The Last Whistlewillow: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (Song of the Ellydian Book 2) by C.K. Rieke

Author:C.K. Rieke [Rieke, C.K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crimson Cro Publishing
Published: 2024-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

The hunt was on.

Overlooking the hills that were the borderlands—calm under the early morning sun, majestic in their power—the four of them glared down into the valley with a sort of apprehension that was hard for Soren to figure out. He loved the hunt. He enjoyed the mystery and the fulfillment of a long-sought after mission. And he always loved the reward.

But this was different. He wasn’t alone, and others were relying on him.

Soren leaped down from his horse, took his gloves off, and unsheathed Firelight. He knelt on a stone, dried by the sunlight, and dug his dagger into the hard dirt beneath the fading snow.

None of them asked what he was doing.

A rare warm breeze filled the air, rustling dead blades of grass that dared peek their heads above the snow, above where their roots were kept alive from the winter chill. There was a faint smell of old fire in the breeze, which blew head on. Someone was in the hills, Soren knew. He didn’t know if it was Ravelle with the relic that Lady Drake wanted so badly, but there was someone, or something, out there.

Heavy cloud misted the lands in shadow, making Soren remember the relic, and its ability to hide the wearer in shadow. He wondered if the shade cast by the clouds would be enough to conceal its wearer. Could Ravelle be around them, hiding, waiting, watching…?

There were ways to tell if someone was hiding from magic, and chief of those was to trust his instincts; smell, sound, and touch, of course. She’d leave footprints, if anything. She wasn’t completely gone from existence.

He cut into the frozen ground easily, not worried about dulling the infinitely sharp, otherworldly metal of the dagger. Firelight freed the dirt from the ground, and he scooped it in his hand. Within it he smelled the old earth, the iron in the minerals, the dying grass, and the faintest of animal scents that had crossed that path over the seasons. The dirt sifted back to the ground through his strong fingers, and he rose back to his feet.

“So this is it?” Soren asked. “They said she was in there?”

“Waiting it out,” Davin said, resting his long, feminine arms on the horse’s neck. “Waiting for the heat to blow over, expecting the lady to forget, or playing with her new toy.”

“There’s got to be dozens of caves down there,” Kaile said. “I can count six from here.”

“All caves aren’t the same,” Davin said in an uplifting tone. “She’d pick one to stay close to the surface. Don’t want to be sleeping down in the depths with whatever roams in the darkness.”

“Which is what?” Seph asked, warming her hands.

“The Shades go somewhere,” Kaile said, with a nervous twitch in his eye. “The Black Fog and them disappear when the sun comes up. Alcarond thought they went underground, into the Under Realm.”

“There’s one way to find out,” Soren said, shoving his boot into the stirrup and straddling the saddle. “If she’s here, I’ll find her.

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