the head of Kjorn’s small war council.
“Well,” Asvander began, leaning forward. “Unfortunately the best way I have to describe what you and the lions will do is . . . distraction. I hope that isn’t insulting to you.”
Ilesh bared his fangs, his plumed tail dusting the ground. “I have seen tiny fleas bring down even the mightiest hunter. Tell me your plan.”
They spoke of war until the fires burned low, and Kjorn invited the wolves to stay the evening near them, but Ilesh stretched and summoned his hunters with a warbling growl.
“No. We will travel back to the red lake, find Stigr, and travel with him back to the Serpent River and meet the eagles.”
“Tell him we fare well,” Shard said. “If you will.”
“I will.”
“We’ll see all of you at the Voldsom Narrows then,” Kjorn said. Weariness clawed at the back of his eyes, but the wolves seemed to be perking back up, ready for a long run in the night.
“You will, you will indeed!” Ilesh trotted around the fire, stepping into Kjorn’s space. Familiar with rituals of the wolves in the Silver Isles, Kjorn lifted his head and leaned forward. Ilesh touched the side of his muzzle to Kjorn’s beak and they shared a breath, and the heavy scents of meat, blood and muscle washed over him. Then Ilesh bounded away almost like a pup, invigorated, and nipped and barked at his fellows until they all streamed away in the night. Kjorn heard Mayka barking farewell.
“That went well,” he said as Shard slipped up on his right.
“Yes. Now we just have the Vanhar, lions, eagles, and the Dawn Spire.”
“Breezy,” Kjorn said, taking Dagny’s favorite expression.
“Breezy,” Shard agreed softly, and though they both settled down, Kjorn was certain that every time he woke in night, Shard was awake, staring into the dark at something the rest of them couldn’t see.
~10~
At the Dawn Reach
T WO MORE DAYS OF HARD flying brought them to the Dawn Reach—a broad swath of hills, chalky bluffs and long draws. Shard felt good with the alliance of the painted wolves secured, knowing they would take word to Stigr and the others.
As they glided down to land, Brynja told Shard that her bloodline laid particular claim to that territory. It was the ancestral home of the line of En, the legendary huntress from the ballad they’d heard at the Ostral Shore. Shard inquired about the early kings of the Winderost, but Brynja told him that little was known about them.
“Many of those tales are lost,” Brynja said as she set her hind feet on the ground, flapped once, and folded her wings. “But any who claim noble blood must at least be able to trace their kin back to En, Maj, Ingmar, or Oster.”
“I remember those names,” Shard said, landing beside her. He watched all around as the Vanir of the company landed. “From the Wild Hunt, when King Orn divided the hunters by family. Orn is from the line of Ingmar?”
“And Kjorn’s line would trace back to En,” Brynja said, watching the prince land and give his orders to ready their camp. “Through Sverin. The bloodline of En has always ruled at the Dawn Spire, until now. Surely it’s what the land and the gods know is best. Things have never been so out of balance before.”
“We’ll set it right,” Shard said, and saw Ketil coming toward them. He forced himself not to flatten his ears. “Kjorn will set it right, I know he’ll do well by this land. Fair winds, Ketil,” he said as the gryfess approached.
“My lord.” She mantled. “My daughters and I are prepared to hunt.”
Shard deferred to Brynja, who knew the land. She inclined her head. “I’ll gather some of mine. We hunted here often.”
Ketil hesitated, but her gaze remained on Shard and she dipped her head. Even she wasn’t so foolish as to wander in a land she didn’t know.
“Keep alert,” Shard said. “We’re farther from the Ostral Shores now. There may be scouts from the Dawn Spire, and I think we’d all rather not
“Well,” Asvander began, leaning forward. “Unfortunately the best way I have to describe what you and the lions will do is . . . distraction. I hope that isn’t insulting to you.”
Ilesh bared his fangs, his plumed tail dusting the ground. “I have seen tiny fleas bring down even the mightiest hunter. Tell me your plan.”
They spoke of war until the fires burned low, and Kjorn invited the wolves to stay the evening near them, but Ilesh stretched and summoned his hunters with a warbling growl.
“No. We will travel back to the red lake, find Stigr, and travel with him back to the Serpent River and meet the eagles.”
“Tell him we fare well,” Shard said. “If you will.”
“I will.”
“We’ll see all of you at the Voldsom Narrows then,” Kjorn said. Weariness clawed at the back of his eyes, but the wolves seemed to be perking back up, ready for a long run in the night.
“You will, you will indeed!” Ilesh trotted around the fire, stepping into Kjorn’s space. Familiar with rituals of the wolves in the Silver Isles, Kjorn lifted his head and leaned forward. Ilesh touched the side of his muzzle to Kjorn’s beak and they shared a breath, and the heavy scents of meat, blood and muscle washed over him. Then Ilesh bounded away almost like a pup, invigorated, and nipped and barked at his fellows until they all streamed away in the night. Kjorn heard Mayka barking farewell.
“That went well,” he said as Shard slipped up on his right.
“Yes. Now we just have the Vanhar, lions, eagles, and the Dawn Spire.”
“Breezy,” Kjorn said, taking Dagny’s favorite expression.
“Breezy,” Shard agreed softly, and though they both settled down, Kjorn was certain that every time he woke in night, Shard was awake, staring into the dark at something the rest of them couldn’t see.
~10~
At the Dawn Reach
T WO MORE DAYS OF HARD flying brought them to the Dawn Reach—a broad swath of hills, chalky bluffs and long draws. Shard felt good with the alliance of the painted wolves secured, knowing they would take word to Stigr and the others.
As they glided down to land, Brynja told Shard that her bloodline laid particular claim to that territory. It was the ancestral home of the line of En, the legendary huntress from the ballad they’d heard at the Ostral Shore. Shard inquired about the early kings of the Winderost, but Brynja told him that little was known about them.
“Many of those tales are lost,” Brynja said as she set her hind feet on the ground, flapped once, and folded her wings. “But any who claim noble blood must at least be able to trace their kin back to En, Maj, Ingmar, or Oster.”
“I remember those names,” Shard said, landing beside her. He watched all around as the Vanir of the company landed. “From the Wild Hunt, when King Orn divided the hunters by family. Orn is from the line of Ingmar?”
“And Kjorn’s line would trace back to En,” Brynja said, watching the prince land and give his orders to ready their camp. “Through Sverin. The bloodline of En has always ruled at the Dawn Spire, until now. Surely it’s what the land and the gods know is best. Things have never been so out of balance before.”
“We’ll set it right,” Shard said, and saw Ketil coming toward them. He forced himself not to flatten his ears. “Kjorn will set it right, I know he’ll do well by this land. Fair winds, Ketil,” he said as the gryfess approached.
“My lord.” She mantled. “My daughters and I are prepared to hunt.”
Shard deferred to Brynja, who knew the land. She inclined her head. “I’ll gather some of mine. We hunted here often.”
Ketil hesitated, but her gaze remained on Shard and she dipped her head. Even she wasn’t so foolish as to wander in a land she didn’t know.
“Keep alert,” Shard said. “We’re farther from the Ostral Shores now. There may be scouts from the Dawn Spire, and I think we’d all rather not
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