by T. A. White
“Is this how you treat with my kind? Through betrayal and lies?” Covath said in a dark voice.
“You know it’s not,” Shea told him. “The woman was simply supposed to report whether we had been successful or not.”
“The man is a warrior. He comes armed and waits under the cover of night,” one of the bats hissed.
“We’re all armed,” Shea argued.
“Not us,” a bat said from where he hugged the underside of a rock archway.
Shea gave him a derisive look. “You have fangs and claws and have already demonstrated your ability to use them. I would say you’re plenty armed.”
There was a small snickering laugh that came from several of the creatures’ throats. Covath studied Shea, giving her no clue of his thoughts.
“Buck, what are you doing here?” Shea asked, ignoring Covath for the moment.
He gave her a small shrug. “I saw you sneaking out of camp and got curious.” He looked at the creatures surrounding him. “Have to say, this wasn’t what I was expecting.”
Shea shook her head in resignation. There had never been any possibility of her coming to this meeting alone, she now realized. If she hadn’t stopped, Buck would have still followed her, to say nothing of her father and Reece.
It was a good feeling to know she wasn’t alone, even if it had increased the danger slightly.
Covath let out a small growl and gestured. Buck and Eva were released, the two moving warily away from their former captors.
Covath ignored her friends, even going as far as to give them his back—a grave insult if the snickers from the bats were anything to judge by.
“Your enemy draws ever closer to the heart,” Covath informed her.
Shea affected a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “There’s nothing stopping you from dealing with the threat he presents.”
Just the fact that he was standing here, talking to her, when it was obvious how little fondness he had for humans, told her just how dangerous Griffin had become.
Covath bared his teeth at her, the motion all the more sinister in the dark. “Humans made this mess. It’s their duty to correct it.”
Shea didn’t back down. “Seems to me, this is just as much your problem as ours.”
Covath’s dark gaze didn’t move from her face. There was a pause as he considered her. “Perhaps.”
No perhaps about it. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. Still, she didn’t argue with him.
“We need to work together if we want to address this threat,” Shea said.
Covath made a sound of disagreement, as if the very thought of cooperating with humans offended him. Shea struggled with her frustration, the events of the day making her short temper even shorter.
“We both agree bad things will ensue should Griffin give the Lux to what waits at the heart. You’re either going to work with me or not. Stop wasting my time pussyfooting around.” Shea glared at him in the dark. She meant every word. If this was a fool’s errand doomed to failure, she could go right back down that mountain to where Fallon fought for his life.
“You risk much, human,” Covath growled. Trenton and Buck edged forward at the sound.
She gave a growl of her own. It might have lacked the deep gravelly base of his, but it got her point across. “Yes, yes, I do. I had people who died today. Some still wage that battle.”
“You’re not the only one who has felt loss during this day,” Covath rumbled.
That brought Shea up short. It was enough to make her think.
“The mythologicals among the beasts—some of them were yours.” It was a statement, not a question.
Trenton stilled, his posture turning menacing. She shook her head at him, reminding him that he’d agreed to follow her lead.
Covath didn’t answer, the silence itself telling her all she needed to know.
Shea made an angry sound. She should never have come here. Hoping to forge an alliance with Covath and his ilk would not end well. Especially since she now knew some of his people had been responsible for spilling Trateri blood.
“That’s just great.” Defeat was a sour taste in her mouth.
“It was not our choice,” Covath said, his voice oddly defensive.
Shea didn’t answer immediately, his words making her think.
She’d come all this way. Covath’s presence here meant perhaps not all was lost.
“You want something; otherwise you wouldn’t be here,” Shea said, not looking at him. “What is it you’re hoping to achieve?”
“Your mate has fallen.” Covath evaded the question.
Shea’s head twisted toward the mythological, a bestial expression on her face. He would not bring Fallon into this.
Buck made a sound of surprise.
“Your enemy played a hand in his fate,” Covath said, his tone silken and persuasive.
“Lies,” Trenton said, advancing across the clearing.
Covath gave him a dismissive look, not responding to the accusation.
Shea stilled. Impossible. There was no way. The Trateri didn’t trust outsiders. They certainly wouldn’t have betrayed their warlord at one’s behest.
Covath sensed her denial. “The betrayer has been watching you for some time. Learning. Scheming. Seeking to divide you from those close to you. His words are full of promise, capable of beguiling those open to greed. He planted the seeds that turned your mate’s allies against him.”
Shea didn’t want to believe, but Covath’s words struck a chord of truth inside her—one that she wanted to yank out even as it begged her to listen.
“Trenton, is that possible?” Shea asked, her voice wobbled just slightly.
His silence was uncertain. “I don’t know.”
“If you don’t strike him down, he will continue to divide you from those you once counted friends,” Covath pressed. “It is because of the heart that his words contain such power. They seduce, luring those with even the smallest of doubts into becoming his willing tools.”
“Last we spoke, you spat on the idea of an alliance.” Shea forced herself not to react to his words. It was what he wanted. Until she knew his hidden motivations, she refused to play into his hand. “What’s changed?”
Covath made a scoffing sound, tossing his head. “Nothing. An alliance is a foolish notion.”
“Then why are you here?” Shea snapped, impatience finally getting the best of her.
“To offer you a trade,” he said.
“What kind of a trade?”
“I will get you to him,” he said, lifting a hand and examining his claws. “You will kill him and bring me the item he wears around his neck.”
The first part made sense. Much as she loathed the thought, she saw no way to keep Griffin alive, not after all he’d done. It seemed his time in the Badlands had changed him in unexpected and horrifying ways. Letting him live, even as a prisoner in the deepest parts of the Keep, would be far too dangerous.
It was the second request that gave her pause.
“What’s your interest in this item?” Shea asked.
Covath gave her a glance filled with disdain. “That’s not your concern.”
She disagreed. Anything involving Griffin should be considered dangerous. The last thing she wanted to do was unknowingly hand a weapon to Covath that might later be used against her people, not when he’d already made it clear how much he disliked humans.
“Promise me then, that it’s not a weapon, and it will never be used against us,” Shea bargained. She doubted he’d answer her truthfully about what the item was, but the promise would serve as some protection.
“As if you would trust the word of a beast,” Covath said with a sneer.
Shea lifted her chin, giving him a determined look. “Yours, I would. You treat honorably with me and I’ll do the same to you.”
What she didn’t say, was the first time he betrayed her or went back on his word, she’d resort to all th
e dirty, underhanded tactics she knew to deal with him.
He hesitated. “Agreed.”
Well, that was something at least.
She gave him the brightest smile she could summon—admittedly that wasn’t saying much. “How do you plan on me catching up to Griffin?”
A hard thump landed just feet away from Shea and Trenton. There was a flash of white in the dark, then a large, equine body shifted closer.
Shea heard a hushed exclamation from Reece. Eva let out a low sound of admiration, taking a step towards the mythological before Buck caught her and drew her to a stop.
The horned horse from her dream gave those gathered a dark look, before ignoring them. Unlike before, he had wings, ones he folded back as he tossed his head, the two horns on his head, menacingly sharp.
“Your ride,” Covath said with a smirk.
“No.” Shea shook her head.
She had enough problems with Trateri horses. She’d become a decent rider during her time with them, but it wasn’t something she actually enjoyed. At least when she fell off them, the ground was only a few feet away. She had a feeling if she fell off this one, she wouldn’t be getting back up.
Covath sounded like he was exercising patience when he responded. “You’ll never catch him by ground. His lead is too great. Orion will take you as far as he can. From there it will be up to you.”
“What about the rest of my group?” she asked, ignoring the future problem in favor of the current one.
He gave a careless shrug. “You were supposed to come alone.”
“I can’t do this alone,” Shea argued. “Griffin has already demonstrated his control of beasts. If I go to the Badlands without someone to watch my back, I’ll die. More importantly, I will fail.”
She met his gaze, trying to impress on him the truth of her words. Even if she hadn’t been honest about her chances, there was no way any of those assembled would let her climb on Orion’s back and fly off without them.
Covath’s sigh was gruff. Shea felt a spark of relief that she’d won.
Covath tipped his head back and several gruff and oddly musical sounds fell from his throat. There was a slight flutter above and then five other horses, similar to Orion but considerably smaller, landed. They pranced along the cliff’s edge.
Covath gave an imperious gesture at the horses.
Shea gave into the inevitable. “I don’t suppose there’s a saddle or reins I could use?”
Orion stomped his hoof, nearly crushing Shea’s in the process.
“I was just asking,” she told him.
Orion tossed his head up and down in answer.
“It’s like Rava, himself, has come down to bestow his blessing on us. Wilhelm and the rest are never going to believe this,” Trenton said in a hushed voice, his gaze almost worshipful as he stared at the sight before him.
Rava was one of the many gods the Trateri worshipped. Said to take the form of a horse capable of flight, the Trateri told stories of how his mighty strides stirred up the air, bringing the rain when he galloped.
Trenton moved toward the closest horse, his posture oddly tentative for the normally confident man.
Eva staggered up to Shea, her gaze never once leaving the horses. “Even if I live to be a hundred, I will never forget this night.”
“Are you coming then?” Shea asked a hint of teasing in her voice.
Eva’s head whipped towards Shea, her eyes wide and slightly panicked.
“It’s alright, Eva,” Shea assured her. “I don’t expect you to brave the Badlands. You’ve done enough. My previous orders still stand. When we leave, make your way back to Caden and give him news of this.”
Eva’s expression lightened and her gaze turned back to the winged horses. “It looks like your concern about your friends was unfounded.”
It definitely seemed that way.
Shea turned to Eva and held out her hand.
Eva clasped it. “Safe travels, Telroi.”
Shea gave her a nod and moved away, approaching the horses with caution.
“Your mother would have liked to have seen this,” Patrick said in a low voice when she got close. He patted her on the back before stepping toward his horse.
Buck and Reece had already climbed onto the back of their winged mounts.
Shea walked toward Orion, her body braced in case he decided to take a chomp out of her.
Orion snorted but let her near, even moving to a small rock so she could mount easier.
She gave him a wide berth, clambering onto the rock and adjusted her pack. “Just don’t drop me.”
She gingerly set her palms on his shoulders and lifted a leg over his back. The wings presented a momentary problem before she figured out a way to arrange herself.
She looked up, ready.
Before she could say anything to the others, Orion lunged forward, his powerful strides carrying them over the side of the cliff. Shea sucked in a harsh breath, somehow swallowing back her scream as her stomach leapt into her throat. The ground rushed up at them with a dizzying speed.
Orion’s wings snapped out, catching the wind. Then suddenly, they were flying. The wind rushed past Shea, yanking at her hair and clothes with greedy hands. Orion’s wings beat, carrying them higher and higher, the others following at a fair distance.
Shea huddled into her jacket as the temperature dropped the more their altitude climbed. She found herself grateful she’d had the foresight to don her scout’s jacket before leaving camp. It offered a little protection from the chill.
They were high in the air when Orion spread his wings wide to catch the wind currents and coast, his wings beating every now and then.
The early morning hours passed slowly as Shea shifted, trying to ease the discomfort in her legs without sending herself crashing to the ground. She couldn’t check on the others. Not with the wind rushing past. It would rip the sound of her voice away before it reached them. She had to assume from their presence that they were surviving.
The sky lightened to as the sun stretched its arms to the heavens, its rays turning the dark to pale pinks and oranges, shot through with a cerulean blue.
They stopped twice once the sun was high in the sky. Each time was barely long enough for the riders to stretch their legs, grab something to eat and drink, before their mounts stamped their feet to urge the two-leggers to hurry. It was clear the winged horses resented any stop, so the humans tried to be as quick as they could on those rare occasions.
They landed well after the sun had disappeared from the sky. Even in her fog of grief, Shea was grateful to be off Orion. Her back and legs hurt and a chill had settled into her bones. As soon as her group had touched ground, the winged horses took flight again, leaving Shea and her people to stare after them.
“Do you think they’re coming back?” Reece asked.
“I hope so,” Trenton said. “Or else it’ll be a long journey.”
Shea didn’t respond, too immersed in her own thoughts to spare much concern for what Orion and the others were up to. The long trip had given her time to think, time to worry. It had turned her mood grim as grief threatened to drown her.
Her father took charge, directing the rest to set up a temporary camp as Shea drifted to the perimeter, staring over the grassy hills where they had landed.
He came up to her when the others were busy. He didn’t say anything, his silent presence beside her an odd comfort as tears ran down her cheeks.
He waited until her tears ceased and she regained composure before he grasped her shoulder, offering a small comfort as he turned back to camp. Shea lingered for several minutes more, letting her breathing deepen, and calm to return, before she too joined the others.
She wasn’t in the mood for talk, and seeming to sense that, conversation over the meal was muted and hushed. As soon as she finished eating, Shea curled up on her side and feigned sleep as the others continued to speak in low voices.
&nb
sp; When she finally succumbed to slumber, it felt like only moments passed before her father was nudging her awake to eat, then mount the horses.
That was their routine over the next week.
It wasn’t long before Shea began to recognize the landscape they traveled above. The sharp mountains and high plains of the Highlands gradually flattened to become the rolling hills and hidden canyons of the Badlands. From up on the back of Orion, it appeared as if someone had taken a rug and then smushed it together to create the treacherous topography below.
The hills were brown and red, and every color in between. Pathetic brown shrubs littered their sides. There was scant green to be seen.
“When will we reach the Badlands?” Buck asked that night as they sat around the fire.
“We’re already in them,” Shea answered, ignoring the slight surprise on her friends’ faces. She had determinedly kept to herself during the nights. This was the first time she’d engaged. “We have been for days.”
“Shouldn’t be too far from the first demarcation,” Reece said, looking up from tending the fire.
Shea nodded. She thought so as well.
Trenton’s face was filled with unease as he glanced around. “I hadn’t realized we were so close.”
“The outer edges are very like the Highlands,” Shea said, staring into the fire. “It isn’t until after the first demarcation that things really change.”
They’d be safe as long as they caught Griffin near that boundary. If they had to go too far into the Badlands—if they had to pass the second demarcation—Shea feared for the safety of her companions.
“You’ve been there before,” Trenton said to Reece.
Her cousin looked up, his gaze coming to Shea before he focused on Trenton. He nodded. “The very edges, yes. I haven’t been past the first demarcation. Only Shea has.”
Her father was busy whittling a piece of wood with his knife, seemingly not paying attention to the conversation. He didn’t fool Shea. He was every bit as focused as the rest of them.
“What makes it different from the rest?” Buck asked.