Page 86 of The Dragonrider and the Void
Yarla shook her head. “They’re not passing through; they’re patrolling. Look at their pattern.”
“She’s right. The Knights are moving in a methodical grid. I’ve seen it hundreds of times,” Venrick said. “They’re using a grid formation to examine the forest floor for tracks and signs of passage.”
“What do we do?” Hardin asked. “Fight?”
“Not if we can avoid it,” Venrick decided. “We’re outnumbered, and an engagement would alert more patrols. We need a distraction.”
Yarla’s eyes narrowed in thought. “The stream we crossed earlier feeds into a marshy area half a mile east. If we could divert more water into it?—”
“We could make it impassable,” Hardin finished, understanding lighting his features. “Give them mud too deep to cross, force them to go around.”
“Can you do it?” Venrick asked.
“I made a vortex of water before, but I was using Yogo Sapphires, dozens of them.” Hardin hesitated, then nodded. “Quin thinks we can.”
They moved silently through the forest, working their way back to the stream while avoiding the patrol’s search pattern. When they reached the flowing water, Hardin knelt beside it, calling Quinthara down from her perch in the canopy.
The dragon landed silently, her midnight scales absorbing the dappled light rather than reflecting it. Hardin placed one hand on her neck. The other hovered over the stream’s surface.
“I need to draw more power than I’ve tried before,” he whispered to Venrick. “Can you guide me again?”
Venrick knelt beside him. “Remember what we practiced. Don’t force it. Feel the water’s natural flow and enhance it. Amplify what’s already there.”
Hardin closed his eyes, his breathing deepening as he established the connection through his dragon bond. Quinthara’s eyes half-closed as well, their energies aligning. After a moment, the water began to respond. It didn’t rise as before, but accelerated, flowing faster and with greater volume.
Downstream, they heard the splash of water overflowing banks, the gurgle of the marsh expanding as more liquid poured into it. Hardin flinched, sweat beading on his forehead as he channeled more power through their bond.
“Enough,” Venrick said after several minutes. “That should create the barrier we need.”
Hardin relaxed his shoulders, breathing hard as the stream returned to its normal flow. He sat back, momentarily drained. “Did it work?”
They didn’t have to wait long for their answer. Distant shouts of frustration carried through the forest as the Knights encountered the newly formed bog blocking their path. “Was this marsh always here?” a voice called.
“Turn around. We can’t afford to lose any more horses.”
“Turn back,” the order was relayed and the sound of their movement shifted away from the rebels’ position.
“Well done,” Yarla said, genuine approval in her voice. “You’re learning quickly.”
Hardin managed a tired smile. “Having good teachers helps.”
They continued their journey, now more cautious than before. The encounter with the patrol confirmed that their return to Astral City would not be uncontested. The King was mobilizing forces throughout the region, anticipating their movements. Before day’s end, Ezra sent word reporting they’d confirmed Lamarian forces are marching back to the west. Heading to Astral City.
As night fell, they made camp in a hollow beneath the twisted roots of an enormous oak. No fire was lit, no comfort allowed that might betray their position. They ate cold rations and spoke in whispers, posting double watches through the night.
Venrick took the first watch with one of the rebel scouts, positioning himself on a small rise that offered a view of the surrounding forest. The moons were bright, casting silver light through gaps in the canopy. In the distance, a firestorm glowed on the horizon, too far away to threaten them but a reminder of the power that flowed through this timeless woodland.
Halfway through his watch, Venrick sensed rather than heard movement behind him. He turned to find Ingamar approaching, his golden scales muted in the moonlight. The dragon settled beside him, gaze fixed on the distant firestorm.
Again, that flicker at the edge of Venrick’s consciousness. It wasn’t quite a form of communication exactly, but a sensation stirring.
“I can feel it, too,” Venrick whispered. “But I don’t understand.”
Ingamar’s tail curled around where Venrick sat, not touching him but creating a protective semicircle. The gesture was a significant change from how Ingamar used to treat him. Venrick wanted to comment on it, but didn’t want to scare Ingamar off. They remained that way until Venrick’s watch ended, sharing a silence more meaningful than words.
The second day of their journey brought them closer to the forest edge and Astral City beyond. The trees thinned gradually, allowing more sunlight to reach the forest floor. Signs of human activity increased: old logging activity, hunting blinds, the occasional abandoned firewheat harvester homestead.
“We’re nearing the western approach,” Venrick said as they paused to refill their water skins at a clear spring. “By nightfall, we should be able to see the city walls.”
