Dragon-Eyed Rogue
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About this ebook
Some truths are better said repeatedly, so the lie buried inside can leak out.
Melders go mad. They are best killed or their magic bound to stem the madness.
Say it again. Melders go mad, so kill them or bind their magic and stem the madness.
One more time. Melders, when mad, can kill, so bind them in madness before they learn to use their magic.
How long should Zyla Powerbane wait to go mad?
In the meantime, there is plenty to do.
Reestablish the Lynkyn forest one precious seed at a time.
Steal the mad melder imprisoned beneath the Towers.
Find her friends among the whispering trees.
If she was an outcast before, now she is a criminal.
If she was rejected before, now she has nowhere to turn.
If she had been weak and uncertain, now she is determined to drive herself through all obstacles, even if the cost for success destroys her.
Push the buy button for book 2 of the Annals of the Dragon Dreamer because the lies hidden in truths make us who we are.
L. Darby Gibbs
L. Darby Gibbs has been publishing novels since 2011. Since 2018, Gibbs has been writing fantasy, and has three series out: Solstice Dragon World (six standalone books), Standing Stone (five series books), and her newest Kavin Cut Chronicles (a trilogy).When she is not writing or teaching, she is active in the outdoors, mostly on a tandem bicycle or, more recently, sailing.Gibbs is a teacher of writing and published a non-fiction reference book of traditional story plots titled THE LITTLE HANDBOOK OF OF NARRATIVE FRAMEWORKS in 2013.Gibbs enjoys going to the theater, reading, traveling and spending time with her family and pets. She has been married over thirty years, has one child and a Labrador. She lives in the United States and has lived in several states north, east, west and south. Though born on the east coast, her roots are buried deepest in Southern California.
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Dragon-Eyed Rogue - L. Darby Gibbs
Dragon-Eyed Rogue
Annals of the Dragon Dreamer, Book 2
L. Darby Gibbs
INKABOUT PUBLISHING
Dragon-Eyed Rogue
Annals of the Dragon Dreamer series, Book 2
Published by Inkabout Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright 2022 L. Darby Gibbs
All Rights Reserved
License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the retailer of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover art Copyright 2021: Magnetra’s Design
Edited by Kendra’s Editing and Book Services
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Lottie wakes each morning, facing another day in Winsome Woods. She doesn’t remember why she’s there or where she came from, but there are things to do if she’s going to last long enough to figure it out.
When the arrival stone shakes her small wooded world, she finds out she’s no longer on her own. Unfortunately, Jag’s arrival inside the failing spell confirms there’s no way out.
The spell is breaking down, and her limited skills may lead to it faltering in a matter of days. When the last leaf drops, everything and everyone disappears.
Can Jag help her make her own magic escape or will they both fall Under Winsome Magic?
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Table of Contents
Map of Rigaria
1.Wisery Towers
2.If There Wasn't Enough to Worry About
3.Razers Among Us
4.No Entry
5.Fit to Burst
6.High Tower
7.Raiser Forest
8.Mad Melder
9.Double Melder in the Void
10.Nothing Going on Here
11.Where There's a Dragon
12.A Loaded Bet
13.The Elder Meeting
14.Madness
15.Melder Training
16.Potentially Overstocked with Trouble
17.Void Breakdown
18.A Sweeping Madness
19.A Majority of Rogues
20.A Lynkyn Diversion
21.Red Rumor
22.The Sweeper
23.Behind Every Illusion
24.Epilogue
25.Excerpt: Annals of the Dragon Dreamer, Book 3
image-placeholderChapter one
Wisery Towers
Zyla
Zyla Powerbane stood at the edge of the woods bordering Wisery Towers. She shoved memories inspired by the view aside, determined to approach the Towers while remaining disconnected from the angry orphan who had lived in a mental crouch for twenty years. Not that she had viewed herself in that way from infancy through adulthood. It was in retrospect that the anger bubbled. It surged, and she batted at it again. She’d gone too long feeling inferior and punished for not fitting in because of her appearance or lack of power. That was behind her. She would not let anger impede the task she had accepted.
Tucking her red hair under the shimmering blue hood of her cloak, she considered what color to use to mask the impressive material. Perhaps a forest green, something common and not so memorable when she stalked through the corridors on her errand of mercy or destruction. She’d find out which soon enough.
From this vantage point, returning with melder power simmering inside her, an invisible dragon waiting in a meadow, and the subtle link to Lynkyn pulsing at her back, she couldn’t decide if she was entering enemy territory or returning home. In either case, she would avoid running into Master Canderbury. It was not yet time to share her adventures with him. There was still the mystery of Seguin’s variable opinion of her mentor. Until she knew why Seguin waxed and waned with his loyalty, she would keep herself distant from the man who raised her and drilled her caster skills to perfection.
She wished yet again that Seguin and Madras were with her, but they were somewhere readying to join her if she could believe Lyn and Tov. Another annoyance that tangled with her nerves. Why had they kept it a secret that Seguin had returned for her?
She needed training, and Lynkyn forest knew best how to provide instruction. Lyn had been right, but it didn’t make the subterfuge any more acceptable.
The wolf at her side whined and sniffed the air, his black fur standing straight up around his neck. She ran her fingers from the concave rise above Blaze’s snout, between his eyes, and over the blaze of white in the coarse fur of his forehead. He raised his nose, thrusting her hand away as if to say it was time to get serious.
You may not go with me. We settled that already. You have a duty to the Nahlyn.
He whined again, and her lips quirked. Two days ago, he was alone in his vigil of protecting a single young Lynkyn tree. But she had arrived and now shared his burden, and he behaved as if their bond was elastic only over short distances.
The Lynkyn come first, Blaze.
Even the thought of choosing an action that would leave the single Nahlyn tree alone for the few hours of her initial foray into the Wisery compound almost made her ill. Besides, I grew up here and will be in no danger.
She would keep telling herself that. If the mad melder was still here, then danger could come from any direction.
The three towers of the school rose before her beyond an open field the trees bordered. She would enter Mid Tower, make her way to the basement rooms, and avoid facing anyone who might recognize her. The center tower housed mostly classrooms and testing facilities, ideal for her intentions.
Except for a short dagger sheathed in a boot, she’d left everything identifiable in her satchel hidden under a pair of boulders and camouflaged by bracken. Quoa had the rest of her supplies in the field where the dragon hunkered down, invisible to any that came close. A dragon in Wisery would not be welcome, would not be welcome anywhere on the continent.
She’d tried to send Edain back to Quoa, but the companion dragon had refused to take the suggestion. He rested curled at her feet, his black eyes closed as he soaked in the early morning sun glistening off his green, sharp-angled head, which was tilted up as if enraptured with the clear sky.
They’d been observing the institution for more than an hour. She would wait until the first class shift to enter. Most of the residents would be finishing breakfast. Besides, who sneaks into a school?
Blaze stepped forward, his head tipping in curiosity. Beside her, Edain leaped to his feet, equally intent. She followed their gazes, her eyes widening at the sight of a dragon flying in the distance. "Tell me that is not Quoa. No, tell me that is Quoa. We do not need another dragon in the world, but we don’t need Quoa cavorting across the sky, either. She glared at the small dragon, holding him responsible.
Edain, why is Quoa flying over the beaches of the Gulf of Wisery?"
Pressing a good-humored reply into Zyla’s mind, Quoa said, I grew tired of waiting.
So, you threw yourself out there for all to see?
They can’t see me.
I can see you.
You can see me, but others cannot. Even from a distance, Zyla watched Quoa turn her head and peer sharply at them.
Edain, fix the wolf.
Zyla ignored her segue into another topic. Your illusion won’t work if melder eyes gaze upward.
You see me because I want you to. The dragon vanished.
An additional concern bubbled up. Are you wasting prime?
I’ll go.
Satisfied that Quoa was on her way back to the field miles away, she looked for Edain and found him next to Blaze, about to set a taloned foot upon him. What is wrong with Blaze?
Blaze stared at Edain, his black ears tipping intently forward.
Edain touched the wolf’s flank, and his coat gleamed like black ice, and his blue eyes frosted until they glowed aquamarine. She’d thought of the wolf as healthy before, but physical power exuded from him like an invisible aura. The world wavered along the edges of his form if one looked closely. Apparently, one Nahlyn was not enough to support a single Lynkyn wolf.
Blaze bounced to his feet and dashed away and back like an exuberant puppy. He pounced on Edain, who rolled beneath him and scrambled under his belly and up his side to ride his bulky shoulders.
She knew just how Blaze felt. If she allowed the melder forces within her to surge, her skin tingled, and the world took on a brightness that seemed to energize and amplify everything.
The Towers stood waiting. Blaze, protect the Nahlyn. Edain, go back to Quoa. I can’t enter Wisery Towers with a dragon, even a tiny one.
Chapter two
If There Wasn't Enough to Worry About
Seguin: Two Months Earlier
The trees, garbed in early spring leaves, flashed by as Seguin raced through the woods. The low foliage swatted at his boots, slapping hard enough to make him wince at the sound, though the impact was hardly noticeable through the thick leather. He was far enough back that it was unlikely the razers he pursued could question him if he was lucky enough to find their trail. He’d have to slow his pace soon; his lungs burned and cramped from his long run from the Lynkyn forest. The steep incline that rimmed it had challenged him as he’d rushed back along the wake of their flight, but Madras in the hands of the razers had kept him struggling up the cliffs to the highlands that hid the precious woods below. His hands still stung with the scrapes of his climbing rush up the rough white rock face.
Lynkyn forest lay where none would think to look. It was safe, and if Zyla stayed there like he had asked, she was safe, too.
That had to be true. She and her dragons must stay hidden in those Lynkyn woods.
He ran on, accepting the scrapes that stung, knowing he couldn’t heal them without drawing attention to himself. He leaked precious melder magic.
Blue sky, just past dawn, hung in patches overhead. When the trees had their full foliage, it would be too thick to see the sky, but for now, the canopy was thin with early spring growth and revealed an unclouded dome. Was Zyla looking up right now at the same brightening sky?
No. That firebrand of a melder was back at the courtyard, probably seeking some weakness in the promise he’d exacted from her. He could imagine Zyla standing there, hands on hips, brilliant red hair ratted by the windy flight, going over each word she’d uttered. Had she promised to stay behind until he returned or just until he’d been gone for a few minutes? Please stay safely among the Lynkyn, firebrand. Her impertinent, freckled face loomed in his thoughts.
He stopped, a hand on a tree trunk, and breathed hard as he surveyed the terrain. Was he close to the pine forest they’d flown over? The stately trees had bent under Quoa’s faltering mass. The deciduous woods around him were thinning, more tall pines filling in the gaps. He couldn’t be far from where they had darted to the Lynkyn valley.
Beneath his beating heart, melder pressure reared up. He crushed it down and wished he knew why his control was slipping. It had been years since he’d battled consciously with that part of him that everyone feared. He wasn’t unbound, yet the binding he’d depended upon was breaking down. His heart eased its thumping beat; his breath slowed.
He charged on ahead, worry for Madras forcing him to race although his legs already felt like lead, yet his concern for Zyla dragged at his thoughts. Some hook had snagged him to her. How had that happened? Leaving her behind was unexpectedly difficult. Not only did he have melder forces working at him, but there was another battle waging. What hung between him and Melder Powerbane?
His boots thudded along with his heart.
Why had he kissed her? The pressure of her forehead still danced on his lips, and he bit them, certain breaking up the sensation would cut him loose from his worry for her. Her blue eyes and that cascade of red hair filled his inner vision. What reason could he have for the drag she created? He increased his pace, pushing off trees and swinging himself around them. His short sword tugged at the lacing that secured it to his thigh. Would the Lynkyn forest deign to surround her in security, blind those who sought to find her from discerning her powerful presence?
Here he was worried about her being detected, and his own power tested the barriers he’d erected. It pulsed with every vibrating nerve in his body. Running back to Zyla to keep her safe or charging on to rescue Madras, he wanted to reach out with his power, and the source of that need crouched inside him, ready for release, almost demanding it.
Finally, he entered the pine forest and searched ahead for any sign of the parched ground that had torn at Quoa’s gift, draining the poor beast of the strength to fly on toward the haven the Lynkyn trees promised. Somewhere along here, Seguin had slowed Madras’ fall to the forest floor. The trail of those who had taken her had to be nearby.
Running on, he stopped to stand at the edge of the pine forest, his gaze racing over the barren ground, taking his bearings. Ahead lay the rough plain that sucked at Altia’s gift, nearly grounding Quoa as she flew to safety in the haven of the Lynkyn woods. Which way, within this margin of pine and plain, should he search? There! Charging west toward the rising sun, he watched for where the razers had entered the pine forest. They had taken Madras with them, according to Quoa. He weaved through the trees, turning and twisting as he watched for broken twigs and hoofprints.
Turned up needles and ground cover pulled him to a stop. It had to be here that she had landed, still unconscious after her night of feeding the gift to Quoa. He dug his hands into the loose dry needles. He counted the dug-in tracks, estimating the number of riders who’d stopped there. Five perhaps. A young pine bore gaping tears where limbs had been torn off, and two trees, nothing but stumps, stood no greater in diameter than his fist.
He followed the hoofprints. Here was where they’d dragged their travois with Madras secured upon it. He thanked Altia for their consideration in handling his foster sister. It would have been quicker to drape Madras over a horse’s back, and he would not have had a chance of catching up with them.
With the skidding pallet, they would have to travel with care, and they had left him a trail. Thank you very much. He stopped a moment to stare back at where the Lynkyn valley lie hidden. She’d promised she’d stay, and she would. He had to believe that.
He jogged between the double impression drag marks the razers had left.
They couldn’t be far ahead. The hook tugged at him, and he shook his head as if denying his connection to Zyla. Madras needed him right now, and he wouldn’t let her down. That meant pushing the power that scrambled at the cracks in his control back behind it. If the razers found him first, he’d not get her away from them.
More than an hour had passed when he stopped and sat between two boulders just ahead of their path. He had come upon the razers walking their horses, Madras still unconscious and lashed to the platform they pulled. He had run ahead of them and settled in to get a good look as they passed by his hiding place. On the wide platform, Madras looked even tinier than she was, her curly black hair pulled to one side as if they had wanted to avoid it catching in the ties that crossed her chest. She was going to be spitting mad when she woke up and found herself bundled like a baby.
The drumming of hoofbeats broke their quiet passage, and the small troop stopped. Seguin backed further out of sight, coming out behind the boulders. He climbed a tree nearby, grasping limb after limb with scraped palms as he gained height and safety. As he climbed, the pitch oozing from the limbs left sticky stains on his hands, the acidic sap burning his cuts. He crouched and balanced on the balls of his feet as he moved out along a branch, feeling it bow beneath him, opening the view below. He reached up an arm and gripped an overhead limb. The smell of the pine filled his lungs and seemed to spread its sharp taste out on his tongue. He wished he had taken a canteen with him when he’d left Zyla, but he’d wanted to be as light as possible when running to catch up with the band of razers that had been tracking them.
The second group rode up and dismounted, shoving themselves close enough to examine Madras and demand greater leave to approach her.
The leader of the first group spoke with authority and called for them to introduce themselves. His short cloak covered him to his knees, just as similar cloaks did his companions. Tan boots, featuring leather flaps folded down over the tops, seemed his only difference from his colleagues. His black hair, graying at the temples, was pulled back and tied at the rear crown of his head. Seguin took him for mid to late forties and a fellow used to being in charge.
Same as you: we are razers,
said the fellow closest, his shoulder twitching. He forced his shoulders against one of the five that stood between them and Madras. We come for the melder. We’ll relieve you of the trouble of bearing her from here and see she’s dealt with.
We’re able to deal with her fine with no aid,
countered the leader. She’s just an injured woman. Probably took a fall from her horse.
Seguin shook with frustration. What would either group want with Madras? She wasn’t a melder. Not only couldn’t he get her away from the group that had found her, but the new arrivals carried treachery in their postures. Their idea of dealing with Madras seemed at odds with the efforts of the first group, though he didn’t trust them either. He only hoped that they would not give her up.
Fallen from a dragon. We saw it.
His accompanying riders nodded. A slim woman, a bright red scarf wrapped around her head and her hair sticking out in tufts, stood to his left and pounded the butt of a staff on the ground for emphasis.
A dragon,
the leader of the first group repeated, a humorous snort following the words. You saw a woman fall from a dragon?
We did, that woman.
He pointed, his arm bobbing with the shoulder twitch. If she’s with a dragon, then she’s a melder. If she’s a melder, then we know our duty.
The leader stepped back, an arm waving them in. Check her yourself. You’ll find there must be multiple women falling from their mounts today, as she’s no melder.
The sudden reversal surprised the twitchy man, who stepped back instead of forward. The slim woman tossed her staff to him and charged through the opening. She kneeled by Madras and placed her hand against Madras’ ear, turning her head. She kneeled there a moment before facing the man with the twitchy shoulder and shook her head.
Search her,
Twitchy said.
Seguin lost his grip on the limb above, and as his foot twisted on the branch, the stickiness of the sap helped him catch himself. Madras had his and Zyla’s seals in one of her pockets. Who knew what they would think if they found them?
The leader jerked the woman up and away from Madras. She’s done nothing to deserve anyone pawing at her.
That her bag?
the woman asked.
Seguin stood, leaning around the limb he’d gripped, and stared where she pointed. They’d put her bag under her head for a cushion. Maybe the first group was just a set of travelers that came upon her. If so, he hoped they held their course. The other was a group of razers set on killing based on suspicion alone.
It’s full of food supplies and a change of clothes,
the leader said.
You’ve searched her,
Twitchy challenged. The woman sniggered and jerked her arm from the leader.
We made sure we could use it to pillow her head. We didn’t touch or remove anything.
The leader turned his face, bringing it into Seguin’s view.
Seguin’s grip tightened on the branch. When the razer group had chased them toward Lynkyn forest in Montomoro, this man had led the pursuing group. What name did they call him? Monty? It didn’t matter. Their group wasn’t any safer for her than the second. Whatever they were up to, it wasn’t any more innocent than the new group’s plans.
Seguin lost track of their next words. He fought down the rise of a demand to meld that grew with his frustration. It was like being a child again. He’d had these unavoidable urges to act and had burned down a shed at one of his foster homes. He was four, and it was the first of many moves following suspicious accidents. Canderbury always showed up in time to ease the questions and move Seguin to another family distant enough to not hear the gossip.
Why was it troubling him after all these years? Was this the fate of a melder, the constant increase of the power within? Just when he thought he had it under control, it ramped up again. The force of the pressure was almost painful, and he squeezed his eyelids tighter. Over the last couple of weeks, the sudden upsurge of melding power had become more frequent and harder to shove down.
He backed up close to the trunk and bowed his head. Concentrating, he tightened his shoulders, tugging the limb beside him downward, a creak surprising him. The wave washed up his skin. Just as he feared it would thrust outward, the pressure of its demand dropped and faded.
Who? He looked down at the group, searching for which of them below had pulled his control back. None peered toward him or seemed even aware of his presence in the tree off their path. Madras? Could she be feigning sleep? He balanced on the limb, one foot at a time, until he could see her again between the branches. She may have fallen, but he’d made sure she didn’t land hard. Had she protected him yet again from being found out, just as she had when they were children and his control had faltered?
She looked unconscious, her limbs relaxed at awkward angles, but Madras had always been dramatic. It would be just like her to fake unconsciousness until she knew what sort of trouble she was in.
He would have to depend on her to save him from himself. If he knew what was causing the upsurges, he could better control them. If he didn’t learn to suppress them, he’d be having more than dreams of blue-eyed dragons. Getting Madras back was becoming more than a matter of family loyalty. She could help him isolate the draw of the gift, maybe even see if there was a catalyst.
He watched the two groups; their voices had fallen since the agreement that Madras wasn’t a melder. Twitchy mounted his horse, but the red-scarfed woman still argued about searching Madras’ bag. He couldn’t imagine there was anything in there that would expose them unless she’d packed the seals inside. That wasn’t like Madras. She knew to keep them close.
Monty, if that was his name, shrugged his shoulders and waved her toward Madras. She stomped as if making an impression in the ground was of some importance and kneeled again next to the travois. A young man, almost a boy, crouched on the other side, untying and rolling Madras onto her side so the woman could get at the bag. Monty watched, his expression passive, though he looked as if he hadn’t noted the contents much and was taking advantage of the opportunity to do so. Was his behavior an act as well? There was no way Madras was still unconscious.
Red Scarf removed several rolled items, and Seguin held in a snort. If Madras was awake, she must be fuming. She didn’t like people going through her things, especially her food, which she wrapped specifically to keep it fresh and avoid it seeping into her clothes or other packages. He doubted the woman would wrap things up in Madras’ approved style.
The woman stood and stared down at her. The young man rearranged the contents of the bag, taking the time to re-wrap one item, resettle things, and set the bag in place before rolling her to her back. He propped her head and shoulders on the bag and secured her on the platform. Seguin approved, but he refused to like the kid. He needed to get Madras away from all of them.
Done?
called Twitchy, and Red Scarf nodded reluctantly. She grabbed her staff from Twitchy and mounted her horse.
There was an offer to escort them to the nearest town, but Monty waved them off. The boy stood at his shoulder, and though Seguin could not hear the words, he knew the boy was passing some bit of information to the leader. Monty nodded once and watched the second group ride away.
The remaining group stood waiting, talking in two small parties: the others in one and the boy and Monty huddled together. After a few minutes, Monty sent off two riders in the same general direction as the razers. He squatted on his heels and stared at Madras. Seguin watched and wondered what the man was looking for. Madras didn’t move, other than her chest rising and falling gently.
The riders returned and reported on whatever he’d requested. The group proceeded on their way, heading deeper into the woods, and Seguin gave them time to get out of sight before he climbed down.
They went at a pace Seguin could keep up with. Did they believe Madras was injured and needed the careful effort they gave, or did they suspect someone followed? The group gave nothing away, and he kept his distance, veering when the terrain allowed him to go around and cut back ahead of them. If they kept their bearings, they would be halfway to Montomoro by nightfall.
Zyla was getting farther and farther away. Every league they covered tugged at his concern for her. Was she safe with the Lynkyn? His worries led to more questions. One he kept coming back to: If this group was the one that had tried to trap them in Montomoro, why were they calmly riding off? The goal had been to capture Zyla. Was Madras a lure? He needed to get her away from them before they set their plan in motion. For now, she was a quiescent prisoner, so they could afford the illusion of kindly strangers. He’d seen Monty before, and the kid could be the one Zyla had told him about, the melder who sensed her every time she cast or dreamed.
Would he sense Seguin and his melder power when it welled up again? He wished he knew what had galvanized it after all these years. He needed Madras if he stood a chance at regaining his control.
If he could get her away from them, they’d have to find a circuitous route back to the valley of the Lynkyn, back to Zyla, without leading the razers to her.
Why had he kissed her?
She’d stood there and let him. It had just been his lips to her forehead. What did that mean?
A familiar touch stopped him as he stepped between two close-growing trees. He waited for it to come again. There it was. He turned in a circle, searching between trees draped in wild grapevines and surrounded by snags of fallen trunks. A pale shade of tan flashed, followed by black and gray dappling. Rorik.
A muffled snort sounded in his head.
Stay put. I’m coming to you. If he couldn’t keep his own horse safe in a Lynkyn forest, what hope did he have of Zyla staying where he left her? He grumbled as he stepped around thorny bushes and the tightly packed spread of pine limbs. Sure enough, Rorik and Madras’ bay stood together, saddles strapped on and bridles hanging from the saddle horns.
Seguin shook his head. You’d think by now you could get a bridle on. What if you’d lost it? Look at the reins nearly dragging on the ground.
Rorik grumbled.
Well, she’s not trained to travel on her own. She’s your average Nell of a horse.
He set the bit in Rorik’s mouth and strapped the bridle on, raising the reins over his head and twisting them once about the saddle horn.
Rorik rattled his tack, an adamant denial rippling through Seguin’s mind.
You’re kidding.
He eyed the bay who gave him a demure look, pale lashes dropping over her eyes as if she were slightly embarrassed. How long have you known?
A whickered answer surprised him. She’s shy?
He finished securing the saddle, amazed the thing hadn’t slipped around and hung upside down from Rorik’s belly. I don’t know how you two traveled this far without getting your saddles tangled in your rear hooves.
He laughed at Rorik’s grumble. That will teach you to travel with a woman who has little experience being away from home.
His fingers stilled on the stirrup. Hadn’t he been traveling with just such a woman? You and I need to make more informed decisions.
He stepped around Rorik and ran his hand down the bay’s convex face from forehead to muzzle. "So, pretty lady, do you have a name?
Bay.
Of course, and Madras probably knows that. Has she been keeping it a secret that she has an odd horse like I do?
A stamp by Seguin’s foot brought a grin to his face. How many horses are out there that can talk thoughts into a person’s head? Until recent moments, I thought there was only one. Have you been keeping secrets, too, Rorik, old boy?
Finished with Bay’s tack, he patted her shoulder. We’ll have to have you practice helping each other get yourselves suited up. It would have been a shame to lose all this nice gear because you two couldn’t get it secured properly, although Rorik didn’t do a poor job on yours.
Seated on Rorik, he explained their predicament with Zyla hidden with her dragon in a forest and Madras in the hands of razers. I’ve been following them all day. We’ll have to stay far back to keep them from noticing us. You are not as quiet moving through the woods as I am.
He guided them out of the denser part of the woods and tied Bay’s reins to Rorik’s so that she kept close. It’s nice having travel companions again. I feel as if we might stand a chance now. If I can get Madras away from them, we can ride away. Their horses are not the strong pacers you two are.
Nothing had changed, yet he felt more content. Their hooves’ light thuds on the ground carried a happy rhythm. He patted Rorik’s shoulder and sat enjoying the even pace the war horse held. He was far from Zyla and worried about Madras, but Rorik was close. There wasn’t any reason to feel that all would be well, but that was how he felt. He laughed at himself and stopped fighting the grin on his face.
The afternoon passed dully, fair weather and gentle sunshine dappling them. Rorik treated Seguin to a condensed version of their own travels. They had some difficulty twice staying out of sight but had been fortunate once when a boy on the verge of stepping into a cluster of trees sat down and