“Nothing in this world can protect your daughter from me. Least of all you.”
She attempted to shake her head, but she knew its words to be true. By all rights, he should be dead. The amount of power she had unleashed on him was more than she had ever wielded. Teacher, who was far and away her superior, still stood slack-jawed after his utter defeat at Vinnicus’s hands. Her body sagged as the last bits of strength fled her. “Forgive me, Rylan,” she sobbed. “I have failed you.”
“Not true,” Vinnicus said. He released her, and she crumpled in front of Rylan. The pale man stepped away and examined the remains of his underlings. “You have only just begun to save your daughter. Have more faith in yourself.” He knelt over one of the women Sacha had not burnt to cinders. At a touch of his long-fingered hand, the woman was revived, and she stumbled to her feet. “Your actions during the coming days will be what brings your daughter closer to salvation.” The green-clad woman turned to face Vinnicus, waiting for instruction. “Your actions, not you. Do as I bid and the two of you will find freedom.”
Her father’s stern face haunted Sacha’s memory as Vinnicus spoke.
Vinnicus’s handmaiden, responding to an unspoken command, turned to move in Sacha’s direction. He followed the woman closely. The whisking of her skirts and the soft clapping of her feet upon the stone could be heard as she approached. Vinnicus, however, moved like a wraith. If the cavern had been plunged into darkness, only his voice would have indicated he was here at all. “We must prepare for those who will arrive soon,” he said as his gaze took in the bodies that littered the chamber. “I am certain you would agree this is no place for a child.”
Sacha let out a soul-rending cry as Rylan was ripped away from her by the impassive hands of Vinnicus’s thrall. Sacha watched powerlessly as her crying daughter was carried away. Rylan’s pained sobs redoubled Sacha’s heartache as they echoed from the passage and grew fainter.
Vinnicus knelt before her once more. “Do not despair, child.” His strong hands slid beneath Sacha’s arms and he lifted her from the ground as he stood. “You are about to become heir to the Basinian throne.”
SLOANE stood on one of the summoning balconies looking to the East, toward her former home. The cascading falls in their great horseshoe reflected the deep oranges and magentas from the slowly sinking sun behind her. The heights of the great aviary provided the sanctuary she initially believed to be lost to her when she left the Acklune behind.
Sloane found it amazing, the dread with which she had approached her life here. All the nights worrying about the people, the things she was leaving behind, and most of all, the man—she shook her head. Instead of her fears, she had found paradise and a man she was happy to spend the rest of her life with. She had everything she could have asked for. Everything except her sister.
Now that the wedding day had passed, Sloane had little to occupy her time aside from planning the hunt. Alexander was increasingly absorbed in creating strategies for the defense of Waterfall Citadel and fencing with the council about the implications of the treaty with Pelos. Galen had left with Bale the day prior to take news of the successful wedding back to their father. Birds had been winging the news on the back of the wind already, of course, but Sloane’s father required the testimony of men. Galen swore to do his best to minimize or obscure the events surrounding Sacha’s abduction from their father, acknowledging Hathorn’s unreasoning pride.
Sloane snorted softly as she considered her brother’s other promise, “To find our sister on the way.” She did love Galen, but it wasn’t only his size that was larger than life. His casual idea of what was possible, or even probable, on occasion, often ignored things like proximity, possibility, or good sense. Even so, his presence had lifted her spirits and lessened the despair of Sacha’s continued absence.
She cast her gaze to the depths of the Winewood, imagining that she was actually looking directly at Galen and it was only for the intervening trees that she could not see him. Those same trees hid Sacha.
The fact that no demands for ransom had been made for Sacha’s return worried Sloane the most. It was possible, of course, that Sacha had escaped. Sloane pursed her lips as she considered her sister in that vast untamed reach, stumbling, lost and alone.
Sloane shook her head to clear it of that last image. At least now she had a lead of sorts. The chancellor’s accusations, disturbing though they were, had been the only thing to come from the wilderness. Unfortunately, If the smallest part of Kesh’s story was true, it called into question much of her judgment of people. She had thought Erik and Kinsey were kind and honorable men. If she was wrong about them, maybe she had been wrong about other things too. Alexander. She pushed the thought away, recognizing that only more trouble could come from that line of thinking. She had to trust someone, and her husband was perhaps the best person to begin with.
She sighed and considered the three carved horns before her. She had made the ascent to find solace in the heights, but there was greater freedom on the wings of the Rohdaekhann. A flight would help to clear her head.
Alexander had taught her several general calls the Rohdaekhann would respond to, but this afternoon she wanted one bird in particular.
“Bora” was the name she had taken to calling the powerful midsized bird she favored. The name was derived from the cold northern winds that blew through the Ice Lakes Pass, far to the Northwest. The stories of that wind and the damage it could wreak upon the unwary fit the bird and his tendency to dive from great heights. Her skin was always icy to the touch after an outing with him, no matter the warmth of the day.
Sloane placed her lips on the wind instrument and blew, tapping her fingers along the deep holes in the polished wood in a pattern that was quickly becoming natural to her. She turned from the horns and hurried below before the last notes had fully died away. If Bora was in hearing distance, he would come.
When she entered through the door in the roof, Rouke hopped to his feet. Galen and Alexander had agreed Sloane should have someone to watch over her. She had protested, of course, but the men were insistent. When Rouke volunteered to be her constant companion and shadow, doubts had sprung from her brother, but she had agreed almost gratefully. The armsman was the closest thing she had to a friend here, beyond her cousins.
Galen had protested initially, but she had prevailed, citing Rouke’s many acts of loyalty and bravery. She suspected Rouke’s offer of a flagon of ale, or four, had had almost as much influence on her brother as her commendations.
Rouke had also kept his standing, despite the fact that he was inextricably tied to the blackened reputations of the other two men who had led her escort. Rouke was another on the short list of people Sloane felt she could trust. He was steadfast in his defense of Erik and Kinsey, in spite of many rumors springing up in the city. His stance on their innocence had not dampened his interest in serving her safety, however. He seemed to take it as a given that his friends were innocent, but that Sloane also had to consider the possibility of their guilt.
Rouke and the two handlers he had been chatting with bowed low as she descended. All of them spoke in chorus: “Milady.”
“I’m going out. I need the sky to clear my mind.”
The handlers bowed again and set off at a trot. One went to the dressing cubicles where the riding leathers were hung and cared for, and the other to the loading perch where the summoned Rhodaekhann would land to be fitted for harness and gear.
Sloane continued to speak to Rouke as he looked outside, obviously judging the remaining light. “I will not be gone long,” she said, drawing his attention back from the multihued sky. “An hour at most.”
“I’m under orders not to let ya outta my sight, Milady.”
Sloane smiled at her loyal guardsman and friend. “Then you had better hurry.”
Bora swooped in and flapped his wings, stirring a forceful gust of wind through the massive room. Rouke grinned and ran for the stairs Sloane had just descended.
When Sloane made it to the changing area, the attendant already had her riding leathers set out. After her first flight with Alexander, a set had been painstakingly crafted for her. The fit she thought was form-fitting before was truly a second skin now, but she hardly gave a thought to the scandalous cupping of the leather. If this is what it looked like to be free, then this was the way she wanted to look. Eos preserve the gentry if Marcella gets ahold of the leatherworkers that provide these suits.
The practiced hands of her attendant and her increasing comfort with the garment saw her fully ready to fly as Rouke was just descending to the floor. “You are too slow!” she yelled at him and laughed.
“Don’t ya be waitin’ on me!” Rouke yelled back with a smile.
She was fully strapped in and Bora was sidling toward the end of the huge perch that stretched across the length of the room when Rouke came charging out of the changing area. The bird he had summoned was one she did not recognize. It had flown in shortly after her final buckles had been tightened and now waited patiently as the handlers placed its harness.
The exhilaration she felt as Bora hopped off the perch and began his plummet toward the ground was just as intense this time as it had been every flight since her first. Her heart leapt and soared as the close details of Terrandal blurred by and the buildings of the palace grew before her.
Bora’s wings opened, breaking their descent. She echoed his screech of triumph with her own yell as the feathered back pumped below her, driving them back into the sky.
She let Bora plunge through the bottom of the low-hanging clouds, and she laughed out loud as her face grew cold and clammy in the mist.
When they broke into the open sky above the cloud layer, Sloane leaned to the side sharply, pulling on the leader hoops as she did.
The great bird ceased flapping its wings and stretched them to their fullest, but tilted them to follow her command. The two spun in midair until their upward momentum crept to a halt. Bora screeched a second time. It was an ear-hammering sound Sloane had come to cherish. As their climb transformed into a fall, the great bird turned into it and tucked his wings as they sped toward the earth. When they had dropped to a point just below the aviary, Bora opened his wings. They veered sharply to circle the great tree several times, spiraling wider with each rotation. When Bora’s wings were outspread, as they were now, the flight feathers caressed the air. The air flowed through the massive wings and they guided the rushing wind to their own benefit.
Rouke and his mount settled into the air nearby. His watchful eyes scanned in all directions, searching the skies for potential threats. It was hard to imagine what possible threats could come against her here, but Rouke, like her, loved to fly and would use any excuse to do so.
The Rohdaekhann were not so plentiful that just anyone had the opportunity to fly, and the birds themselves were choosy about who they allowed to be paired with them. Sloane had not been refused yet, but more than one person in the aviary sported deep scars or missing digits.
Bora squawked and dove unexpectedly.
Sloane yelped in surprise, tightening her grip on the leader hoops. She pulled back on the leather rings in an attempt to bring the giant bird level again.
Bora refused to respond. The surface of the Cliffs of Judgment began to define itself as they hurled closer.
Sloane desperately yanked and hauled on the guiding hoops as the tops of the falls flashed by. “Bora!” she yelled, “what are you doing?” The bird ignored her plea as definitively as he ignored the guiding hoops she was fruitlessly straining against.
Oh, Eos! Sloane thought, and also screamed aloud, realizing she and Rouke had been looking in the wrong places for assassins. Somehow, they had gotten to Bora.
Sloane gritted her teeth and reared back, struggling with the guiding hoops and attempting to pull Bora out of his suicidal dive by sheer force. One of the hoops snapped under her desperate attempt and spun into the giant bird’s wake as she screamed.
Bora screeched and his wings snapped open.
The sudden action threw Sloane flat onto his broad back and drove all the air from her lungs. Her head slapped against the hard leather framework of the harness, splitting her lip. Pain surged through her face and chest.
The great eagle swooped so close to the jagged rocks that he was forced to extend his clawed feet to fend off the highest of the boulders that protruded from the surface of the water.
Sloane’s eyes widened as they approached the dense jungle on one side of the pools from which they swooped. She had no breath with which to scream, but both hands found a white-knuckled grip on Bora’s harness as the giant bird alternately tucked his wings close to his body and snapped them open, navigating the maze of the hanging vines and protruding branches at terrific speed.
Sloane closed her eyes and tucked herself as close to Bora’s broad back as she could, trying desperately to not get dragged from her saddle as they continued their racing progress through the canopy. The perilous flight came to a jarring halt, and she opened her eyes.
Bora’s massive talons sank into the bark on the trunk of one of the giant trees. They were clinging at an angle some fifty feet from the forest floor. Bora screeched with what seemed like agitation, flapping his wings and bobbing his head. Leaves and other debris filled the air around them, stirred up by his nervous commotion.
Sloane looked around warily. “Easy, boy. What’s gotten into you?” she asked, stroking his neck. She had never seen any of the great birds act so anxious, but then again, she had never seen one of them try to dash themselves upon the rocks either.
The surrounding jungle appeared to harbor no threats’ the setting was almost serene, in fact. Vines and branches swayed rhythmically to some soundless tune that might have been soothing if not for Sloane’s near brush with death. The wind gently rustled the heavy leaves around them in a calming hush that settled her mind and calmed her rattled nerves. She lingered for only a moment before returning her attention to Bora.
A pang of regret stabbed at her heart as she looked down at the great bird. Flying with her favorite was now something she could no longer risk. More, if he had been tampered with somehow, it was possible the other birds could also present a danger to her. In fact, now that she thought it through, the entire aviary would have to be investigated from frame to loft, lest the birds put themselves and others in danger.
Sloane shook her head in frustration. Damn our royal blood, she thought. If she and her sister had been peasant girls, none of this would have ever occurred.
Of course, the other side to that coin wasn’t much more favorable—she would have likely married a soldier and been ruled by others who were more interested in themselves than the common good. At least, being who she was, she might be able to guide the rule of the nation to benefit the ruled.
She tugged gently on her leader hoop and clucked softly to the agitated bird. “Come on, boy,” she said gently. “Lets go.”
After a few squawks of protest, the giant bird released the tree trunk and flared his wings out before dropping to the ground. Leaves the size of dinner plates brushed against Bora’s ankles as he stepped tentatively for better footing.
Once her mount seemed calm, Sloane busied herself with the buckles that held her to the bird’s back. Getting into and out of the harness was much harder without the help of the handlers, but eventually she was able to slide off Bora’s back and down to the jungle floor. The ground was damp and soft under her feet. She stepped cautiously from the giant eagle until she found more solid footing and evaluated her surroundings with more scrutiny.
She had thought the jungle peaceful from her perch high above the forest floor, but now she found it unnerving. There was no sound beyond the creak and slide of her leathers and the warbling squawk from Bora. No birds. No insects. A slight breeze added a little life to the tableau, but instead of a comforting sound, the hiss of the wind through the limbs sent chills down her back.
Rouke’s voice floated through t
he trees, breaking the ominous feeling. “Princess!” The call was faint. “Princess?!”
Relief flooded through her upon hearing Rouke’s voice. “I’m here!” She had forgotten he was beside her when Bora plummeted without warning. Thank Eos he was a persistent bodyguard.
Sloane patted Bora on the neck once more and spoke gently. “Find your way back, my friend.” The giant bird tipped its head to her before making its clumsy way across the forest floor to the open air above the Tanglevine. She watched him go, hoping he would be fine, and hoping more that this was just some sort of accident born of her lack of experience rather than an attempt on her life—or the bird’s.
She climbed over a fallen winewood. Her hands still shook, so she clasped them together as she made her way toward Rouke’s calls. Well, you did almost die, she thought. She took a calming breath and walked out onto the southern bank of the Tanglevine.
Rouke stood on a large boulder farther upstream. He had his head back and his hands cupped to his mouth as he called for her. His mount was across the river as well, eyeing the water with a predator’s focus.
“I’m here!” she called and waved an arm to catch his attention.
He came off the rock with a leap and ran her way, kicking up sand as he did. “Thank Eos!” Rouke panted as he came to a stop in front of her. “Are ya okay?”
“Yes. A bit shaken, perhaps, but I’m fine.”
“What happened? I thought you’d gone mad!” Now that he could see she was unharmed, a grin made its way across his rough face.
“I don’t know, exactly.” She frowned, considering the implications of her thoughts before giving them voice. “I believe the Rohdaekhann has been tampered with.”
Rouke looked back from where Sloane had come out of the jungle. “Is the bird...”
“No. He is uninjured, but confused and afraid, I think,” she replied. The more she considered the event, the more she hoped it was her fault. She could fix that.
Dark Fate: The Gathering (The Dark Fate Chronicles Book 1) Page 49