Lord's Fall (Elder Races #5)(27)

She started and deleted a couple of replies, all too aware that her six guards, as many Elves, the High Lord’s consort and all their horses were waiting on her.

Her phone pinged again.

Pia.

Of course, she sent back.

Ping. Dammit! She opened that message too.

Until tonight.

Her fingers moved rapidly over the small keyboard.

Until tonight. Cell phones won’t work in the Wood. I must shut down now.

She hit send and, gritting her teeth, forced herself to turn off the phone. Then she squared her shoulders and turned to join Eva, who said nothing but walked with her back to the waiting group.

Afterward she never remembered what she said. She knew that she smiled, exchanged pleasantries and admired the tall, sweet-natured chestnut horse that was to be hers for the trip. When everybody mounted, she did too, while Hugh held on to her horse’s bridle for her.

Beluviel rode a gorgeous, gleaming black mare, with a proud arched neck and startling blue eyes. After a quick glance to make sure everyone was ready, the High Lord’s consort rode first toward the Wood, and the rest of the group fell into place behind her.

As Pia nudged her mount, the two female Wyr, Eva and Andrea, came up on either side of her. Hugh and James took point, and Miguel and Johnny fell in behind, surrounding Pia completely. She gritted her teeth, feeling trapped and boxed in, but she held her peace for the moment. None of them knew what to expect when they passed underneath those trees for the first time.

Behind her, Miguel muttered, “There better not be any Tom Bombadil skipping and singing this early in the morning, or any hobbit-eating trees. That’s all I got to say.”

A light Elven voice said, “Tom Bombadil is a completely fictional character, of course, but we make no promises about any flesh-eating trees.”

Pia glanced over her shoulder, as did Andrea and Eva. An Elven girl had ridden up beside Miguel, a longbow and quiver strapped to her back. The girl had an immaculate seat on her horse, her slender body held straight and relaxed. Her short hair, skin and twinkling eyes were a lustrous dark brown, the pointed tips of her ears showing pixie-like through the fluffy strands. She had dyed the end of her hair blue.

Miguel appeared frozen in his saddle.

“Class it up, jackass,” said Captain Psycho irritably.

The Elven girl laughed, a bright, sharp sound that rang out like knife play. Then she chucked her horse into a gallop that sent her to the front of the party where she fell into step beside Beluviel.

Miguel looked after the young Elf hungrily. “Somebody please tell me that chick ain’t underage.”

Pia closed her eyes briefly. If she could only start over from eight o’clock yesterday morning. No, make that two days ago. Then she could have packed differently too.

Up ahead, Beluviel rode toward a wide path that led to a break in the trees. Pia could have sworn that neither the path nor the break in the trees had been there a moment ago. The Wyr fell silent at the same time the Elves did, and by some trick of acoustics the sound of the hoofbeats seemed muffled as the group entered the Wood in twos and threes.

Intensely conflicting emotions ricocheted through her when it came her turn to pass the border, a deep elation along with a sense of panic. She was both an urban-raised girl and a forest animal, and the dense foliage called to her deepest instincts. She wanted to back out, turn on her cell phone and call Dragos, or worse, race to one of the SUVs and break the speed limit all the way back to New York. She also wanted to throw herself out of the saddle, change into her Wyr form and plunge crazily into the deepest, most Powerful heart of the Wood.

Of course she did none of those things. Instead an ancient, wild presence enveloped her as her horse stepped underneath the green, green trees.

They traveled at an easy pace through the morning.Once they had all entered the Wood, Beluviel fell back through the group to travel with Pia and talk of a variety of things. In contrast to their open heart-to-heart from the previous afternoon, they both kept the conversation light and suitable for multiple listeners.

The Elven girl with the blue-tipped hair traveled back with Beluviel to tease Miguel unmercifully. Miguel did not appear to mind in the slightest. In fact, by the end of the morning his dark, observant gaze had glazed over slightly, and he was looking both smitten and disturbed, much to the amusement of the other Wyr and the Elves.

The party stopped for lunch in a beautiful spot where a huge tree had fallen and the wood had been carved into a massive table. The table had been surrounded by stone benches that had also been carved, their thick legs covered with moss and lichens. Diffuse light filtered through the green leaves overhead. Pia could hear the faint trickle of running water nearby. The scene felt peaceful and very old.

Pia’s double, Andrea, came up to take the reins of Pia’s horse as she eased out of the saddle, her thigh muscles quivering from the unaccustomed strain of riding all morning. Come evening she was going to be in a world of hurt.

Clearly Beluviel had no such trouble, as she sprang lightly from the back of her mare. When the Elven woman joined her, Pia said, “This place is gorgeous. The tree must have been immense.”

Beluviel regarded the scene, her expression inscrutable. “Yes. I was very saddened when she fell.”

Pia looked from Beluviel’s youthful face to the table again. This time she also took in the hollows on the stone benches along with the wear underneath on the forest floor.