Page 36 of Of Steel and Scale

“Not all your scouts are sent out on coursers, surely?”

“Well, no, but wouldn’t they be uncomfortable even when walking?”

“They are, but better to be protected than not.”

“To which I can only say, thank Vahree breastplates are far less cumbersome.”

I wrapped the smaller cloth around my hair and then walked across to the seating area. A number of stews and fortified breads had been laid out on the small table, along with a flask of shamoke and a thick glass of green goop—the healing and revitalization potion Mom made when wounds or weariness were not deep enough to bother the healers with. It was a recipe prized by her family and one handed to each new generation—a tradition I wouldnotbe following. Despite the fact she swore by it, in my experience it actually had little effect. Worse still, it smelled like a sulfur pit and tasted as foul as I imagined the water from those treacherous places would.

I nevertheless gulped it down, then drowned the bitter aftertaste with shamoke and food. As the time for our departure drew close, I dressed, strapped on my knife and my sword, and then led the way out of the palace and across to the supply stores. I stuffed two packs with everything I needed to heal the drakkons while Damon filled another with trail rations, water, several small but empty vessels—for who knew what—and rope. Then we headed across to the point where the black curtain wall met the blacker mountain. The path that zigzagged upward from that point was long, steep, and barely wide enough to hold capras. Even if we hurried, it would take hours to reach the vent that led into the mountain and the old aerie grounds.

Kele waited close to the path’s beginning. My parents stood on one side of her, Aric on the other. He didn’t look happy, but I was beginning to suspect that was a normal state for him.

I stopped and saluted. My father acknowledged me and then said, “The recon team were using the blue vein lava tube, so even if the queen had arrived, they wouldn’t have disturbed her.”

Surprise flitted through me. The blue vein was a small but spectacular tunnel system that gave them a direct run up to the Beak. Unlike many in that section of the mountain, however, it was not the result of a lava flow but rather centuries of fractious earth movements. Consequently, it was at best passable, and at worst, extremely dangerous.

But the fickle nature of the blue vein tunnel wasn’t the only danger you had to worry about, because that area wasnotuninhabited. The olm—a sightless, wingless miniature drakkon that could grow up to five feet in length—called those tunnels home. While they fed mainly on mosses and the small vertebrates that lived within the many pools and lakes dotting the underground system, they were also opportunistic hunters. If any of the team had been injured in a rockfall or earth movement, the scent of blood would not only draw the olm, but drive them into a feeding frenzy.

“Where did the last communication place them?”

“A mile south of the Hassleback system.”

Which meant they’d been more than halfway through the tube and well beyond the scribe pen’s “dead zone.” We should not have lost communication with them.

Something had happened. Somethingotherthan the dangerousness of the tunnel.

Something unforeseen.

“What of the tracer stones?” I asked.

“We’re not picking up anything with the receiver,” Mom said.

Meaning either the scouts were dead—the tracer’s magic somehow used the body’s heat to transmit—or the tracers were. All magic could be countered, and the spells on tracer stones were amongst the simplest.

“Given the fickle nature of lava tunnels, how do you intend to ensure this team doesn’t befall the same fate?” Aric’s voice was clipped, his annoyance barely concealed.

Granted, he was facing the possible loss of his heir if things went wrong, but given the antagonistic nature of their relationship, I doubted he’d really care. Which meant it was either disapproval of my parents’ approach to ongoing communications difficulties, or simply his distaste for this place becoming harder to conceal.

“Bryn knows these caves—and these mountains—better than most,” Rion said. “She won’t get lost.”

Aric’s grunt somehow conveyed disbelief. “And if the first team are not lost, but rather yet more victims of your unknown foe?”

It was interesting that he said “your” rather than “our.” He obviously wasn’t seeing this as a country-wide threat as yet, which was rather odd. Why would he think our winged attackers would restrict themselves to only our half of the country? Or was it said merely to annoy my father?

I suspected it might be the latter, especially given his early retreat. Whether he hated this place or not, it was a break in protocol.

But then, Aric had a long history of doing that when it suited him or benefited Zephrine.

“Veri can be sent aloft close to dawn,” I said. “I can pass on any images of what we find through her to my mother.”

“Meaning the volcanic nature of the stone doesn’t interfere with Strega abilities as it does the tracer?” he asked.

“No,” Rion said, somewhat curtly. “It does not. And Strega is not a term we appreciate in these parts.”

“I meant no offence, Rion.”

It was formally said, and my father accepted it with a nod of acknowledgment. But his eyes were cold and his expression set. It was the first time I’d ever seen him show a glimmer of anything approaching distaste for his Zephrine counterpart.

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