Mikoto and the Reaver Village (Amaranthine Saga #4) - Forthright . Page 0,99

Do you remember what yours is?”

“Find you?”

“You’ll find me over and over,” Sinder said. “Anyone can find me. Briefly.”

“Catch you?”

Sinder arched a brow. “Define catch. Because catching me unawares isn’t the same as keeping me.”

Kyrie backed up and used the language he’d heard earlier. “Track and restrain.”

“Let’s find out if you can,” urged Sinder. “And don’t look so down. I want to test your skills, but it’s really just a game. Maybe you’ll have fun.”

“I will not hurt you,” Kyrie promised.

“I won’t give you the chance.” Sinder’s expression softened, and he gently ordered, “Close your eyes and count to three.”

The instant Kyrie’s eyes were closed, he knew Sinder was away. Even so, he dutifully spoke to the sudden emptiness at his side. “One … two … three.”

Kyrie’s pursuit began at a stroll. Everything had happened in such short order, he needed time to think.

His unintended snooping among the maps had given him sufficient grasp of the terrain. Sinder’s greater familiarity with these treed slopes and rocky outcroppings would definitely give him an advantage, but Kyrie wasn’t without resources. Use every tool. That’s what Sinder had said. So Kyrie pondered his kit.

Surprise was a tool.

Maybe he was wrong about the spikenard and sigils giving him an unfair advantage. Sinder’s swift dismissal made Kyrie feel a little less guilty for failing to mention that Sinder still carried Timur’s crystal. The one that anchored the healing sigilcraft. He’d swallowed it.

What else did he have to work with?

Surprise was a tool. So was patience. And he wasn’t ready to dismiss scent. Not when the winds were so willing to carry them.

Sigilcraft was one area in which Kyrie excelled, and it seemed unlikely that Sinder knew the extent of Kyrie’s skills. Especially since he rarely displayed all he could do.

“Kyrie?” murmured Torloo.

He turned to face his friend. A true tracker. The one with experience in leading the hunt. Kyrie mentally added another item to his list. Teamwork was a tool.

With a small shake of his head, Kyrie said, “I am merely organizing my thoughts.”

Reveille dropped into a crouch and set his hands into a position that communicated patient expectation. Torloo also took a passive position. “Where you go, we will follow.”

“What if you lose sight of me?”

Torloo tipped his head to one side. “That would be interesting. Do not let us distract you from the trail at your feet. Even if we lose your trail, we can pick it up again.”

“Or his,” said Reveille in a calm undertone. “If we cannot find you, we will focus on your prey.”

Kyrie accepted that with a nod.

He took a moment to confirm the hand signals he’d learned from Annika. And by mutual assent, they put away their words. Because silence was also a tool.

Taking a deep breath, Kyrie opened himself up to the winds. Wider than he ever had before. The green crystal in his armband tuned itself to his desire, amplifying it. Breezes quickly gathered. Soft warbles lured them into contact. Soft words coaxed them into collusion.

With a parting breath that lifted his hair, his invisible allies whirled away. Almost immediately they flowed back, each bringing little offerings, each hoping to please him.

They told him of barriers within barriers. They carried the scents of spikenard and sweat. They whispered of warriors and wolves, his competition in the race to find Sinder. And one very clever wind—she was a south wind, he knew—brought to his attention a faint chorus of crystals.

Tiny, yet true.

Kyrie listened closely, trilled encouragingly. And their answer was symphonic.

Slowly opening his eyes, he met Torloo’s puzzled gaze and Reveille’s unchanged attention. And smiled. “I need to run.”

“Which way?” murmured Torloo.

Kyrie thought his friend already knew the answer. He pointed confidently in the opposite direction, where Sinder’s course through the trees was setting off whispery chimes.

Torloo offered an approving nod. “How did you know?”

Would they believe him? Few ever did. But he told the truth. “Every tree in this forest has a voice.”

Sinder stood at attention on a rocky outcropping, listening to the sounds of a waking forest, watching for movement amidst the trees. The dawn patrol was still conducting careful sweeps on the opposite slope, far enough away to allow Sinder to focus on Kyrie.

Evading wolves had become a fairly routine challenge, but the prospect of dragon pursuit had him keyed up. He needed to take care, needed to focus.

Something that would have been so much easier if not for Timur and Mikoto having a murmured conversation at the foot of his vantage point. “Do