unclenching my body to look around,
expecting someone to be leaning over me, trying to help. Nothing. I
straightened to a sitting position. Chevelle was at the fire,
roasting the birds. Steed was beside his horse, adjusting the
saddle. Both had their backs turned to me. Had they not noticed ? A wave of vertigo
hit me and I leaned back against the tree limb to steady
myself.
I thought it was only for a moment, but when
I opened my eyes again the scene had changed.
Steed was reclined beside me, lazily winding
a feather in his hand. Chevelle was across the fire. He looked up
at me through his lashes, past furrowed brow. He brought me a piece
of meat.
It was cold.
I sat there stunned. Had they nothing to say?
Had they seriously not known? I started to speak but the words
wouldn't come out. I was too drained for explanations, and I was
scared. I didn't know what had happened, what was wrong with me.
And I didn't know if Chevelle would take me straight back to the
village if he knew.
We stayed there for some time, Chevelle and
Steed seemed in no hurry. Chevelle glanced at me occasionally but
kept himself busy around the fire.
Steed still played with his feather,
eventually entertaining me with it. It spun toward me, and turned
down, tickling my arm and then my nose. I giggled despite my
wariness, and reached up to rub my nose where the tickle had been.
I noticed the map on my palms. “What about spells?”
He eyed my hands. “Been working spells?”
“ Not on purpose.”
He smiled. “Yes, spells can be
dangerous.”
“ Yes,” I agreed, “but why do
you need words for spells and not magic?”
“ A spell can be left, set
with a trigger, or larger than your magic. They are complicated and
wicked things. And the ancient language is… tricky. Definitely
something you should stay away from. Years of learning and practice
and you can still wreck a spell pretty good.”
I thought about that for a moment and then,
suddenly, Steed jumped up.
“ What do you say we water
the horses?” He wore a wild smirk as he held out a hand for
me.
I didn’t have to ask my horse to kneel; Steed
just grabbed my waist and threw me up. He was mounted before I had
settled into the saddle and our horses took off, galloping north in
synchronization. I looked back for Chevelle. He was standing in his
saddle, leaning forward, as his stallion raced to catch us.
We were covering distance so
quickly I could barely take in the new surroundings. It wasn’t long
before we were coming up on a large creek. I assumed Steed had
control of my horse; I was simply concentrating on staying in the
saddle as we ran beside him. The horses edged closer to the creek,
splashing along the muddy bank and then the shallows of the water.
Silt and cold water sprayed my face as we ran. I wondered if this
was what it felt like to fly like the fairies. We followed the
creek until it turned west and we kept north, slowing to a walk. I
tried to catch my breath. Steed was watching me, smiling
appreciatively, and I realized I was wearing a huge grin. And surely three pounds of mud .
The slow pace gave me time
to look around. The ground had leveled off again, clearing to open
meadows of low grass and a few scattered trees. Large gray rocks
dotted the landscape. There was a haziness on the horizon but as we
kept riding I could start to see clearer. A mammoth lake lay ahead,
a hundred times bigger than the tiny forest ponds I was used to. It
was as smooth as glass and behind it the haze cleared just enough I
could see the outline of mountains. Mountains .
Chevelle rode up beside us. “The hills of
Camber.” I looked at him, he seemed peaceful now. We rode closer,
our horses in a quiet row.
When we reached the lake, the horses stopped
and I realized I had forgotten I was riding. The mountains and lake
were almost too much to take in; none of it seemed real. Chevelle
was next to me before Steed had the chance this time. As my horse
knelt, he held out his hand and I
expecting someone to be leaning over me, trying to help. Nothing. I
straightened to a sitting position. Chevelle was at the fire,
roasting the birds. Steed was beside his horse, adjusting the
saddle. Both had their backs turned to me. Had they not noticed ? A wave of vertigo
hit me and I leaned back against the tree limb to steady
myself.
I thought it was only for a moment, but when
I opened my eyes again the scene had changed.
Steed was reclined beside me, lazily winding
a feather in his hand. Chevelle was across the fire. He looked up
at me through his lashes, past furrowed brow. He brought me a piece
of meat.
It was cold.
I sat there stunned. Had they nothing to say?
Had they seriously not known? I started to speak but the words
wouldn't come out. I was too drained for explanations, and I was
scared. I didn't know what had happened, what was wrong with me.
And I didn't know if Chevelle would take me straight back to the
village if he knew.
We stayed there for some time, Chevelle and
Steed seemed in no hurry. Chevelle glanced at me occasionally but
kept himself busy around the fire.
Steed still played with his feather,
eventually entertaining me with it. It spun toward me, and turned
down, tickling my arm and then my nose. I giggled despite my
wariness, and reached up to rub my nose where the tickle had been.
I noticed the map on my palms. “What about spells?”
He eyed my hands. “Been working spells?”
“ Not on purpose.”
He smiled. “Yes, spells can be
dangerous.”
“ Yes,” I agreed, “but why do
you need words for spells and not magic?”
“ A spell can be left, set
with a trigger, or larger than your magic. They are complicated and
wicked things. And the ancient language is… tricky. Definitely
something you should stay away from. Years of learning and practice
and you can still wreck a spell pretty good.”
I thought about that for a moment and then,
suddenly, Steed jumped up.
“ What do you say we water
the horses?” He wore a wild smirk as he held out a hand for
me.
I didn’t have to ask my horse to kneel; Steed
just grabbed my waist and threw me up. He was mounted before I had
settled into the saddle and our horses took off, galloping north in
synchronization. I looked back for Chevelle. He was standing in his
saddle, leaning forward, as his stallion raced to catch us.
We were covering distance so
quickly I could barely take in the new surroundings. It wasn’t long
before we were coming up on a large creek. I assumed Steed had
control of my horse; I was simply concentrating on staying in the
saddle as we ran beside him. The horses edged closer to the creek,
splashing along the muddy bank and then the shallows of the water.
Silt and cold water sprayed my face as we ran. I wondered if this
was what it felt like to fly like the fairies. We followed the
creek until it turned west and we kept north, slowing to a walk. I
tried to catch my breath. Steed was watching me, smiling
appreciatively, and I realized I was wearing a huge grin. And surely three pounds of mud .
The slow pace gave me time
to look around. The ground had leveled off again, clearing to open
meadows of low grass and a few scattered trees. Large gray rocks
dotted the landscape. There was a haziness on the horizon but as we
kept riding I could start to see clearer. A mammoth lake lay ahead,
a hundred times bigger than the tiny forest ponds I was used to. It
was as smooth as glass and behind it the haze cleared just enough I
could see the outline of mountains. Mountains .
Chevelle rode up beside us. “The hills of
Camber.” I looked at him, he seemed peaceful now. We rode closer,
our horses in a quiet row.
When we reached the lake, the horses stopped
and I realized I had forgotten I was riding. The mountains and lake
were almost too much to take in; none of it seemed real. Chevelle
was next to me before Steed had the chance this time. As my horse
knelt, he held out his hand and I
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