NIGHTSTRIDER by Sophia Slade

Author:Sophia Slade
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sophia Elaine Hanson

37

Caine

Peony, the russet horse Morthil had loaned Caine, was an enduring creature with an agreeable disposition. The Prince pushed her hard into the afternoon, cantering down the broad path through the Tanglewood.

The woods themselves were even stranger in the midday light. The trees were slick as whetstones and dark as obsidian set against the snow. Once, Caine could have sworn he saw a manor house in a clearing further in, but when he looked back, it was gone.

They passed a handful of travelers on their route. Most appeared human—kips, Caine assumed—though they did cross what he was fairly sure was a pack of goblins on foot. Their heads were level with his calf as he rode past. They smelled like spoiled milk and looked as ghastly as the legends described.

He wondered which came first, the stories or the dream beings. Or did they grow from one another, a ceaseless circle? To think his own nightmares were traversing the planes of this bizarre world made his hair stand on end.

Of course, nothing was as bad as imagining his father sitting at the helm of the Reverie.

He was endeavoring not to think about it, but with no one but Peony for company, it was rather difficult.

They exited the Tanglewood in the late afternoon, trading the mesh of branches for boundless skies. Caine tugged on the reins at the edge of the open lands.

Hills white as bone stretched almost as far as he could see. Rising among them were great stone monuments. At first, Caine thought they were mountains, but as he drew nearer, he realized the mountains were further beyond the hills, standing like splinters against the horizon.

The stone behemoths among the hills were gravestones the size of ships.

Morthil called this place the Bone Hills. The name was fitting for more than one reason, it seemed.

“Just a little further, girl,” Caine lied, giving Peony a bracing pat on the neck. She snorted. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if she could understand him. Nothing would surprise him at this point.

He switched the reins and dove into the hills.

No matter how Caine tried, he could not outpace the uneasiness that rode with him. Every valley seemed to swallow them whole. Every peak felt dangerously exposed. Wherever he went, he could see at least one grave towering over him. Some were covered in moss and lichen; others were crumbling, their remnants bleached by the sun. All were inscribed with runes Caine did not recognize.

How big were the creatures laid to rest here? he wondered as he passed beneath a bridge formed by a headstone felled between two hills. Was this a graveyard for gods? Were there gods in this realm?

Ila would know.

If she was still willing to speak to him when he reached her, he would have to ask her.

Caine winced.

He had already made an utter ass of himself the night before storming out like a petulant child, and now he had gone against her wishes and followed her where she did not want to be followed.

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