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Fern shifted on her stag’s back. “You saw nobody though?”
“No … but my back itched the whole time,” he replied. “There’s definitely someone out there.”
“Surely, it isn’t the Circines?” Ailsa asked. “They’re still well behind us.”
“It might have been a scout … or something else entirely,” Darach answered, approaching her in long strides. “We need to keep our wits about us, all the same.”
Kayla murmured an oath under her breath at this, even as she glanced nervously around her.
“We should ride on until after nightfall then,” Fern said, “and quicken our pace.”
“Where’s that raven of yours?” Kayla twisted in the saddle to look at the huntress. “I thought he was scouting for you?”
Fern cut her an irritated look. “He’s not at my beck and call,” she answered. “Eagal will find me when he’s ready.”
The edge to Fern’s voice made Ailsa frown. The raven’s disappearance did worry her; she just didn’t want to admit it.
Darach swung up in front of Ailsa and gathered the reins. “Right then,” he grunted. “Let’s ride.”
They moved off, and Ailsa pushed her hair out of her eyes. A wind had picked up, bringing with it a piercing whine. The Whistle swept in from the west, carrying the rich scent of vegetation and damp, peaty earth.
They rode on, the thunder of hoofbeats shaking the ground, the wind on their faces.
After a while, Ailsa peered over Darach’s shoulder, at where her mentor rode a few yards ahead, her curly red hair bouncing with every jolting stride.
They still hadn’t talked privately. Ailsa was putting it off.
I’ll speak to her tonight, Ailsa promised herself. When—
A harsh cawing sound cut her thoughts off then, and a massive raven swooped down from nowhere. Flying low, wings working madly, beak open, Eagal continued to call hysterically, doing one circle around them and then cutting west.
Ailsa’s gaze tracked him, even as Darach grunted a curse and urged Rùn faster.
A few instants later, they reached Fern. She’d halted, although Cern danced and bucked in place, eager to bolt.
“They’ve found us.” The huntress’s face was grim as her gaze swept the nearby press of trees. Dusk was coming on swiftly. Lips compressing, Fern pulled a long steel fighting dagger from the sheath on her hip. “They’re riding parallel … in the trees just west of here.”
Ailsa grew still at this, her senses sharpening as her gaze swept their surroundings. Shit. Had it been them Darach had sensed earlier, after all?
Her nostrils flared then as the scent of pine and ash reached her. Earth magic.
“Parallel to us?” Kayla drew her own dagger, a nerve jumping in her cheek. “How’s that possible? I thought they were leagues behind.”
“They were,” Fern answered. “And now they’re not. I have no idea how they gained so much ground.” She whispered what sounded like a curse in her own tongue then.
Ailsa’s mind raced, pieces falling into place. “It’s those sigils Kayla and I inked into them … the ones that give them speed and endurance.” She broke off then. “But no mortal can keep going like that … not without consequences.”
Darach’s back went rigid against her. “So, they’ll run themselves into the ground to catch us?”
“Aye,” Kayla answered breathlessly. “But warriors pushed this hard won’t be at their best. If it comes to a fight, that could make all the difference.”
Relief flickered across Fern’s face at these words.
“We need to go.” Ailsa’s gaze cut toward the trees. “Now, before they close the gap any further.”
An instant later, Darach kicked Rùn into a flat gallop, and all of them were hurtling down the track. The going was rough in places, perilous in the gathering dusk, but they had no choice.
All the while, Ailsa kept glancing west.
