Read Online The Sheening Of The Blades (Book 1) by Kari Cordis - Free Book Online
Authors: Kari Cordis
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his blue roan. “Save the horses.”
“ For what?” Rodge demanded. “Isn’t this what they’re FOR?”
Banion rumbled from behind him, “You’ll want them with enough energy to outrun wolves or bears or the like.” He sounded optimistic at the prospect.
Rodge dismounted promptly.
They started up , and within minutes, everyone but the inhumanly fit Dra was panting, the horses blowing and tossing their heads in protest. Rodge, in a horrible mood, had to tug his fat, lazy pony every step. Every other step, he panted, “Stupid horse!”
Loren turned and grinned back at him, unable to resist saying, “You’re the one who chose an oversized radish to head into the wilderness on.”
Despite the long legs on Melkin ’s roan and Cerise’s spirited mare, it wasn’t long before Ari and Loren passed them all, their nimble Aerach half-bloods agile as mountain goats on the steep, uneven trail. They were the first to top out into the broad green meadow at the top, and with legs and lungs on fire stood gasping until the rest of the party showed up.
A good-sized stream, shallow enough for an easy ford, lay across the little meadow , and after the horses had cooled enough to drink, Melkin led them across. On the other side, he turned unhesitatingly east and Ari saw through a cleft in the trees the jagged, scarred surface of a mountain’s granite face. It was a strange feeling, stepping away from that track, faint as it was, and into the unmarked wilderness. Ari and Loren had been doing it for as long as they could remember in the forests around Harthunters, but it was a little different up here. Starkly more wild, for one, the country raw, and unpeopled, and dangerous.
They didn ’t travel long. Dusk fell like a curtain and, despite their weariness, everyone scurried to make camp and a fire before the dark closed in around them.
Maybe it was the excitement of their travels that had relaxed his dedication to social muteness, because as Ari began to put a dinner together, he dared to ask Melkin, “Did you study wolf up here?” They were all gathered close around the fire, bonding in solidarity against the huge night. There was no answer, not surprisingly, but Melkin’s face, when Ari glanced over at him, seemed…sad. A trick of the firelight, surely.
“ This is home to the great Warwolves,” Banion said into the ensuing silence and Cerise immediately threw her head back as if to implore the stars.
“ Oh, great,” she muttered. “Not again.”
“ Warwolves are real,” Loren told her belligerently. “There are still people alive that have seen them. We just don’t use them anymore.”
“ I know that!” she snapped back. “But I hardly think we were about to receive an educational lecture on their physiological make-up!”
“ No,” Banion agreed, heading off an argument. “Perhaps you’d rather discuss gryphons?” he suggested. Cerise lifted her lip like she wanted to growl at him.
Ari gave him a grin and got a broad wink back.
“Gryphons are real, too,” Loren said obstinately and Rodge and Ari both shot him level looks.
“ Now you’re just being cantankerous, or whatever you country people say,” Rodge accused him. Everyone was tired and quarrelsome, and Ari, already hearing a night of bickering ahead, pleaded suddenly, “Banion, tell us about King Khris and Cyrrh, and the gryphons.”
Cerise groaned.
“Ah…” Banion said with pleasure, probably foreseeing the same sort of evening. “…A land woven out of legend, screened from the rest of the Realms by mist and myth and mystery…”
“ And the Dragonwall,” Rodge noted dryly.
“ Indeed, indeed,” Banion agreed. “Khristophe thought them but a great range of mountains, not knowing they were a spine, splitting what would become Cyrrh and the Northern Realm—”
“ The Empire,” Cerise corrected primly.
“ —all the way from the Bay of Baeroon to the Swamps in the
“ For what?” Rodge demanded. “Isn’t this what they’re FOR?”
Banion rumbled from behind him, “You’ll want them with enough energy to outrun wolves or bears or the like.” He sounded optimistic at the prospect.
Rodge dismounted promptly.
They started up , and within minutes, everyone but the inhumanly fit Dra was panting, the horses blowing and tossing their heads in protest. Rodge, in a horrible mood, had to tug his fat, lazy pony every step. Every other step, he panted, “Stupid horse!”
Loren turned and grinned back at him, unable to resist saying, “You’re the one who chose an oversized radish to head into the wilderness on.”
Despite the long legs on Melkin ’s roan and Cerise’s spirited mare, it wasn’t long before Ari and Loren passed them all, their nimble Aerach half-bloods agile as mountain goats on the steep, uneven trail. They were the first to top out into the broad green meadow at the top, and with legs and lungs on fire stood gasping until the rest of the party showed up.
A good-sized stream, shallow enough for an easy ford, lay across the little meadow , and after the horses had cooled enough to drink, Melkin led them across. On the other side, he turned unhesitatingly east and Ari saw through a cleft in the trees the jagged, scarred surface of a mountain’s granite face. It was a strange feeling, stepping away from that track, faint as it was, and into the unmarked wilderness. Ari and Loren had been doing it for as long as they could remember in the forests around Harthunters, but it was a little different up here. Starkly more wild, for one, the country raw, and unpeopled, and dangerous.
They didn ’t travel long. Dusk fell like a curtain and, despite their weariness, everyone scurried to make camp and a fire before the dark closed in around them.
Maybe it was the excitement of their travels that had relaxed his dedication to social muteness, because as Ari began to put a dinner together, he dared to ask Melkin, “Did you study wolf up here?” They were all gathered close around the fire, bonding in solidarity against the huge night. There was no answer, not surprisingly, but Melkin’s face, when Ari glanced over at him, seemed…sad. A trick of the firelight, surely.
“ This is home to the great Warwolves,” Banion said into the ensuing silence and Cerise immediately threw her head back as if to implore the stars.
“ Oh, great,” she muttered. “Not again.”
“ Warwolves are real,” Loren told her belligerently. “There are still people alive that have seen them. We just don’t use them anymore.”
“ I know that!” she snapped back. “But I hardly think we were about to receive an educational lecture on their physiological make-up!”
“ No,” Banion agreed, heading off an argument. “Perhaps you’d rather discuss gryphons?” he suggested. Cerise lifted her lip like she wanted to growl at him.
Ari gave him a grin and got a broad wink back.
“Gryphons are real, too,” Loren said obstinately and Rodge and Ari both shot him level looks.
“ Now you’re just being cantankerous, or whatever you country people say,” Rodge accused him. Everyone was tired and quarrelsome, and Ari, already hearing a night of bickering ahead, pleaded suddenly, “Banion, tell us about King Khris and Cyrrh, and the gryphons.”
Cerise groaned.
“Ah…” Banion said with pleasure, probably foreseeing the same sort of evening. “…A land woven out of legend, screened from the rest of the Realms by mist and myth and mystery…”
“ And the Dragonwall,” Rodge noted dryly.
“ Indeed, indeed,” Banion agreed. “Khristophe thought them but a great range of mountains, not knowing they were a spine, splitting what would become Cyrrh and the Northern Realm—”
“ The Empire,” Cerise corrected primly.
“ —all the way from the Bay of Baeroon to the Swamps in the
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