Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
THE FUCK KNOWS WHERE
T he sun was high in the sky by the time Eirik tied his horse to a tree and took off on foot. The two fae he’d been following had long since abandoned the main road, in favor of a worn path that was little more than an animal trail.
Eirik masked his scent in the wind and stayed well behind them, allowing his heightened senses to navigate their path. The two males hardly spoke to one another. Nothing provided Eirik with any clue where they were headed.
Then he lost them. Thirty minutes ago. Lost any and all trace of them. As if they had vanished into thin air or blended in with the forest.
Eirik ducked under a low branch and paused mid-step. The fae’s disappearance was not his biggest concern now. The forest had gone quiet. Too quiet. Nothing to be heard, but the sound of his own heartbeat.
He reached across his body and grasped the hilt of his sword.
A rabbit broke free from under a bush and darted across his path.
Eirik exhaled. His breath materialized in front of his face like fog in the unusually chilled air. He scanned the dense underbrush. Where the fuck did you go?
He knelt down and put his palm to the forest floor, feeling for any vibrations in the earth. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, allowing the earth’s elements to reveal their findings to him.
A doe was just over the nearest ridge, her scent concealed by the wind pushing from the opposite direction, her feather-light hooves barely an intrusion on the ground. Underneath him, various critters carried on with no notion of his existence. In a nest high above, a falcon nestled its body over warm eggs.
But no fae.
He dug his fingers into the dirt, seeking out the element of water, allowing the nutrient-rich soil to embed under his fingernails. It painted a map in his mind–all the underground streams and pockets. Where they broke free of the earth and flowed into streams. When those streams became rivers.
Pushing deeper, he opened up to the wind. Unwrapping its invisible cloak from around him, Eirik cast out a wide net into the air, pulling each smell, every nuance to him.
All three elements engaged at once and he caught a whiff, a hint of something… other…
A vague idea of shapes and barely audible sounds. A scent he couldn’t place. He had never smelled anything like it before. The reason for the forests stillness.
It was coming from not far away. Over the mountain. Hidden in plain sight.
Someone, or something, was masking. Expertly.
Calling the wind back to him, he donned it like a shield and stood.
Whoever, or whatever, they were hiding themselves from wasn’t him. He could tell by the tone of the elements. They were not aware of his presence here. Not yet, anyway.
He intended to keep it that way. Swiftly, he moved up the side of the mountain. There were four of them. Four, near silent, fae voices. And whatever that strange scent belonged to. Five beings in total. One more than he cared to take on alone. Especially not knowing what manner of being the fifth thing was.
Eirik kept low as he neared the ridgeline. Trees stopped growing at the halfway point, then the shrubs died back. There would be nothing to cover him by the time he reached the top.
His boots chewed up loose rocks, forcing him to consider each step more carefully and slowing his progress. If he were on Earth he would just flash to the peak. But the fae were too sensitive to that sort of magic disturbance in the atmosphere. The move would not go unnoticed.
The ground beneath him changed the higher up he went. Rockier, steeper. Thinner.
He paused and laid both hands on the mountain. Not a mountain . A crater! He was scaling walls, not a solid natural formation.
When he looked up, it was not to a ridgeline, but a rim. Going unnoticed would be exponentially harder.
He glanced back to the forest a good distant below him. If it was this steep on the exterior of the crater…how deep would that make the interior?
It didn’t matter. He needed to find out who was in there and what they were discussing. Every fiber of his being shouted these fae had something to do with the queen.
On all fours, he crawled to the edge and listened. Their voices were clearer now.
One of the males Eirik had been tracking from the tavern said, “It is the only way to get them back. Talking hasn’t worked,” he declared. “Now they will have to listen.”
A female voice replied calmly, tone smoother than the finest whiskey. “Winning one battle, but losing the war.”
“It’s not your loved ones whose lives are at stake,” the male spat. “You sit protected in your hidden ruins.” His voice ebbed and flowed around the cavernous space, as if he were pacing, “We are exposed. On the frontlines every day. ”
“We had a plan,” a second feminine voice lashed out. “In breaking it, you have jeopardized everything.”
A quieter male voice, the one that had been skeptical in the tavern, spoke up. “It doesn’t matter now. As we speak, they are executing the mission. We have to trust in her plan.”
The first female replied evenly, “ She is not your queen.”
“Perhaps she should be,” the more confident male hissed.
“Careful, Luka,” the other female warned. The wrath in her voice hot and rising, a living flame. “Lest I rip those treasonous words out of your mouth with your tongue.”
Whatever the male responded with was lost on the wind as a gust swept up from the crater’s base. Eirik cursed under his breath and lowered to his stomach. He needed to hear the rest of this and get a visual on the conspirators. He dared a peek over the rim.
The breath fled from his lungs. Four fae, and a massive black horse with wings!
Eirik couldn’t look away from the creature. Depthless black, its sleek coat absorbed all the light. The steed’s mane and tail dragged the ground, a waterfall of night. Its wings, tucked in tight to its sides, were just as slick as the rest of its muscled body. Except for the tips. Long, raven-like feathers flowed from the ends, rippling like silk ribbons in the sun.
It stood untethered, long graceful neck bent to the grass, paying no mind to the arguing fae. A typical horse. If you subtracted the size and the wings. Eirik couldn’t believe what he was seeing. And moreover, what this meant.
The last known pegasuses had disappeared along with Pure Magic and the only fae capable of wielding it.
It couldn’t be.
If it were… Then the tales were true . Some of the Astamere bloodline had survived.
The horse lifted it head, ears twitching. Glowing red eyes looked directly at Eirik .
He flung himself back over the rim. Shit! He had no idea how communicative the beasts were, but he’d seen and heard enough.
He descended, sliding quietly down the side of the crater. He needed to get back to the wharf, get a message to Calian detailing his findings, ask for reinforcements and...
The wind shifted again, a sudden and bitter gust aiming for him, so volatile it yanked at his hair, pulled at his clothes, raked nails across his face, and blinded him with its fury.
He staggered back, so as to not lose all sense of direction and tumble forward. He tried to draw on his magic, willing the air to heel.
The wind only grew wilder, picking up debris, peppering him with rocks and sticks. He raised his hand to shield his face and lost his balance.
Hitting the ground hard, he rolled. The earth tore at him, gouging and ripping his skin as he flailed, desperate for purchase, unable to stop his fall.
He managed to grasp hold of something and jerked to a stop. As suddenly as the wind had occurred, it halted. Leaving him alone with screaming muscles.
Breathing hard, he listened as dirt and pebbles continued to plummet down the side of the crater.
Equilibrium returning, he released the root and hoisted back to his shaky feet. He was almost to the tree line. Once there, the slope would diminish and he could move more quickly to the forest floor. He didn’t want to risk using his vampire speed. Not with the possibility of alerting those fae.
What the hell was with that wind?
He didn’t get the time to contemplate further. An eerie fog crawled out of the tree line and underbrush like poisonous gas. A black cloud snaked up the crater wall, headed directly for him.
Stone crunched behind him. He spun and drew his sword.
The fae’s stealthy approach discovered, the bastard charged down the hillside like a boulder .
Eirik only had enough time to glimpse the second male cresting the crater’s rim before the first was upon him. The fae leapt through the air, pulling a hatchet to strike.
Fangs elongating, Eirik dug his feet into the mountain and readied his sword.
The male landed and swung. Eirik pivoted and dodged the blow. The fae didn’t get a chance to swing it again.
He brought his sword down across the male’s face, popping one wide eye from its socket, and separating his nose from his face. White teeth shattered and his tongue was cleaved at the root.
Eirik yanked free the blade and watched the dead fae fall to the ground in pieces.
When he glanced back up, the second male was gone. Lost somewhere amidst the dense fog engulfing the crater. Like a blindfold, it stole his vision. Twined around his legs and draped over his shoulders, he was left with only his memory of the perilous terrain.
He raised his sword, the steel polished to such a sheen he could make out his reflection in it, see the fog all around him–
And the glowing red eyes behind him.
Whirling, he sliced the blade through the air. Something heavy connected with the back of his head.