“I didn’t know you were a horse whisperer,” she rasped, her voice sounding raw.
Erika found herself smiling back as she stroked the horse’s brow, then gently reached up and took its reins in hand. Stroking its neck, she leaned closer to inspect the animal. The metallic tang of blood touched her nostrils and her hand found a wet patch on the hard leather saddle. At least that explained what had become of the horse’s rider. She wondered if there would be anything left of Amina’s army come morning. Recalling the terrible eyes of the Old One, Erika wasn’t sure which side she preferred to win.
At least Amina fights for humanity, an inner voice reminded her.
“Erika,” Cara’s voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned to find the Goddess standing alongside her. “Are you okay?”
Erika nodded quickly, though as a distant scream carried to her ears, she knew it was a lie. Amina was the last hope humanity had of defeating the Old One and her Tangata. By fleeing this fight, was Erika placing her own life above her people yet again, against humanity itself? But no…surely Amina could not be the future for her people.
“Come on,” Erika said softly, pushing aside her doubts.
Even if she’d wanted to, Erika could do nothing for the queen now. Not unless…her eyes drifted to the gauntlet Cara wore. Wielding her Anaheran strength and the twin magics of their human ancestors…could Amina have won this night?
It was too late for second thoughts now. Turning to the horse, Erika swung herself into the saddle then reached down and offered Cara a hand. The Goddess hesitated, eyeing the horse, but Erika had seen her ride before and after the moment Cara accepted her aid. Warm hands wrapped around Erika’s waist as the Goddess clutched her tight, before she felt her friend’s head upon her shoulders.
“So tired,” a whisper came in her ears. “So hungry.”
Erika’s stomach rumbled in agreement but there was no time to check the saddlebags for food. That would have to wait. Starved as she was, first they needed to put distance between themselves and the battle.
“Hold on tight,” Erika said.
Then praying she still had the strength to carry them clear, she kicked the gelding into a canter.
* * *
Morning found the pair still a horseback, but as the sun’s glow turned the mountains a deep red, Erika knew they had best find shelter. She was swaying in the saddle by then, kept in place by sheer desperation and Cara’s arms around her waist. Responsibility for the young Goddess sat heavy on her shoulders. The knowledge that Cara was also at the end of her strength forced her on.
They had ridden north through a passageway that cut through the rolling hills of Flumeer, but now as the daylight lit the open ground, Erika began to search for shelter. There were few trees left in Flumeer these days, with most cut down to create the ships and forts that had guarded the Illmoor, while the rest had been burned for farmland.
There were no farmers now though. Word of the armies amassing to the south must have driven them out, sending them north to shelter behind city walls. Directing their gelding along a goat track leading up into the hills, Erika wondered who which would come for them. Would it be Amina, with her terrible gauntlet? Or would it be the Old One with those terrible grey eyes?
A shiver passed down Erika’s spine at the thought of Tangata stalking their trail, following their scent from the waters of the Illmoor.
No, better that Amina emerged victorious. At least they might have a chance to escape human pursuers.
Erika drew her horse to a stop before the remnant of forest nestled in a small vale. Its steep slopes must have made it unsuitable for livestock, for these were the only trees she could see for miles. Their shelter would conceal them from sight of their pursuers, whether they came by land or air…
…but the trees would also be an obvious hiding place. Her eyes slid closed, exhaustion weighing heavy on her shoulders, but Erika’s instincts whispered that they could not stop here. It would be the first place their hunters looked.
Skirting the treeline, she led the horse up towards the crest of the hill. There Erika took stock of their surroundings. Pasture and young crops of corn stretched out for miles around them, while flocks of sheep and cattle moved in the distance. She wondered what would become of all this should the farmers not return in time for the harvest. Did the Tangata know how to harvest crops, or care for livestock?
Her eyes caught on a distant shadow—a farmhouse, she thought by the size of it. The hour was still early and a chill breeze blew off the snow-capped peaks to the east, but there was no sign of smoke around the chimney. Praying that meant it had been abandoned, she kicked the gelding into a trot.
A half hour later, Erika could hardly bring herself to believe they were safe within stone walls. She’d taken the time to lead the gelding into a small stall attached to the house, then had half-carried, half-dragged Cara inside. Still in a daze and murmuring softly with her eyes closed, the Goddess had hardly stirred. She was far heavier than she looked though, and it had taken the last of Erika’s strength to lower the young Anahera onto the down bed in the corner of the great chamber that was the interior of the farmhouse.
Darkness swirled at the edges of her vision and she could feel unconsciousness calling, but even then, Erika knew she could not rest. Their enemies might come for them while they were unawares, and besides, her hunger had only grown more urgent through the night, until it felt as though her insides were consuming themselves in their quest for sustenance.
Returning
