The Ippos King (Wraith Kings #3) - Grace Draven Page 0,126
he said. She did, staring at what appeared to any who might glance inside or even explore the cave, a wall of ghastly looking vines the color of boiled intestines covered in formidable thorns and twining so thick around each other, they presented an impenetrable barrier to the viewer. “I wouldn't go near that if I'd stepped in here for some shade or shelter from the rain,” he said.
Curious, she reached out to touch one of the vines, expecting her hand to pass through. Instead, the vine's solid mass quivered under her fingers, cold and damp. Even stranger, the thorns closest to her hand extended, like those of a cat's claws. The tip of one grazed the knuckle on her forefinger, drawing blood. “A powerful illusion,” she told Erostis and held up her finger. He whistled and backed the gelding farther away from the wall.
They left the cave, entering directly into the woodland Tionfa had described. The trees grew so tall and close together, they blocked out much of the sun, leaving a stunted undergrowth of lichen and mushrooms to thrive in the encompassing shade and damp. Bars of sunlight still managed to get through, but Anhuset didn't have to raise her cloak to protect her eyes, even with the late morning light pouring down bright and blinding on the treetops.
“We need to find a clearing,” she said, “so we know where the sun sits and can find our way out of here.”
They rode for several moments before finding a place where an ancient oak had finally succumbed to rot and toppled, taking some of the surrounding smaller trees with it. Its demise and fall had created an oblique pathway of light that pierced the woodland's tenebrous world. Anhuset let Erostis stand in its brilliance and look up, his hand at his eyebrows to shield his eyes. “We head that direction,” he told her, pointing north and into an even more shadowed part of the wood.
They rode most of the day through the forest, emerging from the trees at sunset onto a road rutted deep and overgrown with grass. “Do you recognize any of this?” Anhuset asked her companion.
Erostis stood up in the stirrups to survey their surroundings, and to her relief, gave a certain nod. “Yes. If we keep to a steady trot, we'll reach a spot where the road splits into two. One leads to High Salure, the other curves west toward Saggara.”
If the road wasn't in such poor shape, she would have urged Magas into a full gallop, to eat up the distance and shorten the time it took to reach Saggara. Her patience had worn thin as they'd picked their way through the wood, every moment spent there punctuated by the memory of Serovek's face when he told her and Tionfa that he intended to turn himself over to Rodan's troops without a fight—grim, resolute and worst of all, accepting of the possibility of a death he didn't deserve for crimes he didn't commit. She admired his nobility and still wanted to punch him for it.
That mocking inner voice spoke up once more to vex her. You're afraid.
“Of course I'm afraid,” she muttered under her breath, but fear had never slowed her down, much less stopped her. It was only a weakness if one allowed it to lead instead of follow, and the only two things Anhuset followed were her reason and Brishen Khaskem. Gods be damned if she was going to race to Saggara only to wait there, pacing a trench into the floor wondering what was happening to Serovek. She set a faster pace for Magas, and Erostis matched her, taking his horse on the other side of the path where the grass had rooted and the ground beneath was more level than that rutted by countless wheels.
Erostis predicted correctly and they reached the split in the road close to nightfall. Anhuset pulled back her hood, no longer plagued by the bright light of day. Erostis nodded in the direction of Saggara. “Methinks we'll part company here, sha-Anhuset.”
She wasn't surprised by his announcement. If he were still in poor shape from his injuries, she'd insist on him returning with her, but he looked none the worse for their journey except for a bit of stiffness in the way he held one shoulder. Still, she'd offer him the option of accompanying her if he wished. “The margrave wanted you to travel with me. If Bryzant is in control of High Salure or even acting the