Drustan laughed. “He is treating you like a human. That’s the problem.”
Kiora laughed out loud. “He’s right, Emane. Maybe you should ask Alcander to treat you like a Tavean. That might be more what you’re looking for.”
The dragon barely fit through the cave’s exit. Drustan’s wings scraped against the sides with a horrible grating sound. Emane and Kiora had to pull their legs up to prevent them from getting pinned between rock and dragon. Kiora threw a bubble over the group before they left the magical barrier.
“We have to be careful,” Alcander shouted back to them, although Kiora was sure it was directed only at Emane. “They are sure to have trackers with them.”
“What’s a tracker?” Kiora asked Drustan.
“Dangerous,” Drustan said in his booming dragon voice. “Once they get a trail they will track it until they find you. Even if it takes a lifetime, they will not give up your scent.”
“And does it usually take a lifetime?” Emane asked.
“No.”
“We thought the hounds were bad,” Emane grumbled.
“The hounds are play toys compared to the trackers,” Drustan said. “The hounds have a better sense of smell, but bore easily. The trackers become obsessed.”
The flying fox and the dragon flew over the dry riverbeds and out into the country. This was the farthest Kiora had traveled into this new land, and it reminded her of her home. The pines were thick, covering the ground. She looked down, reminiscing about the happy times. Flying into the Hollow on Arturo. The trees snapping like toothpicks behind Morcant when she first met him. Unconsciously, her fingers moved to the dragon scale beneath her shirt.
The group flew on until the pines began to thin and they came to rolling hills peppered with a few lone trees. They were not as straight as the pines in the forest. Being unprotected from the wind had left them bent and twisted. Although not as twisted as the threads Kiora was receiving from the oncoming army. Alcander motioned them down, landing on top of the largest hill looking down over the oncoming force.
It wasn’t a large group by any means, maybe fifty. But they were an interesting sight. The ranks had formed a tight circle, stepping together. The ones in the front marched forward, the ones on the flanks sidestepped, and the ones in the back marched backwards. At random intervals the soldiers on the outside reached out their hands in sync, sending out fireballs of magic. A dragon, chained with magical bonds, moved in the middle. The inner circle of soldiers would poke the dragon periodically, forcing him to spray his fire straight up.
Kiora evaluated the unusual tactics. “They’re trying to pop bubbles, aren’t they? In case we sneak up on them.”
“Exactly,” Alcander said.
Kiora could see an Illusionist as well, slithering along inside the circle in its natural, hideous form. Three black creatures she had never seen lobbed along the outside of the group like apes. They were hairless with large snouts, leaning on their knuckles, sniffing the ground as they went.
“Are those the trackers?” Emane asked.
“Yes,” Alcander replied.
Emane looked sideways at Alcander and then out to their surroundings. “So, we just march in there and let them pick up our scents?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of plan is that?”
Alcander turned stiffly, his eyes cold and calculating. “Just make sure they are all dead before we leave, and we won’t have a problem.”
“Great,” Emane nodded in frustration, “absolutely great plan.”
Kiora still hadn’t pulled her eyes off the army. “Why aren’t they bubbled?” she asked.
Slowly detaching his eyes from Emane, Alcander followed Kiora’s gaze. “They have been traveling for some time. Besides, they don’t mind being found. You forget, they are the majority.”
“Are those Taveans on the outside of the ring?” Kiora asked, pointing at the fair-skinned people whose black hair whipped in the breeze.
“Yes.” Alcander sighed. Kiora glanced sideways at the sadness in his voice. “When they followed the Shadow, they changed.”
Kiora knew exactly what he was talking about. Just like the Fallen Ones, their appearance had changed to match their choices.
The small army moved closer, the trackers’ noses close to the ground.
Emane fingered the sword at his side, his eyes darting around. “You still haven’t taught us how to mask our threads. Isn’t this going to make things worse? Us being out in the open again?”
“Something will feel your threads again. But as I said, the goal is to make sure anything that feels your thread doesn’t leave,” Alcander answered matter of factly, crossing his arms.