Page 8 of Wind Rider

What just happened makes no sense. It’s like he was looking for his Rider, but couldn’t find her.

River was worrying her lip between her teeth and wondering about the sadness she’d seen in Ghost’s eyes when a shadow fell over her.

She looked up.

A beautiful filly had stopped before her. Her coat was light gray—almost white—and her mane was dark, with black and gray streaks. Herlegs were dark as well, going from white-gray to black. She was tall for a weanling filly, and River didn’t recognize her, but her wide forehead, the power in her young chest, and her straight, perfectly formed legs said clearly that her bloodlines had been crossed with Echo’s.

And River couldfeelher. The filly was excited and nervous—happy and anxious.

“Oh, it’s okay, pretty girl. All is well,” River soothed automatically.

Then the most miraculous thing in River’s life happened. The weanling—this absolutely perfect, magnificent, intelligent filly—offered her muzzle to River.

River went to her knees and reached out to put her hands gently on either side of the filly’s head, and then she blew softly into her velvet muzzle.

As horse and Rider breathed in, their lives—their souls—their destinies became irrevocably joined. River was washed in a swell of giddy emotions while one word, a name, blasted through her mind like a magickal clarion call.

“Anjo! You’re my Anjo!” River stood and wrapped her arms around her Companion’s neck and buried her face in her warm, fragrant mane as the victory cheers of Herd Magenti lifted around them.

CHAPTER 2

CURRENT DAY—THE RIDGE OVERLOOKING TRIBE OF THE TREES

“The Reapers are ready, my Lord. They only await the setting of the sun and your command.” Iron Fist bowed low to his leader—his God.

Death barely spared him a glance. “Excellent. Tell the men to remain hidden and await my signal. I will go ahead of them and observe.”

The Death God strode away, not bothering to look behind Him to see if Iron Fist, His second in command and the Reaper He’d named his Blade, would do as He commanded. Death knew he would because as Iron Fist was all too aware, not following the God’s commands would cost the Blade his life.

Death came to the lip of the ridge that overlooked the main area of the forest inhabited by the Tribe of the Trees. Unlike the men crouched yards behind Him, Death did not crawl. He did not hide. He simply stepped up to the edge of the ridge and looked down on what was left of the burned and blackened city.

“Destroyed,” the God of Death muttered to Himself. “Foolishly destroyed.” He shook His head in disgust, causing His massive horns to throw bizarre, misshapen shadows against the surrounding trees. “But, no matter. I will rebuild the City in the Trees to a state of majestyworthy to be the home of a God.” Death hefted the huge triple-pointed trident He’d ripped from the body of the lifeless statue the People used to worship. “No more will the People worship empty metal,” he pledged softly. “Now the People know what it is to follow a real God. They knowrealpower. Soon, they shall knowrealvictory.”

Death looked behind Him, wishing the sun would hurry and sink below the horizon. He could see a darkening in the sky, which was now turning more the dusky color of a dove’s wing than the brilliant blue of a jay’s feathers.

“Dove…” Death growled the name as He followed the ridgeline to His left, keeping a watchful eye on the dark, ruined city below. “I must do something about Dove. She does not seem to fully understand the role she is destined to play in our future.” In His mind’s eye He could see her smooth, eyeless face and her flawless skin. Yes, her body was, indeed, a perfect vessel for the Goddess, especially as being inhabited by the Great Earth Mother, Goddess of Life, would grant her eyes. “But her attitude is unacceptable.” Death moved His shoulders as if he were trying to displace biting insects. “I have been too lenient with her. She needs a lesson in obedience.”

That decided, Death continued to walk slowly to His left, following the ridge and looking for signs of life from the Tribe below.

But all He saw was the ruins of a once great city. No sounds of a vibrant, thriving society lifted on the wind. All that rose to Death on the ridge were the scents of smoke and decay.

“Where are your lookouts?” Death asked the charred trees below. “Where are your great Warriors who once were so powerful, so terrible that they were able to keep my People trapped within the confines of a poisoned city?”

As if answering the God, there was a flash of light, so brilliant that it instantly made Him think of sunshine.

“Fire? Have the Others somehow managed to set the rest of the forest on fire?” Dread had the God’s stomach feeling hollow. He’d counted on there being enough of the City in the Trees left that He could move the People from the poisoned city to the forest as soon as He and His Reapers defeated what was left of the Others. Death walked faster. “No, I must stop the remains of the city from burning.”

It didn’t take Him long to follow the ridge and come to a spot from which He glimpsed the blackened trees give way to greenery and life. “Ah, there you are, Tribe. And I see thereisstill some of your city in the sky left untouched.” The God peered down, at first not understanding what He was witnessing.

The Others were grouped around an ancient tree beyond the edge of the burn line.Shewas standing in the middle of about fifty men who were angrily shouting. The rest of the Others seemed confused or weak, on pallets or simply lying on the ground with their canines beside them, but Death dismissed them instantly. It was the girl who caught and held His attention.

She was standing in the middle of a ball of flame, utterly untouched.

Beside her was a young man whose body showed the bloody sign of injuries, plus two large canines. None of them were being burned by the fire she was somehow wielding.

The warriors of the Others kept trying to press forward to reach her—to no avail. They even fired arrows at the girl, but none of them penetrated the ball of flame. Instead they burned to ash as they neared it.

“What is she?” Death whispered to Himself.