She paused before reading the last out loud. Eva traced her fingers over the grooves cut into the stone. “Aleron Vakarin, Expedition Captain.”
Soot snorted, but a small smile played on his gruff features. “That cocksure young idiot. He gave that title to himself. Drove everyone else half-crazy trying to get us to address him as captain. It was only a joke — I think. Sometimes you couldn’t tell with Aleron.”
Eva closed her eyes and tried to imagine her father and the rest of the expedition standing right where they were now, full of excitement and anticipation for what lay ahead. Little had they known they’d waken an evil capable of destroying all Altaris. Not to mention alter the course of Eva’s family forever. At that point had Adelar already begun courting her mother, attempting to steal his brother’s betrothed? Were the seeds of their love already planted, waiting to grow? Was she torn, even then, between the two brothers?
Regardless of the aftermath, Eva felt encouraged to stand in her father’s footsteps. Perhaps, she mused, she’d been meant to reach this crossroads all her life.
The southeastern tail of the Windswepts changed from barren gray rock to pine forests far darker and taller than those on the western side of the mountains or to the north. Journeying beneath the ominous boughs felt to Eva as if she’d stepped into another world. The thick canopy made it hard for the parties on the ground and air to stay in contact with one another. If anything were to happen, she doubted the gryphons would be able to find a place to land through the thicket of branches.
Ivan, on the other hand, seemed rejuvenated by the sharp scent of pine mixed with the earthy tones of the wet loam. When they descended into the trees he paused and sucked in a deep breath of air, tilting his head back and spreading his arms.
“Smells like home, doesn't it?” he asked Sigrid.
Sigrid frowned and, for a moment, Eva thought Ivan would be sporting a black eye. “The Gyr is home. This is just another sky-cursed forest.”
A tense silence followed. Soot and Chel shot Eva a questioning look. What they didn’t know was that Sigrid was Bersi — a Scrawl who couldn’t use rune magic. Given Sigrid’s natural inclination for violence, it wasn’t a sore spot Eva wanted them to prod at. She shot both Soot and Chel an expression to drop it.
Ivan, knowing full well Sigrid’s background, chose to let the subject fall into an awkward silence as well. “Well, uh, I’ve missed it anyway.”
“Good for you,” Sigrid snarled. “Now can we keep moving or do you want to sniff around some more?”
Before anyone could answer, she stormed off, hacking any unfortunate foliage that crossed her path. Her sour mood continued for the rest of the day and, after seeing to Sven and cleaning her weapons, Sigrid curled up in her blanket and went to bed. Eva waited until her friend’s snores punctuated the night before allowing Ivan to explain to Soot and Chel.
“Almost all Skraelings are born with some affinity for rune magic,” Ivan said, “but not all. These we call Bersi — it translates to something like ‘unblessed’ in your language. Most lead normal lives, but some of the more backward, highlands clans consider Bersi to be a curse from the Muse Mother.”
Chel nodded in understanding. She herself was an outcast of the Juarag and had grown up in a band of misfits called Juarag-Vo, or tribeless.
“It’s not something Sigrid talks about,” Eva said.
“I’ve known Sigrid the longest out of any of us,” Tahl said. “And trust me, this is the last thing you want to talk to her about. We were in the same class of cadets and there were some other children who made fun of her for her rune markings and being a Scrawl. She sent them all to the infirmary on our second day.”
Eva winced, recalling a beating Sigrid had given her when she was a green recruit.
“Like it or not, we might run into some other Scrawls before we make it to the river lands,” Ivan said, glancing across the fire at Sigrid’s still, snoring outline. “I hope she behaves herself — the clans out in the wilds aren’t as… civilized as the Scrawls you’ve all dealt with before.”
They continued over miles of rolling hills, steep mountain expanses, and thick forest. The land east of the Windswepts and south of the Endless boasted crueler country than Eva imagined. Bellowing rivers of snowmelt cut through huge cliffs where mounds of snow still clung to the shadows. The cold, cruel spring storms lashed them with sleet, and whenever the pale sun managed to fight through the clouds, it offered little warmth or light.
Each day blended together and the travelers forged a common understanding between one another. Ivan, Chel, Eva, and Sigrid, having already spent over half a year together, were used to one another’s annoying habits and quirks. Likewise, Sigrid and Tahl, often companions on various Windsworn missions with Lord Commander Andor, got along fine. But the rest, particularly Soot and Sigrid, butted heads like a pair of mountain sheep.
The pair argued over everything until it drove Eva crazy just seeing them tense up and glower at one another. When Soot wanted to continue on for the day, Sigrid thought they should stop and hunt. When Sigrid wanted to change course, Soot wanted to keep their current direction. Constant reminders of her birthplace left Sigrid snarling and spitting like a wet cat. At last, Eva could take no more.
“Enough!” she yelled just as it looked like they were about to come to blows over the best place to build the night’s fire. “I don’t care how the two of you work it out but the rest of us can’t stand any more of this!”
Sigrid bared her teeth at Soot. Eva knew her friend had no hesitation trying the bigger, stronger man on for size. Soot, sometimes sharp-tongued but usually the last to resort to physical conflict, looked just as ready to give Sigrid a sore rear end. After several tense moments, however, the two relented, mumbling unintelligible apologies. Although it was in a worse spot, Eva had Ivan build the fire in a third location different from both Sigrid's and Soot’s. Their meager meal didn’t help to improve anyone’s outlook.
“Now the snow is melting we might find a Scrawl village or camp to trade with,” Ivan said. Everyone glanced at Sigrid, but she seemed completely focused on putting an even finer edge on her favorite ax and didn’t notice or pretended not to hear Ivan.
The thought of eating something besides stale, brick-like bread, dirty roots and fire-blackened meat sounded too good to pass up. In the morning and over the next few days, Eva sent Sigrid and Wynn to scout out any sign of a Scrawl village in their somewhat immediate vicinity. She hoped some time in the sky with Sven would improve her friend’s disposition. But when they returned in the afternoon, Eva could tell right away they bore bad news.
“Well, we found someone,” Sigrid said. “But it sure ain’t Scrawls and I doubt they’ll give us anything to eat.”
“Who —” Eva started to ask. Before she could finish the question, Wynn cut in, eyes wide.
“Juarag!”
Chapter Fifteen
“A whole raiding party by the look of it,” Wynn said. “Twenty warriors mounted on sabercats.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Tahl said, frowning. “The Juarag stay on the plains or foothills —they don’t hunt in the high country. Besides, I thought all of them had been pushed west by the Smelterborn?”
“This looks like a different tribe than the ones that were gathered on the frontier and on the Talon,” Sigrid said. “All their war cats are black and gray, painted with red.”
Eva turned to Soot for his input. The smith shrugged. “Might be nothing. They’ve been pushed out of their hunting grounds — could be they’re just looking for fresh meat in the spring. If the Smelterborn are heading back east, some of the tribes might be returning to the plains.”
Soot didn’t sound convinced and somehow Eva didn’t think that was the case, either. It made no sense for a raiding party of Juarag to just happen to be in the highlands near them. By the look of it, Chel thought the same thing as well.
“There were rumors,” she said, “that some tribes allied with the Smelterborn
. Such an act would be beyond dishonorable, however.”
Eva’s stomach twisted.
“How far away are they?” she asked Sigrid and Wynn.
“Ten miles northwest, at most,” Sigrid said. “They’re moving in our direction, but I don’t think they saw us. We were flying pretty high up and had some cloud cover.”
“Nothing to do but keep an eye on them,” Soot said. “Let’s see what we can round up for dinner.”
Over the next few days, Sigrid and Wynn continued observing the Juarag. It soon became apparent they were being loosely followed by the raiders — their path took a turn east, running parallel to Eva and her companions. At last, Eva decided she needed to see the band for herself. She and Tahl followed Sigrid and Wynn on their gryphons, flying high as they could given the elevation and cold.
Once Sigrid pointed out the parties, they landed in the crags, each on their own perch and observed the group far below.
Just as Sigrid said, the group looked to be made entirely of warriors, armed with an array of weapons, including spears, bows, clubs, and hide shields — weapons for war, not hunting. They traveled two wide, the black and gray war cats picking their way through a boulder field with ease, despite their size.
“They’re moving quick enough they might be able to head us off,” Eva said to Fury, huddled down against his neck to stay warm. “Almost as fast as Seppo… Do you think —”
Fury let out an unexpected hiss, drawing Eva from her thoughts. And then she saw them.
Almost impossible to make out against the dark rocks were two Smelterborn, a scout and one of the Shadowstalkers, judging by the golem’s narrow, oblong head. The Shadowstalker carried a long staff in his hands that ended in a twisted shape Eva couldn’t make out at their distance. The golem raised its staff and held it out before him, moving it from side to side. After a long moment, the golem turned all the way around directly facing the ledge where the gryphons and their riders perched.
Eva’s insides turned cold as the Smelterborn stared up at the rocks they were hidden in for several long moments. At last, it shook its head and continued off in the same direction they’d been heading, towards Seppo, Soot, and Chel.
“It’s torn between the two stones,” Eva said, half to herself and half to Fury. “It doesn’t know whether to head toward us or Soot.” The gryphon stared at the Smelterborn, ears pinned back against his feathered head as if he hadn’t heard Eva.
The Wonder stone felt like ice against her skin and Eva reached a trembling hand inside her shirt to wrap her fingers around it. At her touch, the thing grew warm once more and shone with its regular array of colors.
“Put it away!” Sigrid hissed. Eva stuffed the chain and stone back under her tunic and saw the black Smelterborn had paused again, staff held out in their direction once more.
That was all Eva needed to see. “Come on,” she said as soon as the golem turned away after several long moments. “Let’s get out of here.”
They left the crags one by one, not wanting to draw attention of the entire group of gryphons taking flight at once. To further confuse the Juarag and their Smelterborn trackers, Eva led them in a circle around the backside of the mountain peak, the opposite way they’d flown in from.
“They are hunting us,” Chel said when they returned to camp and related what they’d seen.
No one else spoke as the realization sank in. Eva felt like a fool for believing they wouldn’t be followed and chastised herself for not being more careful.
“What if we ambush them?” Sigrid suggested. “They won’t be expecting that.”
“We’d lose too much time, not to mention we’re outnumbered,” Eva said. “I don’t want to risk it. Besides, there could be more out there.”
If the previous silence had been discouraging, this one was downright dreadful. “They could be everywhere,” Wynn said in a hushed voice.
“Stick to the plan,” Soot said, his booming voice striking them out of their despair like a hammer knocking away slag. “We’ll keep scouting, travel fast and make sure no one goes anywhere alone.”
They all agreed, although Eva could tell Chel and Wynn, in particular, seemed less than comforted. But it seemed the best course to take or, as the Windsworn were apt to say, any perch in a storm. They’d simply have to move faster.
But Eva toyed with another idea as well — the Smelterborn and Juarag hunted the stones, her Wonder, and the one Soot carried. If she could manage to take the Dark Wonder from Soot without him noticing, she could lead their hunters away from the rest of the group…
Of course, she realized in the next moment, it wouldn’t work. The First Forge couldn’t be destroyed without Seppo’s help and there was no way Seppo would go with her plan, nor could she escape the others with gryphons with Seppo on foot. Instead, Eva vowed to do everything to keep her friends safe. She thought back to her father’s death just a few months before and told herself she would never let that happen again to someone else she loved.
Once more, they fell into a routine: scout and check the location and distance of the Juarag and Smelterborn, hunt for food, find a camp, repeat. The constant worry of their pursuers dogged Eva’s thoughts, compounded with the constant need to stay dry and fed. As such, she felt an enormous amount of relief when they spotted a Scrawl camp not too far ahead. Ivan, Tahl, and Eva went to greet them. Sigrid naturally elected to stay behind, scowling while she put new edges on her array of knives and axes.
The Scrawl camp sat on the edge of a large meadow, shared by a large, mirror-like pond. Eva and Tahl landed their gryphons on the opposite edge of the clearing to avoid undue cause for alarm. Although the Scrawls were allies with Rhylance, it hadn’t been many years since the nations had been at war, fighting over territory. Some of the more remote clans, Ivan said, still held plenty of grudges against the gryphon people.
“Don’t call them Scrawls,” Ivan warned. “It doesn’t bother most of us, but some of the remote clans find it extremely offensive and disrespectful to our language. Make sure you say it the right way: Skrael.”
Eva was surprised to find the Scrawls living in skin tents similar to the Juarag. She reminded herself that long ago before the Sorondarans came to Altaris or the Palantine Empire reached its height, the ancestors of the Scrawls and Juarag were the same people. Although they also populated a few ancient cities, including the famous Library of Skaal, many still kept to their old nomadic lifestyles as druids.
A flurry of activity filled the camp once the clan saw them approaching. Two Scrawls, a man and woman tattooed with so many runes that their skin looked almost purple, walked toward them as they crossed the meadow. In spite of the chilly spring weather, the woman wore only a few strips of leather and cloth across her chest and a pair of leggings. The man was bare-chested and wore only leggings. They both walked barefoot across the sloppy marsh ground, seemingly unaffected by the bite of the cold mud. Both parties halted several paces from one another.
“You are a long way from home,” the Scrawl man said. He clutched a twisted staff of gray wood in his hand, carved with runes and animal and plant totems. The woman stared at them without offering a greeting, her cold gray eyes passing over each of them in turn. Eva noticed the woman wore a silver ring, a Wonder judging by its craftsmanship, around her neck on a leather throng.
“Is there not war enough in your lands?” the woman asked, speaking in a voice as harsh as her expression. “I would have thought that would keep you from trespassing into ours.”
“There is,” Eva said, carefully choosing each word. Worshipers of language, everything said to the Scrawls had to be measured and selected with care. “And we are grateful for the rune masters that Skrael sent to help us defend our people.”
“Flattering words, but they do not answer my question,” the woman said.
“Two pretty birds with travelers three,” the man said in a singsong voice while he danced a little jig. “What oh what do they want from me?”
Eva shot Iva
n a confused glanced but her friend just shrugged. “I’ve heard better,” Ivan told the man. The Scrawl only gave a wide grin in response, leaving Eva with the impression he might be a few runes short of a book.
“We are traveling east to fight the golems,” Eva said. “We are here to barter supplies from you for the days ahead. We also came to warn you — there are Juarag who have joined with the Smelterborn and they are in your mountains.”
“Because you brought them here,” the woman said in an accusing tone. She looked at Ivan and shook her head in disgust. “Why do you travel with these outsiders who trespass on our lands?”
“I am helping them defeat the Smelterborn,” Ivan said, frowning back at her. “The golems are everyone’s enemy.”
“From out of the west into the east.” The Scrawl man sang again and resumed his shuffling dance. “Can’t fight the golems with nothing to eat.”
“Quiet, Rhys!” the woman snapped before turning to the others. “We travel light to our spring camp and have little to trade. Then again, I doubt you have anything we want, either.”
“Our gryphons can bring you fresh meat,” Tahl said, gesturing back to Fury and his white gryphon, Carroc. Both creatures dug at the soft grass and sod across the meadow, clearly bored and eager to be gone.
“Ha!” the woman spat. “So you hunt from our lands and then offer to trade the meat back to us?”
“Please,” Eva said. “Is there nothing we can give that you would like?”
The woman seemed to think for a long moment and then pointed to Eva’s chest. “The relic around your neck would probably suffice.”
Eva clutched at her neck, unsure of how the Scrawl woman even knew about her Wonder, which remained hidden underneath her tunic.
“I…I’m afraid that’s not for trade,” she said.
“Pretty stones and blinking lights. What is the price to buy a life?”
Windbreak: Gryphon Riders Book Three (Gryphon Riders Trilogy 3) Page 10
