Esus

Miryil had decided she would take the more direct route to Gaelel the following morning. Whoever received her missive at Lallareth would bring the girl and Miryil’s things to her there. A horse and armor had been provided, as well as a missive to the Holy Father from the Keam. Undoubtedly an apology and a plea to have the goddess’ chosen returned promptly.

She was told in the light of dawn as she prepared to leave, that the Prince of Cearazon had already left the evening before. He couldn’t be hoping to catch her with her head start. Judging his mood or intent could be difficult with his covered face, and the stories of the unfortunates who had misjudged his mood or tried to anticipate his wishes unsuccessfully all told of his volatile temper. With the way she had been pushing her horse, Miryil was sure, the girl would be met by the Light Bringers before the Prince could catch up with her.

But she couldn’t push the thought of danger out of her mind. At the fork, she pulled the bloodied cloth from her saddlebag and allowed herself to feel the trail. The girl had slowed as if she were on foot, but she was still moving in the same direction, toward the Minasmer Mountains. If she had ridden Miryil’s horse to death, the Light Bringer would have it taken out of her hide.

She sighed and cursed, turning her new horse toward the Oryr Road. She rode hard. By evening she had reached the edge of the forest. There was no sign of the Prince, or his men, which was a relief, but the girl was most definitely not on the road.

Miryil could feel her, almost directly across the river. It was clever, dangerous, but clever. If she were being pursued by anyone else the tactic would likely have kept her free. In the dark she walked clear of the trees and raised her hands above her head, murmuring the words to create a brilliant ball of white light between them. The ball of light lifted up from her fingertips and up above the treetops before it faded.

A watchful eye should have seen it. Miryil smiled and nodded as an answering light came from the mirador. She busied herself making a fire and a small camp in the open. The horse she had tied to the trees at the edge of the wood. It needed to rest and recover. Esus would scold her for riding it so hard when he arrived, no doubt.

Across the river, a giant bird took flight, leaping from the mirador. Miryil watched with envy as Esus gracefully circled and then touched down lightly, changing back into a plain short, dark haired man from a large beautiful bird in a matter of minutes. He pulled a tunic out of his bag and tugged it over his head before turning to greet her.

“Miryil. What was this about a thief? Erech is dying to hear the story.” Esus smiled crookedly, his mirrored eyes sparkling.

She sighed. “I was taken by surprise. This slip of a girl began to sing of hollowed and swallowed light, a darkness that consumes from within and without. A terrifying song. And it matched the terrified look in her eyes. When I tried to grab her she attacked.”

Esus looked into the fire and nodded. “She hasn’t shown herself on the Road, we’ve been watching and waiting.”

Miryil offered him the bloodied cloth from her saddlebag. “She’s gone another way.”

He took it and closed his eyes, then he began to laugh. “She’s not a timid songbird at all, is she.” Esus looked at Miryil with amusement, “Do you mind if I take this back with me? We’ll have her waiting when you get to Lallareth.”

She smiled and tilted her head in agreement. “I may have to take it slow tomorrow.”

Esus narrowed his eyes and then looked to her horse. “What did you do?”

“I had a bad feeling. The Prince of Cearazon left the night before me, and the little thief had stolen the weapon granted him by the gods they worship. He got it back almost immediately, she dropped it in her escape, but he’s not known for forgiveness. He’ll be hunting her.” The baffled look on Esus’ face compelled her to clarify. “He was given a staff. Not one of those massive swords or axes like his forefathers.”

Esus frowned. “I suppose the Black Prince is dangerous enough without a bladed weapon from the gods, but he can’t have been happy about it. A weapon that would appeal to a slip of a girl would have to have infuriated him.”

Miryil shrugged.

Esus looked into the night in the direction of the girl. “I’ll relay the message and then go keep an eye on her.”

“Thank you, Esus.”

He inclined his head before ordering her bluntly, “Walk that horse tomorrow. If I see you riding it I’ll have your hide.” His eyes were sharp before he turned around and jerked the tunic off stuffing it back into the bag and then carefully placing the bloodied cloth in as well, closing it and fastening it tightly.

Miryil had to turn her head as he changed, it always looked much more painful than changing back. The large bird picked up the bag in its beak and then began to hop and run getting up momentum to take flight. His immense wings began to lift him and he headed toward the cliff before he came soaring back over head, circling again before heading to the mirador. She watched and waited. It wasn’t long before the great bird took flight once more, flying over the trees and alighting on a treetop across the river. Miryil settled in for the night. The girl wouldn’t get far in the morning.