Shadow War - Deborah Chester [41]
Again he cursed his master, then he cursed himself for caring. What had happened to his anger and resentment? The prince could risk his foolish neck if he wanted.
But if anything happened to the prince, Caelan knew he would be sold to a new master. Better to stick with the master he had than risk the unknown.
He tried to calm down, although impatience and worry made it hard.
He sought, extending sevaisin farther than he had ever tried before. A flicker of the prince came to him, but it was clouded by something else, something evil and horrifying.
Caelan’s mouth went dry, and he cut off the contact with a shudder. He did not know what he had sensed, but it was of the darkness. And it was on the prince’s trail.
Praying he would not be too late, Caelan turned his horse north and spurred it to a gallop.
Chapter Six
The north road climbed steadily through the hills rimming Imperia, its broad, unpaved expanse twisting lazily through the inclines, then crossed a narrow plain and began to ascend to the mountains. Highest of all of them stood the ancient and forbidding Sidraigh-hal, its jagged peak shooting up a pale curl of smoke against the night sky.
Ever questing with his senses, Caelan kept his horse at a gallop until the animal foamed with lather. The prince was not that far ahead, but he must be setting a blistering pace, for Caelan never got within sight of him. Caelan had to ride on faith, the amulet bag bouncing against his chest as though to urge him on.
And if he was wrong? If the prince had remained at the party? Then eventually bounty hunters would come after Caelan. He would be dragged back to the city in chains, and without trial or the chance to offer explanation, he would have sentence read over him. When the floggings and other punishments were done, his broken, mutilated body would be thrown into an iron cage, and he would be suspended from one of the city gates, given no food or water, and left there to die and rot.
It was the kind of risk to make a man sweat with fear.
But Caelan didn’t draw rein. Danger rode on the prince’s trail, and if Caelan could save him, then perhaps he would be made Tirhin’s protector after all.
Cresting a low rise, Caelan spotted a glimmer of light below, far down inside a valley. He let his winded horse slow while he glanced about and took his bearings.
This land lay empty of dwellings. The hills were not farmed. There were no villages. The light that winked briefly through the darkness, then vanished, had to be connected with whomever the prince was meeting.
Caelan frowned. More conspiracies. He wanted no part of them, no knowledge of them. The prince could lay plots all night, for all Caelan cared. But as for the creatures on Tirhin’s trail... that was different. Stripping off his cloak and tying it to the saddle, Caelan drew the sword he’d stolen.
Using his knee, he nudged his mount forward cautiously.
He was halfway down the hill, still on the road, when a sudden flurry of wings above him gave him a split second of warning.
His horse screamed in fear and reared. Caelan had a confused impression of something large and black descending on him from the sky before sharp talons ripped across his shoulder. Crying out, he stabbed up with the sword and caught the creature deep in its vitals. Inky blood gushed forth, running down his sword arm and splattering across his face. The stench that accompanied it was of something putrefied.
The creature made no death cry, but simply plummeted past him to land in a dark heap on the ground. Caelan’s horse shied and bucked away from it, and by the time he was able to regain control of his mount and move closer, the creature was crumbling rapidly into dust. A breath of wind scattered it away, and he never got a good look at what it had been.
Breathing hard, Caelan wiped off the stinking blood as best he could. Inside, he was shaken more than he wanted to admit. What, in all the names