Page 39 of Tortured

I am over Niawen.

You are such a liar, I mumble.

Would you like to see how over Niawen I am?

***

I don’t want to believe Caedryn’s threats. Wherever Niawen and Owein are, she’s too far away from Caedryn. Travel in the three realms is slow. How can he possibly get to her? Rolant is divided from the other two realms by a mountain range in the west and one in the south.

And Caedryn does not have a dragon for travel as my small group of assassins does.

As it often happens, we take our journey by horse. The dragons are in the north, visiting with some kin. Spring is nice, and we are moving through the East Wood in the country of Goleuddydd. Our next target is in a village at the edge of the forest, and our mark has a particular displeasure for dragons. They are not allowed in his region.

Horses are a nice change of pace. The forest is alive after a light rain that arouses a quiet patter of drops every time a breeze stirs the canopy.

“Let’s stop soon for a meal.” Riahn leaves the road and heads into the underbrush. “Look for a good place to make camp.”

I follow Riahn, with Gilmar, Kian, and Westin right behind me. The forest isn’t too dense, so our horses don’t have difficulty skirting around small shrubs.

As I round a tree, I’m suddenly creeping through the underbrush on my belly.

Startled, I blink. I have a sense that the day is dimmer, and the trees more sparse.

I sniff and lick my paw as I pause to listen.

Paw?

I grunt. This is a vision. My feet are covered in golden fur. I can still feel the reins in my hands, but my sight has been overtaken. Caedryn? What are you up to?

I receive a snort in return.

What beast is this? I ask. What sorcery?

A mountain cat, Caedryn hisses. She’s a pretty creature.

The cat moves into a crouch and peers through the leaves of a bush.

Its ear twitches. I ignore its urge to scratch.

How are you in this beast’s mind? I ask.

Oh, Kenrik. I’ve been using this trick for some time. I just haven’t shown you yet, but today, I have something extra special to share with you.

That’s when I see her.

Niawen.

She laughs as the wind blows her ashen hair. Her eyes are as green as I remember. A blistering need to hold her courses through me.

The cat blinks.

Are you controlling it? I ask.

More or less. It’s called a familiar. I enter its mind and can control where it goes and see what it sees.

And you’ve tracked down Niawen with it. My heart races. Staying away from her has truly been pointless. How long have you been watching her?

For weeks.

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