Without my mother’s earth magic for protection, the Eagle Riders would slaughter us all.
2
Zara
One advantage of being a seminomadic people was that we could pack and leave quickly if needed. It took the strong sons and daughters only an hour to efficiently break down the ten tents that made up our camp, but I feared even that wouldn’t be fast enough. They had left the enormous pavilion, where my mother lay deathly still, for last. Shazeera and I watched Dani and two other healers—Imani and Layla—pour their magic into Ama. Their bodies shook with the effort. Even with their power combined, as minor healers, they didn’t have anywhere near the magic stores that Ama had—or even that I should have, for that matter.
Nafalla nestled close to Ama, curling her body around my mother’s protectively. Tension thrummed through the air, raising the hair on the back of my neck. It felt like the terrible moment of false calm before lightning struck.
Only I knew it wasn’t lightning that would strike us down from above.
Shazeera pranced in place, her anxiety mirroring my own.Why is everyone moving so slowly? We should have been miles awayfrom here by now! The healers are being incredibly foolish,she added with her ears pinned back in angry frustration.Theywill drain themselves and be in the same situation as your mother if they take much longer.
They were hoping to at least reenergize her body, but she must have depleted herself more than they anticipated.
The thought brought an icy chill to my blood.
“First Daughter,” Dani said, and I tensed, wary of what she would ask of me, “we cannot bring the queen back to consciousness. What would you have us do?”
I glanced at Shazeera, who tossed her head.We must leave now.
“The healing has taken too long,” I said, ignoring the flush that came to my cheeks as I navigated the unfamiliar waters of giving orders in my mother’s stead, “and the Eagle Riders could descend on us at any moment. We need to travel to safety as quickly as possible.”
Dani bowed her head once. “I’ll have a wagon prepared, then.”
When the healers left, I went to Ama’s side and touched her face. Her breaths were slow and steady, which was a comfort, but seeing her so helpless made guilt coil inside me like a serpent. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
Nafalla nudged me gently with her nose, and tears burned my eyes. She had every reason to blame me. Every reason to be angry for my lack of power. But instead, she offered me sympathy.
Kai and his brothers arrived then to gently carry Ama out to a wagon and break down the pavilion. Shazeera made a soft beckoning noise, and I grabbed my bow with its quiver of arrows before following her outside. Once under the ominously gray sky, I pulled myself astride. Everyone else in the camp was already mounted, their horses dancing in place with obvious anxiety to start moving. Mya lay on a pallet on a small wagon pulled by agray mare, her own horse at her side. She looked pale but alive. The healers had continued to work on her after Ama had collapsed, but she still faced many weeks of recovery.
A covered wagon, intricately detailed on the outside by gold and pulled by unbonded horses, arrived in front of the pavilion. The turquoise silk provided shade from the beating sun, and I knew the inside was already comfortably outfitted with plush fabric and pillows. Kai carefully carried Ama over to the wagon and laid her within it, where she remained unnaturally still. Nafalla positioned herself beside the wagon, where I knew she would continually check on Ama. It was beneath a bonded horse to pull things like wagons, since there were many more horses than there were my people, so the young unbonded ones were willing to help us with the more labor-intensive activities.
Vibrations under Shazeera’s hooves and the sudden attention of all the horses in camp signaled the arrival of more of our tribesmen. I turned to the east, hope blooming inside me when I saw Nafalla’s head and tail lift expectantly.
A band of fifteen warriors rode toward us, their horses covered in dust, as though they had traveled hard and fast. At the front was General Isa astride her gray mare Kamil, and just the sight of her unwound some of the tight knots of fear in my stomach. The general’s battalion stayed within an hour or two of riding distance from Ama’s camp, where they could quickly come to our aid if necessary, but also closer to the Angora Mountains and the Zephyrian capital, where they could patrol for Eagle Riders.
She rode within a few feet of Ama, and Kamil came to a full halt before both she and General Isa bowed their heads to their queen. The other warriors formed a line around us and offered the same bow of respect. Each was heavily armed, with either abow and quiver or a spear slung on their backs, swords at their hips. Like General Isa, they all wore dark brown leather armor; only hers was intricately tooled with silver thread and had scaled pauldrons. Their horses all had protective armor on their heads, necks, and rumps—any areas that may be under threat from above.
The horsehair plume on General Isa’s leather helmet fluttered in the breeze as her eyes, ringed with black, assessed the situation. She frowned when she took in my mother’s condition. “How long has she been unconscious?”
“It’s been almost an hour now,” I said, and General Isa searched my face. I knew what she was thinking. I had failed to access my powers. But mercifully, she didn’t say anything.
“The queen’s retinue won’t be able to travel as fast if she’s in that wagon. I’ll see if I can at least bring her back to consciousness,” she said, swinging her leg over and jumping down from Kamil’s back. General Isa was distantly related to Ama, so she could heal, too—just not as powerfully as a royal.
Gently, she placed both hands on either side of Ama’s face and closed her eyes. Nafalla and Kamil stood as silent witnesses, though I saw Nafalla’s dark coat twitch with nervous energy as the minutes ticked by.
Everyone around seemed to hold their breath—they probably could sense the earth magic. And then, suddenly, Ama’s eyes fluttered open.
“Zara,” Ama said, her voice faint.
I dismounted and went to her side, relief crashing over me like a thunderclap. “I’m here, Ama.”
Her gaze shifted to just behind me. “Where are we?”
Without the tents or pavilion, we could have been anywhereon the Equnox Plains. I thought of our location on the map in the eastern part of the Mid-Plains, a two-hour hard ride from the Ridgeline Foothills and about a hundred miles south of the Zephyrian stronghold in Naharu, nestled high in the mountains. Ama had found that staying closer to the Angora Mountains and Zephyrian territory worked to our advantage, as their scouts tended to focus on the northwestern Equnox Plains, where most of the battles were fought. But that was when we had wards that shielded us from view.
“Still at camp,” I said reluctantly, and her eyes widened.
