darkened blade_ A fallen blade novel - Kelly McCullough Page 0,72

for a waterfall that suddenly dropped away below me, I might well have hit bottom hard enough to discover exactly how solidly it was frozen. I hadn’t even known I was close to crashing until that waterfall widened the distance between my feet and the surface of the ice-covered river, opening like a dark pit in one of the training mazes below Namara’s temple. My heart hammered wildly as I yawed from side to side while getting myself back under proper control.

This time when I headed down again, I knew what to look for when I approached the floor of the canyon. I stayed about ten feet above the stream from there on out—high enough to keep my feet above the level of the occasional upthrust boulder or low stone spire—while I watched for any sign of a crashed Kelos. But neither my old mentor nor any major trouble spot appeared. Time lost much of its meaning as I continued forward—a tiny bead of awareness sliding down a long dark cord surrounded by white nothingness. It was mesmerizing, and I very nearly made the same mistake Kelos must have—would have but for the advent of a bright spear of orange pink spell-light ahead and to my left that jarred me back into the moment.

It came from below and in front of me at an angle that seemed ridiculously steep given the slant of the river thus far, and it was way out of line with my glide. I backwinged more out of startled reflex at the sight than from any conscious thought. That slowed me enough to spot a huge drop coming up in front of me, making possible a risky split-second decision on what to do about it.

First, I flipped my wings horizontal to the line of my forward progress, yanking myself almost to a standstill in the air. Then I released them back into shadow, and simply dropped the eight or so feet to the frozen river below. I hit hard—betting on the thickness of the ice among other things—and slid forward, almost going over the edge of a fifty-foot waterfall. But the snow was a good ten inches deep and that slowed me enough that I was able to catch myself with an outthrust foot, bracing myself against a ridge of stone that must split up the flow of the falls when they were running. A moment later, the bright spear of magelight repeated itself. The unusual orange pink color that Blades used for such things marked it unmistakably as a signal from Kelos.

Cautiously, I leaned out over the edge of the fall, and saw . . . well, a whole lot of nothing because of the snow. A change in the light suggested that the canyon opened or ended somewhere not too far ahead, but that was about it. I released my hold on Triss’s will after sending an answering flash back in the direction of the two I had seen so far. It was answered within seconds, and this time the light came straight back at me instead of pointing off to my left.

Remind me later to yell at you for not warning me in advance before you jumped off the cliff at the top of the canyon, Triss sent grumpily. I’d do it now, but we have more important things to manage.

Oh, absolutely. I will, without fail, remind you to make my life more difficult later.

Why do I think you’re lying?

No idea. I would no more do that than I would forget to ask for a grumpy lecture at some future point uncertain.

So that’s how it is, is it? He did the mental equivalent of a haughty sniff. By the way, where are we?

I don’t honestly know. Not beyond the fact that we’re sitting at the top of a big-ass waterfall somewhere close to the end of the canyon.

And Kelos?

I waved vaguely into the snow. Down there somewhere, and apparently still in one piece.

Triss assumed dragon shape and crept out to peer over the edge of the fall. That would explain why we couldn’t see his signal. Once he went over this edge his angle for sending signals would have gone all wrong. Any idea if he’s on the trail or not?

Nope. I wish we had some way to make conversation with these signals. I created a tiny flash of the orange pink spell-light over the palm of my hand—visible only to mages and their familiars.

Blades typically worked alone. Even when we didn’t, there