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All which illuminates the streets are small round lanterns hanging to walls and roofs, tiny flames filling their ceramic interiors. We ride fast enough that it’s hard to inspect them, but it doesn’t seem light magic keeps them lit and only regular fire. The lanterns sway from their ropes as we charge past.
We soon reach the city’s northern gates, and we don’t need to stop to ask the guards to open them. At the sight of Taria charging forth, they roll open the stone gates and the path is clear long before we pass through them. Once we’re on the other side, the guards close them behind us and then we’re riding across the barren plains surrounding the city.
Now we’re beyond the city’s walls, the wind is free to blow at us with all its might. I clutch my reins and dig my heels into the stirrups to stop myself from being blown off my saddle. My other companions also adopt a similar posture, huddled over to reduce the wind’s impact. Though Zephyr flew behind me as we rode out of the city, he now perches at the front of my saddle, using my arm and shoulders to shelter himself from the wind. Only Natharius seems unbothered by the conditions. He sits tall in his saddle, his silver hair streaming behind him. A bit of wind isn’t enough to defeat the Void Prince of Pride.
Long, yellowed grass stretches into an expanse as vast as the sea surrounding Nolderan. Only a few trees dare to grow here, scattered sparsely across the unforgiving land. Their trunks and branches are hunched over, cowering from the brutal wind and blistering sun. Judging by how dry all this land is, the sun must be even more relentless than the wind and I’m very glad we left Esterra City tonight rather than in the morning. By the time dawn arrives, these plains will hopefully be long behind us.
The road soon becomes little more than a dirt track and is almost impossible to make out beneath the long, yellow grass. The darkness doesn’t help, either. Both the moon and stars are too far away to supply us with enough light. I would offer to use my magic and cast an illumination spell, but Taria and her guards seem to have no difficulty navigating our path. They must be familiar with this area.
We ride through the entire night, and though our pace is frantic—even more so than when I traveled across Tirith with Natharius—I barely notice the ache in my legs. All I can think of is reaching Gerazad before Arluin, of defeating him and freeing Father.
None of us speak as we ride, even as the hours stretch on. I doubt we’d manage a conversation above the roaring wind, anyway.
The winds die down a little as night slips away. Yet they’re soon replaced by the sun, which is as scorching as I feared. At least the savannahs are mostly behind us now. Emerald plains lie ahead, and thick patches of trees are clumped together here and there. The heat worsens as morning wears on and the sun climbs higher in the sky. When I tilt my head back and peer at the sky, not a single cloud lies in sight. Not so long ago, Eliya and I would have dabbled with dangerous magic for a spell which could conjure such a glorious sky. Now all I want is for it to rain.
Sweat gathers on my forehead and the back of my neck. I reach behind to feel the hair there and it’s so hot it’s as if the strands are on fire. I doubt my dark shade helps. I wipe my brow on the back of my sleeve, though it doesn’t do much since more sweat replaces it several minutes later, and I’m sure my pale skin must be burned bright red. No one else appears to be affected by the heat. Zephyr’s azure scales seem to be immune, since they’re cool when I reach out and brush the top of his head. Though the wind has disappeared, he sits at the front of my saddle as we ride. Taria looks completely unfazed by the sun, and I wonder whether the Mother Goddess has also gifted her this resistance along with healing and foresight. Caya and Juron are a little more affected, but not as much as me. And as for Natharius, I doubt his expression would be much different if he were riding through a blizzard or a volcano. Even if the heat bothers him, he’d be too proud to admit it. He doesn’t look at all burned, though his skin is several shades lighter than mine.
While I consider conjuring ice more than once, I don’t want Natharius to mock me for my weakness. I have no choice but to endure the sun and hope the worst of it is already behind us.
Fortunately, we come to a stop around half an hour later. It’s Taria’s idea to take a break, though I’d have liked to take one hours earlier. I can’t tell whether the reason she suggested we stop is because she noticed my reddened cheeks and sweat-soaked brow or because she’s worried about the horses. We rode them throughout the entire night and now, judging by how high the sun is, it isn’t many hours away from noon. I dread to think how hot it’ll be by the time the sun reaches its peak.
As I struggle out of my saddle, I realize why my legs aren’t hurting. It’s because I can’t feel them at all. And that makes dismounting gracefully a challenge. Actually, it makes dismounting at all nearly impossible. I slide one boot out of the stirrup and then scoop my hand under my thigh to force my leg upward and over. The result is unsurprisingly disastrous. I tumble off my mare and land on the grass with a mighty thump. The only saving grace is that I land on my stomach, which I decide isn’t as nearly as embarrassing as landing on my backside, and my mare is mild-mannered enough that she doesn’t so much as nicker at the commotion. She just starts nibbling away at the grass. Maybe my riding was so awful that my fall doesn’t surprise her.
The others dismount with fluid grace I’d need to spend years practicing to achieve, and not a few days of riding with a grumpy demon. In all fairness, I’m rather pleased with myself for getting onto the saddle in the first place and to keep up with everyone while riding. My mare should probably take most of the credit for that, though.
I roll onto my back and stare up at the sky, which remains cloudless. Zephyr floats onto my chest. He pads forth and licks my cheek with his slobbery tongue. It isn’t done entirely out of concern, either. I can tell by the glint in his eyes that he wants more aether crystals and right now I don’t know how I’ll be able to sit up, never mind conjure more or root inside my satchel for the ones left in there.
“Not now, Zephyr,” I say, wiping his saliva from my cheek. His tail flicks out in annoyance. “Yes, yes. I’ll get you some in a minute.” He narrows his eyes at me and then hops off my chest to lie in the sun.
Grass crunches as Juron approaches. He peers down at me and frowns. “You look worse for wear.”
Apparently I look as awful as I feel. Marvelous. “I’ll be fine,” I insist.
“You don’t look it.”
“Juron,” Caya snaps, casting him a stern look.
“What?” Juron says with a shrug. “I’m only saying it out of concern. She looks like she’s going to collapse if we ride much more.”
Caya shakes her head and crouches beside me. “I’m sorry about my brother,” she says, holding a hand out to help me up. Though I had no intention of getting up for several minutes more, I accept her help, if only to ease Juron’s concerns. Even if he means it out of goodwill, I don’t want him to convince the others they need to slow for my sake. Not when we need to reach Gerazad as soon as we can.
“Brother?” I repeat, grateful for the opportunity to turn the conversation from me. From the corner of my vision, I see Natharius watching me through narrowed eyes and no doubt considering how useless I am.
Caya nods. “We’re twins, actually.”
“But you can’t tell,” Juron says, wrapping his arm around his sister’s shoulders and pulling her into a clumsy hug. She bats him away. “Not when I got all the looks.”
Caya rolls her eyes at him. “And none of the brains.”
“We can’t all be as clever as you,” Juron protests.
She snorts at him. “And some of us can’t be clever at all.”
We rest a while longer before resuming our furious pace. We ride through the rest of the afternoon, stopping once for food and to let the horses rest. Only when the sun has long set do we make camp for the night. Though we mustn’t be too far from the Ghost Woods now, it’s warm enough that we don’t need to huddle around a campfire. The twins roll out padded blankets from their saddlebags, and Juron lays one down for Taria between both of theirs. I too rummage inside my satchel and find my blanket.
Juron frowns as he watches me use the spell-wordacoligosto expand the orb into my blanket and drape it across the grass. It isn’t as thick as the others’ padded blankets, but hopefully the grass will be soft enough. At least it’ll be comfier than that cave Natharius and I slept in.
“That looks like a useful spell,” Juron says. “How much can you carry in there?” He gestures to my satchel.
