Chapter Twenty-Four #3
I'd thrown myself to the mercy of the Trials without knowing a single thing about them, had faced death time and time again in those endless tunnels, had threatened a patriarch of the High Houses and gambled away my future in defense of a lover who'd betrayed me in the end.
But this was something inside of me. This was me.
And it was the most terrifying thing of all.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, sitting cross-legged on the floor like I'd seen some of the acolytes do during their meditations.
I knew this would be nothing like that but I had no other ideas for how to get started.
So I settled in and focused my breathing like Bria had taught me, centering myself and my balance like Myrine had instructed, and cleared my mind like Dante had always begged me.
But even so, when I reached out, I felt nothing there. Absolutely nothing.
I huffed in frustration, rearranged myself so I was more comfortable upon the rock, and tried again.
My irritation wasn’t helping, I was sure, but with both Gryfon and the rock beneath me serving as both literal and metaphorical pains in my ass, I couldn’t shake it.
I tried to summon the darkness, tried to even remember what it felt like to pull it from within me, to send it shuddering through the world around me.
But the harder I strained, the more my exhaustion kept creeping in and, with it, my fear of that endless floating void.
I wasn’t sure when I’d drifted off. I only became aware of my return to consciousness by the deep ache in my back bone as I grunted and shifted awake on the rock.
With a hiss of pain, I maneuvered to my feet, squinting in the light of the morning sun in search of what had awakened me.
I hadn’t recognized the sound itself, nor the shift in the wind which had accompanied it, and I saw why a moment later.
Because the sight before me was nothing I ever knew was even possible, much less recognizable.
My lips parted in pure shock as I stood to my feet atop the rock and stared out at the shadows streaming like lightening across the desert.
Above them, their cause. A fleet of a half dozen flying beasts with armored men and women upon their backs.
The riders were hunched down in their saddles, stern faced and blinking against the breeze as their mounts swooped low over the scorching sands.
And the creatures they rode upon were unlike anything I’d ever seen.
Magnificent four-legged beasts made of a white so pure it nearly blinded in the desert sun.
Their enormous feathered wings fanned out and pumped around them as they soared through the air toward our camp.
It wasn’t until I glimpsed their red eyes that my awe was replaced with fear.
But it was too late. My hair whipped up and around my face as they passed above me, so close I could have reached up and gripped one of those massive claws.
They landed in a swirl of dust so vast I could hardly see through it.
My feet hit the sand and I was running before I could process what I'd just witnessed.
It was early, I could tell from the way many members of the camp had yet to emerge from their tents.
They did so now, hands raised to shield their eyes from the light as they stepped out into the sun, whispering about the newcomers.
I'd barely made it to the edge of camp when Zya emerged from our tent. Her gaze shot sideways, meeting mine at once, and her brows furrowed in question. I shook my head to tell her I didn’t know any more than she did and then we were both moving forward along with everyone else, driven by our insatiable curiosity regarding such creatures and those with the power to ride them.
“We received word from Sharifa,” one of the riders was saying, a man at the head of the column, the leader I guessed.
He remained on his mount as he spoke, the animal standing firm in the sand, head held high as it gazed at the surrounding crowd.
“You’re making good progress for a group this large. ”
“We have no choice but to,” Gryfon replied. I could just glimpse him through the mass of craning necks and beastly bodies. His full lips were slanted into a frown as he gazed confidently up at the man before him. “Our scouts claim the Geist have sent out whole squadrons to track us down.”
“Pavosian squadrons get lost in the desert all the time. They don’t know the sands like we do.”
A few around nodded in agreement. Gryfon’s gaze only hardened.
“Rainier—” Gryfon began, his tone full of warning, but it was the name itself that sent me reeling. Rainier? As in, Saint Rainier? A Champion of the Trials from nearly two thousand years ago, the founding father of a minor house, that Rainier?
Gaping, I turned to Zya and found her just as shocked as I was.
“Prima wants the girl in Archí by the end of the week,” Rainier interrupted. It was clearly a command.
Prima. I was sent reeling once again.
“We'll arrive when we arrive,” Gryfon replied in that smooth, confident drawl of his.
Some of the beasts snorted. A few pawed at the ground, restless. One even began to growl. Their riders looked just as displeased by the obvious lack of respect this warrior had given their commander.
“Prima’s orders—” Rainier began.
“Prima was the one who sent me out here in the first place. She entrusted this mission to me. She'll have to trust me to complete it.”
Rainier frowned at that. A corner of his jaw ticking was the only sign of his true irritation. After a moment, he nodded.
“Very well,” he intoned, having apparently lost all interest. “I'll meet with Farid, Sharifa, and Vidal before you depart. If you have anything further you wish to relay to Archí, find us before we leave.”
Gryfon nodded once and then the riders turned their beasts and prowled off through the camp toward the tent that contained its leaders.
Men and women in leather and silk practically leapt out of their way as the creatures lumbered through, hot desert sun shining off their cobbled snakeskin backs and red eyes darting back and forth.
“That was Rainier,” someone said from my side. I knew it was Zya without looking. “The Rainier. How in holy gods is he still alive?”
“He’s immortal,” I answered without thinking, reminded once again what that word truly meant.