Ellyesce released a weary breath. “None. I imagine the foul weather is working in our favor, but I still feel the Tyrant’s soldiers will not be ready to attack for a few more days or so. Our plans to leave tomorrow will suffice.”
“Might it be a ruse? This isn’t the first time they’ve deceived us.”
Ellyesce shook his head. “No. The vision I saw was truth. Magic does not work against the sacred Trees of Ethoes. Even if the soldiers had known the message was being passed our way, they would not be able to alter it. We have a few more days yet. We can rest easy for now.”
Feeling a little bit better, but not entirely at ease, Jaax allowed himself to unwind. Soon, they would be on the road again, an open road that posed its own danger, and he could not afford to drain his energy over needless worry.
As the clouds forming over the mountains proceeded to drop their abundance of snow, Archedenaeh sat curled in upon herself with her red cloak wrapped snuggly around her. She was absolutely exhausted, yet despite her weariness, she was thanking Ethoes and all the lesser gods and goddesses that she had found the tiny alcove with its overhang, and that she was still alive.
Somewhere behind her, Milihn grumbled in his sleep. He was tired as well, and for good reason. Now that she and her korehv were safe, Denaeh had the luxury of resting while she regained her strength.
Following Jaax and Jahrra was difficult enough, but to do so with the mountains swarming with legions of the Red Flange had made it even more trying. Regardless of that particular thorn in her side, Denaeh wasn’t the type to easily give up. For more than a week, she’d kept herself carefully out of sight, on the heels of her enemy and just beyond the fringes of their detection range.
Now, as she rested in her sheltered little niche in the mountainside, she allowed her mind to wander back to four days previous when she had moved in close enough to eavesdrop on the enemy. The small army had stopped their progress and were camped out on the mountainside. Her own foresight had informed her of why: Jaax and Jahrra, and the mysterious stranger who traveled with them, had made it to Cahrdyarein and were secured behind its wall.
Safe, but for how long? she had wondered to herself, until she’d heard what the Tyrant’s men were talking about. Their whispers and chatter around their fires at night betrayed their plans. Someone behind Cahrdyarein’s impenetrable wall was playing traitor, and he or she was planning to let them in through a secret entrance after nightfall and lead them straight to the dragon and the human girl he guarded. Denaeh had wanted to slip away right then and there in order to warn Jaax and Jahrra, but she knew she walked a perilous line, keeping so close to the enemy. The Tyrant’s mages would surely detect her presence should she veer from her current path, and although she was confident she could destroy them with her magic, it would mean her end.
“You cannot afford to die now,” she’d murmured to herself. “You still have a role to play in all of this.”
Denaeh had foreseen enough of the future to know her involvement in Jahrra’s life was far from over.
“You must think of another way,” she’d decided instead.
Then the rough voice of one of the soldiers far below her had snagged her attention.
“We cannot strike until reinforcements arrive!”
The memory was beginning to wear thin, so the Mystic borrowed a little of her run-down magic to bring the image in her mind to the forefront. The man’s rich red robes and unruffled appearance had told her he was one of the mages. Yes, he would have insight into things unseen.
“How much longer must we delay?” another had answered him, his impatience ringing clear in his tone.
The mage stilled for a moment, but Denaeh doubted it had anything to do with seeking an answer. She knew how these dark magicians operated: most of their power was wasted on ostentation more than anything else. People feared them, and so they took advantage of that fear by using illusion to fan the flames.
“The army marches now, even as we speak.”
The skurmage had smiled then, a cruel twist of the lips mostly hidden by the shadow of the hood pulled far over his head.
“They are fifty miles away, resting for the night. They will be here in two days’ time.”
The other soldier must have been happy with this answer, because he’d nodded his head and said, “I shall go inform the high commander.”
Denaeh had clenched her teeth and slipped away, climbing farther up the mountainside. Once she’d reached a large, flat area composed mostly of granite, she’d stopped.
This should be far enough away …
Milihn, who’d been acting as lookout below, grumbled from the top of a nearby pine, letting her know he had taken up his duty as lookout in this new location.
Denaeh had thrown her hood back then, her vibrant, scarlet hair tumbling out. She shut her eyes and turned her face to the sky. Taking long, deep breaths, she’d initiated a chant, the words ancient and moving. As the spoken song grew deeper and fell into a rhythm, the Mystic thrust her conscious down into the earth. She needed to find water … Ah, there. She recalled the cool, clean, smooth feel of it swirling around her senses. Denaeh’s mind latched onto the damp that rested beneath the rock and then, like a bolt of lightning, zipped along, using the pliant liquid as a conduit for her magic. A cavern stream here, a trickle of snowmelt there … Eventually, she’d slowed her mind down, seeking out the presence of a large group of people.
And then she’d found them, the blood pumping in their veins like the water her conscious had used to travel to their camp. Locating a nearby tree, she’d hitched onto the trickle of water climbing up the roots and followed it until she was high enough to sense what the enemy was up to. For ten minutes, she’d let her awareness flow through the small forest, counting the soldiers and gauging their intent. Once she was through, her heart had dropped into her stomach. There were over five thousand, well-armed, highly trained warriors, a third of which rode the dreaded quahna.
The mage had been right. In a few scant days, they’d be upon Cahrdyarein, and Jahrra and her companions would be trapped. And they would be slaughtered. The city could not hold off such a great number of armed men, especially if they had someone to let them in without a struggle.
Denaeh had gritted her teeth, the distance her mind had traveled already causing a headache. Desperate to do something to avert this impending disaster, she’d let her mind flow free again, trying to learn the landscape. Perhaps she could conjure a wind to blow them off the side of the mountain. Maybe there was a waterfall nearby and she could divert the water … No. Nothing. The Mystic cursed. There was nothing she could do.
Feeling angry, she pushed her wandering mind up through the trees until it burst free. It latched onto the fog shrouding the mountaintop, the closest water source it could find. From there, she’d gazed down onto the only winding road into Cahrdyarein from the south. The massive army was a black and red speckled disease clogging the narrow ribbon of road, stretching for a mile or two back. How on Ethoes would Jahrra and Jaax escape this horde? Even Jaax, with his skill in combat and ability to breathe fire, would stand little chance against such a number.
Denaeh had been ready to call her mind back when something caught her attention. Just below her, some twenty feet or so away from the edge of the camp, a group of massive stones stuck out of the earth to form a small peak. Snow had gathered there, kept frozen up here where the temperatures remained frigid all the year round. Curious, she’d allowed her conscious to float to the snowpack with the drizzle from the fog, and there she found another water source to travel through: ice.