“You have all the luck.” Mirza sucked his teeth. “In your place, one woman would’ve tried to gut me, but here you are getting permission to be with two.”
At a loss for words, Ancel simply stared at Kachien. She leaped down and asked one of Javed’s horse handlers to bring her a mount.
“It is my job, remember?” Kachien said at his narrow-eyed expression. “Too long now I have allowed you to go your own way. Your father has been unhappy since the woods.”
“Yes, he has,” Mirza agreed. “By the way, I forgot to mention, I had some men check out those wolves of yours. They’re running in bigger packs, but not one of them are acting as smart as you said.”
For the briefest of moments, he considered telling Kachien she couldn’t accompany him. Until he remembered she did whatever she felt was right, which often meant ignoring what he wanted. “Fine,” he said to her
She gave him a slight nod.
Ancel pondered Mirza’s news, trying to see if it fit with what he’d suspected since Irmina told him of her ability. In ways, it did, but he could think of no one who would be able to control the animals. Still, he knew what he’d seen. Their reactions had been far from normal.
Ryne cleared his throat. “It’s time for us to be gone.”
“Your father doesn’t know about this trip, does he?” Mirza asked.
“Of course not.” Ancel took the mount from the stable boy and climbed into the saddle. “Why?”
“He left this morning, leading a full cohort of Dagodin and a few Ashishin into the Greenleaf. Word has it they’re heading to our old glen. The scouts they sent out weeks ago finally returned. The news didn’t seem to be good, but I wasn’t allowed into the meeting.”
“Galiana mentioned she wanted to do that,” Ancel said. “They’re making sure there aren’t any shadelings infesting the glen.”
Mirza grunted. “Could explain why the wolves are running in larger packs.”
“All the more reason for you to wait for your father’s return.” Kachien climbed onto the back of a bay roan.
“I’m a grown man, Kach. We covered this before. Should I ask for my father to hold my hand when it’s time to go to war too? I mean, you do realize that’s what we’ve begun here? War.”
Kachien dipped her head again. But here eyes told him she disagreed with his choice, but would be there regardless.
“Only one problem left,” Mirza said.
“What’s that?”
“Him.” Mirza nodded to Ryne. “Not even one of the draught horses can carry your giant.”
“Ryne,” answered his mentor, “not him, not giant … Ryne. A mount is no issue. I’ll run.” In response to their openmouthed gapes, he smiled, “How do you think I got here once my dartan went into hibernation?”
Mirza glanced at Ancel. “He isn’t serious is he?”
Ryne’s expression was a blank mask.
“I’m afraid he is. I wouldn’t put it past him to outpace us either.” With those words, Ancel spurred his horse and headed toward the northernmost gate.
Several uneventful hours later, they stopped along the white snake of a route. A swirling wind brought sprinkles of snow and the clear, clean scent of uninhabited land draped in winter’s cloak. Trees lined the road, their skeletal, frost-laden limbs thrusting across the group’s path or praying to the blue sky. Icicles hung from them, jeweled daggers sparkling with the sun’s glint. Ryne unwrapped dried beef and bread from the saddlebags on Ancel’s stallion while Mirza prepped a fire near several logs. After Ryne dished out a portion for each of them, they sat warming themselves as they ate and drank steaming cups of herb tea Kachien made.
A growl rumbled deep in Charra’s throat from where he lay next to the fire. His ears pricked up, and he gazed off toward the Greenleaf Forest.
“We’re being followed,” Mirza said.
“Hmmm.” Ryne swilled the tea in his mouth then swallowed. “I thought Charra and I were the only ones who noticed.” He gave Mirza a respectful nod.
“Two men on our left,” Kachien said. “Another two on the right.”
“Don’t forget the one ahead of us.” Ancel pondered why the clansmen would be trailing them this far from the mountains or from Eldanhill or following them at all for that matter. “Mountain men. Nema.” He shrugged at the curious looks his companions gave him. “Charra came back smelling like another daggerpaw.”
“Good.” Mirza drew his spear next to his leg. “If any wolves pick up our trail, they’ll go after them first. Unless of course, they decide our horses are easier meat.” He smiled wickedly.
“I worry about you sometimes, Mirz.”
“In that regard, you’re better than me. I worry about me all the time.”
“What if they try to stop us?” Kachien took a sip from her cup. “They have been told not to let anyone approach the winery.”
“Since when?” Ancel furrowed his brows.
“Your father gave the order some time ago. Galiana told me not to let you go there either.”
“Good luck stopping him when his mind is set.” Mirza picked up a rock. “This stone … his head. Same thing.”
Kachien smiled. “Which is why I did not bother to mention it.”
“Why wouldn’t they want me to visit the winery?”
Ryne unfolded his legs and stood. “It’s the place where you gained your Etchings and lost your mother. The one place where your emotions may overwhelm you.”
“So if you know this, why take me there?”
“I told you, I needed to see the divya.”
Ancel sensed Ryne was hiding something. “And? What aren’t you telling me?”
“I need to see just how much control you have.”
Ancel narrowed his eyes as Ryne avoided his gaze. “Fine, I’ll leave it to you to tell me everything when we get there.”
Ryne took a deep breath. “I have a suspicion about this divya of yours, but I need to see it to be certain.”
“Fair enough.”
“What are we waiting for then?” Spear in one hand, Mirza stood and brushed snow from his leather pants with the back of his other hand that still held the small rock. “Let’s get this over with and head back home. These Nema are beginning to annoy me.” He threw the rock toward a snowy mound. The mound grunted and gave a slight shift. “You’re lucky that wasn’t my spear,” he yelled.
They mounted and left. Not more than thirty feet farther on, a Nema clansman, clad all in furs to match his surroundings, stepped from within the trees.
The man held up a stump of an arm. “Hold dere.” A daggerpaw loped out from the woods to stand next to him.
“We’re simply passing through to my parents’ winery,” Ancel called.
“I know where you’re going. I can’t allow it.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Ryne stepped up between Ancel and the Nema.
Half a dozen more of the clansmen emerged from the tree line. Opposite them, two more slipped from behind an unusually big snow mound.
Bone hackles hardening to match the Nema’s daggerpaw, Charra growled. The rasp of steel on leather came from Kachien who now held her two daggers and controlled her mount with her legs. Mirza had stabbed his spear into the ground, unlimbered his bow, nocked an arrow, and aimed at the mountain men.
“Orders,” the Nema said. “You understand dis. When de finders give an order, you obey.”
Ancel frowned. “My father gave you these orders?”
“De finders, but dat don’t matter. Turn back before we make you.”
Ancel didn’t see Ryne move. One moment, the giant was standing between him and the Nema, and the next, he loomed over the man. The daggerpaw growled. Ryne sent the beast flying with a lazy wave of his hand. Spears and axes rose in the hands of the other clansmen.
Ryne snatched the leader by the throat and lifted him off his feet. The words Ryne uttered were in the Nema’s guttural tongue, each word ending in a snarl as if he wanted to hawk and spit.