The Sentinel Mage

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO





INNIS FLEW NORTH. No, it was more than flying, it was running away from what had happened, from Dareus lying dead beneath a pile of sand.

Finally the canyon petered out in a forest of stone fins and spires. She dipped a wing and glided back down the canyon until she could no longer see the spines of rock. She circled. Here was where they needed to camp tonight—out of sight of the assassins, but within a few miles of the ruined city.

There were no caves large enough, no ledges of stone, no outcrops. She flew higher, breaking free of the canyon walls. A rocky plateau stretched south, east, west, like a rumpled orange-red blanket that had been cast down.

There was no shelter up here, no way the horses could be brought up, but with ropes the men could climb.

Innis circled thoughtfully. How safe would it be up here? Was it as empty as it looked, or did creatures roused by the curse hunt here at night?

She glided down again, letting the canyon swallow her, and landed beside the trickle of the River Ner. She shifted.

Innis had felt her weariness as a hawk, but in human form it pressed down heavily. Her knees buckled as dizziness washed over her. She fell, catching herself on hands and knees.

For a few seconds she knelt, head hanging, eyes squeezed shut, then she looked up. You told Cora you could do this. So do it.

Her knees were bloody, her palms skinned. The pain seemed to help. The dizziness eased slightly. Innis drank from the river, splashing cool water on her face. The dizziness retreated even further.

She crouched in the rivulet and washed away soot and blood and sweat, washed away the terrible memory of last night. Then she sat on one of the smooth, rounded boulders and let the breeze dry her skin. Tombs lined the canyon to the height of a man’s head on either side. Some were natural, others looked as if they’d been cut into the rock by the ancient Massens. Above the tombs, the cliffs towered, red sandstone veined with orange and yellow, white and slate-gray, and riddled with holes—tiny cavities the size of her thumb, holes that were fist-sized, head-sized, the size of a man’s torso, and, scattered here and there, caves large enough for a person to huddle in.

Large enough for a person.

Her weariness evaporated abruptly. She caught her breath and scanned the cliffs. One, two...four...seven...ten, twelve. There were more than enough caves for them all.

Relief surged through her. There was no need to fight tonight. They’d be safe.

On the heels of relief, came grief. These cliffs were no different from those that had loomed over them last night. If I’d thought of this yesterday, Dareus would still be alive.

Tears stung her eyes. Innis blinked them back. This is what being a Sentinel means: death. You knew that. Dareus knew it too. Don’t let him down by blubbering.

She’d heard Dareus speak twice at the Academy about being a Sentinel. He’d concluded both lectures by reading the names of Sentinels killed performing their duty. It was a long list. Both her parents’ names were on it. Now Dareus’s would be too.

Innis washed the tears from her eyes. Crouching, she drew a circle in water on a boulder with her fingertip. “All-Mother, take care of him,” she whispered, holding Dareus’s face in her mind.

The water evaporated slowly, the sandstone drying from red to dusky pink.

When the circle was no longer visible, Innis gathered her magic, imagining herself in the shape of a hawk. Her skin prickled, a sensation close to pain. She closed her eyes for an instant; when she opened them she saw from a hawk’s viewpoint: the sharpness of vision, the wider field of view. Her eyes caught movement on the far side of the canyon: a lizard scuttling.

Innis spread her wings and lifted into the air, heading back down the canyon.