At the moment, however, her entire concentration was focused on summoning a vision of the future. She could not risk entering the city, or even coming within a mile of it. Even standing still on this ledge was dangerous. Now that the city was taken, the Crimson King’s men would begin patrolling the area. She had to get her information and get out of there fast.
Finally, she was able to pull upon a small tendril of her Mystic power. Please, she urged it, please. Just a small glimpse to know that I have not traveled this far in vain.
Against the dark canvas of her mind, a blurred image slowly shimmered into view. At first, she thought it had stalled out, but then, a figure bloomed out of the darkness. His or her back was turned toward Denaeh’s sight, but she continued to focus on the stranger. A pale shirt and a long golden braid. Relief flooded through the Mystic’s veins and made her knees weaken. Jahrra. She was alive. Other people came into view: a woman, probably five to ten years older than Jahrra, holding a little boy. A smaller creature, the fox limbit Denaeh had seen join up with Jahrra and Jaax along their journey. And one more person leading them all on horseback …
Denaeh’s heart flared, and adrenalin coursed through her blood. Was this the person the commander of the Red Flange and his skurmage had been speaking of? The one who had accompanied Jaax and Jahrra from Lidien and who had managed to evade her sight all this time? She could not believe he was finally registering as a substantial being in her vision, but he skirted around the edges of that sight, always slipping just out of view as she tried to seek him out. Who was he? Would he foil her plans? Was he working with Jaax and Jahrra, or secretly plotting against them? And most importantly, why could she not see him?
Gritting her teeth, the Mystic drew more greedily from her well of magic. It was a risk, she knew that. Taking too much of her gift so soon after encouraging it to bring half the mountain down upon the Red Flange could knock her out for several days. But, she had to know who this stranger was.
The man on the horse turned and lifted a torch. Denaeh stopped breathing. He was nothing but a dark blur at the moment, but maybe, if she could move closer … Summoning every ounce of strength she could muster, she gathered her gift of foresight and forced it forward, trying desperately to zoom in on the man’s face. She got close, ever so close, but the dark cloud surrounding him grew murkier and started to swirl, wiping away the rest of the vision with it.
“No!” she cried, as the scene grew smaller and smaller, as if being sucked down a drain. With a final, mental POP, the vision disappeared and blackness flooded her vision.
Denaeh gritted her teeth, fighting a scream as consciousness returned. She wavered, her mind dizzy and her breathing fast. If not for the obliging branch of a nearby tree, she would have had nothing to grab onto as she teetered forward.
Milihn, startled by the sudden movement of his master, grumbled and took to the air, circling around to come to rest in the tree Denaeh clung to.
She wanted to scream, to rage at the world for keeping information from her. Instead, she schooled herself into calmness, remembering that if she drew attention to herself then the game would end now. Jahrra was alive, somewhere. She and her travel companions, including the stranger who led them, had escaped the clutches of the Red Flange, for now.
“Let us go, Milihn. There is nothing here for us,” she said, her voice flat and cold.
Without a second glance back at the lost city of Cahrdyarein, Denaeh turned and headed back down the mountain, seeking out a path that would lead her to Nimbronia where she hoped she would find Jahrra safe and unharmed.
-Chapter Nineteen-
Through the Serpent’s Tomb
A light touch to her shoulder and the sound of her name brought Jahrra abruptly awake. She breathed in sharply and shot up into a sitting position.
“What is it?” she rasped, trying to shake the fogginess from her mind. Why did her eyes feel gummy, and why did she have a hard time recalling the day before?
“Calm yourself, Jahrra,” Ellyesce whispered. “It’s morning and time to get moving. We should be reaching the end of the cavern in another two or three days.”
Jahrra dug the heel of one hand into her eye and yawned, relaxing back into her bedroll. Although she, and everyone else save for Ellyesce, had lost track of the time they had spent in the Serpent’s Tomb, their leader had somehow kept them informed of the days they’d traveled. Jahrra attributed it to his strange and mysterious magic.
“Come on, Jahrra,” he said, a little more loudly, standing up. “I’m going to go wake everyone else, so you need to be ready in fifteen minutes.”
Jahrra groaned and nodded, rolling over and reluctantly pushing herself up from the ground as carefully as she could. Despite the rough journey, the swelling in her knee had lessened since their flight from Cahrdyarein, and the gash in her leg had started to itch. Both good signs, even if regaining full health was a long ways off.
Concern for her guardian, along with Pendric and Keiron, had also weighed heavily on her mind for the past handful of days. But, they would know nothing until they reached Nimbronia. With much careful determination, Jahrra packed up her bedroll and hobbled over to Phrym’s side, securing her loose items to his saddle. He nosed her curiously, wondering where his breakfast was, and with a reluctant smile, Jahrra fed him some oats.
“At least, I don’t have to worry about you,” she murmured as she ran a hand over his velvety nose.
A few minutes later, everyone was mounted up and moving once again. Ellyesce had readied a few torches and passed one back to Jahrra, asking if she’d be willing to carry it for a while. She agreed, happy to have something, even this mundane task, to keep her mind occupied for the time being.
As he had done for the past several days, Ellyesce led the way with Jahrra and Phrym taking up the rear. Whinsey and Erron were on the horse in front of her, and ahead of them Dervit snoozed between the packs secured to Rumble’s back. The limbit had been quiet for most of the trip, jumping slightly at every small sound and miniscule movement in the shadows of the narrow tunnel. Jahrra couldn’t tell whether he was afraid of the near-constant dark or the closeness of the cavern walls. She couldn’t blame him. She was feeling a little suffocated herself. When Dervit eventually woke from his nap, Jahrra encouraged Phrym to step forward to keep him company.
“I didn’t get a chance before to thank you,” she said, just loud enough for the limbit to hear her.
Dervit arched a brow and gave her a quizzical look.
“If not for you, we never would have escaped Cahrdyarein in time. All of us,” she indicated Ellyesce, Whinsey and Erron as well as herself, “would have most likely died or been captured. You have been such a gift to us, Dervit. Not only have you saved us from harm on many occasions, but you have proven to be one of the most loyal friends I’ve ever known. I know I can always trust in you, no matter what lies before us.”
Dervit bit his bottom lip and turned away. Jahrra thought her praise had embarrassed him, at least until he turned to look at her once more, his eyes full of guilt.
“Jahrra, I–” he began quietly, but Ellyesce cut him off.
“Jahrra, Dervit, why don’t you tell our new friends about our travels? It might help distract us all from the gloom.”
He turned to acknowledge Whinsey and her son. Pendric’s wife gave an appreciative grin and ran a hand over Erron’s head. Both mother and son had been very quiet the entire trip so far, and Jahrra had gotten the feeling the two of them felt awkward among their traveling companions. Maybe sharing a few tales between them might make mother and son feel more welcome.