Sanyare: The Winter Warrior (The Sanyare Chronicles Book 4) Page 10

  Daenor lifted an eyebrow. “Always be aware of your surroundings.”

  Right. He’d been trying to pound that admonition into her since the day they’d met. He’d made a habit of trying to sneak up on and surprise her. He was successful more than half the time, so you’d think she would learn to keep her guard up by now.

  “Being prepared for an attack is different than looking for a good napping place.”

  “Not really,” he shrugged. “It’s a place to retreat and regroup if under attack.”

  Rie yawned so wide and hard, her jaw cracked. “Lead on.”

  Daenor’s lip lifted in a fondly bemused grin. “I guess that means I’ll be taking first watch.”

  “Mmm.”

  ***

  Rie woke to the smell of cooking meat and wood smoke. She wiped away a wet streak from the corner of her mouth and rubbed the grit out of her eyes.

  She must have slept hard.

  “Um, Rie?” Niinka chirped from a rock near the fire. “You might want to find a brush.”

  “I don’t know, I think the electrocution look might be coming into fashion,” Daenor teased. “You could dress it up with a little streak of ash from the fire.”

  Rie rolled her eyes, but quickly ran her hands through her hair. Still too short to pull back, she did her best to tuck it behind her ears and pat it down on top. With a pang, she remembered the day she’d sacrificed the arm’s length braid to the sun god. She’d earned his favor, but still lost a friend on that journey.

  She swallowed, turning her thoughts away from the dark.

  “How’s that?” she asked the three-inch female who’d started the conversation in the first place.

  “Better. Now you just look like you haven’t bathed in a week. Smell like it, too.”

  “It’s been two days.”

  Niinka tore a bloody chunk of meat off what looked like a weasel leg, and grinned. Her cheeks puffed out as she chewed.

  Rie puffed out a laugh, then joined Daenor at the fire. He held out a side of the cooked rodent, which Rie gladly took. The meat was slightly charred and a little greasy, but it was hot and filling. Far better than the travel rations they’d brought with them.

  “The pixies went hunting for us. They cleared out an entire warren of these little guys.”

  “I’m surprised they were willing to share.”

  “As I understand it, there was a debate, but ultimately their better nature won.”

  “Ah.” That probably meant Daenor had caught them tearing into the creatures, and grabbed a couple before they were gone. Judging by the distended bellies of the three-inch carnivores, they’d already eaten a good meal.

  “So, what’s the plan, then?” Rie asked.

  “I was going to ask the same thing. The tunnel exits the mountain less than a mile’s walk from here. I did a little scouting while you slept—like a rock, I might add—and peeked outside. The tundra is entirely exposed terrain. If we’re hunting Fenrir, we’re better served staying on or near the mountain, using the rocks and ledges to stay hidden.”

  “Or, we go back to Garamaen and Bren, make sure the wolves haven’t yet returned,” Rie said. Garamaen had not looked well when they’d left, and the baby was so young and fragile. She needed milk, needed warmth. Garamaen could take care of the latter easily enough, but would Possn and Tiik be able to find the missing goats without drawing attention?

  “Can you See anything of the future?”

  Rie closed her eyes, sought the inner calm that would open her third eye to the Sight, and call a premonition. Her consciousness sank into her being, her vision growing dark, and then popping in a burst of white light.

  A jumble of images came to light, a few possible futures in the crystal city, but nothing seemed relevant. Judith was there, holding a great sword and looking angry. Why was she in the Winter Realm? That made no sense, at least not for this current journey. She should be back in the Daemon Realm training to be a counselor and preparing to capture or destroy the escaped lost souls.

  “There’s a time gap,” Rie replied. “I can’t See anything here in the mountains. It’s odd, though. At some point Judith could become involved. I can’t tell why, or how far into the future, but she’s definitely in the frost sidhe city with a sword in hand.”

  Daenor frowned in puzzlement. “Odd.”

  “Yes. But Garamaen did say I wouldn’t be able to use my magic to sense Fenrir.”

  “Why is that, anyway?”

  Rie shrugged. “I have no idea. Something to do with Fenrir’s own abilities, I gather.”

  “Well, it doesn’t look like these tunnels have been recently used. If I had to guess, I think the wolves must have a more direct path through the mountains and back into barbegazi territory. If that’s the case, we’re better served moving forward and finding their trail.”

  “Do you miss the Shadow Guard?” Rie asked, abruptly. Ever since Daenor had chosen to remain with her in the Human Realm, she’d wondered at his reasons. He’d been the commander of the Shadow Realm’s military force in the capitol. Named heir to the Shadow Realm. But after the Battle of the Arches, he’d opted to stay with Rie.

  His eyebrows twitched, suspicion written on his features. “What brings this up?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just, you’re here, sitting in a cave, eating some kind of cave rodent, when you could be—probably should be—back in Nalakadr training with the troops in case Othin tries again. You had soldiers under your command, people who relied on you. What happened?”

  “My father lied to me my whole life. That’s what happened.”

  “Yes, but the guard was loyal to you. And if I remember correctly, you were determined to go back to them after the tribunal, anxious that they weren’t left under Faernodir’s inexperienced and incapable leadership.”

  Daenor took another bite from the skewered weasel, chewing it slowly without looking at Rie. She let him stew for a moment in silence, picking the meat off her own stick. When finally he swallowed, he seemed to have collected his thoughts.

  “Aradae is a good man, a good king. He’s not a good father. I can’t trust a man who didn’t trust me with my own family history. Who let me fend for myself my entire childhood, in the care of people who despised me, when he could have told the truth and forced the dark elves to treat me with respect.”

  “Would that have worked, though? They might have been outwardly respectful, but you would never have known what they really thought. They very well might have tried to have you killed or sabotaged you behind your back.”

  “They did that anyway.”

  “Yes, but you knew about it, could counter it, especially as you grew older.”

  Daenor’s pained gaze looked up, the tension around his eyes belying the internal struggle. “You might be right, but I still can’t forgive him for never telling me about my mother, or that I had family in the Summer Realm. So to answer your question, yes, I miss the men and women who looked to me for leadership. They deserve better than Faernodir. But he will learn to lead. I can’t go back to my father’s service. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

  “Then what about Thanûr and the fire sidhe? You now have the opportunity to know and understand the other side of your ancestry.”

  Rie didn’t know why she was pushing this line of questioning. She didn’t want him to leave her, after all. But she also feared that he was only doing this for her and would come to regret his decision later. She didn’t want him to grow bitter and resent her.

  However, Daenor grimaced, disgust turning his lips into a sneer. “Thanûr is grieving. The whole realm is. And most of the people blame me.”

  “They blame me, not you,” Rie disagreed.

  “No, they blame me, too. Norgeledil was a well-loved queen. She kept her crazy hidden. I’m the long-lost grandson who drove her insane, and then gave the human witch an opportunity to kill her.”

  “Ah.”

  Daenor shoved his empty skewer into the fire. The fire blazed, fed by an
outside source that wasn’t Rie. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared into the flame, a somber cast to his features.

  “Besides,” he continued, gaze still locked on the fire, “I thought there was another reason to stay. A reason that might change the course of my future, rather than dwell on the past.”

  A quick flick of his eyes, and Rie knew he was talking about her.

  They hadn’t discussed their future, and she wasn’t sure she was ready, even still. The present was hard enough to think about.

  But . . . .

  “I’m glad you’re here, with me,” Rie murmured. “I’m glad I don’t have to do this alone—”

  “Alone? What are we, rotten entrails?” Niinka asked, her words slurred.

  Rie had thought the pixies were asleep, piled together as they were. In fact, it looked to Rie like Niinka’s eyes were closed.

  Thankfully, Daenor smirked with good-natured humor. He never seemed to mind the pixies’ presence.

  “I’ve come to learn the path of the future isn’t fixed,” Rie continued, “but I hope you’ll continue to walk with me.”

  Daenor’s gaze softened, the tension leaving the corners of his eyes. Rie was glad to see it disappear.

  “Well, that brings us back to our current path,” Daenor said. “Which road are we walking?” He reached out and pulled her into his lap, one leg on either side of her body. He put his chin on her shoulder, tucking her in close.

  Rie took a breath, relaxing into his hold and letting him carry a small bit of her burden. As much as she felt drawn to return to Bjergtopp, the imminent threat was Fenrir and his pack. They couldn’t let them attack another village.

  “We need to find out where they’re going, and what their next target will be,” Rie replied, leaning her cheek into his warmth. “We follow their trail.” She paused, turning her head to look at him out of the corner of her eye. “After you get some sleep.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  RIE BLINKED AGAINST the sunlight. After nearly an entire day inside the mountain, the sun felt like it was burning her retinas and the wind slapped her cheeks as if to reprimand her absence.

  It was amazing how much warmer the caves had been. She wouldn’t have thought so, but the protection from the wind and snow made the rough mountain passage feel like a sanctuary.

  “Gah,” she grunted, lifting a hand to give her eyes a rest in the shade. With the other, she pulled her hood up and over her head, keeping her face in shadow and protected from the biting cold.

  “Now you know how I feel all the time,” Daenor replied, tugging his own hood up. As a half-dark elf, his vision was attuned to the dim light of the Shadow Realm. The midday sun, even on an overcast day in the Human Realm, had him squinting in pain.

  The good news was that the snow wasn’t nearly as deep on this side of the peak. They wouldn’t need the snowshoes. The wind had swept parts of the hillside completely clean, and the highest drifts only looked to be a couple feet deep.

  “Any sign of the wolves?” Rie asked. She wasn’t much of a tracker and had never participated in any kind of formal hunt. She wasn’t sure Daenor had, either.

  “Wolf prints,” Gikl motioned for Rie to follow. The pixies had chosen to fly awhile and help with the search, at least until their wings grew tired and cold. Rie expected that to happen at any moment. But the pixies were hunters. Not usually of big game, but they knew how to track and find things.

  Rie crouched to find a very clear print in a patch of snow. She couldn’t see any others nearby. The print pointed down the hill toward the flat plateau that stretched out into the distance, as far as the eye could see.

  “Let’s go.” Rie made to move down the mountain, but Daenor stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

  “We should stay on the mountain. There’s more cover, if we need it.”

  “We don’t want to miss the trail.” Rie worried her lip, gazing down at the ground and around the area once more. “I don’t see any other sign to suggest where they might have gone.”

  Niinka buzzed in front of Rie’s face. “There are more prints down this way,” she said.

  Daenor’s expression grew skeptical, but he waved Rie forward. It seemed she would be taking the lead on this one. Fifty lengths down the mountain, Niinka stopped.

  “There,” she said, pointing at the icy ground.

  The print wasn’t as perfectly formed as the first one, but it was still clearly visible in the snow. And this time, there was more than one.

  “What do you think?” Rie asked Daenor, but he was ignoring her, his gaze scanning the landscape around them.

  “I think we’re being watched,” Daenor replied.

  “By whom?”

  “I can only imagine one party interested in our activities. Fenrir must be close.”

  Rie stood, her hands immediately dropping to the handles of her khukuri blades. “He wouldn’t stay hidden for long. His ego won’t let him.”

  “Ego? He’s been bound in a cave for two thousand years. I don’t think he has much ego left,” Daenor said.

  “But he escaped. Somehow he broke that weld.”

  “Doesn’t mean he’s not being cautious.” Daenor’s eyes continued to scan the mountain and the horizon.

  “Do we keep going?” Rie asked. “Because this is our only clue about where to find Fenrir’s pack.”

  “Yes. But stay alert. Something doesn’t feel right.”

  Rie’s senses launched into overdrive. She reached out into the magical spectrum hoping for some sign of the wolves, some gap in the protection Fenrir seemed to carry in his skin. But there was nothing to See.

  “Gikl, scout ahead,” Rie ordered. “Niinka and Hiinto, spread out and look for the wolves. We need to know where they are.”

  “But my wings are cold,” Hiinto complained.

  “We need eyes and information.” Rie had learned that though they were her friends, the pixies could also be invaluable assets. But they did require a bit of extra coddling. “Your sneakiness is key to our success.”

  Hiinto puffed out his chest, struggling to hold back a grin. “I can definitely be sneaky.”

  “And whatever treasure you find is yours,” Rie said as he flew away. When they first met, Rie stopped the pixies from attacking her by first distracting them with a shiny ring, then offering tribute to keep them happy. It turned out they loved a nice shiny bauble almost as much as a plump alpine weasel. From that first bribe, a beautiful friendship had formed.

  “Treasure? What kind of treasure can they possibly find out here?” Daenor asked.

  “They’re pixies. They’ll find something. And so long as they can carry it, they have no restrictions in this realm, as far as I’m concerned.” Other places, other times, they had to be reined in from stealing. Way out here in the frozen wilderness, Rie didn’t have to worry about offending anyone.

  Hands still on her khukuris, Rie stepped down the mountain. She tried to keep her gaze up and out, watching for the wolves, but she also had to watch her step. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if she broke an ankle on loose rocks.

  This was madness. Truly. Garamaen was the one who should be hunting Fenrir. But every time Rie thought about the despondent way he had walked through the village and the pain in his eyes, she knew he couldn’t win a confrontation. Fenrir had held a grudge for two thousand years. Even if he were weak, that anger would carry him through, fuel his plot.

  The only question now; what was he planning?

  Rie slipped on some loose gravel, the stone sliding down the hillside with a clatter. She caught her balance but paused to listen. If the wolves were around but hadn’t yet noticed their presence, they would now.

  Her gaze traveled over the landscape, searching for movement amongst the rocks. Nothing caught her attention. Maybe they were lucky. Maybe Daenor was wrong.

  “Run!” Niinka screamed, her bell-like voice filled with terror. She zoomed past Rie with enough speed that Rie only saw a blur and felt the draft of wind. T
urning back to face the direction Niinka had come from, she saw them.

  Five wolves, each at least the size of a full-grown troll, but faster than a horse at a full gallop. They tore across the hillside, snow flinging into the air behind them.

  Rie didn’t wait to see more. She turned and sprinted for the tunnel opening. Blind panic overwhelmed her senses. Her heart pounded in her chest as adrenaline flooded her system.

  “Get to the cave!” Daenor shouted, as if she weren’t already headed that direction. But his words distracted her. She looked over her shoulder.

  The wolves had gained ground.

  She tripped. Landed hard on her side, pain shooting through her hip and down her leg.

  A fireball blasted through the air above her head, taking the lead wolf full in the chest. “Get up!” Daenor shouted.

  Fire. Rie spied a few small bushes in the path of the wolves, their branches mostly clear of snow. With a thought and a clenched fist, each bush exploded as the wolves approached.

  They veered away, but it wasn’t enough to stop them. They kept coming, teeth bared in vicious snarls.

  Daenor grabbed her arm, Rie scrambled to her feet. Another fireball launched from his hands. And another. Tiny bits of straw became cannonball sized blazes that launched with explosive force.

  “There’s no time,” Rie panted. The tunnel entrance was still at least twenty lengths away. They’d come farther from the cavern than she’d realized. And even if they did make it there, the best they could do would be to keep the wolves contained and fight them one by one.

  “I know.” Daenor’s expression was grim but determined. He lifted his hands. “Help me.”

  The mountain caught fire, a wall of flame separated Rie and Daenor from the oncoming wolves. Barely able to see them over the top of the blaze, the wolves slid into turns, dividing into two groups to circle around their position.

  Rie called forth the fire in her own aura, pushed it into the vegetation around them. There wasn’t much, but any branch or twig or blade of grass was fair game. Within moments, Rie and Daenor stood in a circle of flame, the wolves pacing around the outside.