Chapter Twenty One

To Camp in the Hills

After spending the better part of the twilight hours scouting their ideal campsite, they had settled for a sheltered overlook perched above a wide river valley a few miles from their original respite. The site was relatively flat, the surrounding trees tall and spread enough to allow the wyverns to land without fear of crowding one another or cramping their wings. Ephaxus was the last to alight at the far edge of the clearing, nickering as he settled among the grass.

Inerys sat back in the saddle, rubbing at the tight muscles of her thighs. Her body still quivered from time to time with the lingering aftershocks of her cleansing, but overall, a majority of her pain had subsided. It made flight far more pleasant, even if her knees still ached from sitting the saddle for extended periods of time. Ephaxus was no horse, that much was certain. His movement and size were still foreign to her. As with everything, she was confident her proficiency and comfort would come in time. There was no lack of flight in her future.

Using one of the spikes along his back to steady herself, she carefully climbed down his wing and onto solid ground. She staggered, regaining her bearings, then stretched her stiff limbs. She groaned with the effort, yet relished the release as her spine loosened. Her physical core’s stabilization had left her remarkably refreshed, despite her initial disorientation. And the nasty bit of business she’d left steaming in the moss.

She was practically itching for a hunt.

“Is there anything I can help with?” She asked.

“Take this pack for me?” Ayduin asked, holding it out over Vaelor’s shoulder.

Trotting over, she reached to take it, relieved to be useful, for once.

The copper wyvern eyed her. Of the three, he had been the only one reluctant or unwilling to communicate with her. She could sense his emotions easily enough, though nothing further. It was as if he were guarding himself or blocking her somehow. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but considering their tenuous relationship, she was content to give him the space he clearly desired.

She set the pack down near those Rhydian had already deposited between the wyverns, then made to retrieve her own, which largely consisted of her extra clothes. A majority of their provisions had been split between Vaelor and Tanuzet and in short order, all three wyverns were left with only their saddles. Tanuzet shook out her hide, her jaws yawning wide with Ephaxus quickly following suit. Tucking one wing, he laid on his side and brought his tail about to wrap around himself with a contented purr.

He was beginning to remind Inerys of an oversized cat more and more each day.

“This is as good a place as any to settle for the next few days,” Rhydian said, surveying the area with an air of approval.

“You won’t hear me complain about the view,” she said, curious as to what game might be found in these woods.

“Then you’re in good company,” he said.

“I still can’t believe how clear it is outside the Wilds. Every so often, the mists would leave the cities, but I can’t recall a single day where I could see more than a few dozen yards in any direction out in the forest.”

“I’m surprised you were able to find your way at all.”

Toying with her braid, she said, “I’ve always had a sort of sixth sense, even when I was a girl. Most Hounds do. It wasn’t as keen as my Awareness is now, but there were inklings of it. I always assumed it had to do with our mixed blood.”

“It’s likely a gift from your Adai heritage. Humans do not possess cores or meridians the way we do. At least, according to the scholars. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting one in person to see for myself.” Rhydian said, rifling through their provisions.

“They don’t?” She asked, though wasn’t entirely surprised by the revelation.

“They haven’t ventured out of the Veil in centuries, for better or worse,” he said, unraveling one of the tents, “so I can’t say for certain. You may be able to find a few histories about them, but your intimate knowledge of them is likely more accurate than ours.”

“Intimate may be a bit generous,” she said. “I didn’t study them, by any means. More often than not, I stayed away. The sorcerers were often the only humans I dealt with directly and even that was limited.”

She wavered for a moment, suddenly struck by a thought.

“If humans don’t possess any cores, how can they use magic?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Magic and spiritual cores have always acted strangely in the Wilds. It's one of the main reasons entering them is forbidden. Those who do often never return. And those rare few who do are either diseased or mad. Sometimes both.”

Goosebumps pricked her skin.

Mad, she could understand, but, “Diseased?”

“Not in a manner you may be accustomed to. The ailment appears to affect all three cores, but it stems from the spiritual. Their essence is corrupted, blackened. It doesn’t happen often, but the effects are concerning enough that the Wilds have been quarantined as a whole. The borders are closely monitored, both by land and sky.”

“What happens to the afflicted?”

He grimaced. “They’re given a quick death.”

And more than likely taken off to be studied, she thought.

In all her time spent in those woods, never once had she seen anyone who had come back sick. Aside from a cold, that is. If someone disappeared, they were gone and that was simply the end of it. She doubted anyone had ever been as fortunate as her.

“I feel more and more like an oddity each day,” she said.

“You’re a unique case, that much is clear,” he said, “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re with us. I’ve never seen anything good come out of those woods until now.”

A slight heat rose in her cheeks. “Good to know I’m not terrible company.”

“Stressful as you’ve made my life, you’re not so bad,” he teased, offering a lop-sided grin.

“He’s only relieved he has someone else to talk to,” Ayduin hummed, setting the last of her packs beside them.

He sighed. “My dear Ayduin, you are as charming as you are exhausting.”

She batted her lashes at them. “I’m an absolute delight.”

Inerys felt a smile tug at her lips.

“How long have you two known each other?”

“Twenty years. Give or take,” Rhydian said.

Ayduin inclined her head. “We’re practically siblings.”

“More or less. Most prospective Talhavar are matched when they are around four years old.”

Inerys blinked. “Really? How do you know you’re a good match?”

“Well, after you’re paired off, you live together for a number of years to ensure the pairing is a strong one,” he said, “but we go through extensive social testing while we’re young to assess our viability. It isn’t often that initial pairings need to be reassigned.”

“We spent five or so years living at the palace before we were officially named a pair. And even before that, we were often placed together during playdates with other children to see how we interacted,” Ayduin said.

Rhydian shifted uncomfortably, his attention set on the construction of his tent as if it were suddenly more interesting than the conversation. Having noticed, Inerys’ interest piqued. Was it the mention of a palace that had caused his sudden unease? She couldn’t imagine what else it might have been. The statement had been innocent enough, as far as she could tell.

“The two of you grew up in a palace?”

He cast Ayduin a small warning glare, but she said, “His father’s palace, yes. I had the privilege of being matched to a princeling.”

“I’m a third born, Ayduin, it's hardly anything more than a title,” he muttered.

“A title that allowed you to spoil me with more honeyed dates than I knew what to do with,” she said with a blissful sigh, “Some days I still dream about them. Oh, and the candied figs.”

He gave a soft, amused snort, shaking his head.

“You’re royalty, then?” Inerys asked.

Among the Seven Cities, those who ruled were Magisters. However, she’d read about kings and queens and their like in her books. To her, they were things of myth, rulers who governed dangerous, far off lands she could only dream of. Until now.

“Unfortunately yes,” he said. “I would have preferred to keep that detail quiet, but you would have found out eventually. My father is one of the continent’s ruling Six. You’ll meet him when you meet the rest of the Council.”

“Elaion is head of the Solar Throne,” Ayduin added, “His empire governs the southern edge of the continent. Man prides himself on his country and his bloodline, yet spends all his time in the Council’s joint capitol.”

“He’s as powerful politically as he is spiritually. He can do whatever he likes with or without the approval of his people or the rest of his clan,” Rhydian said with a bitter edge.

Inerys’ brow furrowed. “I'm afraid I've never heard of a clan. What is it? If you don't mind my asking.”

“In simple terms, a clan is a group dedicated to the same spiritual path. My father’s, for instance, follows the Celestial Flame. They cultivate light and fire essence in order to produce powerful magical techniques reminiscent of the sun,” he said, standing and holding out a hand.

Inerys sensed his essence shift before a solid ball of fire manifested in his open palm, hovering just above his skin. Inerys gasped at the sudden rush of heat expelled by the swirling sphere, her eyes wide. Thin tongues of golden flame highlighted the varying tones of orange and red, burning like no flame she had ever seen. Hot as it was, it didn’t appear to bother Rhydian in the least. His skin did not blacken and burn, but remained smooth and untouched.

“Most Nar’Adai are born with a natural alignment for fire, but those of my father’s bloodline often manifest a dual affinity for light. I was no exception. I still struggle with light aspect essence, but so do most until around their sixth Ascension. As such, most of my spiritual techniques are solely fire-based.”

“That’s incredible,” Inerys breathed.

“If you seek something truly impressive, look to Ayduin,” he grinned. “She’s one of five desert–born Nar’Adai born with an inherent affinity for water.”

The woman made a face and held up her hands, “I have my fair share of worshipers back home as it is. No need to add another. I get enough unwanted praise.”

“A water affinity?" Inerys asked, recalling the events of the prior evening. "When Ephaxus and I were falling, I could have sworn I saw a hand reach up from the lake before we went under. Was that you?”

“I was only cushioning your fall. Tanuzet did most of the work. She was the one who kept you both in the air long enough for me to be of any real use.”

“Really?”

“She follows an air path,” Rhydian said.

Behind them, the wyvern rumbled.

“I see I owe you all my thanks.”

These life debts were beginning to add up and she hadn’t the slightest idea as to how she would repay them.

“You have a knack for keeping us on our toes,” Ayduin said.

She grimaced. “Sorry.”

The woman waved a hand. “Don’t be. You’ve made our lives infinitely more interesting. Before all this vampire business, Rhydian and I were stuck on patrol duty out in the desert. Courtesy of his father, I’m sure.”

“It . . . wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried to keep us confined to clan territory,” Rhydian sighed. “Regardless, our current mission remains the same regardless of his preference. Now that your physical core has stabilized itself, it's time we start training it alongside your body. Ayduin and I will show you a more efficient cycling technique once camp is made and come tomorrow evening, we’ll head out into the forest on foot."

"Rhydian and I will accompany you, but it will be up to you to track and bring down prey. From here on out, you'll have to rely on your own senses. Between your meditations and the active use of your Awareness, your mental core should be able to keep up with the advancement of your physical. Wouldn't want it falling behind."

Slowly, she nodded. This forest may not be the Wilds, but a hunt was a hunt. If she could not track and down game, well, she didn't deserve to call herself a huntress. However, there was only one problem.

"I can track easily enough, but without a bow, I'm afraid I'll be of little use beyond that."

Rhydian smirked, then gestured to a long, soft leather sheath.

"You should find what you need inside. And don't worry, it's strong enough to account for your strength."

Intrigued, Inerys stuped knelt, her fingers practically itching for the familiar curve of wood. The leather was smooth and supple, more a sheath than an actual case, tied at one end by a pair of leather laces. Her hands trembled with excitement as she pulled the bow free. It was a simple, elegant thing, with polished, gently curving limbs.

“I wasn’t sure how attached you were to your previous bow, but I took it with me when I brought you to Kresia. It’s actually still tied to the saddle. We may be able to have it reinforced, but for now, this one should serve you well. It won’t snap in half on you.”

Inerys eyes wavered. “Y-you kept it?”

He nodded.

“It was my mother’s bow. I - thank you. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, truly. I’ll make good use of this one.”