the clearing, she knew she could never keep up with his long strides. The shadows here were disorienting. With every shift of the grass, the sunlight moved, blinding her for one instant and then going dark the next.
Joral stopped short, and she ran into his back, nearly knocking the wind out of her. Or what was left of it. He stood as perfectly still as a wolf stalking its prey, and there was something in his alertness that reminded her of the Chieftess. She strained to hear what had stopped him.
The voices she had heard earlier were louder now. There were at least two men, talking easily. She caught the words “horse”, “surprise”, “wizard”, and then more laughter. The tongue was not Segra, but one of the western dialects. One closer to her homeland.
She tugged on Joral's sleeve to get his attention. Silently, she mouthed the word “Mulavi”, praying that he could read the lips in her expressionless face.
The grass ahead of them began to swish, the tops knocking a warning echoed by the thundering of her own heart. She looked wildly about. They could hide in the grass and hope that Mulavi passed them by.
Joral grabbed her firmly by the wrist and moved slowly. Painfully slowly, away from the voices, but then froze again. The knocking of the grass was all around them, not just coming from the direction of the voices. They were surrounded.
The waters of the invisible river called to her again. Suddenly she knew what to do. The river existed. And it offered her sanctuary.
She tugged free of Joral's hand and began to run, heedless of the grass. If they could just get there in time.
Joral's feet pounded along behind her trying to catch up. He tugged at her skirts. She yanked them away and whispered over her shoulder, “This way. Trust me.”
The singing of the river grew. The thundering of footsteps following them through the mud grew. Fear constricted Illista's chest and her sense of breathlessness grew with each step she took.
One of her blistered feet struck a root and she tumbled headlong into the mud. The dirt scratched her cheeks until they burned and the spiny grass shoots tore at her dress. And then Joral's arms were around her shoulders, hauling her to her feet.
“Okay?” he asked. The color in his cheeks was high from the sprint and his eyes burned with the focus of a hawk.
She touched her lip and winced as the stinging swelling under her fingers. She gasped, trying to catch her breath.
“We have to get back to my horse.”
Illista shook her head. “There is another way. A hiding place.”
“How do you know?'
The tallest branches rustled nearby and Illista could see Joral tense.
“I just know. It is close. I can hear it.”
She closed her eyes and followed the song, letting her feet guide her. Joral followed, reluctantly at first. She heard him mutter something and then he was half a step behind her, matching his stride to hers.
The sweet melody reached a fever pitch just outside of one of the densest thickets of brush that they had seen yet. The sound was almost deafeningly loud and it echoed down Illista's spine and settled all of its weight on her bloodstone, weighing the amulet down around her neck like pewter.
“Here. Help me look. It must be here.” She shoved her way into the grasses and the darkness. Here it was darker than even the rest of the plains. Here, the tops of the branches were broader, shadier. Here, everything seemed so far away. Illista nearly lost herself in the music.
“What am I looking for?” Joral swept branches out of her way, reaching his long arms up and over her head to clear a path.
Illista dropped to her knees. The ground below her seemed to be harder here, the grass roots exposed on top of bare rock. “There has to be an opening. Can't you hear it?”
Joral knelt beside her. “Hear what, Illista?”
She glanced at him, startled. The water music was so loud she had forgotten that it did not sing to other people. “There is a cave or something
Joral stopped short, and she ran into his back, nearly knocking the wind out of her. Or what was left of it. He stood as perfectly still as a wolf stalking its prey, and there was something in his alertness that reminded her of the Chieftess. She strained to hear what had stopped him.
The voices she had heard earlier were louder now. There were at least two men, talking easily. She caught the words “horse”, “surprise”, “wizard”, and then more laughter. The tongue was not Segra, but one of the western dialects. One closer to her homeland.
She tugged on Joral's sleeve to get his attention. Silently, she mouthed the word “Mulavi”, praying that he could read the lips in her expressionless face.
The grass ahead of them began to swish, the tops knocking a warning echoed by the thundering of her own heart. She looked wildly about. They could hide in the grass and hope that Mulavi passed them by.
Joral grabbed her firmly by the wrist and moved slowly. Painfully slowly, away from the voices, but then froze again. The knocking of the grass was all around them, not just coming from the direction of the voices. They were surrounded.
The waters of the invisible river called to her again. Suddenly she knew what to do. The river existed. And it offered her sanctuary.
She tugged free of Joral's hand and began to run, heedless of the grass. If they could just get there in time.
Joral's feet pounded along behind her trying to catch up. He tugged at her skirts. She yanked them away and whispered over her shoulder, “This way. Trust me.”
The singing of the river grew. The thundering of footsteps following them through the mud grew. Fear constricted Illista's chest and her sense of breathlessness grew with each step she took.
One of her blistered feet struck a root and she tumbled headlong into the mud. The dirt scratched her cheeks until they burned and the spiny grass shoots tore at her dress. And then Joral's arms were around her shoulders, hauling her to her feet.
“Okay?” he asked. The color in his cheeks was high from the sprint and his eyes burned with the focus of a hawk.
She touched her lip and winced as the stinging swelling under her fingers. She gasped, trying to catch her breath.
“We have to get back to my horse.”
Illista shook her head. “There is another way. A hiding place.”
“How do you know?'
The tallest branches rustled nearby and Illista could see Joral tense.
“I just know. It is close. I can hear it.”
She closed her eyes and followed the song, letting her feet guide her. Joral followed, reluctantly at first. She heard him mutter something and then he was half a step behind her, matching his stride to hers.
The sweet melody reached a fever pitch just outside of one of the densest thickets of brush that they had seen yet. The sound was almost deafeningly loud and it echoed down Illista's spine and settled all of its weight on her bloodstone, weighing the amulet down around her neck like pewter.
“Here. Help me look. It must be here.” She shoved her way into the grasses and the darkness. Here it was darker than even the rest of the plains. Here, the tops of the branches were broader, shadier. Here, everything seemed so far away. Illista nearly lost herself in the music.
“What am I looking for?” Joral swept branches out of her way, reaching his long arms up and over her head to clear a path.
Illista dropped to her knees. The ground below her seemed to be harder here, the grass roots exposed on top of bare rock. “There has to be an opening. Can't you hear it?”
Joral knelt beside her. “Hear what, Illista?”
She glanced at him, startled. The water music was so loud she had forgotten that it did not sing to other people. “There is a cave or something
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