“Good. I am glad.”
Giving a terse nod in response, Jaax launched himself into the sky above the northern end of Cahrdyarein with one mighty thrust of his wings. He quickly gained altitude, the frosty air working its way between his scales. When he banked to sweep back over the north gate, he breathed a jet of emerald flame, hoping the sight of a dragon fighting on their side would give courage to those still loyal to Cahrdyarein.
In a matter of minutes, Jaax soared beyond the sleeping city, heading west to where the Tyrant’s men had last camped. He gave the southern section of the wall a quick perusal as he flew over, but the black line of the barricade was not broken by a single flicker of light. Either Keiron and his followers had hunkered down against the stone until their comrades arrived, or they had left to take part in more nefarious deeds.
Jaax clenched his teeth. Even now, Jahrra’s attacker evaded him. No matter. The Tanaan dragon would not forget the young Resai elf who had dared to meddle with his ward’s trust and admiration. Keiron would pay. Perhaps he wouldn’t pay this day, but sometime in the future, Jaax would make the little miscreant regret his actions.
Jahrra had to rely upon Phrym’s senses of sight and direction, as her small party made their way as silently as they could up the rock-strewn and tree-clogged mountainside. To her great relief, the only sound coming from them was the gentle plod of hooves and the occasional huff of breath from one of the horses. Even Pendric’s young son didn’t whimper or cry out. But then again, being Pendric’s son, he was much like his father: brave and uncommonly patient. Thinking of the captain of the guard made the twinge of worry spike in Jahrra’s chest once again. She knew this whole wretched situation wasn’t her fault, not really, but she couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible for it.
Phrym’s foot slipped on some loose gravel, jarring Jahrra’s injured leg. She sucked in a sharp breath and willed the deep ache to pass. Sweat broke out on her forehead before it dimmed. If only she hadn’t sprained her knee, they could have been moving at twice their current speed. Oh well. Another thing she could not help. Up ahead, she spotted Ellyesce atop his brilliant white semequin, the two of them like statues against the dark that was slowly growing less and less black. Dawn approached, and soon, Cahrdyarein would be swarming with the Crimson King’s soldiers. Without warning, images of the innocent people of the mountain city falling victim to the Red Flange surfaced in her mind.
Before she could get too distracted by her wayward thoughts, Jahrra shook her head and glanced behind her to make sure Whinsey and Erron were still with them. Their sturdy mountain horse moved at an even quieter pace than Phrym, and Jahrra wondered if she had some magic in her blood. When Whinsey nodded at her and smiled with kind eyes, Jahrra took a steadying breath and turned back around. They had been traveling for a good hour, and she hoped they would reach the entrance to the Serpent’s Tomb soon.
The elf continued to lead them through tangled meadows, up rocky trails and between towering trees. Only when the sky grew light enough to see by did he raise a gloved hand to bring the travelers to a stop. Jahrra moved to stand up in the stirrups, but a quick scream of protest from her knee changed her mind. Biting her cheek to keep from crying out, Jahrra sank back down into the saddle. Phrym let out a small whicker of concern and turned his head, his smoky eyes kind and fretful.
“I’m okay, Phrym,” she gritted, still trying to crane her neck so she could see past Ellyesce into the semi-darkness ahead. “Ellyesce’s magic has made me forget my injury, that’s all.”
“The caverns begin behind those rocks,” the elf announced, his voice low and serious.
He moved his semequin aside so Jahrra could see. Up ahead, the trail curved and headed down into a wide crevasse as it continued to wrap around the mountainside. If the group were to continue moving straight ahead and not take the curve in the trail, they would find themselves wedged in between a collection of shattered slabs of rock, rubble and more trees. Jahrra could see no indication of a cavern entrance, but her eyes had played tricks on her before.
Wordlessly, Ellyesce guided his mount forward, disengaging from the trail and picking his way around the small boulders and shrubs standing in his way. Jahrra followed, encouraging Phrym to take the same exact invisible path. The group strayed off trail for about ten minutes, weaving through the trees and rock rubble, but sticking close to the eastern side of the slope. Eventually, Ellyesce’s semequin turned, as if climbing a switch back trail, and disappeared.
Jahrra had angled her head away, so when she glanced back up to find their leader missing, she sat stunned in the saddle for a few moments. Phrym continued moving forward, but she couldn’t locate where Ellyesce had gone.
“Jahrra?” Whinsey said weakly from behind her, “what happened to our guide?”
Jahrra only shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Mama?” Erron murmured quietly.
“Hush,” the Resai woman responded gently, nestling the boy closer to her.
Jahrra bit her lip and urged Phrym onward. “He probably just disappeared around a rock outcropping or something.”
Following the footprints of the horses who had been ahead of her, Jahrra managed to climb several more feet before bringing her semequin to a sudden halt. The entrance to the cavern appeared out of nowhere. One second, she was picking her way around loose rocks and scrawny fir trees, and the next minute a great, black, gaping hole yawned before her on the mountain side. Several tall, jagged shards of granite stood clustered around the cavern, creating a natural screen. No wonder they hadn’t seen the entrance. In fact, Jahrra was pretty certain that unless one knew where to look, they would never find it. Good thing they had Ellyesce with them.
Jahrra peered inside and a slight flicker of light caught her eye. Ellyesce, holding a freshly lit torch, sat atop his semequin several yards inside the tunnel. Rumble the pack horse was close behind him, a massive, shadowy outline. A pair of sparkling eyes appeared out of the dark, topped by two red, pointed ears. Dervit, turned around in the saddle, keeping a lookout for the rest of their party.
Jahrra searched the trail below for Whinsey and Erron, then called out as quietly as possible, “Up here!”
She waited for them to get closer before leading Phrym into the dark. The semequin balked at first, his nostrils flaring and his ears swiveling in every direction. She reached down to pat his neck, clucking gently to him.
“I know, it smells strange, but it will keep us safe from the enemy.”
When all of them were finally within the tunnel, Ellyesce turned, the torch held high, and said, “Stay close. Do not linger behind and do not panic if something should startle you. This narrow system of caves is very complex, and it is easy to become lost. Here,” he lowered the torch and fumbled with something tied to his semequin’s saddle. Jahrra tried to make out what the elf was doing, but it was too difficult to see in the dark.
Finally, Ellyesce finished his task and handed something back to Dervit. Jahrra got a clear view of it then. Rope.
“Do not tie it to yourself or to the horses, but hold it loosely. There is no guarantee the horses won’t make any sudden movements. If that is the case, drop the rope. But for now, this will keep us all together.”
“How long will we be in here?” Jahrra asked, shivering a little at the damp chill clinging to her.
The torch rose again, and she could see the glint of Ellyesce’s eyes. Suddenly, the memory of his face from the slave auction so long ago came flooding back, and she had to look away for a moment.
“A week, if we are lucky. Travel in the Serpent’s Tomb is a slow business. The terrain is rough, and there are many tunnels that branch off. I’ll need to take my time choosing the correct passages, and where to guide the horses so we don’t fall into one of the many deep pits hidden in the darkness.”