Herd Mistress (In Deception's Shadow Book 2) (16 page)

Shadowdancer regarded both Neveyah and his mother for
several heartbeats. “You say Sorntar’s tainted Larnkin did all that, yet
curiously no one died. Why do you think one of Dakdamon’s creations would let
any of our people survive when it would have been in his best interests to kill
any who saw and could report his movements?”

Sorsha jerked her head up from where she’d been
focused on the pattern of the carpet under foot. “You think Sorntar is still in
there somewhere, that he can be helped.”

“Yes, and if he can be cured, so too can anything he’s
done to our loved ones.” Shadowdancer glanced between Neveyah, Windrunner and
Darkmoon. “Lord Trensler has unwittingly done us a service. With the Elemental
Council’s attention divided between Sorntar and now Trensler, Sorsha and I may
be able to seek out the Oracle before soldiers from Grey Spires come to collect
us.”

Sorsha’s lips twisted into a sour grin. “Remind me to
thank Trensler for his help if he doesn’t eat me first.”

Shadowdancer’s mother sniffed at Sorsha.
“Ah, there
is that Stonemantle bite Ashayna used to good advantage against the Council.
Glad to see life’s trials haven’t beaten it out of you.”

“Then you won’t be surprised when I fill a pack with
supplies and go off in search of this Oracle.”

“I see you are set in this, and will find a way to
escape one way or another. At least if we agree to your plan you will have help
with this task.”
Windrunner’s gaze
slid to Neveyah then lastly to Darkmoon.
“Are we in agreement?”

The Herd Mistress gave the slightest nod, as if she was
still reluctant to give in.

Shadowdancer’s mother flicked an ear forward in a lazy
manner, but the hard glint of determination in her eyes when she stared at
Sorsha was anything but contentment.
“I’ll run interference with the Council
and try to find out what I can about Lord Trensler’s movements. If I learn
anything I will inform Darkmoon and he will pass the information on to you. But
be careful. If Trensler was able to weaken Sorntar’s Larnkin—a creature shaped
and molded into a powerful weapon by Dakdamon himself—I don’t want to contemplate
just how powerful Trensler is if he can harm one of Dakdamon’s shaping.”

Sorsha felt an uneasy tingle of power wash across her
skin, raising gooseflesh in its wake. What level of fear must the stoic
Windrunner be hiding to cause such a flare of uncontrolled magic?

“You and my son must set out for the Oracle soon.
Windrunner can stall here for a short time, but since she is supposed to bring
you back….”
Darkmoon let them piece
together the rest of his sentence.
“It’s best if you and Shadowdancer are
long gone by the time the Council sends others to find you. It will not take
the other Elders long to determine what we have done and realize where you’ve
gone and why.”

Sorsha tilted her chin at Darkmoon. “What will happen
to you? You and your mate will be punished for helping us escape, won’t you?”

“The Phoenix Queen and the Council will not be pleased
with us, but my mate and I are rulers in our own right and we don’t fear the
Council. Let us worry about our compatriots. We can keep them occupied for a
short time. Trensler and Dakdamon are another matter entirely—your task is
worrisome enough without having to watch your back trail for Elemental
soldiers. Be swift to the Oracle, and pray it has learned what Trensler is, and
how to kill him.”

A dark bay Santhyrian mare trotted into the tent. She
halted before Darkmoon, and they communed in the silent way of their kind for a
few moments before the mare bobbed her head and departed. Darkmoon turned his
attention to Sorsha and his son.
“Your supplies are packed and your escort
will soon be ready. They will take you into the mountains as far as they can,
but from there you’ll have to continue on foot. Once you’re finished your
quest, another escort will meet you on the opposite side of the mountains. That
way if Trensler is seeking you, he’ll not be able to lay an ambush for you.”

Darkmoon and his son continued to discuss the land and
the safest possible route home, leaving unsaid that planning an escape route
home might be a moot point. But Sorsha wasn’t fooled. Even if they avoided
capture by Trensler, there was no guarantee she and Shadowdancer would escape
the Oracle’s judgment alive.

A wintry gale whipped down from
higher up the mountain slopes, slapping small bits of grit and razor thin
pieces of dagger-like ice crystals against every exposed bit of skin. Feeling
scoured almost raw by the endless pelting, Sorsha pulled the hood of her cloak
lower over her eyes and dabbed at a small cut along one cheek. She tried to ignore
the heavy weight of her rain-dampened cloak and even heavier pack.

For the tenth time since she and
Shadowdancer had left the gentle foothills for the steeper slopes, she wished
to be back in the cozy tent in the center of the Santhyrian camp. Warm and dry
with its abundance of food, firewood, dry blankets, and level ground, she
wanted its comfort back. Or, at least, a place where the weather didn’t change
from one unpleasant event to another equally unpleasant situation every half
candlemark or so. But those memories were a fortnight old, and by now their
Santhyrian companions should almost be back with the herd.

Alone, she had followed
Shadowdancer farther into the mountains, an old range that proved far more
volatile than she estimated by Shadowdancer’s descriptions of the place. Day by
day the winding trails grew steeper and the ground rockier until they had to
slow to a crawl or risk tumbling to their deaths. Perhaps Neveyah’s first
assessment was correct and following this foolish quest to its end might amount
in their deaths; but at least they were doing something rather than waiting for
death to come for them.

Sorsha cheered herself with the knowledge
her life could be worse. After all, Trensler could be on their trail. At least
that was unlikely here. With the rest of their Santhyrian escort leading false
trails away from where they had parted company, Trensler and his Acolytes would
find it difficult to sniff out the Oracle’s location.

Farther up the path, Shadowdancer
stumbled, his boot toe catching on an outcropping of stone. He pitched forward
and landed on his knees. Sorsha winced, but his colorful curse—one he must have
learned from her—had her lips curving into a grin despite her exhaustion.

She came along side and rested a
hand on his shoulder. “We should stop to rest.”

“I’m fine,” he said. His voice
was sharp with stress, and by the tone he was anything but fine, but was too
proud to admit it.

“You might be fine, but I’m
exhausted. Let’s rest and then eat.”

Shadowdancer looked ready to debate,
until he actually paused to study her. Then his expression softened. He
unhooked his bow and quiver, and then shouldered his way out of his pack and
dumped it on the ground. A protective arm came around her shoulders and pulled
her against his side. It was nice. He must be just as damp, cold, and weary as
she, but he reached out to comfort her. In fact, he was probably worse off
because he was still learning the limitations of his new human form. He pushed
himself so hard trying to prove his worth it brought moisture to her eyes. She
harshly dragged the back of her hand across her eyes to hide the evidence.

“Sorsha, my beautiful mane
ornament, all will be alright. We’ll find the Oracle and then learn the fate of
our families.”

He misunderstood her moment of
weakness. It was for the best. The proud Santhyrian wouldn’t want her pity. She
let him think what he wanted, simply happy to have him hold her.

He sat down on another
outcropping of stone and pulled her into his lap. As he held her, he stroked a
hand down her hair. “I will find our loved ones. I will not allow failure. Do
you understand? We will be victorious.”

She understood his drive. While
Lamarra might be beyond their grasp, Ash, Sorntar and their Santhyrian captives
were still within their reach. She had to believe that if they could get to the
Oracle Stone and ask it its council, it would aid them.

He shaded his eyes with an arm,
as he looked up at the sun. “But, at this moment we need rest and food.”

Sorsha tilted her head toward his
long bow. “And you can always use more practice with that.”

Shadowdancer mumbled sourly, but
nodded his agreement. From past experience, a simple, well-aimed arrow seemed
far more successful than magic at disabling an Acolyte. Because of that, she’d
been teaching Shadowdancer some basic archery before they broke camp in the
mornings and again after evening meal. He’d turned out an able student, quick
to learn and eager to improve. While he was no prodigy, one day he’d make a
passable archer.

After they’d rested and ate, and
Shadowdancer got in a little mandatory archery practice, they resumed their
journey. Once again Sorsha found herself struggling up a steep rise in
Shadowdancer’s wake. Loose shale shifted under her feet, threatening to throw
her back down the slope with each step. A quick glance up showed Shadowdancer
fared no better.

They had climbed half a dozen
twisting mountain trails and still could not find the terrain described in
Shadowdancer’s somewhat inaccurate scroll. He had said they’d have to pass a test
of sorts, so maybe part of the Oracle’s test was revealing the map’s thrice
cursed secrets. But unless this Oracle was hiding in plain sight, Shadowdancer
still hadn’t solved its riddles.

Her calf muscles burning, she
sighed at the inevitable. Time for yet more climbing.

*
* * *

By the next afternoon, Sorsha was
doubtful if the maker of the scroll, with its multilayered riddles, actually
knew the location of the Oracle Stone. Shadowdancer was confident the scroll
would lead them true and he was interpreting the ancient symbols correctly.
Sorsha couldn’t decide who was more delusional: Shadowdancer or the mapmaker.

Sorsha was working loose a cramp
in one calf when Shadowdancer started motioning at the surrounding cliff faces
and the valley below with a great deal of excitement. Narrowing her eyes, she
took in the river that had cut a deep ravine, one which followed a similar path
to the one described in the map—if somewhat changed from the time the map had
first been made.

“Are we almost where I think we
are?” she asked.

“Yes,” he shouted back from his
position twenty paces ahead. “I was certain I’d stumbled upon the correct trail
earlier this morning.” He gestured her forward and then disappeared behind a
large boulder partially blocking the path.

Sorsha straightened and gave
chase. When she caught up to him, she bumped shoulders with him. “You could
have told me.”

“You were deeply grumpy,” he said
with a laugh. “I didn’t want to encroach upon your bad mood.”

“Ha, ha. Keep the jokes coming
and see how you like sleeping alone,” Sorsha grumbled as she walked a few steps
ahead of his position. “So, what did you find that’s got you so excited?”

Her choice of words got a cocked
eyebrow and a mischievous grin in response.

She crossed her arms. “I’m
serious.”

“Look, there ahead.” Shadowdancer
pointed to an overhang, or more precisely, to a shadowy break in the otherwise
solid ledge. She looked up the near-vertical slope to the cave mouth and then
back down to the rock strewn incline. One missed step, and the loose footing
could shift and toss them back down, or even tumble them over the cliff edge.

“That’s a lot of mountain to fall
on us and I don’t look forward to being caught in a rockslide. Are you sure
it’s safe to go exploring the caves here?”

“No, but what choice do we have?”
Shadowdancer didn’t wait for an answer. Instead he reached into his pack and
pulled out a length of rope and began tying it around his waist. “Take the
other end and secure yourself. If the worst happens one of us may be able to
rescue the other.”

Sorsha shrugged, complied with
his request, and continued to silently trail Shadowdancer.

They scrambled over piles of
rocky debris to reach the cave entrance. On closer inspection, the opening
wasn’t as wide as she’d thought. “Let me go first. I’m smaller.”

Shadowdancer grunted in way of
answer and then shrugged out of his pack and handed it to her. He leaned down
and examined the entrance while she was lighting a torch. When she had it lit,
he motioned her forward.

He snatched the torch from her
hand, tossed it through the cave’s dark maw, and a moment later he was angling
into the narrow crack. His backside offered an irresistible target. She slapped
him soundly.

“What part of ‘I’m smaller, I’ll
go first’ didn’t you understand?”

A muffled laugh reached her ears.
That earned him a second swat, one with a little more power behind it. She
glared at his backside until he disappeared inside. Being careful of shifting
shale and large chunks of rock, she crawled in after him.

Inside, the torch illuminated a
larger passage way, easily tall enough to stand upright. Shadowdancer grabbed
her under the arms and pulled her to her feet. When she was facing him, he
leaned down and pressed his lips to the sensitive skin just under her ear then
trailed leisurely kisses down her neck. Too shocked to think, she let him. He
nuzzled her shoulder. His teeth grazed the skin and she shivered. The pressure
increased as he bit down. Hard.

“Ouch!”

He chuckled again and soothed the
bite mark with a kiss. “Don’t challenge a Santhyrian, little one.” He grinned
with her. Then reached out to caress her lower lip with his thumb. “I nip.”

Finally regaining enough
composure to close her mouth, Sorsha stood and stared him down. “We have work
to do.”

“Yes.”

Sorsha stalked past him. After a
quick survey of the cavern, she noted something unusual. “This isn’t a natural
cave. These walls have been shaped.” She squinted against the glare of the
torch and spotted what she’d been looking for. “There, in the recessed section,
I think that was once a door under all the rot and rust.” For once she reached
the obstacle before Shadowdancer but couldn’t budge the giant beast of a door.
A closer look at the hinges showed why. “There’s no way we’re getting through
this door unless you have a battering ram in your pack.”

“Hmmm, no.” Shadowdancer tapped
on her shoulder. “Let me try.”

Shrugging, she stepped back and
let Shadowdancer examine the door.

After a moment he drew a knife.
He flipped it in his hand and smashed the hilt down on the highest hinge. The
rusted hunk of metal flaked away, falling to the ground in pieces. He took out
the other two hinges. Even after all the hinges were shattered, the door
remained upright. The old wood was engorged with so much dampness, the door had
expanded tight to its frame.

Shadowdancer frowned at the
stubborn door, then turned and kicked it so hard Sorsha jumped. The first kick
had little effect, but by the third, the door started to move inward.

When he braced his shoulder
against the door, Sorsha added her weight. At his nod, Sorsha pushed,
visualizing her least favorite tutor from childhood. With a groan the door
popped from its frame. Surprised by the door’s sudden surrender, Sorsha pitched
forward, arms flailing, unable to regain her balance. Shadowdancer’s strong
fingers gripped her hips and spun her in midair.

When she landed on top of him,
her weight knocked the breath out of him. While he gasped and groaned in pain,
she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “It’s nice to know chivalry still
exists.” Her sweet tones earned her a glare. Maybe that would teach him to be a
little less domineering.

“Come on.” She nearly laughed,
but offered him a hand up, and then looked around their new surroundings. A
thick layer of deeply cracked mud covered the floor. It crunched under her
boots and powdery clouds rose knee-high with each step. “This tunnel is in
worse repair than the other room. And where did all this mud come from? The
ceiling’s still intact.”

Shadowdancer transferred his
glare from her to the floor. “If we’d tried to come here during the spring
melt, I think we’d find ourselves underwater—ice cold glacier water. The dirt
could have been carried in that way.”

“Thanks for the comforting
thought. If this cave system is flooded for a few days each year, what’s the
chance we’re going to find anything intact? All that water would damage the
Oracle, wouldn’t it?”

“The Oracle can protect itself.”

“You make it sound like a living
creature.”

“Close enough.”

Sorsha shivered. “Really. Not.
Comforting.”

Together they climbed higher up
the tunnel. The carved stone stairs here weren’t as well defined. Long ago
flood waters had eroded them into an uneven slope. After another half a
candlemark the footing improved; the stairs once again became respectably
passable. Perhaps the spring melt had been diverted down another tunnel and
hadn’t reached this part of the structure.

To either side, rock walls soared
above her, disappearing high overhead, the ceiling not much more than a shadowy
imagining. She hurried her pace, keeping close to Shadowdancer. It wasn’t
cowardice, she assured her Stonemantle pride. It was prudence.

“How far do you think it is?” She
grumbled under her breath for something to say. She’d never liked silence. It
was a breeding ground for fear, self-doubt, and any number of crippling
emotions.