Chapter 28 Cheyanne
CHEYANNE
“So, what’s the deal with this Cheyanne lady? You haven’t told me much,” Hardin asked.
Ezra glanced around as they rode deeper into the forest. His amber eyes surveyed each tree as though it may be watching.
“We’re alone out here,” Hardin said. “Ingamar is the most fearsome thing we’ll see in this wood. As long as Lark’s back there in the wagon, resting up, we’re safe as can be.”
“No safer than we were when those Northern soldiers came rushing through trying to scare off every last person from Storm Keep. Ingamar might be a dragon, but he isn’t bound to any of us,” Ezra said.
“He is to Lark though, right?”
A glimpse of golden scales flashed between the trees and out of Ezra’s view.
“At least, she’s used magic through the dragon bond, which is as close to being protected by a dragon as I suspect we’ll ever get. I hope she is getting some rest with Venrick back there. They way they look at each other, am I right?” Hardin said, nudging Ezra with his elbow.
“That’s a common misconception,” Ezra grumbled.
“What, that those two are struggling to express their feelings for one another?”
“No, I mean the thought that a dragon will make things safer for you. If anything, it attracts more danger,” Ezra replied.
Hardin hummed, drumming his fingers on the base of his lute. “I wonder what happened that Sasja became so in debt that she stole the Hyalite?”
“Is that all you think about, the fairer sex?”
“How do you mean?”
“All you can talk about since we left Astral City is that thief who stole your money and the Hyalite. If you mention her again, I’ll know for sure that she stole your heart, too.”
“What?” Hardin scowled. “I do not constantly talk about Sasja. And if I do, it’s only because she ruined my opportunity to get help from a Knight of the Vermillion Keep.”
“Yet, you forsake your village to go on this quest with Lark and Venrick,” Ezra pointed out.
“And you,” Hardin added. “But I’m not forsaking them.
Those red amulets the Morsythians have been using are at the root of what’s happening at home.
By going on this quest with you, I’m pursuing a solution to the curse that’s crippling my hometown.
Once I learn the antidote for whatever control the red amulets have, all I’ll need is Paragon or a brave Knight to carry out tasks I can’t do myself,” Hardin said.
“There might have been a time years ago when the Paragons and their Knights contracted themselves based on vanquishing evil, ridding Lamar of agents of chaos who lay waste in our society and promoting peace. Nowadays, though, they sign contracts with the highest bidder. It’s all about collecting Hyalites and Yogos.
The shift started when Nordraven and Lamar committed to full-scale war in the northeast region of the forest. Now, anyone like you who is trying to get a quality hero has to go to a Knight of a Keep, or a Paragon.
It’s nearly impossible to compete with the contracts they’re offered.
People like the King, the Dukes, and other High Nobles snatch them up in hopes they’ll increase their stockpiles of magic.
When real trouble comes knocking, everyone without deep pockets is effectively left to fend for themselves. ”
“I wonder what she’s doing now?” Hardin said, lightly strumming his lute, leaning back in the bench and staring up at the sky.
Ezra shook his head at Hardin’s lack of focus. As they rode, a white hawk flew past with a familiar beat of its wings. It perched on a branch a dozen yards ahead, overlooking the path. One glance at the brown and black spotted patter on her chest, the scar over her left eye, and Ezra knew.
“You said you wanted to know what the deal was with Cheyanne?” Ezra said, his voice gruffer than he intended.
“Yes, you keep mentioning her. That she is a partner in your business, but now you want to take us farther north, practically to the heart of the Everburning Forest where we could be caught up in another firestorm at any moment so she can craft a tracking spell? Couldn’t we find some mage at the Keep to do it?
Seems like it would’ve been closer and more convenient.
There’s barely a road here. We’ve been riding up and down these forested hills for days.
I mean, we’re practically directly under the Floating Islands.
Who knows if Sasja even still has the Hyalite,” Hardin replied, gently putting down his lute, and turning his full attention to Ezra.
“When I was your age and we wanted to go somewhere in the Everburning Forest, we had to dig a new mine shaft, hope to find a new cave system and maybe we’d get there someday.
You should count yourself lucky we’re able to travel overland.
It could be worse, if Thunder and Giant weren’t here, we’d be walking. ”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I’ll let her answer your questions herself.”
“Why not tell me?” Hardin’s voice trailed away, his back straightening as the path before them widened.
The evergreens before them parted to reveal a singular oak tree, wide-trunked, the roots sprawling out around the grassy surrounding.
From the ground, twisting bark swirled up the ancient base, dividing into forks and Ys with thick branches that reached upward toward the sun.
Emerald light seemed to glow throughout its leafy canopy, casting a warm, imperial brightness to the ivory house in the treetop.
A stairway wound its way up the trunk, leading to a landing that surrounded the elven craft home.
Arched gables of bleached wood crowned the three main chambers.
Heavy beams edged the sides with long glossy windows reflecting the light as though crystals had been embedded into the home.
A blonde-haired, green-eyed woman stood near the railing that lined the wrap-around deck. The white hawk flew off its perch and landed on her white staff.
“Is that?” Hardin asked, finding his voice again.
“Cheyanne,” Ezra said.
“She’s a wood elf, from Gambria.”
“I’ve mentioned that she’s an elf around you before.”
“I thought you were joking, or maybe that she was like Venrick and not full elf, or possibly a different kind of elf, like a mountain elf. Don’t the dwarves hate Gambrian wood elves? How are you in business with one?”
“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’m not exactly your standard dwarf.”
“Still, the rivalry between your peoples is legendary. You’re sworn enemies.”
“Not all mountain dwarves hold grudges,” Ezra said, slowing the wagon at the base of the tree. He rapped three times on the wall of the weapons wagon, signaling for Lark and Venrick to emerge.
Ingamar stepped out of the forest, sunlight highlighting his radiant golden color.
Lark moved slowly, waking her stiff muscles, sore joints, and tender bruises as she exited the wagon. She stepped gingerly out into the grassy opening beneath the elven tree. Her gaze lifted to the stunning elven treehouse. It pulled Lark into another vision from her memories.
She stood at a treehouse just like this.
Flames consumed the tree, fae creatures sparked as they fled the wooded home, disappearing into the forest. A dark column of smoke chugged up into the air above the trees.
Lark hefted the weight of a blade in her hand, noting that the steel was clean of blood.
The bond with her dragon vibrated fear and confusion through both of them.
He stood beside her, the dragon’s bulk just out of view.
Lark blinked away the memory, again taking in the elven home before her.
“Lark,” Venrick said, his presence at her side drawing her away from the chaotic vision. “Are you good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“This place is familiar to me,” she said, knitting her brows. “It didn’t look like this the last time I was here.”
“It’s just like the homes in Gambria. Perhaps Cheyanne will have some answers. Gambrian wood elves are said to have long-lasting memories,” Venrick said, joining Ezra and Hardin at the base of the stairs.
The white hawk glided gracefully down from Cheyanne’s staff to the railing at ground level. Ezra approached it, speaking to the sharp-beaked hawk.
“I wouldn’t have brought them here unless it was necessary. We need your help.”
The hawk’s head bent sideways at a ninety-degree angle, then she screeched.
Lark tugged on Venrick’s sleeve and whispered, “I thought Cheyanne was the elf.”
“She is,” Venrick answered.
“Why is Ezra speaking to that hawk?”
“Cheyanne is warging into the hawk.”
“Warging,” Lark repeated the familiar word.
She’d heard the others explain it in regard to the Nordraven dragonrider, but the experience she’d had with warging seeped into the edges of her memory.
Warg magic was the ability of an individual to enter another animal’s mind.
They could see, hear, and experience what the animal was doing at that time, and some were powerful enough to control them.
“You remember it from before, don’t you?” Venrick asked, his mouth turning into a quarter smile.
“I do,” she replied, noting how his attention to her questions was improving.
I shouldn’t trust him so willingly. It wasn’t long ago that I believed he was going to kill me for the Hyalite. I need to work on not always showing my emotions on my face, she thought.
The hawk blinked and a creamy white film that had been covering its eyes cleared.
They were now golden. It flew back to the deck overhead.
Ezra motioned for them to follow, taking the lead on the stairs.
Before Lark stepped onto the first step, she looked over at Ingamar.
The golden dragon’s eyes were fixed on them, but he appeared to be relaxed.