“Aye,” Othello said, wiping sweat from his forehead.
The group sat in horrified silence as the sky began to dim and the smaller orc demons settled on the edges of the forest, watching for danger.
CHAPTER
12
BY MORNING THE ORCS WERE GONE. Pria saw them leave at first light, flying low through the mountain pass. It had been fortunate timing, as Sheldon arrived at the entrance an hour later. Once there, the Zaratan stopped to graze at the edge of the forest, as if he knew that there would be little vegetation to feed on during the journey ahead.
The team leaped to the ground and spread out, wary of any orc demons left to keep watch. The ashes of the fires were still warm to the touch and the dung from their Wyverns left a thick, pungent stench in the air.
“They must know we’re going this way,” Fletcher said, shaking his head. “The Ahool must have tracked our scent. We’re just lucky they thought we’re faster than we are—they’ve overshot us.”
“If we were walking we would still be in the swamplands,” Othello said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “If we were riding anything but a Zaratan, say Kirins or Hippalectryons, we would be well beyond this point. They must think we’re mounted, like the Dragoon Corps.”
“That’s why they were so excited by these hoofprints,” Sylva guessed, crouching near the same indentations the shamans had examined. “Lucky for us, a wild herd of some demon or other must have passed this way.”
“Aye,” Cress agreed. She prodded a pile of Wyvern dung with a twig. “They must think we’ve got large, high-level demons we can ride—it’s not like they’d send a bunch of students with one or two years of experience into the belly of the beast, is it?”
Fletcher grinned at her sarcasm, even if inside he was in turmoil. It didn’t hurt that their pursuers overestimated their power, but at some point they might reconsider and retrace their steps. Worse still, the crew had lost the cover of the trees and would be stuck on the only path for miles around. Migrating demons would be funneled through the pass, from packs of wild Canids to roaming Manticores, looking for a mate. He didn’t like it, but they had no choice. They were running out of time.
As if Sheldon could read his mind, the Zaratan swallowed the last of the pulped leaves he had been stripping from the forest edge and began to plod into the narrow gully, ignoring the high, sheer walls of the mountain on either side. The team hurried to heave themselves onto the shell, their feet dangling above the ground as it juddered, tilting to and fro.
Soon they had returned to Sheldon’s back with Alice, who now had Tosk joining the pile of demons that draped themselves over her, as if they took solace in her calm demeanor. Ignatius even brought her scraps of jerky when the team ate and spent most of his time in her lap—now that the fire was out, his temperature had gone back to normal.
Cress did not seem to mind her demon’s new sleeping companion—she spent most of her time behind Sheldon’s neck, giving him the occasional scratch and holding one-sided conversations. She had become quite attached to the gentle giant and often bemoaned the fact that he was too high a level to make her own.
Fletcher smiled at the affectionate pile of demons and kissed his mother on the forehead. As he walked to the front of the shell, he wondered if it was strange to show such tenderness toward her. But it felt natural, and right.
“It’s the perfect place for an ambush,” Sylva said, interrupting his thoughts as she came to stand beside him.
She was right. They were in a winding chasm that followed the natural strata of the rock, with jagged turns that prevented them from seeing more than a dozen yards ahead. Above, deformations in the cliff walls created ledges and crevices, ideal for Wyverns hidden in wait.
“We’ll have Pria keep watch,” Fletcher said. “That will give us some warning at least.”
Only Pria would be unknown as one of their demons, for the others might have been identified by the Nanaues or goblins they had fought in the pyramid. Othello brushed her with the large scrying stone and handed it to Fletcher. The dwarf was reluctant to be away from her; he had spent the past hour experimenting with her transformations, amazed at the myriad patterns she could produce on her carapace.
As Pria hovered before them, Fletcher found it strange to see himself mirrored in the crystal, and he was struck by the change in his appearance.
His clothes and face were stained with a mess of soil, blood and dried sweat—he had not washed in days, limited to a brief splashing of water from the acrid puddles that Sheldon passed by. What wasn’t stained was torn from being caught on the spiky branches of the orc jungles and the ether’s forests. His hair was greasy, plastered to his forehead as if dipped in tar.
He smoothed his hair back, then wiped at his cheeks surreptitiously, until he earned himself an amused glance from Sylva. She had somehow managed to keep herself presentable. Her face was clean and fresh, while her hair was carefully braided, even if her clothes were only in marginally better condition than his own.
“Come here,” she said, pulling Fletcher to sit cross-legged beside her. She poured a splash of water onto a scrap of reasonably clean cloth and dabbed at his face with it, peering at him with her tongue poking from the corner of her lips as she worked.
“You know, we won’t have many options if there’s no volcano on the other side of these mountains,” she said in a low voice.
“I didn’t think we had any options,” Fletcher replied, unsure where to look as she leaned in as she wiped his cheeks. He noticed her skin, usually pale and smooth, was lightly bronzed with a dusting of freckles, tanned from her days in the orc jungles.
“We’ll have to risk flying to search for one,” she murmured, shuffling closer so the others couldn’t hear. “Take some petals for the journey.”
“Abandon the others?” Fletcher asked, horrified.
“We’d bring the flowers back once we’ve found a volcano,” Sylva said, shaking her head. “It’s our only chance, and theirs. We split up to go hunting when we needed food the other day; this is just a little longer.”
“How will we find each other again?” Fletcher asked. “We won’t be a few hundred yards apart this time.”
“We’ll find a way,” Sylva said, furrowing her brow.
Fletcher shook his head. He didn’t want to leave his mother. But it was the only way.
“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said.
As he spoke, he realized that he had been ignoring the crystal in his lap and glanced down. What he saw churned his stomach.
“Guys, you need to see this,” he said, his heart pounding.