Herd Mistress (In Deception's Shadow Book 2) (9 page)

Tears streamed down Sorsha’s cheeks. She scrubbed the
cuff of her sleeve across her eyes for the third time and blinked against the
viciously bright sun. After the dull illumination of the Wild Path, the outside
world’s brightness bordered on cruel.

With a curse Sorsha spat a tendril of hair from her
mouth and dragged another from her eyes, before wrapping her fist back into
Shadowdancer’s mane. The Santhyrian galloped down the cliff-side path, his
breakneck speed kicking up clouds of dust and grit in his wake. Ahead, the path
turned back on itself, snaking its way down the mountain. She adjusted her seat
in preparation for Shadowdancer’s next skidding halt. He trotted the tight turn
then stretched into a canter again. Sorsha risked a glance up and across the
gap to the city on the other side. Somewhere within that stone behemoth Lamarra
was being held against her will, and Sorsha didn’t care who or what she had to
go through to get her back.

They’d escaped the grey world of the Wild Path nearly
a candlemark before. Mistakenly she’d assumed the last arch would dump them out
in Grey Spires. But it didn’t and they’d had to ride for another candlemark.
Even though they both wanted to reach the city in all possible haste,
Shadowdancer was too tired to maintain a gallop the whole way. Sorsha offered
to walk to allow him to rest for a short time, but he’d refused, saying he
could draw on her reserves easier with her touching him. She continued to feed
him power while she prayed they wouldn’t be too late to rescue Lamarra and the
others.

Had Shadowdancer been a horse he’d have burst his
heart, snapped a leg, or plummeted over the cliff side. Thanks to his
Santhyrian stamina and agility they were both still alive, and he was still in
fair condition when they reached the bottom. But even with the aid of her
magic, he had to be feeling the pace.

“How are you holding up?” Sorsha called over the wind,
momentarily forgetting to use mindspeech.

Shadowdancer splashed through an icy stream and didn’t
answer as he started across the valley floor. His ears were swiveled forward as
if listening, and he arched his neck in a high headed, alert stance. She
tightened her fists in his mane and closed her eyes. The calming darkness
behind her own lids allowed her to school her turbulent emotions and focus.
There was a trace of foreign magic upon the Santhyrian. Thinking it was another
attack, she reached for him with her power.

Oh. Not an attack. One of his people was speaking with
him mind to mind. A murmur of voices filled her head. Straining to make them
out made her head throb with a dull ache. She waited, clawing for the patience not
to simply interrupt him and demand information about Lamarra.

Shadowdancer didn’t slow his pace as he continued
across the vast grassy plain leading to the foot of the opposite mountain. High
up its slopes, the City of Grey Spires perched, overlooking the ravine below.
Had she not been so worried about Lamarra, she might have enjoyed the view.

With a little shake, he twitched an ear back in her
direction.
“I have been in contact with my sire and dam. They forbid us from
seeking out the Tomb Guards. They say the Dead Rulers must have a reason to act
as they have and it is not for us to interfere. The council has ordered us to
leave with the rest of my family herd and go to the Sea of Grass.”
Shadowdancer’s
mild annoyance at being treated like a child reflected back along their mental
link.
“We are to await there for news.”

“What? That’s it?” Sorsha understood Shadowdancer’s
annoyance at his Elders, and clinched her fists seeking calm. “There must be
more news.”

“There is some. Both Winter’s Frost and Summer Flame
have escaped their Tomb Guard captors.”
Shadowdancer paused, but Sorsha still felt his hesitation.

“What are you not saying?”

“The Elders claim our herd mates escaped—or as I and
my sire believe—were allowed to escape, since both Santhyrians seemingly
avoided the Tomb Guards with relative ease once they were safely on the other
side of the gate. Winter’s Frost and Summer Flame immediately sought out the
Elemental Council and told them Tomb Guards still had Lamarra in their
custody.”

“Can’t you milk them for more information?”

“I’ll try.”
Moments later he snorted with agitation.

“What did they say?”

“My sire and dam just forcefully reminded me I’m to
meet them in the valley skirting the lower slopes of the city. They are
awaiting me there.”
Shadowdancer’s
tail snapped along his rump.
“I’ve even been forbidden from seeking out
Winter’s Frost and Summer Flame.”

If the elders forbid them from speaking with the other
two Santhyrians, then Sorsha could only assume the Council of Elders were
hiding something from Shadowdancer. And if the Elders were hiding something, it
likely concerned Lamarra and her Tomb Guard captors. Well, if the elders were
going to prove tight lipped, Sorsha would just find and rescue Lamarra on her
own.

Perhaps with this slower pace, by the time they
reached the city, she and Shadowdancer would be recovered enough to face the
Dead Rulers and demand they release Lamarra.

“Do not fool yourself. My parents are correct. This
fight is not for you,”
Shadowdancer
said, proving once again how easily he was able to read her thoughts.
“The
Queen and Council will deal with this. When they know something they will let
us know.”

“Call me a fool, but any fight involving a Stonemantle
is my fight as well. I won’t stand aside and do nothing.” The moment the words
left her mouth, she regretted them. She didn’t yet know if Shadowdancer would
help or hinder her search for Lamarra.

Ashayna had warned her many times of the value of
keeping one’s own council and how when strong emotions were allowed to lead the
way unchecked, they tended to undermine an otherwise sound plan of attack.

“You have yet to learn either of those virtues.”
The equine snort of amusement accompanying the words
was enough to bring a heated blush to her cheeks. But Shadowdancer seemed not
to notice her chagrin.
“The more I think about what happened, the more I
believe our initial assumption—that the Tomb Guards were sent to protect
Lamarra in particular—is correct.”

“But why?” Sorsha scrambled for a diplomatic tone, a
rather foreign occurrence, if she was honest with herself. “If they came to
protect Lamarra, and she is now alive and well because of their actions, then I
am glad. But that doesn’t change how I feel about it. The Tomb Guards are
sinister and what you’ve said about the Dead Rulers doesn’t make me think they
act without a compelling motive. What reason could they have for wanting
Lamarra?”

The stallion’s ears stiffened and then swung back
toward her position.
“I don’t know, but I don’t think we’ll like the answer.
She is powerful. She may be destined to become a Tomb Guard. The Queen and
Council can do many things, but denying the Dead Rulers is outside their
power.”

“No, Lamarra isn’t going to be a Tomb Guard. I don’t
know what it entails, but what I saw and sensed set my teeth on edge. I won’t
let it happen.” Her diplomatic tone slipped.

“Regardless, it may be out of our hands.”

Sorsha narrowed her eyes. As far as she was concerned,
tactful could go fall out a window. “You don’t seriously plan to sit back and
do nothing, do you?”

With a slight correction, Shadowdancer angled away
from the looming city and allowed the gentler slopes of the valley to funnel
them toward a distant Santhyrian herd.

Apparently, he did. Sorsha clenched her teeth and
tried a different tactic. “What does Ashayna have to say about all this?”
Sorsha waited a whole six heartbeats for him to answer. His hesitation told her
more than his earlier words. “You know something. Tell me!”

“No one can find Ashayna and Sorntar.”

“What? How is that even possible? He’s their Crown
Prince. His people must know his location.”

“The Elders think Sorntar may have detected some
danger and has gone to ground with his bondmate. They have all but ordered us
to do the same by joining the herd. We obey their judgment.”
His mind voice was blunt, but not completely resolute,
letting her know he would do as the Elders dictated; he just wasn’t in agreement
with their decisions.

Their logic didn’t suit her mood either, and she
pursed her lips to stop a heated retort. She had enough common sense to realize
starting a fight at the moment would be pure stupidity. None of this was
Shadowdancer’s fault. He was as much a pawn as she.

Shadowdancer slowed suddenly, his head rising and
arching to the left as he shortened his stride.

“In the distance...I hear another Santhyrian
approaching.”
Shadowdancer put on a
burst of speed just as the other crested a rise.
“It’s Winter’s Frost.”
Relief
sounded in his mental tone.
“And she’s carrying Ashayna.”

At Shadowdancer’s thoughts, Sorsha looked in the
direction he turned. In the distance she could just make out a pale Santhyrian
and rider galloping toward them. So focused on her own anger, Sorsha had missed
the newcomers’ approach.

Sorsha strained her eyes. Yes, that was Winter’s Frost
carrying a rider. She had to trust it was Ash riding the mare; the distance was
too great for her to make out the details for herself. The mare maintained a
hazardous pace, galloping over or through whatever lay in her path.

An ominous rumbling sounded all around them. Trying to
pinpoint the source of the sound, Sorsha looked away from the distant mare and
scrutinized the immediate area. The ground trembled, a violent shiver that
Sorsha could feel traveling up through Shadowdancer’s frame.

Sorsha glanced back in Winter’s Frost’s direction in
time to see both Santhyrian and rider disappear in a cloud of dust as something
made its way up from the ground.

“By the Light! What’s happening?” Sorsha’s question
went unanswered. Shadowdancer skidded to a halt. Ears flat, head snaking back
and forth, he scanned the ground in front of them, and then shied, half rearing
when the ground quaked again.

The earth heaved directly under Shadowdancer’s hooves.
She yelped once in surprise as the stallion lurched sideways, his solid presence
abruptly jerked out from underneath her.

She slammed into the ground. Her head cracked against
something marginally softer than bedrock, though not by much. Vision swirling
with white spots, she gasped for breath that wouldn’t come. The ground heaved and
shook again, rolling and bucking. Something heavy rolled atop her, pinning her
right leg. Dirt and rocks pelted her as whatever had caused Shadowdancer to go
down erupted up into the air.

The sharp coppery flavor of blood filled her mouth.
Propping herself up on one elbow, she wheezed, coughed, choked, and spat. With
breath finally restored, albeit painfully and somewhat reluctantly, she
realized she’d bitten her lip in the fall. She probed her lip with a dust
smudged finger. Thankfully it was just a deep cut, not bitten straight through.
Still unable to see anything through the billowing dust and her own snowy
vision, she tried to assess damages by touch. Movement caused the bones in her
right knee to grate in protest. Blinking rapidly helped to clear her vision,
but it did nothing for the throbbing in her skull.

Her questing fingers explored down her leg until they
collided with silky hide. Panic swept over her in a hot wave when she realized
what caused the bruising pressure on her leg. “Shadowdancer!”

He didn’t answer her.

She brushed the fear aside and focused on the problem.
With her one leg trapped firmly under his hip, she couldn’t get to his head,
but blessedly she could feel the rise and fall of his barrel. If he was still
breathing, he still lived, and there was hope.

She strained to pull herself free, calling his name
repeatedly, both aloud and in mind speech. A shiver coursed along the length of
his body.

“Shadowdancer, can you hear me?”

She received an angry snort in reply. She could just
make out the dark shape of his head when he raised it with another snort and a
shake. Sorsha gasped in pain. Her knee twisted tortuously when his weight
shifted, but then he was struggling to his feet, and the painful weight was off
her leg.

Spitting more blood and dirt from her mouth, she
tested each limb. Her knee screamed red agony. The muscles in that leg were
weak, and painfully strained, but it bent when she asked it to—thank the light.
Nothing was broken or crushed, though by the feel she would bear some
spectacular bruises in the following days. She stood shakily on one leg.

“Are you hurt?” she asked as she hobbled closer and
started running her hands up and down his legs, checking for broken bones,
lesions, or swelling.

Shadowdancer reached down and nosed her in the chest,
nearly hard enough to knock her off her feet.

“Easy,” Sorsha whispered and patted his side while she
tried to figure out which way led to safety. “We’re still alive.”