I closed my eyes, reaching out to try to sense whoever was out there. But there were so many things—so many sensations that muddied the energy. I could tell there was definitely somebody trailing us, but I couldn’t pinpoint the source. Just a general sense of watchfulness.
“Yeah, we are. I’m going to tell Smoky. I don’t trust telling Bran. He just waves me off when I voice concerns.”
“That’s because he’s still pissed at you. And I think he’s attracted to you and he doesn’t want to be—and it makes him all the more angry.” Delilah gave a little shake of the head. “I know we need to accept his help, but Camille, keep one eye open around him. Always. He’s a lot like Shamas, only with a twisted bent.”
“You’re right about that, actually.” I hadn’t made the connection before, but now that she mentioned it, I realized that Bran did remind me of a petulant, perpetually angry Shamas. And Shamas had been petulant enough. Bran just multiplied that entitled mentality ten times over.
I dropped back to Smoky, who rode near the back of the group. He gave me a quizzical look. “Tired of the Raven Master’s company?”
I let out a soft laugh. “Always. But there’s something else. Delilah and I were talking and both she and I sense that we’re being followed.”
“We are, my love.” A tendril of his ankle-length hair rose to extend itself across the distance between our horses. It wrapped around my shoulders, then the tip rose to stroke my face. “I have been aware of that for some time now. But I can’t go off hunting them because whoever it is, they’re crafty. I’ve lagged back a couple times, and once even backed off the road to wait, but the moment I do, they seem to notice. So they’re watching us with a keen eye, and me in particular. Methinks whoever it is can sense that Shade and I are dragons.”
“Lovely, that’s just what we need. Well, if they’re afraid of you, that’s a good sign. Do you think it’s some animal hunting for food? The sensation I had was one of curiosity and wariness. But I couldn’t pinpoint it in the wash of activity that’s running through the Deep.”
He cocked his head for a moment, then he withdrew the strand of hair, his hair lifting to divide itself into three sections, which then plaited themselves into a long braid. Smoky often braided his hair before a battle, so I sat up straighter in the saddle. If we were headed for an altercation, I wanted to be ready.
But rather than shout a warning, Smoky simply said, “Halt. Wait up a moment.”
Everyone stopped and rode back to us. The trail wasn’t wide enough to gather in a group, but Smoky held up his hand and said, “No worries. I smell pixie dust.”
Bran started to growl, but I knew what that meant. Or at least, I knew what I hoped it meant.
“Mistletoe! Are you out there?”
Another moment and the bushes near us parted and out flew Mistletoe, the pixie attendant to Feddrah-Dahns, Prince of the Dahnsburg Unicorns. Mistletoe was about as big as a Barbie doll, with pale, almost translucent skin. He sparkled like a glitter bomb, with little lights twinkling around him. His wings looked like those of a dragonfly.
I clapped. “Well met, old friend.” My gloom lifted and I held out my hand.
Mistletoe flew over and landed on my palm, tickling me as he settled down. He glanced over at Bran and scowled. “Lady Camille, I bid you welcome from my master, Feddrah-Dahns.”
He spoke in Melosealfôr, which meant he didn’t want the others to understand. I knew that Delilah, Roz, Venus, and Chase didn’t understand the high language, although I wasn’t sure about Smoky, Shade, or Bran. Neither dragon let on whether they could understand, but Bran just looked confused.
“Are we speaking in the high tongue for a reason?”
“Yes, because I do not trust the Raven’s son, simply because of his craftiness. Camille, I warned you last winter that someone was looking to steal the horn and hide from you. And then Feddrah-Dahns gave me a name to check out.”
“Yes, a sorceress named Iyonah. Have you found out anything?”
“I have. It took me much research and I had to make a number of trips, but she hearkens from the south—from the Southern Wastes.”
I frowned. That wasn’t good news. The sorcerers who inhabited the Southern Wastes tended to be those who followed Chimaras, the sun god who was intent on destroying the Moon Mother. “I hadn’t heard that Chimaras boasted priestesses. I thought his followers were always male.”
“They are and she’s not. I found several people who have met Iyonah, most of whom were from Rhellah. They say she came out of the desert one day, that she walked out from the empty dunes. She told one traveler that she hearkens from a city that lies beneath the sands down in the Southern Wastes—a city forgotten by time that only appears when conditions are right.” He frowned, shaking his head. “We had not heard of such a city so I did some research on it.”
I hadn’t heard of it either. “What did you find?”
“There is a tale—most think it a child’s bedtime story—of a huge city that existed down in that area before the Scorching Wars. It boasted a beautiful palace and the city was known as Kyradream.”
“Ceredream, you mean?”
“No, not Ceredream. It was named Kyradream, and it was a major stopover on the way to the End of the World, where the Uriami Ocean takes over. During the beginning of the Scorching Wars, the land was laid waste beginning in the south realms, and from what I gather, this city was caught in a magical dust storm and it vanished.”
The End of the World…it had been a long time since I had heard that term. The Uriami Ocean was said to meet up with the Mirami Ocean somewhere in the distant south. Nobody knew what was on the other side of the oceans, as far as I knew. But the End of the World was supposedly an area to where travelers, hoping to navigate the waters, would journey. Few ever returned, and those who did were usually so out of it that they couldn’t—and wouldn’t—talk about their travels.
“I wonder—Could Kyradream be the origin of Ceredream? Did those who survived whatever happened move north and rebuild, and eventually forget that the city ever existed?” I glanced over at Smoky, who was watching intently. Bran, on the other hand, was shifting impatiently on his horse.
“That could be. However, Iyonah specifically told the people I talked to that she was from Kyradream. That she had come out of the sands, searching for the horn and hide of the Black Unicorn.” Mistletoe shifted and his wings grazed my fingers.
I laughed. “You tickle me.”
“I’m sorry, my Lady Camille.” But he grinned back at me and I realized how much I missed him and Feddrah-Dahns. I had grown fond of both of them, and wondered if when I took the throne, I could visit more often.
“So did you find out why she’s looking for the horn and hide?”
He shook his head. “No, just that she says her city is in need of it.”
My thoughts ran through the possibilities. The horn was incredibly powerful as a weapon, but there were other ways in which to use it. “I have some thoughts on why, but I’d rather not discuss them here. Will you tell Feddrah-Dahns I’d like to visit with him as soon as possible?”
Mistletoe jumped to his feet and, with a deep bow, said, “Of course I will. I’ve delivered my message and should go now. But you should also be aware that your journey to Otherworld is common scuttlebutt among certain circles. It is known you are here, although few understand why. I know, of course, but rumor has it that you are here to visit with Tanaquar and with Sharah about your upcoming coronation.”
“Spread that rumor as widely as you can. It will serve me well in the coming days as I continue on my real mission.”
Mistletoe nodded again. “I will. Be careful, Lady Camille. I would have you come to no harm. And I will talk to my master and tell him you have been apprised of the situation.” With that, he fluttered up, zoomed around Delilah with a laugh, which she returned heartily, and then vanished back into the undergrowth.
With relief, I watched him go.
At least our stalker had been a friendly one, and with some valuable and interesting information.
“What did the pixie want?” Bran asked. He either didn’t know who Mistletoe was, or chose not to reveal it if he did.
“Nothing much. He just had a message for me that has nothing to do with our journey.” I cast a veiled look at Delilah and she gave me a short nod. “Let’s be off. I want to find the Maharata-Vashi today, and I don’t want to wait until dark.”
We headed back along the path, picking up the pace again. Two hours past midday and I was beginning to wonder when we were going to find the stream that would lead us to the juncture. But just as the thought crossed my mind, the sound of rushing water filtered through the trees from up ahead, and another two minutes’ ride abruptly brought us into a clearing. A stream crossed our path, cutting through the land in a deep, narrow channel. A bridge stretched over the stream, and even from here I could see that the waterway bent and curved to the left, and to the right.
“Where a bridge crosses stream, that winds like a snake, there find the juncture, the north path you will take.” I shaded my eyes as a sunbeam splashed across my face, blinding me. “Where’s the juncture?”
“Across the stream. We cross the bridge and we’ll find three paths. We take the left one. It will lead us northeast. After we’re on the path, we should have another eight miles to reach the vast stand of canaberry trees.” Bran still sounded grumpy, but he also sounded relieved. “Let’s go. We can stop to eat when we reach our destination.”
“What about food, though? Should we take half an hour to fish here?” Delilah waved off my protest before I could even open my mouth. “In other words, is there anything in the mountains to eat or are we just going to hope that we find something there?”
“There are small mammals and deer.”
“Right. We’re going to take down a deer and then dress it before sundown? I don’t think so.” She wrinkled her nose. “Camille, I’m hungry.”
“We continue on,” I said. “There are bound to be handover roots there and we can roast them in the fire. I have to reach that scroll before dark. We had good reason for taking care of the kelpies, but every moment we spend out here means another moment for Shadow Wing to figure out where we are and come after us.” I realized my voice was growing sharp, but the moment we had emerged into the clearing, with the bridge and the stream, and the paths on the other side, I had felt exposed. It was as though the claustrophobia of being cloistered in the thick of the Deep brought with it a sense of protection. Out here, there seemed to be far more potential for unwelcome strangers to stumble in on our party.
“Okay—don’t get upset.” Delilah tsked to her mount and rode up beside me. “We’ll go now. I’m just being a pain.”
“It’s not you, Kitten.” I bit my tongue. I had always hated snapping at her. Even though Menolly was the baby of the family, Delilah had always been the most sensitive and easily hurt. “I just feel exposed here. It’s probably two p.m. now. If we have eight miles to ride before we reach the trees, then we’ll be pushing toward dusk by the time we find them. How far beyond that we need to travel, I don’t know.”
“Good point. All right. Let’s stop for a quick drink and then head on.”
I couldn’t argue with the need to refill our water canteens or to water our horses, so we picked our way down to the river’s edge and spent twenty minutes resting and letting our horses drink and eat grass. While we were waiting, Bran hauled out his dagger and, once again, balancing on a rock, managed to snag five samracks that were quite a decent size. They wouldn’t provide all the food we needed for dinner, but it was better than nothing.
The moment I saw what he was doing, I began to hunt handovers. Delilah helped me. The movement stretched us out from riding. I was still sore but was getting used to Annabelle’s rolling gait. Between the two of us we netted a solid ten pounds of the roots. That would see us two meals, at least. I also found some watercress and wild onion. Smoky vanished into the undergrowth and when he returned, he had four good-sized loopers, birds in the duck family.
“Well, we have dinner tonight and breakfast,” he said.
“A bit more for breakfast,” Trillian called from a nearby huckleberry bush. “Early berries. Still a little sour but they’ll add good flavoring to the birds.” He returned with a small sack of the somewhat under-ripe huckleberries.
We filled our canteens and divvied up the food to carry, then Bran motioned to the bridge.
“Let’s ride.”
As we crossed the bridge and took the left fork in the juncture, I spotted a house in the woods, on the path that we had turned away from. I wondered who might live here at the crossroads, but then decided that was a path we didn’t have time to explore. At one time, I could have had a little house out in the forest, if I had continued to live in Otherworld. But just like the fork in the road we had just left behind, that life was one of the many paths that I’d never walk. Life offered so many possibilities to start, but as we continued, our choices winnowed down. There were paths we’d never see, and others we’d catch a glimpse of but wouldn’t have time to explore. And still others that would be barred from our journeys.
As we picked up the pace, heading toward the canaberry tree stand, I thought of all the possibilities that I had left behind and how many more were waiting for me. Ones that I knew nothing about.
THE SUN WAS well into the western side of the sky by the time Bran stopped on the path, pointing up ahead. We were reaching the edge of the treeline, it looked like, and the trees were thinning here. The stream met up with us again, winding this way and that, flowing from the northeast, from the hills. A bridge led over to another path that looked far more worn than the one we were on.
“We’re near the foothills of the Tygerian Mountains.” Bran rode back to my side. I was riding beside Trillian.
“How far are we from Gyldyn?” Trillian asked.
Gyldyn was the city of the Goldunsun Fae—a branch that had originated in the southern climes. They had uprooted their city when the Scorching Wars roared to life and moved to high in the Tygerian Mountains. While they had a lot of snow, they were open to the sun during the summer, and they had grown used to the altitude and solitude their position brought them.
“If you ride on flat land, a good four or five days’ ride south. But with the mountain passes? A week or more at best.” Bran motioned for us to continue and we rode out of the Deep into a rolling expanse of grassy knolls and hills. The hills gained a good altitude—three to four thousand feet at their peaks. Beyond the foothills, the brooding crags of the Tygerian Mountains rose, cloaked in mist and fog near their bases. It was amazing that people managed to navigate through them, but there were multiple passes. Rocky and frightening passages, yes, but during the summer they were traversable.
I stared at the vast panorama. The mountains stretched farther than we could see, north and south, slicing across the horizon with a jagged silhouette.
“They’re so beautiful.” Although the thought of working our way into them frightened me, the expanse was breathtaking.
“They are. Beautiful, deadly, and the source of our rivers.” Trillian reached out his hand and I took it as we sat astride our mounts. “But you’ve been to the Northlands. They make the Tygerian Mountains look like a hike in the woods.”
I nodded, silent. The Northlands were like the Himalayas—the tallest mountains in Otherworld and they led to the Dragon Reaches. The Tygerian Mountains led into the Northlands to the far distant north.
“The canaberry grove is across the stream, to the left.” Bran dismounted and led his horse down to the water. “Water the horses and take a short break. We’ll reach the stand within thirty to forty minutes and the stream runs past it, but I’d rather not force our mounts to wait that long.”
I groaned as I slid off the horse. I was getting used to mounting and dismounting and could manage it myself without help by now, but that did
n’t mean my legs appreciated the workout. As I led Annabelle down to the water, I noticed a bush covered with hedgeberries.
“Somebody bring me a container and I’ll gather the berries for dinner.”
Delilah brought over a quart-size plastic tub and we proceeded to fill it within minutes. “I’ll see if we have another. We won’t find a lot of berries once we head into the mountains, if that’s where the scroll tells us to go.”
“True that.” I popped a handful of the fruits in my mouth. The succulent globes burst with rich juice that tasted a lot like elderberries, and the taste lingered on my tongue. Delilah managed to find two more tubs, and she had enlisted Roz to help us. By the time the horses were watered and ready to go, we had managed to pick three quarts. She fastened them securely in the saddlebags on her horse and we mounted our horses again, following Bran over the bridge and out of the Deep.
The trail here was easier going and we made good time without the constant profusion of roots and rocks to watch out for, although the grade began to slope upward and the stream vanished into a deepening ravine to our left.
Within half an hour, the rich green leaves of the canaberry trees appeared. They were distinctive trees, and when I saw them, I realized why I hadn’t recognized the name. They were the same trees I had grown up calling boxwood. Boxwood was known for its hard wood and for the orange fruits that ripened during early spring. The trees were an odd conifer, with leaves instead of needles. Their flowers blossomed out in the winter, the fruit ripening by the spring equinox.
“Too bad it’s so late in the season.” Delilah pulled up beside me. “I love boxwood fruit.” She licked her lips.
I grinned at her. “Me too. It’s been a long time.”