Prince Nera Mossveil's Arc

Chapter 19 of 23

Nera rode with the string of four fawns behind him and knew within a mile that the pace was wrong. The fawns trotted where he needed them to run. The lead ropes pulled tight and slack, tight and slack, and the horse fought the drag at every rise. Atletha rode a length behind, watching the treeline south. When she turned in the saddle a second time without speaking, he already knew what she had seen. "Smoke," she said. "Two riders at least. Closer than an hour." He pulled the horse up and looked at the fawns. Four small heads, four short legs. Fire riders on grown mounts would run them down before the next stand of trees. He could cut the ropes and scatter them again and save himself. He had sworn he would not. The herd bound the crown to the forest, and the forest was already thinning at its edges. Losing these four meant losing more than four. He pulled the map from his coat and found the creek line. The animal fairies' warm house sat a half day south down the water. Too far for him. Not too far for a rider who knew the creek and moved fast on the ground. He looked at Atletha and did not have to ask. She had already loosened her reins. "Take them to Dusty," he said. He cut the string from his saddle horn and pressed the four leads into her glove. "Tell him the same oath as before. Returned to the herd if they live. Not kept. Not sold." Atletha wound the ropes around her wrist once and tied them off clean. "He will hold them," she said. "I will ride back to you by the north bend." She did not say the child's name. She did not ask about the smoke. She turned the horse and started the fawns down the slope at a walk that would not panic them, and once the brush closed behind her the sound of small hooves went with her. Nera sat alone on the ridge with an empty saddle horn and a lighter horse. He could hear his own breathing now. The dragonfly he had ridden south was long gone; this mount was Angel's gift, bred for distance. He turned it north and touched its flank and the horse answered. Four fawns were saved. The rest of the herd was still ahead, scattered through country the fire riders were already crossing. He rode. Behind him the smoke thickened above the trees where he had stood a minute before. Ahead, the ground opened toward the next valley, and somewhere in it the older fawns were running from something he had not yet seen.