Page 69 of The Shadowed Oracle
A mass of golden wavy hair bounced at the back of his neck as he rode with perfect posture, slowing and finally stopping just ten feet from the line of unseen world-walkers holding their breaths.
“Alkaleese!” he shouted in a strange accent, pulling the reins quickly to look in every direction. “Here girl! Alkaleese!”
There was panic on the man’s face. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Alkaleese!” he shouted again, this time louder, a slight crack of distress in his throat.
He was searching for someone, but that someone was not Ingrid. She unclenched her jaw at the thought, still not moving. All she had to do was be silent. If she could manage a few more minutes, the soldier would move on and continue his search. Then she’d go back to the long march of nothingness.
“Did you find her!?” a voice called out in the distance. Its origins weren’t visible, but it did sound close. Male, deep, accented the same, and accompanied by more hooves. He was riding another giant equestrian.
“No!” The blonde soldier answered in a somber squawk. “Poor girl must be hiding. Spooked.”
“I’m sure she’s close. We’ll set up camp here soon. Just make sure you’re back before sunrise.”
“Yes sir!” The galloping started up again like a drum. The blonde rider brought his hand down hard on the massive backside of his horse, and the great beast lurched into a run.
It was barreling right toward Ingrid.
Stunned and nearly paralyzed with indecision, she could only watch it all happen. Within seconds, the horse and its rider were on her. If not for Dean’s sweeping pull, she’d have been trampled to death.
Together they fell hard to the ground, smacking soundlessly against the soft dirt underneath a small fruit tree of some kind. Ingrid bit down, holding in a groan of pain. She looked for Dean but found only more greenery in every direction. She had no idea if he was okay. Had no idea what direction Raidinn and Tyla had staggered off to.
She watched the first rider get smaller in the distance, then turned her attention back to the small area in which her friends might be. There were no footprints, no signs of wear on the grass. But Ingrid did see another bush full of those flowers Raidinn had used for her first lesson of the day. The vibrant buds seemed to sway in the slight gusts of wind. The bright pink wasn’t glowing like other flora she’d seen that night, yet it was very distracting—its stems and arms extending upward to attack.
Oh… no.
Gathering the situation, Ingrid took a few steps forward in desperation. She had no idea what to do, but she knew whatcould nothappen. The flowers and branches would soon strike, swatting away whichever twin had landed in the unfortunate spot. Because of whatever ailed them, they weren’t moving out of the way to avoid the bush’s defense mechanism.
Thwack.
Thwack thwack thwack.
In a frenzy of snapping branches and rustling leaves, the vibrant posy launched into a melee. It was merely trying to survive, just like she and her friends were. She couldn’t be angry at that, though something close to rage boiled in her as the galloping reappeared.
More horses.
More soldiers.
With wobbling legs, Ingrid slowly lowered herself to the ground. She thought it might make it easier to find Dean if she were crawling on all fours.
She made her way back under the fruit tree where she’d first landed and gently probed with her arm. In the darkness, it was difficult to see in front of her. She could only make out the signs of where her body had landed and the handprint she’d made when lifting herself to her feet.
But then she saw something else.
She saw something she wasn’t supposed to be able to see.
Faint outlines of her fingers, then her hands, her wrists—they were rapidly becoming visible.
Had it been that long since the last dose of the Spectis Weed? Dean had said it would last for four to six hours. It couldn’t have been that long, she thought. No.
She quickly scattered and ducked behind the trunk as the galloping horses neared. There were at least two of them. Maybe three. The thunderous pounding of the hooves was deafening for a moment before turning to soft pattering as the riders halted just feet away from the raucous plant.
“Only a tempest bush,” one of the riders scoffed. It was the rider who’d ordered the blonde soldier to keep on searching.
“And what else?” a new voice asked. This one was gruff, monotone, weathered in a way that encroached on indifference. “Can you see what it’s caught?”
“No. Must’ve fled,” the first rider said. “I see nothing. Just a?—”
“What is it?”
