Alliance (9 page)

“What?”

“Apparently the patrols out at the two farthest villages, other than Miresh, will soon be accompanied by an elf. It would seem they can use their magic to confuse anyone watching. I believe our friends in Alel have been busy learning new things since King Seran attempted to breach their borders. No wonder Lerran was so eager to join Nysad. I would imagine he has been kept well-informed.”

“Well that’s good, isn’t it? We need all the help we can get.”
Nykin hunkered down lower, his body almost touching Fimor’s back in an effort to lessen the wind’s effects. Fimor flew in a lazy figure eight while they waited, and Nykin already felt the cold pricking at him through his uniform. He should definitely have worn his furs.

“Indeed. Especially if the elves have been exploring ways to enhance their magic. Ahh.”
Fimor straightened up his flight path, and Nykin immediately tensed.
“The last riders have arrived. This is it, Nykin. Let’s go find Nysad and our patrol to guard.”

Nykin’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach as Fimor swooped down into a steep dive. The wind continued to swirl around them, and Nykin clung to the saddle with his thighs as he kept a tight hold on the harness. They flew low over the palace and the lower town, and Nykin felt a tickling sensation in his left side.

“Fimor? There’s something….”
It wasn’t painful, but it felt odd, like tiny vibrations under his skin. He wanted to rub his hand over it but couldn’t let go of the harness. The sensation got stronger the closer they came to the outer wall.

“Don’t panic, Nykin. We’re approaching the barrier the elves created, and it is Faelon’s magic you can feel.”

As soon as Fimor said it, Nykin felt as though he could recognize it as Faelon’s magic. It changed to a low thrum, seeping into his bones with a familiar ache, relaxing him a little. The magic curled around him inside, connecting him to the elven barrier shielding his home and its people. It calmed his nerves, and he settled back in his seat more focused than he’d been all day.

They flew over and beyond the wall, the magic flaring briefly before settling down into a low hum as they left it behind.

Nykin easily kept track of Eldin and Vashek for the first part of their journey, the sky not yet dark enough to obscure his view. They kept a fair distance apart, both dragons flying as fast as they were able, and Nykin clung to Fimor’s back as the air rushed past him.

Gradually, any remaining light disappeared, surrounding them with an inky blackness and rendering Nykin virtually blind to his surroundings. Stars littered the night sky, but the comforting sight of Vashek alongside them was gone, and Nykin shivered, suddenly feeling a lot colder than before.

“Can you see Eldin?”
Nykin asked after a while. Fimor’s eyesight was unimpaired by the darkness, and Nykin relied on him when they flew at night. A waning crescent moon hung high above them, just a thin sliver in the sky, providing next to no illumination.

“Yes. Eldin and Vashek are off to our left. Relax, Nykin. We won’t lose them.”

Nykin felt too on edge to manage a reply, Fimor’s words doing nothing to calm him down.

Fimor began to fly back and forth the closer they came to the border, circling high in the sky and then gliding low again, searching for any sign that Seran’s army had been alerted. The pull of Faelon’s magic was faint now, and Nykin almost missed its reassuring presence. They were far from the safety of the walls, and Nykin’s skin prickled the farther they flew. The village of Miresh was out across the open fields, the forest on one side and the Athisi border on the other. The people would be exposed and vulnerable the moment they left.

He caught sight of Vashek once or twice when he flew particularly close to them, and while it was reassuring to have him and Eldin with them, Nykin still wanted this night to be over as soon as possible.

“How much farther, Fimor?”
Nykin thought he could see something up ahead, but it was too dark to be sure.

“We’re almost there. According to Vashek, the other patrols have already begun escorting the villagers back. Those from the nearby villages will be at the palace in the next few hours. We will be the last.”

“Good. I don’t like being out here, there’s something… I don’t know….”
Nykin fidgeted, shifting about in his saddle and trying to shake the uneasy feeling.
“Something just feels off.”

“It’s the witch,”
Fimor said, and Nykin tensed—his knuckles turning white where he gripped Fimor’s harness.
“Calm yourself. She’s not attacking, but her magic is still strong enough for us to sense it. But unlike the elves, her magic is old and dark, and that’s why it feels wrong.”

“Why didn’t it feel like this in Alel?”

“I believe the elven barrier protected us from most of it.”

“Do we have to get any closer? It’s getting worse.”
Nykin shivered. It felt as though icy fingers were trailing down his back, and it took all his resolve not to beg Fimor to return to the palace.

“No. We’re here. Eldin’s orders are for us to watch the right side of the village, and he will watch the left, but we’re to stay on this side of it.”

“Okay, good,”
Nykin replied, eager to keep as much distance between them and the witch as possible.

Fimor pulled up and began to fly in large circles again, but not going any farther forward. Nykin strained to see anything in the darkness below them, but as Fimor flew a little closer, Nykin could make out the soft glow of several torches dotted throughout the village. If they could see it from up here, then anyone watching from the ground would easily pick them out. Especially considering where they were headed.

“Is that wise?”
he said, frowning.
“Miresh is so close to the border, surely there’s a risk of someone seeing that light. I know they need to see what they’re doing, but that’s far brighter than I would have expected.”

“That is no ordinary light, though. Watch this.”

Fimor put on a burst of speed, dropping down and angling his body to make a wide arc in the air and coming round the back of the village. And Nykin couldn’t believe his eyes.

He blinked several times but saw nothing but blackness in front of him—no sign of light anywhere.
“Where did they go?”
He shifted in his saddle, looking all around him but still not able to see anything.

“Lerran is using a complex spell, I believe; illuminating the torches but masking the light so it won’t be seen by anyone beyond the village border. His magic is very strong.”

“Thank the Gods the elves joined the patrols.”

Fimor hummed in agreement. “
You know as well as I how impulsive elves can be, Nykin. If they found a way to help, as they appear to have done, they wouldn’t hesitate to offer assistance.”

Below them, Nysad organized his men to sweep through the village and gather everyone as silently as possible. Since the patrol had arrived hours earlier, the villagers were ready and waiting to leave. Saddled horses, and carts loaded with both supplies and people, were soon assembling below them. One of the guards set off with the first group, leading them back to the palace and safety. They would travel until morning, putting as much distance between them and the border as possible before setting up camp. Roughly eight hours of darkness remained, but the horses—if not the people—would need to rest, Nykin hoped they got far enough away from the border to be out of danger before they were forced to stop for the day. They would likely need at least another night’s travel after that to reach the safety of the palace. Nykin felt more anxious by the moment.

Fimor carefully avoided getting any nearer to the border while still keeping close to the village. But Nykin felt sure the witch must be able to sense Fimor and Vashek’s magic if she was paying attention. Maybe Lerran’s too, for that matter. They were so close to the border now.

“Fimor? If we can sense the witch, can’t she do the same to us?”
Nykin watched, with no small amount of relief, as Nysad led what appeared to be the last group of people out of the village. The torchlight illuminated Nysad’s face, and even from their distance, Nykin could see the tension etched in his features. They weren’t safe yet, but they were on their way.

“Yes. If the witch is awake, then she will know there’s magic nearby, unless Lerran has found a way to mask that too. But she is well aware that there are dragons in Torsere.”

“I still have the elven cuff they gave me in Alel.”
No one had asked for its return before he and Ryneq left Alel, and to be honest, with everything that had happened, he’d forgotten all about it.
“I could ask Lerran myself
.”

“I would advise against that, Nykin. You risk disrupting his concentration, and we have no way of knowing just what spells he’s using at the moment. You will have to wait and find out what Glaevahl and the others have learned from the old books when we return.”

“Yes, good point,”
Nykin agreed. He would definitely be suggesting Eldin ask for another meeting. They needed to be aware of each other’s capabilities, and not knowing was driving Nykin crazy. It would also be beneficial to everyone involved, and he was all for encouraging that as much as possible.

From what Nykin could make out below, it looked as though most of the villagers were either traveling in carts or walking. A few were on horseback, but not many. It would still be a little slow going, but at least they were moving now.

Fimor and Nykin brought up the rear on the right-hand side, as per Eldin’s orders, circling around to make sure they weren’t being followed. Lerran had altered the spell on the torches—no light could be seen from behind the convoy as they moved. They would be all but invisible for anyone looking at them from over the border.

About an hour into the journey, Nykin felt the cold sensation run down his spine again, but this time it didn’t fade.
“Fimor? What….”
The cold traveled out along his right arm and down to his fingers.
“Fimor!”

“Hold on. The witch is casting. We need to move now!”

A loud roar sounded off to their left, easily heard above the wind, followed by a short burst of orange flame illuminating the sky enough for Nykin to see Eldin and Vashek dart past. Nykin tried to grab the harness tighter as Fimor shot off in the opposite direction, but the fingers on his right hand wouldn’t move. Panic surged through him. His heart hammered against his ribs, and he frantically tried to cling on with one hand as Fimor climbed higher into the sky.
“I can’t move my hand. The witch’s spell….”

“I know, just hold on. I’ll try and get us out of range.”

Thank the Gods for the thigh straps, because the wind threatened to unseat him again as Fimor flew higher and higher. Pain shot through Nykin’s hand as the feeling suddenly returned to his fingers, and he cried out, cradling it to his chest.

“Nykin?”

“I’m okay,”
he said as Fimor leveled out and circled around. He looked below them, but the darkness covered everything.
“What’s going on, Fimor? What about the patrol? We need to get back down there, Seran
—
”

“It’s only the witch, Nykin. Seran and his army are still behind the border for now. With any luck, they’ll assume we’re on our own.”
Fimor flew back toward the palace but remained high above the ground.
“Nysad has the patrol traveling as fast as they’re able, but they won’t be able to keep that pace for long.”

“So we evade the witch and keep the patrol safe.”
Nykin flexed his fingers, relieved there was no lasting damage.
“Are we out of range, or has she stopped casting? And what if she attacks the patrol?”

Fimor dropped suddenly and lurched to the right.
“Not quite out of range, and she appears to be focused on us and Vashek for the time being.”
He let out a roar, making Nykin’s ears ring, and when Nykin glanced over his shoulder, he was horrified to see a flash of red light strike the end of Fimor’s tail.

“Fimor! You’re hurt.”

“It’s just a scratch.”
Fimor darted back and forth as more flashes of red light lit up the sky around them.

He could hear Vashek, the sounds coming from Eldin’s dragon a mixture of pain and fury. Every now and again Nykin caught a brief glimpse of him, lit up by the witch’s magic, and each time Nykin breathed a sigh of relief that they were all right.

The wind picked up even more, far worse than anything Nykin had experienced before in Torsere. The force of it matched the storm the witch had created out at sea. It stung his eyes, making them water until he had to just give up and keep them closed, only sneaking a glance every now and again.

Nykin ducked low over Fimor’s back, the leather of his uniform catching on the scales. They were being forced to drop closer to the ground as the wind pushed them from all angles, and Fimor struggled to keep them steady.
“This is the witch’s doing, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I believe so. I fear she’s controlling the wind, and I can’t stop her on my own, Nykin.”
Fimor’s voice was calm and soothing in Nykin’s head, but an underlying tension leaked through their bond, and for once it wasn’t coming from Nykin
. “We need to get out of here.”

“Where’s Eldin?”

Fimor drew closer and closer to the ground, and Nykin clung on for dear life as Fimor changed directions with increasing speed to avoid the witch’s spells.
“He’s about fifty feet to the left of us. Vashek has a nasty cut on his front leg, but other than that they’re unharmed.”

They were only about thirty feet above the ground now, and Nykin felt his tattoo flare brightly with a spike of anxiety from Fimor. They must be in some serious trouble for Fimor to be worried. Nykin tried to ignore it. He didn’t want to add to it with his own nerves, but at the speed they were dropping, it was almost impossible.