Page 7 of Rules of Stone
“Nothing. I mean I can’t feel you with the amulet. And—”
Tye winces. “It does hurt me to see you lie so poorly, lass. We need to work on that. What is it?”
I sigh, shaking my head. “Just an odd noise I heard. A hissing sound, like…static, but louder. Do you hear it?”
They pause, cocking their heads in concentration.
“No,” says Tye after a moment, Shade, Coal, and River echo their agreement, their eyes kind—and somewhat worried.
Heat fills my cheeks, but River raises his hand, stopping my attempt to apologize. “Us not hearing it doesn’t mean nothing is there. Your magic is unique, Leralynn. A human made fae, a weaver to boot. It is entirely possible you are hearing escaping magic. Perhaps the very rift we are here to find.”
“Or my own imagination.”
River shrugs one shoulder. “Indeed. But, being immortal we’ve the time to check. Where is the sound coming from?”
“It’s…” The words die in my mouth. Nothing. I hear nothing now but my own racing heart. The heat already touching my cheeks spreads to make the tips of my ears tingle. Swallowing, I close my eyes, willing myself to find the sound again. Nothing. “May I take the amulet off? Perhaps it’s interfering with the sound.”
River’s gaze weighs the distance to the Academy before he nods. “For a bit.”
I open the clasp and shove the amulet into my breast pocket, relief flooding me as the mating bonds call to me once more—and the static. At least I wasn’t imagining the noise. “This way.” Nudging Sprite into a trot, I lead the males toward the sound, which grows louder with each step. Overwhelming. We cross into a whispering green aspen wood, light flickering through the leaves in dizzying patterns. My muscles tense, my breath and heart speeding as Sprite picks up a gallop along a narrow uphill trail. The hooves of the males’ stallions keep pace, staying far enough back to avoid sending the horses into a competitive race, which would likely end with me on the ground.
Hiss crack crack. Hiss crack crack.
The trail swings sharply to the right, but with sound coming so clearly from behind a cluster of huge boulders on the opposite side, I nudge my mount that way. Sprite takes the left at alarming speed, her body angling sharply. I have no time to twist around and make sure the males saw me turn off the trail, no ability to do anything but cling on with every muscle fiber. Sprite’s hooves pound the uneven ground, the horse out of control as she races for the boulders, which prove farther away than I’d guessed. Branches whip, clumps of earth flying into the air. I grab the pommel of my saddle to keep my seat, the reins loosening in my hands. My legs squeeze the horse’s sides, my instinctual clinging unfortunately signaling Sprite to run faster still.
HISS. CRACK—
I see the crumbling rune-carved stone embedded in the ground a heartbeat before Sprite trips over it. The tenuous hold I have on my saddle breaks, sending me to the ground. My head cracks against a rock, the sound coming before the pain. Then the world flashes in a blaze of blinding light before darkness comes.
6
Lera
Iwake with a horse’s nose poking my back, the clicking aspen forest sprawling its spring glory before me. My head hurts, but I find no blood when I touch my skull. Small miracle. I also find no one else beside me.
“River?” I call, my pulse hammering. “Coal? Tye? Shade?”
Silence. A few paces away, the rune-carved stone Sprite tripped over is broken into hand-sized bits. By the looks of it, the thing was a square slate about the length of a man’s forearm on each side and pushed into the cold earth like a misaligned paving stone. The noise from it—if there ever was a noise—is gone. Picking up one of the shards, I realize the thing wasn’t stone all the way through, but rather just a hard shell protecting a softer claylike core that leaves dust on my fingers.
“River?” I call again. “Anyone?”
Only chattering birds answer, and the ghostly whispering of bright-green leaves.
Sprite whinnies, stomping one foot with a loose shoe. Damn it. Bending down, I pull the shoe the rest of the way off and toss it away. I’ll be walking the horse from here on out. But walking her to where?
Holding Sprite by her reins, I slowly retrace the path we galloped, through slants of golden evening light. The tracks curve downhill, turning sharply toward the narrow trail Sprite and I had run. Here, several sets of diverging hoofprints lead in all directions. As if some riders had followed the trail to the right—where I’d gone left—and others turned their horses around completely, heading back to a wider road. Or perhaps the mounts had spooked and run.
I shake my head, instantly regretting the motion as pain slices down the back of my skull.Think, Lera. What exactly happened?Forcing my breathing to steady, I think back. I recall cantering. No, galloping. The males giving me space, but not staying far back. Then the trail went right. But I didn’t. I turned off the trail and headed sharply left. Sprite broke into a gallop over bad terrain. She tripped. I fell, hitting my head. Losing consciousness. With the thick green foliage and sharp turn, the males might not have seen me take the turn and fall, but surely they should have found me by now.
Except they didn’t.
By the looks of the horse tracks, they went the other way entirely. I sigh, pulling myself together. I’ve no notion how long I was unconscious, but from the sun’s movement, it was some time. Whatever the reason the males left, they are now either too far to hear me yell or not in a position to answer. Perhaps, with the mating bond muted by their amulets, they don’t feel me—or their fear for me—as fiercely as they normally would. I don’t feel them at all, though my fear is perfectly intact. The reality of existence without the bond’s pull sends a chill down my spine, despite knowing it would happen. Bracing a hand against a tree, I take a deep breath and force my mind to function. Plan. I’ve two choices now by my reckoning: either stay here in the middle of the woods, hoping to be rescued before the predators decide I’m dinner, or continue to the Academy as planned and work things through there.
My hands tremble as I take up Sprite’s reins, leading the mare down the path. I slip on my veil amulet lest I cross paths with anyone, shivering at the feelings that pass over me—the deadening of deafened mating bonds, the faint vertigo that comes from pulling an alternate identity over me like a cloak.
To my relief, the amulet remained intact during the fall, along with my saddlebags. I try to focus on that. On anything except why no one is here. There is an explanation for this. There has to be. This is but a hiccup, I promise myself, refusing to let the thickening woods and lengthening shadows, the rising hoot of an owl, the crunching step of an unseen animal, close around me.
With the Academy clearly visible atop high ground, I keep my course set on its flapping standard. Winding trails come and go along steep hills, but I keep straight and move quickly, talking to Sprite softly as we walk unwaveringly between trees. “We are Sprite and Lera,” I tell Sprite, who nickers in agreement. “I am a fae female of a warrior quint. And we are here to discover what’s letting magic leak into the human world. We are here to save people. We aren’t afraid.”
