Wyn Renna swore, trailing her fingers over the markings. "I have to get back on the radio and tell my mother."
"No time for that," Rowan said. "Besides, from everything I've seen of elves, she already knows."
Wyn Renna glared, her lips a tight gash, but nodded. "We bring the map with us."
Rowan faced the others, raising his voice. "We're not staying another minute, people. I figure the Aztalans don't know what we've done here yet, but they will soon enough, and then they're gonna come looking for us."
"So how we playing this?" Casey asked.
Rowan turned to Erin, who still knelt next to the map. "What do you think?"
"Me?" Erin stared at him.
"You heard me. What should we do now?"
Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded. "This far in the rear, the Aztalan military will assume radio problems. God only knows radios are difficult enough at the best of times. They'll keep calling until they realize something's wrong. I don't know how close the next outpost is, but within a day, no later, they'll send a patrol on horseback to find out why these guys aren't answering their radio. Once they see what we’ve done, it'll probably take a few more hours to mobilize a search. They'll assume we're heading home, going north."
Rowan nodded. "And?"
"And we cut a trail north, not too obvious, just enough to show them they were right. Later, we cut back and head east for the coast. It'll take us longer but will be safer."
Rowan smiled, holding his hand out to Erin, who took it and rose. "So, let's head north, people. We've got trail to cut."
Minutes later, they rode away on their new horses, leading the spares that carried their new equipment.
Chapter 5
Her eyes closed in memories of the past, the black dragon was thinking of her sire when Tlaco knelt before her. She wasn’t sleeping—Itzpapalotl would never sleep so exposed—so she knew the woman was there the moment she stepped foot upon the stones of the underground temple's summit. Itzpapalotl opened an eye and glared at her new Mother Smoke Heart. Despite the breathtaking honor the black dragon had bestowed upon this stupid woman, she had repeatedly failed to recapture the Haanal X’ib, underscoring her uselessness. When the woman saw the dragon's eye on her, her fear scent became intoxicating. For the span of several heartbeats, the dragon considered an early meal but finally decided against it. Eating one's servant was wasteful. Besides, she'd need to find a new Mother Smoke Heart, and the replacement would almost certainly be even more useless than this one.
That's how it was with dumb animals.
"What?" she asked, moving one of her massive forelegs so that the scales scraped over the summit's stones, causing the woman to flinch.
Tlaco dropped to her knees before Itzpapalotl. "Beautiful Mistress, there has been an incident. One of our outposts has been attacked. We fear—"
"Good. Good. Where is the female changeling, then? Why is she not presented to me for ritual slaughter?"
"I ..." The fat woman hesitated, her mouth opening and closing, too frightened to form words. "We ... we do not know if it was those we hunt. We think it might have been Ferals, because they freed Feral women and children. But fear not. Even though they slipped away, we follow. We ... we will have them. I swear. The fault lies with the fool mage in command of the outpost."
The dragon sighed with frustration. As much as her predecessor had failed her, at least Rayan Zar Davi had owned her failures and demonstrated courage. This one was a coward, and her fear scent was becoming harder to resist. Despite her earlier misgivings about eating one's servants, she tensed, preparing to make an exception.
But then Aernyx stepped out of the shadows, once more pretending to be a pale young man with sorrowful eyes. "Beautiful Mistress, there is more."
Itzpapalotl paused, her gaze narrowing on him. She hadn't known he was there. Interesting—but also dangerous. He was a sneak. She didn’t like sneaks. His days were numbered.
"Well, lord of the night, skulker in the shadows? Speak."
"It was indeed the fugitives and the female changeling." He paused, a half smile on his lips as he glanced at Tlaco. "It was not Ferals. One of my children was at the fort. I saw them through his eyes, a dream vision. I saw the Haanal X’ib, but more importantly, I saw two other female mages. One of them was … interesting."
"Explain."
"I saw her through dream eyes, Beautiful Mistress, where I hunt. Some Fey have auras in the dream vision. The most powerful Fey grandmaster mages, such as Elenaril Cloudborn, wear powerful auras that speak of destiny. But rarely have I ever seen a human with even a hint of an aura. One of the two mages who walks with the Haanal X’ib, a young woman with long dark hair, was wreathed in fire. A more powerful aura I have never seen. She walks with power, ancient power."
The dragon watched Aernyx, her thoughts flying on wings. A powerful aura of fire? The helicopter didn't burn. My brother breathed dragon fire on it, and it didn't burn. There is a mystery here, and mysteries can bring doom.
"It is time," the dragon said. "Bring me Rayan Zar Davi."
It was late afternoon by the time Angie and the others rode their horses out of the forested foothills that led to the east coast of the peninsula and their goal, the Cueva de Leon. To the north and south, rugged hills rose, boxing in the terrain around them. To the east lay more than a kilometer of open ground, a long, low plain that extended toward the high ridge of coastal headland that overlooked the glittering Gulf of California. The old airfield, their meeting point with Queen Elenaril, was built atop the headland.
Erin led the party, just as she had all day, with Rowan deferring to her. Angie glanced at Rowan now, who watched Erin. He's testing her, she thought, or training her. She couldn't decide which.
As they had planned back at the Aztalan church, Erin had left a false trail north before turning and cutting back along a mountain stream that led east. They had followed the stream for several kilometers before Erin took the party southeast toward the coast. Angie was no tracker, but with luck, she figured any pursuers would keep going north until they realized that they had been tricked. By then, it might take a day or more to find their trail again, if they ever did.
Angie rode an undernourished and poorly groomed piebald mare. Despite the Aztalans’ neglect of the animal, the mare responded well to a light touch and gentle word. Angie had no idea what her previous name had been or if she even had one but had decided to name her Patches in honor of her brown-and-white coloring. Patches seemed happy enough to be free of the church and carried Angie with an easy gait. It was nice to finally get off her feet. Taking the outpost had been the right decision after all. Horses, food, weapons, and other supplies made a huge difference, and arranging a pickup with Queen Elenaril had been a welcome surprise—if the elven queen could pull it off. But even if there was no plane, they were still immeasurably better off with horses and supplies.
She sighed, shifting in her seat to ease the soreness from an entire day in the saddle. Still better than walking.
As they crossed the plain, they saw the ruins of an old coastal town to their north, now long abandoned, the buildings falling apart. Erin found an old dirt road that led up the headland, and as they crested its summit, they saw the old airfield's single runway extending away toward the bay—a runway now gutted with fissures several feet wide.