Jon grumbled against Jàden, the gentle pine scent of her hair a calming remedy as he pulled her against his chest. He’d give almost anything to start every day with her curled in his arms.
As the afternoon sky darkened, he sat up straight and lit a cigarette. No time to languish this close to a village. They hadn’t seen the scouts since the fire on the ridge, but their absence didn’t ease the tension in his body. It seemed the scouts intentionally kept their distance.
Which could be because they were close to warden territory.
Everything south of the Forbidden Mountains belonged to the wardens and their golden cities. While Jon never traveled this far before, he’d heard the stories about women armed as soldiers and the great towers of the Guardians.
Rakir and wardens despised one another, content to let the mountains divide their cultures. Wardens and southerners worshipped their Guardians while the north barely acknowledged their existence.
Jon and Mather intentionally tried to appear as mountain hunters with their thick beards and long, shaggy hair, hoping to escape the notice of both factions. Unfortunately, the horses gave them away, but Jon wouldn’t trade his companion for a dozen mounts.
“We need to lighten our load,” Jon muttered, nodding toward the furs stacked behind Mather. “Get you a horse so you can be on your way back to Sharie.”
“Still need to say farewell to the others.” Mather stopped his horse, clouded eyes scanning the landscape.
Shadows grew deeper, the air cooler. He glanced back several times, but still no one followed. A lonely pole stood to the side of the road, an empty lantern swinging from its apex.
“Somethin’ ain’t right,” Mather said.
Jon listened to the silence. Watched how the snow fell without a hint of wind over the desolate road. Low mounds lined the cliff amid a cluster of trees and thick ivy.
He glanced toward Mather as they wove a twisted path among fallen pines and shrubs, sharing a silent I sense it too. His best friend was right—something felt off, almost too quiet. At the very least they should be able to spot hoofprints or wagon tracks, but the snow laid over the road like a fresh blanket.
“Stay on the horse and be ready to run.” Jon dropped to the ground and laid a hand on Jàden’s knee. The sweetness of her breath flowed through his skin, but he tightened his jaw and tried to ignore it. “Shout if anything moves.”
He grabbed his quiver, noting the way Jàden searched the sky and gripped the reins like her life depended on it.
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“Take Agnar.” Mather tossed his reins to Jàden. Dismounting, he shadowed Jon on the far side of the road.
Something in her magic nudged his mind with a vision of metal flying high over the clouds. He shoved it away and crept along the road, holding an arrow loose against his bow string.
Tall redwoods twisted along the path, covered in fresh-fallen snow. Burn marks scarred the lantern pole. Further along the road, small mounds poked out at odd angles, a faint scent of embers smoldering.
Jon crouched and brushed snow away from a shattered signpost, a silver dagger wedged in a crack with the tower and two moons emblem on the hilt. Zankata cawed from the high cliffs, their black feathers a smudge against the clouds.
“Rakir. They shouldn’t be ahead of us.”
Mather nodded. “Looks like Rakir passed through days ago. I’d bet my life that pile over there holds more than a cremated building.”
He followed his friend’s hand toward a larger mound. Nothing moved, but Jon could sense death lurking. He crouched near the snowy pile and tugged a charred bonding cloth from between two timbers. Grief swelled in his chest as he recalled his last day in Ìdolön and his family’s death.
Mather laid a hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault, Jon. Not your family and not this.”
“I held their ashes in my hands,” he muttered, unable to shake the surge of anger. Just like the one gripped in his hand, his parents’ bonding cloths had been laid on a box full of ash.
“Another family lost because of me.”
He traced his thumb across the burned fabric. Several families, if the dozen or so smoldering mounds were any indication.
Mather brushed aside the snow to reveal black cloth embroidered with a silver emblem. Rakir soldiers. “This doesn’t make any sense. We have a lead on the closest scout unit. How did they get ahead of us?”
Both men glanced at Jàden, standing in front of the horses and scratching their noses. He’d ordered her to be ready to run, and she obviously hadn’t listened to a word.
“I don’t think they did.” Jon nudged the Rakir uniform, his boot pressing on the dead soldier’s frozen arm, buried under at least a foot of snow. “A fleet of ships could sail to Nelórath in half the time. These bastards have been here for weeks.”
“No wonder the scouts are hanging back. They’re running us right into a trap. Half the army’s probably waiting for us nearby.” Mather gripped his bow gripped so tight Jon thought he might break it in half. “I hope the others are still alive.”
Jon leaned his forehead against his hand, wishing his father was here. The older Ayers always had a way of helping Jon think straight.
They couldn’t backtrack, or they’d run right into the scouts. And east was far too dangerous for humans. Jon cursed himself for not following the coast or sticking to the high passes. He should have known Éli was clever enough to get ahead of him. “Get Jàden out of sight. I’ll have a look around and meet you on the road. Be ready to run hard. I’d rather deal with a few scouts than whatever Éli’s cooked up.”
He re-tied his bow and quiver to his horse, then laid a hand on Jàden’s good shoulder. “Stay close to Mather and keep your face hidden.”
“We’re in danger, aren’t we?” She tugged up her hood, worry in her wild eyes.
“If there’s trouble, you stay low and out of sight.” He didn’t need to add more stress to the anguish etched into her features. She had suffered enough.
But Mather had no horse to return home now, and who knew what they’d find on the road ahead.
“Whatever happens, don’t use your magic,” Jon said. “Rakir will kill anyone with a hint of power. I didn’t keep you alive only to see you killed.”