Page 13 of Of Steel and Scale

No need. Am strong.

Yes, my darling girl, you are.

I nevertheless waited until her breathing had eased before pushing upright. Every muscle I possessed went into immediate spasm mode. I groaned, pressed my hands against my knees to keep them locked, and breathed deep in an effort to control—or at least ease—the wash of pain.

It seemed to take forever.

Eventually, I sheathed my sword, then grabbed a fistful of dark mane and dragged myself onto Desta’s back. She immediately turned and left the cave. The minute we were in open ground, she broke into a gentle canter. I moved with her easily, gripping lightly with my thighs, not needing to guide her or even to hold her mane to keep on. She and I were long used to traveling without bridle or saddle; in fact, I’d made a habit of it whenever I went out to see the drakkons. If something ever happened to me, I’d wanted her free and unhindered by any form of restraints to either return home or wander the lower grasslands as she pleased.

Dawn was once again creeping rose-colored fingers across the sky when I heard the shout. I pulled Desta up, my hand on my sword as my gaze swept the long shadows ahead.

Another shout. Desta snorted and, through my contact with her, I felt my mother’s presence. A heartbeat later, four figures crested the horizon and galloped down the long path meandering through the portion of bog still dividing us.

Relief hit so hard it left me shaking. I did the whole deep breath thing again and fought the urge to send Desta flying toward them. This area was a dangerous place for the unwary and had to be navigated carefully.

My mother, it seemed, hadn’t gotten that notice. Her mount—a huge gray stallion—flew across the land, leaving the other three in her wake. My father wasn’t amongst them, but that wasn’t surprising. He’d no doubt be involved in the search for survivors along our shorelines.

I kept Desta’s pace even, but couldn’t stop the smile that grew ever wider as we drew closer. Mom’s gaze swept me critically and then rose, the sheen of tears bright in her blue eyes. She didn’t normally show her emotions in public but, as we stopped our mounts side by side, she leaned across, wrapped her arms around my shoulders, and hugged me fiercely. “I feared you dead for the longest of times.”

Tears fell, hers and mine, but for several minutes, I neither moved nor replied. I simply hugged her back, enjoying being in her safe arms once again.

Eventually, she pulled away, her gaze sweeping me again, this time a little more critically. Mom’s home—Jakarra—was the largest of the five islands that lay to east of Hopetown, and like many of her island kin, she had thick, wiry hair that was the same brownish red as her skin. While I’d gotten my darker coloring from my father, I’d inherited her lean build and—according to my father—her fierce tenaciousness.

She gently thumbed the tears from my cheek, her touch so cool against my overheated skin. “I cannot see any injuries, but?—”

“Other than exhaustion and a bit of sunburn, I’m fine.” I hesitated. “Were there any other survivors?

“A few boat fragments and five bodies are all that has washed up on the beach so far.”

Meaning she’d been down on the beaches alongside my father until she’d felt my presence in Desta’s mind. “Rutgar?”

“Unknown.”

I closed my eyes and sent a silent prayer to Vahree to care for all the souls lost in the attack.

“Your father,” she continued, with just the lightest trace of amusement in her voice, “did warn Damon you were too damn ornery to die.”

“I betthatruined his day.”

She laughed. “Probably. Let’s get you home.” Her gaze moved from mine. “Ren, take point. Deni and Cal, rear guard.”

She nudged her mount on, then handed me a pouch containing trail rations. “What happened out there? Oran’s never failed us before?—”

“He didn’t. We were attacked.”

Her gaze snapped to mine. “By the same force that attacked Eastmead?”

“Unknown, but likely.”

She swore colorfully, and a smile tugged my lips. The bow master was never far away, even though she’d been immersed in palace life for nigh on forty years now. “As much as I’d like a full report, it can wait. Let’s get you home and rested first.”

I nodded and undid the pouch; it was little more than nuts, hard cheese, and dried meats, but it went some way to stopping the terrible, gnawing ache in my gut.

It took another two hours before Esan came into sight. She was situated in a mountain pass known as the Eastern Slit—an angular break created by a long-ago eruption that sliced right through the mountain. Water tumbled from the edge of the upper slice to the lower, a leaping, silvery stream of water that plunged into the deep pool dominating the entrance of the Slit. The fortress’s wall was barely visible through the wash of rainbow spray, but rose at an angle, a thick blot of darkness as smooth as the sides of the mountain pass it spanned. No Mareritt had ever breached that wall or gotten into Esan itself, though that was due in no small part to the earth mages who used their ability to manipulate earth to fortify her during an attack.

The clarion call of trumpets announced our arrival. By the time we’d crossed the lake’s wooden drawbridge and were riding toward Esan, the vast metal gates were open and my father—aboard his brown mount—galloped toward us. I was a little surprised that Damon wasn’t with him, and I absolutely hated the sliver of disappointment that stirred.

My father swung his stallion around to ride on the opposite side to my mother. “Glad to see you’re safe and alive, daughter.”

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