsettling feeling. She didn’t like not being able to remember something that had only happened moments ago.
“Do you think the wind might have gone now?” Vehel suggested nervously.
“I don’t know.” Orergon looked out over the grasslands. “When that wind comes in, it has been known to last a day or more.”
“Maybe it wasn’t the wind,” she suggested. “Maybe it was something else.”
“Perhaps.”
The air changed again, and the hairs stood up on her arms, and the back of her neck prickled. She looked to the others. “Can you feel that?”
They all stood stock-still, on hyper-alert. It was impossible to run from something that was invisible.
Dela looked out across the grasslands. In the distance, the long grasses moved in a wave, bending as some unseen force rushed across it toward them. “Can you see that?”
Vehel nodded. “Yes, I can see it.”
“Me, too.” Warsgra agreed.
“If it reaches us, there’s no saying what we might end up doing.” Orergon looked between them. “We need to run.”
Warsgra snatched up her hand, and before she’d even managed to get her thoughts together, she was running. Her feet pounded the ground as they raced to the opposite side of the hill and then down the other side. Her breath tore in and out of her lungs, the blood pounding in her ears. Where were they even going? They were running from an invisible thing and had no idea how fa
st it could move.
She dared to look behind her. They’d left Steppe’s Mound behind them, and, with horror, she realized they’d left the egg as well.
She ground to a halt, Warsgra still trying to pull her along. “We have to go back! The egg!”
“No, we can’t,” he growled. “It’s too late now. The egg will be fine.”
“You don’t know that.”
The wind was getting closer. She could see its movement across the long grass, whipping the blades flat. Could it harm the dragon egg? Affect the baby dragon inside? She thought it was unlikely, but the wind might be able to make her do something that would harm the egg.
Warsgra pulled on her arm. “We have to go, Dela.”
She gave a cry of despair, already feeling as though she’d let the dragon down, but allowed Warsgra to pull her. She owed the dragon egg her protection, but she also owed Warsgra and Vehel and Orergon protection, too.
“What about your magic?” she cried to Vehel. “Can’t you fight it with magic?”
“I don’t know any spells that can stop a wind,” he replied, looking back at her with sorrow in his light blue eyes. “I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t his fault. She could hardly expect Vehel to fix every challenge they came across.
Orergon gestured with his hand. “Keep moving! We need to stay ahead of the Foehn.”
The wind was getting closer. It would reach them soon, blasting them in hot air, and then what would happen? Would they lose their minds, and be found, wandering incoherent, somewhere on the Vast Plains? Or would they be found dead, and no one would ever know exactly what had happened to them?
They kept running, but already Dela’s legs had started to tire, her lungs burning. She didn’t think she’d be able to run for much longer.
A little voice called out from the grasses. “Here! Psst! Over here!”
Dela slowed. Was she hearing things again?
The voice came again. “Quick! What are you waiting for?”
Hidden among the grasses, a wooden hatch had been swung open, and a small head poked out. The creature was clearly male, his nose pointed with whiskers pointed out either side of his cheeks. Thin lips covered a pair of long incisors.
Chronicles of the Four: The Complete Series Page 54
