Light was only just beginning to tinge the sky when Daine hurried down the grassy slope that led to the stables, Kitten trotting happily beside her. She'd managed to convince a sleepy servant in the kitchens to part with several bread rolls, and she nibbled at them as she walked. The practical part of her mind, the part that normally spoke with Cloud's voice, said that she should eat something more substantial to sustain her on the long morning ride until the midday meal, but the tight knot of tension in her stomach wouldn't ease long enough for her to eat anything larger.
Just thinking about the journey to Green Lake made her feel ill. Whatever was happening there, if Abran was behind it she knew it wouldn't be pleasant. As horrid as the man who had tried to kick her in the tavern was, Abran seemed far worse. Being near him the previous day had made her tremble and, thinking back, he'd had the same effect on her in Carthak. It wasn't the scathing remarks he made about her and Alanna, she'd long since grown used to folk flinging hurtful words at her, but the way he'd looked at them. It was impossible to miss the intense hatred in his gaze, and almost as difficult to comprehend how he could loathe people he barely knew.
Entering the stables, she called out a silent greeting to Cloud and offered her the apple she'd been given in the kitchens. The drowsy pony accepted it eagerly, but not before telling Daine she should be grateful she hadn't taken a bite out of her arm for rousing her so early. Kitten strolled by the stalls, stopping to sniff the horses who weren't too afraid of her. Numair hadn't arrived by the time Daine had saddled Cloud, so she moved to Spots and equipped him with his tack.
The bell had just rung out the seventh hour when Numair strode into the stable, his gaze riveted on a piece of crisp parchment in his hand. Raising his eyes, he noticed Daine and gave a start. "I didn't expect you to be here this early," he said, folding the parchment carefully and sliding it into the pocket of his riding breeches.
She shrugged. "I didn't get much sleep, and I thought I might as well make myself useful rather than lie around in bed."
Numair frowned. "You didn't rest? Are you absolutely sure you want to…" Seeing her resolute gaze, he trailed off and sighed irritably. "Of course you still want to," he muttered, abruptly turning away from her and moving towards Spots. He was very slow to anger, but, like Daine, he wasn't a morning person and at this hour of the day his patience was thin. She frowned at his back, rigid and tense, but said nothing. Taking into account his sudden, inexplicable protectiveness of her as well as his early morning temper, she could forgive him for his shortness.
When he reached the place where Spots' saddle was normally kept and realised his mount was already wearing it, he sighed again, this time softly. "I'm sorry," he said, moving away from Spots to prepare their pack horse, Mangle, instead.
"You don't need to be sorry," Daine said gently. "I'd just like to know why you suddenly think I can't defend myself."
"I have every faith in your abilities," Numair said sharply, turning to face her so she could see there was no lie in his eyes. "I also have every faith that whatever Abran has planned will be nasty. The man has a talent for viciousness and cruelty, if you can call a natural inclination for such things a 'talent.'"
"He can't be worse than Ozorne," Daine murmured, and then instantly regretted it. Numair's usually full lips thinned as they pressed tightly together, and his face paled. The deep, rich brown eyes flared and grew darker, standing out shockingly against the sudden pallor of his skin. Without another word, he resumed preparing Mangle. It wouldn't be until they were on the road, clear of the palace and Corus, that Daine would try speaking to him again.
Once Numair was in something close to a good mood, the first day of the ride past quickly. It was already dark by the time they decided to stop for the night. As there were no inns or taverns on their route, they left the road and began to scout the forest for a good place to make camp. Eventually they stumbled onto a grassy clearing, where Daine pitched the tent and dug the latrine while Numair prepared and cooked the supper.
Sitting next to the fire, her belly full for the first time all day, Daine watched Kitten snooze. She thought longingly of the warm bedroll waiting for her in the tent, but after a glance at Numair she pushed the idea of sleep away. He'd lapsed into silence again, staring into the dying flames with a frown.
As much as she hated to risk angering him or starting an argument, she had to ask the question that had been buzzing in her mind all day and for most of the previous night. "Numair," she said quietly. "Why didn't you want me to come?"
Even though they were sitting a fair distance apart, she saw his back become rigid once again. "I told you earlier," he said stiffly. "I don't want to put you in any unnecessary danger."
"You've asked me to do dangerous things before now," she pointed out. "You wanted me to risk capture by Carthaki raiders during the siege on Pirate's Swoop. Meeting up with a Rider Group seems far less dangerous than that."
"We're not just meeting up with a Rider Group; we're trying to find out what Abran is up to."
"Why should fighting Abran be any differing from fighting Carthaki raiders, or Tristan Staghorn, or bandits?" She asked.
Numair sprang to his feet. "Because he is just like him!" He was almost shouting and Kitten was startled awake. She whistled angrily, irritated at being woken so rudely. "He is every bit as cruel and sadistic as Ozorne, and I will not let you…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Not again," he said softly. "Never again."
Turning, he strode away and disappeared inside the tent. Daine watched him go, wishing she had never said anything.
The afternoon of the second day had past its zenith when Numair declared that they were now in range of the Rider camp. He straightened in the saddle and, shading his eyes from the sun, began to scan the area. "Would you transform and scout this part of the forest?" He asked. "I will continue along the road so you can find me easily."
Nodding, Daine slid smoothly from Cloud's back to the ground. She bit back a smile as Numair watched her enviously; although most of the time his movements possessed an undeniable grace, he couldn't dismount a horse without looking like a fool. Closing her eyes, she filled her mind with images of sleek feathers and powerful wings. Seconds later her clothes crumpled to the floor and a hawk sprang out of them, flying up into the air.
The usual urge to wheel about and really exercise her wings rose up, but she pushed it aside easily. She flew over the forest and dipped just beneath the canopy of leaves, weaving in and out the topmost branches of the trees. All the while she kept her sharp eyes fixed on the ground; she was determined not to pass by her target. After only a few minutes of flight she spotted signs of a camp: tents, the smoking remains of a fire and movement.
She had already begun her descent before she realised that something was wrong. Each Rider Group normally had around seven members, but as Daine grew closer she could see that there was at least double that number in the camp. Deciding she needed a less conspicuous form to investigate further, she transformed from hawk to starling and swooped down to settle on a low branch, silently praying that no one on the ground had witnessed the shape shift.
From her new position, she could see that less than half of the number wore the Rider uniform. Most of the others were attired in filthy clothes or poor armour, and these she identified as bandits. A couple, clad in high quality armour and toting vicious looking blades, were most likely mercenaries. Four of the Riders, all of them men, had been forced to their knees, their hands and feet bound with thick rope. The ragtag group of bandits and mercenaries watched them with sharp eyes, silencing them with a punch or kick if one dared to open his mouth.
Looking for the remaining Riders, she found them lined up next to a large tree. They were all women and, like the men, their feet and hands were bound but they were standing. Their eyes kept flicking to a sturdy branch of the tree, where a noose swayed ominously in the breeze.
Daine screamed with her wild magic. Over twenty bird answered her call; sparrows, chaffinches and wrens. She cautioned them not to come close, and then proceeded to press the image of Numair into their minds, pleading with them to lead him to her. Ordering them to peck him if they needed to, she wished them luck and then sent them on their way. She was confident that Numair would know to follow the birds, and that he would realise that something was wrong as she wasn't returning to him herself; she just hoped he figured it out quickly.
Next she reached out for squirrels, voles, martens; anything small with sharp teeth. After showing them images of the bandits and mercenaries and ordering them to run if they were spotted by one, she set them to work gnawing at the ropes that bound the Riders. With the Riders being in such close proximity to their captors this was a risky strategy, but there was nothing else she could do. Her bow and quiver were still with Cloud, and although she was certain she could dispatch at least a couple of bandits in the form of a bear or a mountain lion, it wouldn't be long before they felled her with blades and arrows.
Turning her attention back to the group, her eyes fell on a man she hadn't noticed before. He was dressed in a robe of royal blue silk, and his grey hair was swept back in a horse tail. Fixed on his collar was a large, sparkling ruby. By the way the other men shuffled nervously as he approached and lowered their gazes deferentially, Daine guessed that he was their leader. He halted in front of the Rider men and addressed them in a booming voice.
"You are weak," he snarled. "You cannot believe you are anything but. You, trained fighters, have been overpowered by nothing but common thugs," he waved his arm to indicate the bandits. A couple of them looked like they'd very much like to protest against being called 'common thugs', but at a warning look from the grey haired leader they shut their mouths and lowered their eyes again.
The leader nodded in satisfaction and resumed his speech. "Do you know the reason for your weakness?"
"You snuck up on us," one of the Riders spat. "And you outnumber us by two to one. You're nothing more than a cowa-" The Rider was cut off as one the bandits kicked him sharply in his side. He gasped and fell sideways, only to be forced back on to his knees again.
"The reason for your weakness," the leader continued. "Is standing in front of you." He turned away from them and walked slowly to where the women stood guarded by two dagger wielding bandits. Standing next to one of the female Riders, he slid his fingers beneath her chin and turned her face to the men. She struggled and cursed, but a blow to her cheek stilled her. "This is why you are weak," he hissed. "You fight side by side with harlots such as these. The Gods punish those who don't stay in the places appointed to them, and this one," he let go of the woman, withdrawing his hand as if touching her disgusted him. "Has definitely left her place."
The leader moved back towards the men. Before he spoke again he surveyed each of their faces, a smirk curving his lips. "You are almost as rotten as those whores," he pointed towards the women. "Because you allow them to act as they do. But perhaps you can be redeemed. In time, we shall see. However, they can never be redeemed and we cannot allow such abominations to remain and pollute other women."
"You," he addressed one of the bandits guarding the women. "Take her to the noose."
The sudden uproar from the Rider men was swiftly silence with fists. One of the bandits grabbed the woman who the leader had slapped earlier, and began dragging her towards the tree. She struggled all she could, but with both her hands and feet tied there was little she could do to defend herself.
Forgetting that she'd done all she could, forgetting that if she revealed herself she would probably be killed instantly, Daine leapt from the tree. She refused to stand by and watch someone be murdered when she was the only person who could help. The Rider could have been Onua, Miri, or any of her friends who this man would consider to be an 'abomination'. As she fell, she took the shape that came most naturally to her. What hit the floor was not a starling, but a large grey wolf, its teeth bared in a growl.
Staying in the shadows of the trees, Daine slunk over to where the Rider and the bandit struggled. If she was going to stand a chance of helping the woman, she couldn't be seen until the last second. Luckily for her, all eyes in the camp were fixed on the drama that was unfolding before them. She reached her destination unnoticed and readied herself for the attack.
As the bandit slipped the noose over the woman's jerking head, Daine pounced and sank her fangs into his leg.
