They shook their heads.
“Then let us endure it in silence.” I looked over my shoulder at the endless sea of warriors. “They don’t complain about it, neither should we.”
“You sound just like those pretentious Veghearas.” She rolled her eyes. “And the warriors do complain in the back, they’re just too awestruck by you two and don’t want you thinking they’re weak.”
“Nobody who does the right thing is weak,” I growled.
My thoughts instantly raced to Geryll. We’d exchanged the quickest goodbye before he’d bolted toward the Library. He’d been too jittery and concerned, but blamed it on missing the doors opening. I would have liked to drink one last cup of tea with him before I headed off, but I understood.
The sun scorched as we marched. My steed was eager to get ahead and I had to pull on the reins every ten minutes to get him to fall back in line with Madrya.
I couldn’t blame him. I wanted to leave this place just as much.
The Defector Lands were still hundreds of feet away from the main road, guarded by rock wards inscribed with runes so ancient, we’d lost their meaning.
We were heading into a territory of Malhaven which had thrived long before the Clans of today had existed, back when people built structures to rival those of the forgotten gods. Unlike other Clans, who’d razed them to the ground to bring forth their own ideas and rules, the Blood Brotherhood hadn’t seen a threat in the old ways.
Zandyr’s ancestors had saved what they could, preserved what they hadn’t understood, and now their descendants benefited from that decision.
The Obsidian River itself, too sacred to be touched, came from a dam protected from human hands by forgotten magic that still held stronger than any enchantments we’d discovered since.
The stone wards were the same. They’d been here long before us and they would watch us and our way of life perish before they did.
But the Lands themselves…they had changed.
“The trees look bigger,” Zandyr muttered. “And the forest is louder than a few weeks ago.”
And denser, its edges overtaken with new vines that slowly crept toward the road, like skeletons trying to dig themselves out of the grave.
A mean hiss whispered through the leaves, with no bird song to sweeten it.
No animals hung from the branches.
Even the light seemed to be trapped in its darkness, never to be released again.
Yet I couldn’t tear my gaze away from it. Something in its foulness called out–either to entice me to my death or warn me away from here, I couldn’t tell.
My instincts were so consumed, I almost missed the flicker in my baldric.
The piece of Solkar’s Heart embedded in my daggers flashed right as we passed another one of the wards guarding us.
My entire body tense, I pressed my palm to the hilts.
No colder or warmer than usual.
No seep of energy called out to me or my power.
They’d never flickered before. My mind instantly raced back to Allie and the crater? Was this a warning?
I almost jumped off the horse, already envisioning my rush back home. If I left now, I could reach the crater by nightfall, check on Allie, then return by the time the warriors would wake in the morning. But then we passed the ward, and the daggers quieted.
I loosened the reins, rushing to the next ward. Same glow that appeared, then vanished.
Which meant the flicker hadn’t come from Solkar’s Reach–but was influenced by these rocks.
I relaxed back into my saddle. The ancient magic must have sensed the piece of the crater.
I looked at my warriors. None of them seemed to see anything amiss, apart from the general eeriness.
