Chapter 5
Jayf wove between the trees on silent feet. As he skirted the caravan wagons, he paused, his gaze once again drawn to the cluster of wagons. Someone followed. Although he had not seen them, he felt their presence.
The disquiet Jayf felt on the Dragon Paths had all but disappeared over the last couple of days and he decided now might be a good time to renew his use of them. As he faded, he saw his stalker from the corner of his eye. He stood still and allowed himself to reappear, not sensing any hostility or malice, but a lively curiosity and something… something else.
Impressed with her skill, Jayf searched outward, using his dragonkin senses. He finally spotted her crouched behind a thicket still covered with neberil withered leaves. He scooted deeper into the woods, making sure she spotted him before slipping away.
Then he waited. He listened to the wind, sharp with her quickened breath as she caught sight of him. A glance up at the sky revealed the first stars only now appearing. He knew Marley’s meeting with the Thorn-wolf clan would last long into the night, and Jayf’s curiosity warred with the necessities of the evening.
Jayf chuckled. He had time, and he needed the diversion. He could always finish his mission running the Paths, he decided. It had been a long time since the dragonkin had a worthy game of cat and mouse.
Being low to the ground was fraught with disadvantages, but remaining unseen in a tangle of brush and night shadows was not one of them. With that advantage, he soon lost her again. He doubled back, watching as she searched for his trail.
To his surprise, she found it almost at once. She leaped over a neberil-felled tree without slowing. Although she sped after him, her steps were concise, careful and her run path controlled.
There was something about her. From the deep shadows among the trees, he studied her, his vision unhampered by the dark. She was not much more than a child. Her hair, a loose tumble of curls gathered at her neck, yet managed to spread about her shoulders like a bubbling spill of both sun and moonbeams. He couldn’t help but wonder why such a shiny little gem ran the woods alone at night.
A twig broke as Jayf turned to leave. The smallest of sounds, the snap of a twig in the night. The girl twisted around, her slender body focused on the sound, and she was after him again.
Enjoying the challenge, he allowed her to ghost him as he scouted the perimeters of the assorted encampments. Four Kingdoms, all met in the border town of Four Corners and with the Kalayani Festival, makeshift booths and wagons spread about it like petals of a flower. Each petal, a colorful delegation of merchants and tradespeople from the represented nation.
As the wagons of the clans from the Theracan Plains gave way to the northeastern quadrant, he stopped. This should have been where the Al’far traders and artisans from Lowrendal set out their booths and wares, but the only Al’far presence he sensed anywhere near was… He spun around, searching the tree line. She was still there.
Suddenly he realized what it was he sensed about her. She was Al’far. But she was also a conundrum, for although he sensed she was a full-blooded Al’far, he sensed she was not pure-blooded. He shook his head. She was a puzzle for another day.
He glanced back at the empty field and, with a sigh, darted through the tall neberil grass lining the merchant road and into the trees. If the possibility of harm also tracked through the night, he could not allow the girl to follow. So, with a more purposeful step and a quicker stride, he angled back toward the Thorn-Wolf caravan. When certain she followed, he disappeared onto the Dragon Paths, trusting she was bright enough to find her way home.
Within moments, he once again stood upon the border between Lowrendal and the Theracan Plains. Lowendrel, no more than stepping from one patch of grass to another. He wondered why he expected it to be different, but standing there on the Paths, not in Hebryll, nor in Aetheryl, the elemental realm of air, he sensed nothing. The Al’far were just gone.
Dondorian Thorn-wolf hunched forward, stirring the campfire. Embers floated up in a haze of smoke, obscuring Marley’s sight as he contemplated the leader of the Thorn-wolf clan and his lifemate, Caussara. He knew both Dondorian and Caussara would be out early, paying visits to the other clan leaders gathered for the Festival. And a tomorrow filled with meetings and planning would come soon enough. But for tonight, he wanted to see the woman he once mentored.
The evening fled while they talked and now, with a sigh, Marley stood and stretched. “Too many years have passed since last we sat like this. I am sorry the tidings I bring are not more encouraging.” He let his eyes wander across the clan camp. “Will Moira still be up this late? I hoped to talk to her before the evening ended.”
“You should be able to catch her at the dance circle, if you hurry.” Caussara gave Marley one last hug as she gave him directions to the dance arena and they bid him goodnight.
With Caussara’s directions, Marley had no trouble finding the area where the dream-dancers would perform. He stood at the outskirt of the clearing amongst the trees and night shadows and watched as a willowy frame woman paced the dance circle’s edge. He’d reckoned long ago that her cinnamon-colored skin and dark plait of hair spoke of an ancestry somewhere on the far side of the Serpent’s Backbone, possibly the Kitar Desert.
Rescued as a child from slavers, with her family dead and no idea where she came from, Dondorian and Caussara adopted Moira. Marley smiled. She had grown in confidence and from what Causarra said, her ability as a Dream-dancer rivaled the best of the Ten Clans.
At the finish of her circuit along the circle’s edge, the clanswoman returned to its center. Marley knew she sensed his presence and his questions. Silently, her cloak dropped to the ground and she danced. When the dance ended, she turned, facing the patch of dark where Marley stood.
“The spirit realm draws close around you, Marley Stonebender.”
He took a step forward. But before he could speak, she put a finger to her lips, shaking her head. “The very air groans beneath the signs and omens.” Moira sighed was audible. “Speak not while the portents hang so heavy in the night. For the Fates roll their stones and the balance waits for the runes to fall.”
She scooped her cloak from the ground in a graceful swoop and left the circle and the glen without another word or glance. Marley’s mind now danced with questions. He gave a thoughtful nod to her disappearing figure and with a sigh wandered back to the camp to wait for Jayf, knowing it would be a night of disquieting dreams.