The flight was easier this time as Rawk carried me into the night sky. I saw the Brill below, prevented from crossing onto Woodcourt’s property as we had been prevented from leaving it. Their army could have been over a thousand in number, and for all I knew, this was just the first wave. The only thing I was certain of was that they had come seeking revenge against Kestra. That was why they attacked Woodcourt, not Endrick’s palace.
I flew over his palace now. We were easily spotted and disk bows fired up at us, but Rawk flew higher and the disks were little threat to him anyway. Then I heard orders shouted to call for the condor riders. That did make me nervous. Rawk was larger and had fire, but Endrick had a great number of condors.
So I urged Rawk to fly us away as quickly as possible in search of Kestra. I had no idea which direction to tell him to go, but that wasn’t necessary. He already seemed to know.
We flew over Highwyn, where the air was thinner and where I was forced to work for each breath. But we were high enough that it was less likely Kestra and Joth would see us, or that Joth could stop us if he did notice we were in pursuit.
Finally, I caught sight of them, racing as fast as their horses would allow, and side by side. My eye fixed on Kestra, at the steadiness of her course, so intent that she never even considered whether anyone was following.
And it wasn’t only me.
With earsplitting screeches, the first condors emerged from their cages behind the palace, but they didn’t fly after me. Instead, they targeted Kestra, seven birds in a V formation aimed directly toward her. On the horse next to her, Joth shook his head. Whatever powers he had that prevented us from leaving the stables didn’t seem to apply here. Which became my first real clue about the nature of his abilities.
I’d deal with that later. For now, at my first thought, Rawk directed us toward the condors, his long silver tail pointed straight out and his eyes as focused as a hawk’s. The wings of the condors fluttered nervously as we approached, but their riders fought to keep them directed at Kestra.
When the first of them was within range, its rider withdrew a disk bow and set a disk into the pocket. He took aim at Kestra, and I took aim at him. At my unspoken order, Rawk sped forward, easily skirting past the condors, and as he did, he painted the sky with fire.
Through the smoke and flame, I saw the tips of the condors’ wings dip unevenly, heard the cries of their riders as they fell, and watched the freed condors rising higher into the air to escape the danger. I let them go. Kestra was my only focus.
There was still a risk that Endrick would send his oropods out after her, but she had a solid lead on them. Unless she was going a great distance, she had a good chance of reaching the Olden Blade.
Basil wouldn’t have hidden it far away. He wouldn’t have had the time to do so, and he’d have wanted to keep the blade somewhere Kestra would have easy access to it. And a place that the Dominion could not touch.
Or would not touch. From my position in the air, I had a good idea of where she was going. And if I was right, then Basil had made an excellent decision in his choice of a hiding place.
Kestra glared up at me as I flew overhead. She urged her horse to go faster, but she and Joth were already riding at top speed. Nothing she could do from below would prevent me from following her, and for that, I knew there would be consequences.
Because once I landed, she would demonstrate exactly what she had meant by stopping anyone who got in her way.
I was about to get in her way.
Simon had fought off the condors, which was a great relief. And I might’ve been grateful had I not realized he’d done it only to clear the obstacle for his own purposes—to catch up to us.
As soon as he flew overhead, Joth called over to me, “Is there any chance he knows where the Blade is buried?”
I shook my head, but deep inside, I wondered if Simon did know. Why else would he have gone on ahead?
I watched his dragon until the trees above us became too thick to see where they had gone. With such a great beast, Simon must be certain that he had every advantage over me, enough that sooner or later I’d be forced to yield to him, but he was wrong. If Simon did intend to stop me, he would regret it.
Once we cleared the trees, we entered the Dominion cemetery, thick with gravestones, some of which were as old as Antora itself, and far too many that were the result of our long history of wars.
“Simon believes magic will bring about more war,” I said. “Do you agree?”
Joth looked over at me. “I believe that what we are doing will result in only one more death, and that is a good thing.”
Lord Endrick’s death.
Of course that would be good, but everything depended on who replaced him. It must be someone who could make Antora into the land it should have been from the beginning. A queen, perhaps, who would earn the throne by virtue of her name, her bloodline, and the success of her quest.
Me.
We rode through the cemetery toward my mother’s grave, but in rounding the final bend of the path, I halted my horse, as did Joth beside me.
Simon stood directly in front of us with his dragon perched on my mother’s grave.
My fists clenched in anger. “My mother is buried where your foul creature stands. Out of respect—”
“You are not here to show your adoptive mother any respect. The blade is buried here, isn’t it?”