“Each archway leads down a different branch of the Wild Path,” Sorntar explained. “The pressure you felt when we passed under the arches is a direct result of distance traveled. You may find transitions between one location and another uncomfortable the first few times.”
Ashayna let out her breath in a deep sigh and resorted to magical communication again. At least he wouldn’t have to go peeking into her thoughts to know what she was thinking. “In the future, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me something of the magic before shoving me through.”
He grunted in response.
Summer Flame galloped onward, racing full-out to the next arch. None of the santhyrians missed a stride. After the third such jump, Ashayna relaxed her fingers, rubbing her palms against her thighs to restore circulation. Shivering, she realized there was a soul-deep chill to this place.
“Cold?” Sorntar rubbed some warmth into her arms. She found his touch as unsettling as the grey mists, just for a different reason.
“I’m fine. It’s just this place…”
“There’s nothing to fear.”
“I’m not afraid.”
Another lengthy silence descended. When she was able to unclamp her jaw, she glanced over her shoulder only to be distracted by how close the nearest santhyrian galloped. All were riding in a tight formation, but she’d thought the nearest santhyrian ran farther back, for there was no steady sound of hoof striking ground, no wind rustling in hair or mane, no scent. She realized even her mount raced forward on silent hooves.
“By what unnatural magic do we travel upon ground that makes no noise and a cold that doesn’t fog one’s breath?”
“We’re on a path sustained by pure magic. There’s no sun, or earth, or time. Here, we are apart from nature and the laws that govern us there. The cold is the chill of spirit magic.”
Sweat dampened Ashayna’s palms and under her arms. Why did I ask? Why? She locked her jaws to prevent more questions. She rode in silence for a time, until a sense of unease leeched into her mind. It oozed through her pores and ate away at her calm. Beneath the cold she could feel the discontent, like an unfocused malice—yet could find no direction for it.
“Blood and damnation.” She sat up straighter, reaching for the dagger at her belt. She cursed when her fist closed on empty air. She’d not been given a chance to gather her weapons before they left camp.
“What do you sense?” Sorntar’s voice remained calm, but his underlying thoughts held a sharp alertness.
“I’m not sure.”
Sorntar’s body twisted behind her as he raised one arm from around her waist and motioned his flanking guards forward. Two guards forced Marsolwyn and Sorntar’s sisters to the middle, as three more bodyguards moved to ride a stride ahead. Sorntar handed her one of his daggers.
She frowned at the meager defense it could offer, but it was better than no weapon at all. Besides, even a sword might do precious little against whatever had the hair on the back of her neck rising to attention.
Distantly, the first undulating cry split the silence, accented by a series of long, low growls and snarls. A second call answered the first, and the tone made her ears ache. A nervous sweat broke out along her back.
“Wardlen!” Elder Cymael warned. “Run swiftly, santhyrians. We dare not fight them on the Wild Path.”
Had Sorntar not forced her to lean closer to the snapping mane, they both would have fallen when Summer Flame surged forward.
Still, the cries drew closer. “What’s a wardlen?”
“They’re unnatural beasts created to patrol the borders of the Banished Land. It’s unusual they would be inside the Wild Path.” Worry accompanied his thoughts. “There are wardstones to prevent such things. Something has gone wrong if wardlens are here. Our greatest danger is if they catch us before we reach the next archway. The wardlens are the only land-bound creature able to run down a santhyrian over a short distance.” Sorntar stopped in mid-word to stare ahead for several seconds. With what sounded like a curse in his native language, he began shouting orders.
“What’s wrong?”
“They’re ahead of us. If they reach the next archway before our group, we’ll be forced to battle our way free. We dare not use magic within the Wild Path. Not that it would help. These creatures are resistant to many forms of magic.” His voice was stark. “Don’t try to fight. We’ll only get in each other’s way. Stay low to Summer Flame’s neck.”
In the distance, another stone arch marked their way to safety. Closer to their destination, the clinging mist was dissipating. Ashayna could make out the runes in the stone.
The sound of the wardlens’ howling had lessened. A quick glance behind showed they were beginning to fall back, finding their prey too hard to catch. But several of the santhyrians ran farther back as well.
“Sorntar, the group is drifting too far apart.”
“I know, but we are almost there.”
As he spoke, the rune marks on the stone flared white. A portal began opening.
Freedom was only a few strides away when a narrow-headed, sinuous beast with slanted eyes circled around in front of the archway. In body, the beast looked like a misbegotten cross between a mountain cat and one of the large lizards from the deserts far to the south. Thick, scale armor, mottled grey and silver, protected its hide. The creature might have been the ugliest she’d ever seen, but it still moved with speed and a deadly grace. A half a stride behind, another joined it.
“Run them down! Don’t stop for any reason!” Sorntar’s shout deafened her.
The first beast fell under Summer Flame’s large hooves. In a blur of speed, Sorntar brought his twin blades to bear against the enemy, beheading one creature and then stabbing down, splitting open the chest of another. It was brutal, efficient fighting, with not one move or stroke of blade going to waste. With a savage scream, Sorntar hacked at the skull of the nearest beast when it lunged at Ashayna.
The first santhyrian leapt through the archway. Summer Flame was a stride behind when he stumbled over a wardlen in its death throes. He recovered in another stride, but the small disruption allowed more of the creatures to block the path. Summer Flame skidded to a halt and lashed out. His hoof connected with a creature’s skull, dazing it. Several more wardlens attacked. One of the lizard-like creatures bumped against Ashayna’s elbow as it struck at Sorntar, biting down on his exposed thigh.
Sorntar emitted a short, high-pitched cry. Bringing his sword’s pommel to bear, he battered the beast savagely, but still the beast held on. It growled, deep guttural sounds as its teeth sank deeper into Sorntar’s flesh. Ashayna stabbed the creature, driving the dagger deep into the beast’s neck, then she pulled it free with a sickening squelch. Hot, pulsing blood splattered across her arms. Muscle and bone mixed with flesh flew with each swipe of the dagger into the wounded beast. The carcass fell to the ground with a thump. Heartbeat thundering in her ears, she turned to appraise Sorntar’s wounds.
The raw wound gushed blood in thick waves, adding more gore to the churned mess under the santhyrian’s hooves. Summer Flame skidded and leapt to one side, dodging out of reach of the red-tinged teeth of another of the beasts. The jolt caused more blood to flow from Sorntar’s wound and soaked, warm and wet, into her leathers. Reaching back, Ashayna slapped a hand over Sorntar’s wound, applying pressure and holding the edges together. Sorntar hissed.
Summer Flame fought his way free of the wardlen and burst through the arch. He spun on his heels to face his attackers. Ashayna registered the return of color to her world and the warmth of the sun before being set upon again. The last of the group rode through the arch, bare paces ahead of a number of wardlens. The archway blinked shut, cutting a wardlen in half.
Free to fight, lupwyns dismounted to meet wardlens fang-to-fang. Low growls and sharp, high-pitched yelps bombarded Ashayna’s ears from all sides; the meaty, wet sound of flesh tearing, abnormally loud to her battle-honed senses. Phoenixes took to the air, their powerful wing beats l
oud as thunder to her ears. Both Vinarah and Kandarra swooped at the attacking beasts, tearing out great chunks of scales and flesh. Blood arced through the air, splattering against Ashayna’s hair, the side of her face, and down one arm. Wiping her cheek on her shoulder, Ashayna’s gaze locked on Elder Cymael. The phoenix elder plucked a wardlen off the ground and crushed its skull with her feet.
The battle was over in several blood-filled heartbeats. As the heat of battle faded, reason returned. A cold chill tore through Ashayna’s body. Would the elementals have done this to her father’s people if she hadn’t come with Sorntar? A high-pitched call—part rage and part keen of hunger—made her sit up straighter. Twisting to look behind, she met Sorntar’s eyes.
The expression on his face was nothing human. Eyes dilated until they were two black, shining pools. His nostrils flared to better catch the coppery smell of fresh blood. His lips parted to emit a soft hiss. Ashayna placed a hand on a blood-splattered arm and felt the tension of the muscles and blood racing under his skin with each pulse of his heart. Hearts, she corrected herself. Reaching deeper with her power, she touched his mind. His Larnkin’s power flared, but it did not awaken, instead settling deeper asleep now that danger was past. By what she could determine, Sorntar’s present state was due all to instinct.
“Sorntar?”
His eyes locked on the nearest body, he made no response to her question. Grasping his chin, she forced him to look at her. He eyed her like he had the beast a moment ago.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not food.” She shook him. In response, he blinked once, and then again as his eyes came into focus.
His predatory expression changed to confusion before being replaced by a haughty look. He tried to move and pain seeped back into his expression. “Forgive me. I am not myself.”
The areas around his eyes and mouth had taken on a greyish hue and the sheen of perspiration dampened his skin. His breath came in gasps.
“Sorntar, you need healing now. You’re losing too much blood.” When she dismounted to locate Vinarah or Kandarra, Sorntar started sliding towards her. She braced him so he wouldn’t land on his face, and then helped him dismount. Her arms shook from the strain of helping him while still trying to hold his wound closed. He stood with his head slumped. Tremors rocked his wings.
“Don’t faint on me.”
Vinarah arrived first. The phoenix inspected her brother’s wound with soft sounds of sympathy, but was less than gentle in cleaning it. Looking to Ashayna, she clarified, “The wardlen have a venomous bite. It’s not fatal to someone who is host to a Larnkin, although it is painful and it saps what strength remains to the unfortunate individual.”
Vinarah continued her work with an occasional quiet word for Sorntar. He shook his head.
“Try harder,” Vinarah instructed.
“I have. It won’t obey me.” Sorntar’s tone turned defensive.
“What’s wrong?” Ashayna asked, since neither seemed willing to explain.
“Sorntar’s protective shields are too strong for me to work my magic through and he doesn’t have the strength to reach his Larnkin.” She applied a bandage as she explained. “This will have to do for now. We’re not far from our city, and fully-trained healers. The santhyrians traveled much farther and faster than they would under normal circumstances. We’re nearly home.”
“The city can’t possibly be too close.” Ashayna heard exhaustion in her own reply and Sorntar was worse off. “I’d prefer not to tax Summer Flame with my added weight, but I doubt Sorntar’s well enough to ride by himself.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“No, you won’t,” Vinarah countered. “We’ll be picking you off the ground in a few strides.”
Sorntar hissed at his sister, but Vinarah ignored him. “Ashayna, continue riding double with my brother. If you’re feeling generous, share power with him like you did in the healer’s quarters. His Larnkin will not reject your power, and that’ll heal him faster than anything else.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No matter, your Larnkin will do what needs doing.”
Summer Flame lowered himself to the ground. Ashayna mounted and then helped Sorntar into position. He sat stiffly, making no move to wrap his arms around her waist. She did it for him, holding his arms in place with one of hers. “Sleep, you’re exhausted. I won’t let you fall.”
“Thank you.” Sorntar leaned forward, his sweaty cheek pressing against the bare flesh of her neck. Painful hitches in his breathing told of his discomfort. His wings hung limp, dragging the ground as he settled against her. She shifted to ease him into a more balanced position. He pressed against her back, his arms around her waist tightening to the point of pain.
“Easy, you’re safe with me.”
A half-hesitant nod, and then warm lips brushed her skin as he murmured a soft, “Thank you.”
After a moment his hold loosened. Ashayna awkwardly patted his arm until his breathing deepened into sleep.
Damn, you’re trusting.
On the heels of her thought, her Larnkin stirred, magic flowed between them where they touched. The energy sharing Vinarah spoke of?
With the wounded tended to, the group moved on. At Cymael’s command, two phoenix bodyguards took to the air to scout for other possible dangers.
***
The sun had settled into its western descent by the time the weary travelers came to lands adjacent to the Elemental City. Here the land was still richly clothed in forest, but it began to open up, with shafts of the sun’s evening brilliance penetrating the shadows.
The small attention to details kept her focused and prevented her from dwelling too long on the warmth of Sorntar’s skin, his spicy scent, and the strangely pleasant sensation of sharing power.
When Summer Flame slowed to a walk, Ashayna looked up to see a different world. Forest gave way to blue sky and a starkly defined cliff’s edge. Directly across from them reared a tall mountain range, its deep valleys already cloaked in the shadows of night. A mantle of trees covered the opposite slopes as heavily as did the ones on this side. Wind, which had been evident in the forest, was greatly increased at the exposed cliff-face. Strands of dark hair, long escaped from her braid, whipped across her face and shoulders.
Summer Flame trotted closer to the cliff’s edge. Ashayna’s breath escaped in a hiss. A sheer drop greeted her eyes. No gentle, rolling slope, just empty sky. The narrow trail turned sharply to show a stone stairway carved out of the cliff’s craggy face. Her heart sped, her eyes followed its narrow and twisted descent. Tightening her grip on Sorntar’s arms, she closed her eyes.
“Ashayna?” Sorntar asked in a crackling broken voice, so different from his usual mellowed pitch.
She didn’t respond. She couldn’t, her heart was in her throat.
He called her name a second time, his voice more insistent. Why couldn’t he have remained asleep, oblivious to her shameful fear?
“What’s wrong?” He didn’t wait for her answer, instead invading her thoughts. “How can one chosen to be my bondmate be afraid of heights?” His disbelief echoed through their mental link. “We’ll fly many times throughout our lives. Your fear will only strengthen if you put this off, and that I can’t suffer in a bondmate.”
First you invade my private thoughts. Then you insult me. If you weren’t injured, I’d knock you on your princely ass, Sorntar, Crown Prince of the Phoenix, but you also saved my life, so I suppose I owe you for that.
“Ashayna,” he said, his breath brushed her ear. “It’s a familiar, well-marked trail the santhyrians have traveled many times. They’ll not let us come to harm.”
She shivered. More than the power of his voice lingered behind the words. The taint of magic invaded her mind a second time. She resisted, shoving his magic back.
He grasped his head, rumbling something in his own language. By the pointed looks Sorntar’s sisters were giving her, it wasn’t flattering. He rallied faster tha
n she wished.
“Look to Grey Spires, glowing in the twilight, lit from within by thousands of mage globes. Their light reflects upon the pale silver stone of the exposed rock face. Look how it illuminates the valley below.” He raised a hand to point Ashayna in the right direction. Defeated more by the clamor of her curiosity than Sorntar’s magic-laced voice, she turned her gaze to view what she had already pictured in her mind. The city rose up out of the mountain like it was born of the stone itself. Buildings connected to their neighbors by courtyards and irregular stretches of greenery. The silver-grey ribbons of streams and pools broke up the smooth grey-blue stone. Many buildings had beautiful ornate facades, each distinct from its neighbors, but blending in with the overall design. As Summer Flame picked his way down the path, Ashayna’s eyes followed the city as it spread out and down.
And farther down. Her vision swam, breath grew short. The path turned sharply upon itself, giving her a clear view of empty space. Her heart smashed against her ribcage.
Taking the coward’s way, Ashayna closed her eyes.
Chapter Seven
Mid-way down the rock-strewn mountain path, Ashayna mastered her fear enough to force her eyes open a crack. Focusing on Sorntar’s scent and his intense warmth, where he pressed against her back, helped combat her fear. Something about him soothed her. Maybe it was the sharing of power Vinarah mentioned—it was like a drug. Ashayna promised herself she wouldn’t let it happen again, but for now she relaxed and allowed her Larnkin to continue whatever it was doing.
“Ashayna, thank you for helping me earlier and for allowing me to help you now.” Sorntar’s simple statement did something strange to her heart. It leapt at his simple statement. She swallowed, uncertain what she could say.
Full dark had descended by the time they came to a small gate. Even through the fog of exhaustion, she wondered at the diminutive entrance. She’d expected something grander. They passed beyond the Grey Spires gate into a tunnel.
In Deception's Shadow Box Set: Book 1-3 Page 8
