Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
The sea transitions from dark blue to white-capped teal crashing on cream-colored beaches along what appears to be a port city a few miles in front of us.
“That must be Soneram.” We’ve definitely found the isle of Dunne. I can make out the tiered walls of defenses—including cross-bolts—from here, and they haven’t changed much from what my father detailed in his drawings. “Let’s avoid being skewered, shall we?” I ask Tairn.
Tairn huffs and surges ahead of the others, then banks right and leads our formation along the northeastern shoreline, giving the port city a wide berth.
I block the afternoon sun with a hand on my forehead and scan the coast, noting the end of the city walls. “There’s another town in two or three miles, then nothing for at least forty.”
As long as they haven’t expanded in the thirty-plus years since my father wrote his book.
We pass the town and its substantial fortifications, and after we travel another ten minutes without sight of habitation, Tairn turns inland, breaking formation and flying ahead of the others.
“Stay with Sgaeyl,” he orders Andarna.
Andarna huffs in annoyance.
“Stick to the plan,” I remind her.
“I loathe the plan,” she replies.
The beaches are rockier here, the narrow strip of sand strewn with boulders before it gives way to hills of thick vegetation that roll as far as I can see.
All of it is the same muted green as Deverelli.
“That one,” Tairn says, locating a suitably large clearing about halfway up a hillside a few miles inland from the coast, and after a perimeter sweep, we finally land in the dead center of the meadow.
Birds launch from the trees in a riot of color, quickly fleeing.
A low rumble resonates through Tairn, not quite powerful enough to be a growl but definitely loud enough to warn anything that might consider making us dinner as he slowly rotates, scanning the edges of the trees and sweeping his tail through the waist-high grass.
“This will do,” he says once he’s completed a turn.
Moments later, the rest appear overhead, Sgaeyl leading formation. Their wings cast shade over the clearing momentarily, flaring to slow their descent before they land around us.
The ground shudders as they make impact, Andarna to the right and Sgaeyl to our left. Teine, Aotrom, Cath, Chradh, and Molvic touch down behind us, and the gryphons fill in the spaces as we form a large circle.
Every set of teeth and talons faces the trees.
“Hear that?” Tairn lowers his head and stalks forward.
The jungle around us is unnaturally silent. “The animals here recognize you as predators, that’s for sure.”
“Good.” He dips his shoulder and I start the process of dismounting, leaving all but the essentials strapped behind the seat of my saddle.
Everyone strips down to our undershirts—or in my case, my armor—to accommodate the suffocating heat and humidity that rivals Deverelli, and then we make quick work of securing the site and locating a nearby stream for fresh water. Then Cat and Trager take off into the woods to hunt while half the riot launches to do the same.
“We’re alone for now, but we won’t be for long,” Mira says as Teine follows Tairn and Aotrom into the sky. “Someone will see them.”
“Good. Once Aaric meets with their queen, we can move on.” I skim my hand over the pale green meadow grass and pick up a sizable rock to line the firepit with. “Chances of an alliance here are slim. Given how painful it is for the riot to be separated from magic, I doubt Andarna’s kind settled here.”
“What if they learned to live without magic?” Mira asks, rotating a beaded bracelet of what looks like black tourmaline on her wrist and watching Ridoc and Garrick build a fire as Dain constructs a cooking spit with Maren and Aaric.
“I don’t know if they can,” I admit softly, my eye catching on the bracelet. Something about the knotwork holding the metallic beads tickles the back of my brain, and I swear I can smell parchment for the smallest of seconds before I look away. “Tairn isn’t exactly offering up details on how it affects their lifespan.”
“Are he and Sgaeyl having some kind of mate drama?” Mira picks up a rock of her own.
“Not that I know of. Why?” I ask, and we start back toward the center of the clearing.
“They haven’t hunted together the entire trip.” She tucks her stone under her arm and picks up another.
I glance across the field, where Xaden walks patrol with Drake near Sgaeyl and Andarna. “They think one of them should always be with the group.” It’s as close to the truth as I’m going to get with her.
She glances at me like she can see right through the half truth.
Cue change of subject.
“Where did you go on leave?” I ask her.
Her mouth purses, like she’s deciding. “I went to see Grandmother.”