Storm's Heart (Elder Races #2)(95)

She happened to glance at Arethusa who raised her eyebrows. Oh, right. They were waiting for her. Her cheeks warmed. She gave the Commander a sheepish grin and nodded. Arethusa inclined her head, smiling, and nudged her horse forward to lead the way on the path toward the point of crossover. Niniane and Tiago moved to follow Arethusa, and the rest of the party fell into place behind them.

The sense of land magic grew stronger as they neared the point of crossover. Niniane still didn’t recognize anything, but landmarks changed over time, and the entire property had been landscaped and cultivated for many years since the last time she had seen it. She had also been stressed, moving fast, and not inclined to stop and memorize the scenery.

The path Arethusa followed went down an incline that turned into a shallow ravine with an old dry streambed, and then she recognized where she was. She tensed as she remembered staggering along the streambed. She had been dazed and in shock from the palace massacre, her escape and the subsequent graewing accident. It had not been dry then. The water had been icecold. She had slipped on the wet, slick rocks more than once, numb in spirit and body.

Tiago’s leg bumped hers. He said, “Faerie.”

“I’m all right,” she said.

“I require proof of that,” he said.

“I didn’t say this wasn’t difficult,” she told him. She kept her voice cool, precise. “I just said I was all right.”

She kept her back ramrod straight. She didn’t look at him, because if she saw concern in his black gaze, she might start bawling in front of everybody, which would be mortifying. She might be a touchy-feely kind of chick, but she had too much pride for that.

He must have understood, because he pulled away to leave her to her own memories.

The party followed the streambed and the magic grew stronger. From one curve to the next the land changed, and so did the season. The wind gusted. It had turned sharp and cool.

She gazed at the altered landscape. For the first time in two hundred years she looked at the blazing, brilliant colors of Adriyel in the autumn.

It was so quiet.

Tiago kept his gelding in line with Niniane’s high-stepping little mare as he studied the altered landscape. The party was bypassing the outpost that had been built to guard the crossover point. The outpost was just a squat three-story tower with a barracks attached at the base. Arethusa raised a hand to the guards who stood on lookout duty at the top of the tower. They gave a brisk salute in reply.

Even though they had left Chicago shortly after dawn, the sun was high in the sky in Adriyel, the day nearer to noon than not. The kitchen had worked through the night to supply the party with plenty of fresh-cooked foodstuffs, which were packed in nylon padded coolers in the supply train. They were going to have an easy first day out.

Once they had crossed over, the party spread out along the narrow dirt-packed road and fell into a natural formation of people who chose to ride together and talk. Tiago listened to the noise their party made. He could hear snatches of conversation wafting on the sharp autumnal breeze, along with the snort of horses and the earthen thud of hoof beats, the jingle of harnesses and occasionally someone’s sudden outburst of laughter. Avian wildlife darted and flew all over, singing and chirping alarm at their presence. There was the rustle of the wind in the trees.

Several of the troops kicked ahead to join Arethusa and guard the front of the train. A few rode to the sides, and the rest brought up the rear with the supply animals. The arrangement was a little loose and relaxed for him, but he was used to tight, silent defensive formations moving through war-torn areas.

The road followed a rolling landscape, its emerald carpet of wild grasses turning golden with the end of summer. The landscape was dotted with clumps of deciduous forest that had exploded with various shades of reds, yellows and burnt orange. Some late-changing trees were only just beginning to turn, the deeper green of summer lightening to lime and yellowing along the edges.

And it was so quiet.

He contemplated the roaring absence of constant traffic, the white noise of the city that he never could quite block out of his senses, the azure of a virgin sky that had never seen a condensation trail left by an airplane, and he smiled to himself. It was good to find something to smile about, good to take deep breaths of air that had never been tinged with exhaust fumes and other urban contaminants.

He looked behind him, caught Aryal’s gaze and motioned to her. The harpy kicked her horse forward. Aryal said telepathically, What’s up?

Hang with Niniane, would you? he said. I want to do some recon.

You got it.

He said out loud, “Faerie, I’m going to take a look around.”

She had been silent for some time, her expression contemplative, closed-in, even sad, but she roused to give him a quick smile. “Fine, go.”

He nodded to her and nudged his mount forward until he came abreast with Arethusa. “Scouting ahead,” he said.

He had expected the Commander to get snarky, but Arethusa just frowned at him and said, “Of course.”

He liked his horse. It was a no-nonsense worker and knew its job. He touched his heels to its side, and it broke into a canter. He rode away from the party at a fast, steady pace until he reached a copse far enough away he could be sure of some privacy. He stopped, tethered the horse, changed into his Wyr form and launched into the air.

The Dark Fae had grown used to Adriyel being protected. The faeries would have a conniption if they caught sight of a Wyr thunderbird soaring over their land, so he figured it was best if they didn’t see him, at least for now. He had never asked for permission to fly before, and he intended to never ask for forgiveness, so he cloaked himself as he flew. The oldest and most Powerful of the Wyr, such as Dragos and his sentinels, had the ability to hide themselves from normal sight. They didn’t spread that fact around to just anybody.