However, if they learned we were dairnes . . .
I glanced to the west. Just a few leagues ahead was a forest, but what forest? We’d wandered so long in such poor visibility that I had no clear idea where we were. Was that the Mirror Lake forest? Was that a hazy hint of water I saw off on the horizon?
If we ran for it and reached the woods, would the soldiers follow us?
I looked at Maxyn, met his eye, and with my heart in my throat, nodded. “In three seconds,” I whispered.
“One.”
The smaller soldier twisted in his saddle and said, “Shut your traps back there.”
I mouthed the word “two” and added, “Hold on tight, Tobble.”
With a slashing motion of my hand, I kicked Havoc’s ribs, cried, “Run, boy, run!” and yanked his reins to the left.
We were off at a quick pace, but that wouldn’t be enough. I needed Havoc to live up to his name. “Now, now, now!” I screamed, and he stretched out into a full-on gallop.
Almost instantly, both soldiers turned in shock. One of them shouted a curse, and they wheeled to come after us.
Maxyn had been right: our horses were faster. They’d been well-fed and watered recently and welcomed the chance to stretch their powerful muscles.
It would have been thrilling, if I hadn’t been so terrified.
Sabito swooped close and kept pace beside me. “You’re making progress, but they have bows!”
Bows? I hadn’t seen any bows.
I searched my panic-scrambled memory and recalled seeing a long leather pouch strapped across the haunches of one of the warhorses.
I risked a backward glance. Maxyn, hot on my heels. The packhorses off to the side, but keeping pace. The two soldiers falling slowly back.
Fifty feet became a hundred. A hundred became two hundred.
And then the first arrow flew by my head, so close I felt its feathers brush my cheek.
“Faster!” I cried.
A second arrow stuck hard in the back of my saddle with a sickening thud. Moments later, I heard a horse’s scream. I jerked my head back just in time to see Maxyn’s horse stumble, catch herself, then trip into a somersault that sent her rider flying.
The soldiers were on Maxyn before Zara could even try to stand. An arrow was embedded in her right flank.
“Maxyn!” I yelled.
I tried to rein in Havoc, but he ignored me, frenzied with terror, while Tobble was in my ear shouting, “You can’t help him, Byx! You can’t help him!”
Both soldiers gave up the chase. They rode in circles around the fallen horse. I watched for as long as I could without losing my seat, but I did not see Maxyn rise.
Tears froze on my cheeks. I could think of only two possibilities: Maxyn had been crushed by his horse. Or he was a prisoner of the Murdano’s men.
Either way, I knew with a sinking heart, I might have prevented it.
And either way, there was nothing I could do now to save him.
47
Retreat
I rode on in a fog as dense as the one that had enveloped us the morning we’d left our friends behind. But this one was entirely of my own making, an impenetrable cloud of questions without answers.
Was it possible Maxyn was still alive? If so, was he in pain? Was he terrified? Did he fear we would abandon him forever? How could I have let him down—my responsibility, my friend, my fellow dairne—so utterly? Why had Khara trusted me to lead?
Why had I trusted myself?
I had failed, catastrophically, in my first duty as a leader: to keep my charges alive. Or at least free.
If Maxyn was really dead, my heart would be broken, but the Pellago River colony—if it even existed—was safe for now. If Maxyn was alive and being tortured for information, the Murdano’s soldiers might soon be pursuing us. Should I attempt a rescue, despite the likelihood—no, the certainty—that we’d all be put in prison for the rest of our lives, or killed?
We galloped on, simply because I didn’t know what else to do. Tobble and Sabito kept silent, no doubt waiting for me to come to a decision. The two packhorses followed behind us.
Soon we were heading into lands that were unmistakably wild, as we skirted Mirror Lake, a deep and gloomy body of water. Finally I called a halt. The horses were exhausted and so were we. Tobble and Sabito ate a small meal, but I had no appetite for food. No appetite for conversation, either, but Tobble was insistent.
“Byx,” he said, as always reading my mind, “what happened to Maxyn is not your fault.”
“Of course it is.” I rubbed my eyes. “I’m in charge. What happens to you and Sabito and . . . and Maxyn . . . is my responsibility. Maybe if I hadn’t decided to attempt an escape, Maxyn would be alive right now.”
“We don’t know if he is dead,” Sabito said.
“If he’s alive, I have to try to save him,” I said, even though I had no idea how. “Not just for Maxyn. For the colony, too. The Murdano’s soldiers will show no mercy, and if Maxyn reveals our true goal, the last remaining dairnes will be in danger.”
“There were six tents at the soldiers’ encampment,” Sabito reminded me. “And twelve horses. You’re talking about pitting a dozen of the Murdano’s heavily armed men against a dairne, a wobbyk, and a riverhawk?” He repositioned a wing feather with his beak before continuing. “That’s a fool’s errand, plain and simple.”
I paced back and forth, my hands behind my back, something I’d seen Khara do in moments of crisis. “There must be something I can do. Something.”
“When I joined this expedition at Khara’s request,” said Sabito, “I warned you I would speak the unalloyed truth, as is my way. And the truth, Byx, is that Maxyn is quite likely already dead. The further truth is that if you attempt to rescue him—assuming, by some miracle, that he is still alive—you will be killed, tortured, or imprisoned. It’s that simple. There are no other options.”
I looked at Tobble. I don’t know what I wanted from him. A brilliant plan? A tendril of hope? Some kind of absolution?
“Sabito is right, Byx,” Tobble said in a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
I stopped in my tracks. “I can’t risk your lives. I’ve already done enough damage. But I can go back alone.” My pulse raced, along with my plans. “I’ll sneak into the encampment, see if Maxyn is alive, and if he is—”
“This isn’t just about Maxyn. Your duty is to Khara,” Tobble interrupted. “She needs you to find more dairnes. For the inevitable war.”
“And for the possible peace,” Sabito added.
“Just a day or two,” I said, almost pleading. “I owe it to Maxyn.”
“You will never return,” Sabito said flatly. “And our mission will end.”
I shifted from one foot to the other, my hands clenched. “But you could go on alone, you and Tobble.”
“We need a dairne to approach the colony,” Tobble reminded me. “It’s the only way they’ll listen.”
Tobble and Sabito were right, and for a moment, I hated them both for it. I slumped against a tree trunk, my shoulders sagging. There had to be something I could do before simply giving up and moving on.
A tiny seed of hope planted itself in my mind. “Sabito,” I said. “Fly back to the camp. Search for any sign of Maxyn and report back here.”
“And then what?” Sabito asked, with precisely the arrogant tone he’d warned me I’d be hearing.
I straightened up, met his gaze, and forced an edge to my voice. “And then,” I said, “I will decide what happens next.”
He gave a little flick of his wing tips, which I took to signal his reluctant agreement, and flew off without another word.
For the next hour, Tobble and I set up camp and cared for the horses. I could feel his huge eyes boring into me, and I found it annoying. I was supposed to be the leader. The strong one. The wise one. I didn’t need a little wobbyk overseeing me like a fretful nanny.
“I’m fine, Tobble,” I snapped when I caught him glancing at me yet again. “You don’t have
to coddle me.”
Tobble’s ears drooped, and I instantly regretted my words. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just so . . . tired.”
I busied myself with the task of pulling a burr from Havoc’s tail so that Tobble wouldn’t see the tears pooling in my eyes.
Maybe I wasn’t so fine, after all.
“I know how much Maxyn meant—means—to you, Byx,” Tobble said, joining me at Havoc’s side. “With him, you weren’t the only dairne anymore. And now, well . . .”
Strangely enough, the possibility hadn’t occurred to me until that moment. Was I really an endling once again? If the Pellago River colony proved to be a myth, then the answer was obvious.
I shrugged. “You know what’s odd, Tobble? I don’t even care about that.” I waved a hand. “I mean, of course I don’t want to go back to being an endling. But what I can’t bear is the idea of being responsible for what’s happened to Maxyn.”
“You did your best,” Tobble insisted. “Isn’t that what you would tell Khara?”
“Khara wouldn’t have made such an error.”
“Would it help,” Tobble asked, “if I told you that I trust you completely to lead us?”
I moved to Havoc’s mane, searching for more burrs. “You’re my friend, Tobble. You have to say that.”
“And so was Maxyn,” Tobble said. Without warning, to my shock, he began to cry, great, rib-heaving sobs that seemed too huge to be coming from such a small body.
“Tobble!” I exclaimed, giving him a hug. “What’s wrong?”
“I feel s-s-so bad,” he managed. He pulled a leaf from his pouch and blew his nose. “Poor Maxyn. I . . . I was jealous of him, Byx. I felt like I was losing your friendship, because how could I compete with another dairne when I am just a wobbyk, and sometimes I wished he would just leave and now he’s gone and”—he paused for a quaking breath—“and I hate myself for even thinking that and—”
“Tobble,” I interrupted, “is that why you’ve been so quiet lately?”
He found another leaf and blew his nose again. “Yes.”
“I thought you were homesick for Bossyp and your family.”
“I am. A little. But you’re my family now, Byx. You and Khara and Gambler and Renzo. And maybe Sabito. I’m not so sure about him yet.”
I took Tobble by the shoulders and looked into his shimmering eyes. “Tobble, no one could ever take your place. Ever. Do you understand?”
He sniffled, then nodded.
I started to say more, but just then Sabito dropped from the sky, silent as the moon. He landed on Havoc’s saddle, adjusted his feathers, then looked at me. Hawks have rather impassive faces. Nonetheless, I felt certain he had bad news.
“Nothing,” he said, before I could ask. “No sign of Maxyn anywhere, though his horse survived. They’re preparing to move camp.”
I let the words lie there. “I have failed him, and failed you all,” I finally said.
Sabito hopped closer. He held out his right leg, with its missing talon. “You know how I lost that talon, Byx?”
I gave a shrug. I didn’t know and I didn’t care.
“It was ripped off during a battle last year between Rorid Headcrusher’s forces and a competing clan of raptidons. A territorial dispute, nothing more. Rorid miscalculated their strength and we lost many valiant fighters.”
“I’m sorry.”
“And so was Rorid. But he continues to lead us with wisdom and honor. I would follow no one else into battle.” Sabito paused. “With two possible exceptions.”
I looked at him, waiting. “And they are?”
“Kharassande Donati,” Sabito answered. He cocked his head, taking me in, sizing me up. “And you, Byx. You.”
48
Nearing Our Goal at Last
I was relieved that I couldn’t sleep that night. I didn’t want to face the nightmares I knew would haunt me.
In the morning, Tobble and Sabito looked at me expectantly. “Well, what are you waiting for?” I said. “Tend to the horses and let’s be on our way.”
The command surprised me. I hadn’t been sure what I was going to do until I’d said the words aloud. But I knew in my exhausted heart that Sabito and Tobble were right. My duty was to our mission.
We traveled for two whole days on the narrow verge between dense forest and the foreboding Mirror Lake, its surface smooth as polished armor. On the third day, Tobble and I, with Sabito hovering overhead, made a perilous crossing of the Pellago River.
We cut down a dead tree and used it to float across, both of us feeling jealous of Sabito’s winged talents. (Glissaires are no match for feathers.) Unfortunately, the river took its time delivering us to the far shore, and we lost a league of progress. The horses, of course, handled the current much more easily than we did, but it took almost a day to round them up.
At last we were close to what we hoped was our final goal. But “close” is a relative term. Merely saying “the Pellago River area” did not narrow things down by much. After conferring with Sabito, I realized we had only two paths forward. We could walk up into the valley that was the source of the Pellago River. Or we could head on to the seacoast. Both would take us near the border of Marsony, a little-known land believed to be populated by fearsome beasts and wild men.
“Which would be more likely?” Sabito asked from his perch on a packhorse. “A dairne colony hidden in a valley, or a dairne colony by the sea?”
I considered for a moment. “It’s been a long time since any group of dairnes felt safe enough to pursue the old ways. We’ve become fugitives, hiding during the day and sneaking around in the night. I’m not really sure how dairnes live when they’re not under attack.”
“These dairnes are still afraid,” Tobble pointed out. “Otherwise, why would their existence be only a rumor?”
I nodded. “I suppose if I were their leader, I’d get as far from the Murdano as possible. As far from any human.”
Once again, I was faced with a decision about which direction to take. “I remember Dalyntor telling us that in long-ago times dairnes fashioned boats,” I said at last. “It’s not much to go on. But let’s take the seafront path. I’ve had enough of gloomy forests.”
Our path took us along impressively high cliffs for two days. At times, the passage was so narrow that a misplaced hoof would have sent us falling to our deaths. Still, there was something soothing about the shush-shush of the waves crashing below us. The breeze was crowded with vivid scents: shellfish and sea salt, fir and sandbeech, cotchet and squirrel.
Calm weather held until we turned due north, when snow came fluttering in from the sea, frosting the landscape. As we plodded along, we noticed that a channel had formed between the mainland and a pair of narrow barrier islands. Here we encountered more wildlife than I’d ever seen before. Shy coastal deer poked their antlers out from behind trees, while snow-dusted hedgehogs and chillugs waddled fearlessly across our paths.
And there were birds. Thousands of them.
“Razorgulls!” Tobble cried, pointing with a trembling finger at a thick cloud wheeling and diving above a cove.
“Ah, good,” Sabito said.
“Good?” Tobble echoed. “They tried to kill us!”
“And nearly succeeded,” I added.
“Razorgulls? Pah!” Sabito’s voice was disdainful. “Do you really think those scavengers would dare look for trouble with the likes of me?”
With a nonchalant flap of his wings, he caught the ocean breeze and soared off to meet them. Twenty minutes later he was back.
“Interesting,” Sabito said. “They have never heard the word ‘dairne.’ These are rustic birds, you understand. Simple creatures. They serve no one. Yet when I asked them to look at you, they said they might have seen similar animals.”
“Encouraging!” said Tobble.
But I stifled any enthusiasm. I was still the leader of this tiny expedition, and I was determined not to let emotion cloud my thinking.
We pressed on,
the churning sea and the steep drop on our left, a pleasant grove of hardwood trees on our right. As we turned a sharp corner past a stand of yellow birch, we gasped at a massive obstacle before us: a rock as tall as a small mountain, with unscalable granite on all sides.
Our path along the sea was blocked. With a sigh, I pointed to the woods and we entered, our horses’ hooves crunching on dead leaves crusted with ice.
“We must be nearing the border of Marsony,” I remarked.
“How can you tell?” Tobble asked.
“I remember from my geography lessons that—”
A blur of movement caught my eye. A bent sapling, one that had been suddenly released, slapped me hard in the side, and I fell off Havoc with a thud. Startled, he galloped away with poor Tobble clutching the saddle for dear life.
As I rose from the ground, brushing snow from my fur, I took in my surroundings. Sabito did the same, with his infinitely superior eyes. Neither of us saw anyone who might have triggered the simple trap.
“See if you can locate Tobble and Havoc,” I said. “I’ll catch up.”
Sabito soon found Tobble trembling atop Havoc, who had stopped to nibble a tuft of grass poking through the snow. I gathered up the two packhorses and joined my friends minutes later.
“Must we turn back?” Tobble sounded more than a little hopeful.
“No,” I said, grinning. “Don’t you see? A trap means someone is trying to discourage the curious.”
“Did you smell dairne?” Tobble asked.
“No,” I admitted. “But that may have been set long ago, and triggered by a thread I couldn’t see.”
I rode on, faster than before, while keeping an eye out for traps. I felt encouraged—even eager. But another day passed without further clues.
Then, just as night was falling and I was looking for a place to camp, Sabito came tearing down through the trees.
“You’ve almost missed it!” he cried.
“Missed what?”
“Turn your horses back toward the water and you shall see.”
We did as instructed, riding carefully through the dark hush of the trees. I let Havoc pick his hoof falls carefully, lest he step in a hole or trip on a root.
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