“Keep moving,” Ryl whispered to Aelin as he stopped along the flank of the closest mount. With deft precision that belied his personal lack of equine experience, he separated the horses from the carriage. He handed the reins to a bewildered Aelin, whose attitude mimicked a nervousness as severe as the guard they’d just interrogated.
Ryl returned to the side of the black carriage, the burning blade still alight in his hand. A gout of green flame trailed the blade as he slashed the blade across the edge of the wagon. The serrated, translucent edge ripped through the heavy wooden panels with little resistance. Where it passed, the searing weapon set wood and fabric alight. Charred splinters and sparks sprayed out in his wake. The green flames eagerly took to light as they began devouring the exposed wood.
With a flick of his right hand, Ryl fanned the fledgling blaze with a gust of focused wind. The green flames from the Leaves exploded into a brilliant orange as they spread across the sides and roof of the doomed wagon. The black paint bubbled in the presence of the heat. Within moments, the flames had engulfed the entirety of the wagon, Maklan included. Knowing the fire would soon consume the haunting relic, Ryl turned, hastening to Aelin.
For a moment, he had feared retribution from the army at his back. He’d have been unsurprised if a concerted effort had been launched to overwhelm him and the clearly hobbled youth in his company. Yet, as trained as his senses were to the activity at his rear, no attack came.
Ryl reached Aelin’s side within steps. The young man looked up at the agitated, unsettled beasts at the end of the reins in his hands with fear. The young man who only moments before had faced an army, unarmed and single-handed, looked upon the horses before him with paralyzing fear.
“You’ve never ridden before, have you?” Ryl guessed.
The young tribute shook his head rapidly without removing his eyes from the pair of horses that had sidled closer as Ryl approached. The drays were large, their muscular flanks standing above Ryl’s head, well above the young man at his side. They snorted in protest, stomping their feet, churning up the soil beneath them as they protested the unexpected affront.
Aelin swallowed hard. He tossed the reins to Ryl, balling his hands into nervous fists that he rubbed on his tattered trousers.
Ryl pitied the young man, as he understood his abject emotions. It was less than a cycle since his own awakening. He recalled how the drastic influx of information from the surrounding world seemed foreign. Growing up, Ryl had ridden nothing more than the lazy old workhorse his father commanded for his paltry work at the mill. He now stood eye to eye with a pair of massive horses, unbridled, yet he was unintimidated.
Several lifetimes’ worth of experiences on horseback flashed through his mind as the alexen in his blood churned with excitement. Focusing on the beasts, he sent a wave of calm over the trained mounts. In unison their wide eyes swelled. Their heads cocked to the side as they appraised the newcomer in a new light.
Ryl let the glowing blade fade, slipping the innocuous, dormant stick back into its holster. His attention and forced emotion focused on the pair of mounts. In unison, they both bent their necks, lowering their massive heads toward his. Ryl reached out his hands, gently placing them on their muzzles. With a final snort, a burst of hot air from their nostrils, they acquiesced to his touch.
Ryl cast a furtive glance back at the army. Flickers of orange light from the burning carriage flashed across them. A plume of black smoke belched into the sky. There was no notable attempt at pursuit or attack. Most watched the blaze devour the carriage and the tainted remains of Maklan.
His gaze travelled to Aelin. A smile broke across his stoic face as he noted the young tribute’s expression. Aelin stared with eyes and mouth wide. A string of questions seemed ready to flow from his open mouth, yet they were stoppered by the surprise.
“There’s no time,” Ryl stated calmly, widening the wave of calm from the horses to the young man before him. “We need to make haste.”
In one fluid movement, Ryl collected the young man under the arms, hoisting him to the back of the closest horse. Aelin yipped in surprise as he shifted uncomfortably on his new seat.
“Grab a hold of her mane and hang on tight,” Ryl commanded as he swung onto the back of the second horse. “We need speed. Remain still. She’ll follow my lead.”
Aelin’s fingers wrapped around a clump of the mare’s long brown hair. He nervously nodded his head before positioning himself prone along the horse’s bare back. With a gentle tap from Ryl’s heels, his horse lurched forward. With the lead rope for Aelin’s horse in hand, they moved in tandem.
Within moments, they entered the narrow road leading south toward Cadsae and the Pining Gates. Easing into a steady canter, they rapidly left the disheveled army behind the rolling hills of The Stocks.
Ryl slowed, allowing Aelin’s horse to run alongside. The nervousness that had covered the young tribute’s face had been all but lost behind the sheer joy and wonderment as the wind blew in his face. The childlike glow that accompanied his unfiltered mirth was infectious.
For a moment they were both lost in the pleasure of the moment.
Ryl feared it wouldn’t last long.
Chapter 22
They’d traveled several miles before Ryl slowed the pace to a measured walk. Aelin had relaxed considerably after the initial hesitancy on horseback had resolved into unbridled joy. Ryl carefully scanned the countryside behind them, thankful that there were no signs of pursuit.
Both ahead and
