The Shadows Wood surged beneath them, the towering crooked trees appearing suddenly below, startling him. The alerion banked higher, making Thealos clutch at the hand straps as he felt his body shift towards the open air. A sweet sickening sensation thrilled in his stomach. It reminded him of the Foretelling in Landmoor, how he had swooped over the land and watched the history of Sol-don-Orai and its fall. He did not remember wanting to retch though.
The Shae rider tapped him with a riding crop and motioned to the other side of the alerion. Thealos saw Justin scrunched forward, wiping his mouth on his sleeve but then what he saw amazed him. The Iron Point Road wove through the Shadows Wood like a huge undulating snake, the motion caused by the steady gallop of horsemen that he recognized as Kiran Thall. Peering closely, he saw the forest thick with Bandit soldiers fleeing south. Some looked up, but he could hear nothing over the harshness of the gusting wind.
Suddenly the alerion slowed and dipped and the others surged ahead. It rejoined the group in the rear, tailing Exeres’ and Allavin’s mount. Thealos understood—it shared a rotation, much like other birds did. The headwinds were the toughest battle, the most tiring. Or maybe the Shae riders had trained them that way. Allavin stared down at the soldiers, his head turning this way and that, as if he was trying to number them all. Exeres, on the other hand, lifted his head high, as if he exulted in the experience. His gaze looked up, not down, as if the skies would whisper something or show a great mystery.
Hours they flew, loping up and down, crossing the vast stretch of the Shadows Wood. The winds became sultry and steamed, the work more arduous for the alerion. His own shoulder and leg muscles ached from the strain of his posture. The scene below in the woods changed as well as the forest went from dry tinder to muck and mud. Veins of creeks and streams permeated the woods, revealing glimpses of sinkholes and bogs. At one point, he saw a vast swamp with nothing but stunted trees and crowberry bushes—the alerion flew low enough that its talons could swat at the tops of the foliage. Thealos wished they had used alerion on the first drive to Landmoor. How different things would be. But then he had to wonder—would he have become a Sleepwalker himself had it happened any other way?
The forest gave way at last to the Shoreland. As the alerion banked to the left, Thealos saw the fortress of Landmoor down below. How small it looked from the saddle perch of a great bird. The walls looked so frail, as if his boot could kick them over. Smoke from chimneys and forges rose into the skies from the depths of the city walls. The alerion swooped low and circled, drawing closer and closer to the ground. They approached to the west of Landmoor, right near the tree line. It would feel good to walk around, to chafe his hands and practice some of the Way of Ice and Shadows. To let the Oath magic burn the fighting routines deeper into his being—to become one with it.
The alerion flapped furiously, arching back and touching down with one talon and then the other. The thud shoved Thealos forward, but the tethers kept him from slipping. The Shae rider untied his hands and then loosened Justin. The Warder Shae slid off the creature and collapsed. Thealos eased himself off and landed, staring up at the rider who nodded to him, his look almost apologetic.
“Fare well in your task.”
Thealos nodded to him, feeling his knees buckle. The others dismounted as well, except for Allavin who looked him in the eye, nodded once, and waited on his alerion. Flent backed away from the beasts with an angry look and shook his fist. Ticastasy beamed, lost in the euphoria of it still. The Shae scouts chirped and the massive birds took flight again, soaring into the sky.
Almost as soon as they were gone, the presence of Shae surrounded them. The glow of Silvan magic flashed from the trees as four quaeres of Crimson Wolfsmen appeared.
Wolfsman? Xenon! He knew the Wolfsman well enough. He would be furious for being duped and abandoned on the docks of Sol.
Thealos grabbed the pouch at his waist and started untying it.
Xenon of the Crimson Wolfsmen approached in the forefront, his face twisting with anger. The others of his quaere seemed to blaze with shared anger as well. Thealos had insulted them again in defying them.
Before Thealos had his hand on the stones, the Wolfsman Lor struck him, his palm open, the heel of his hand whipping right for his cheek.
The blow sent sparks of pain in his skull, jerking him to the side and dropping him to the ground. Xenon dropped on him, clenching his wrists, twisting them back behind him and jerking his hair to pull his chin off the ground.
“I’ve had enough of your games, boy,” he said with choking voice, his eyes blazing with fury. “It’s time I gave you a teaching in our ways. Pray you to remember it.”
A fist came down into Thealos’ kidneys.
Chapter XXIV
Thealos could have dodged it. The Oath magic writhed inside him, summoned by the urgency of his need. He could have flipped Xenon on the ground, or trapped and broken his arm. He could have blended into the vapors of nothingness and simply stepped away, unseen, unsmelled, unreachable.
But it would have ruined all his plans, plans that depended on keeping his abilities as a Sleepwalker a secret.