She glanced at him from where she knelt by her injured companions, nodding her answer and saying nothing.
He should never have left Kirisin out in the open like that, he told himself. He should have kept him inside the Ventra where it would have been much more difficult for the skrails to get at him. He should have just locked the boy away. But would Kirisin have stood for it? He saw himself as a man, not a boy, and he would not have appreciated being treated as somehow less than the others. Besides, hindsight was twenty–twenty and all that. It was easy to second-guess himself now.
When he was finished with the repairs to the AV, he slipped behind the wheel, triggered the power key, and listened to the soft purr of the engine as it slowly revved up. Everything was working again. He gave it another minute, making sure, and then stepped back out and walked over to the Elves.
“When you’re able, start walking. Stay on this road. Follow it north to the river and wait for me there. Stay out of sight. If I don’t show by tomorrow, go in search of the camp where the children and their protectors are waiting. Find the boy Hawk. Tell him what has happened.”
“Ruslan and Que’rue can go,” Praxia replied. “I’m going with you.”
He shook his head. “No, you’re not. You’re going to do what I told you to do.”
Her face hardened. “I don’t answer to you, no matter who or what you think you are.”
He nodded. “No, you don’t. But you do answer to Kirisin. He gave you the Loden Elfstone in trust. He gave it to you to hold and keep safe until his return. You can’t give up that trust. And you can’t come with me if you’re holding the Elfstone.”
She stared at him without saying anything for a moment. “You have to find him,” she said finally. “You have to bring him back or everything we’ve done is for nothing.”
He almost laughed. As if he needed reminding. “Stay on the road,” he repeated. “I’ll find him and then I’ll find you.”
He climbed into the Ventra, released the locking mechanisms on the wheels, and without looking back drove away into the night.
HE WAS A DOZEN MILES or so down the road, retracing the route they had taken after escaping the Cintra, before he allowed himself a moment to reflect on the hopelessness of what he was undertaking. He had perhaps another six hours of darkness before dawn broke, so he had some time to catch up to the skrails—which, while efficient and quick, were not built for endurance. Having flown all day to fight a difficult battle, they would have to land and rest before making the journey back to the demon that had dispatched them. In a best-case scenario, they would wait for the demon and its army to catch up to them.
That gave him a small window of time to track them down. But that was all he had going for him. He had little hope of finding much of anything hidden within the screen of gloom that cloaked the surrounding countryside. Unless the skrails were foolish enough to reveal their presence, he had no idea how he was going to find them. They would not be roosting on the roadway where he might stumble on them; they would be off in the heavy brush or up in the rocks in a place where they could protect themselves. They probably did not expect anyone to try to give chase, since they had left no trail to follow, but they were not stupid enough to chance discovery by being careless.
So what was he to do?
As if in response, a shadow swept down across the front windshield of the Ventra before soaring off again into the darkness. Trim! He hadn’t seen the owl since he reached the Cintra. In truth, he had dismissed the bird from his mind completely.
The owl glided back across the road in front of him, as if marking his progress, and then disappeared into the darkness ahead. Trim was not there by accident or just to keep Logan company. He was taking him to Kirisin once more. He was showing him the way to where the skrails were holding the boy. If he could keep the bird in sight and if he were quick enough, he might have a chance at getting Kirisin back after all.
He accelerated the AV, one eye on the road and one eye on the owl, a jolt of adrenaline rushing through him.