“One more. A female. Except for when they nest, linen thieves hunt alone.”
“So they are not like drepa?” The large feathered lizards that roamed the Burning Plains in packs. Yvenne’s mother had described them very similarly, though drepa used their raptor claws to tear out the innards of their prey, while uzzads bashed in skulls with their heavy beaks.
“I would rather face a pack of drepa than a nesting linen thief,” Maddek said grimly. “A group such as ours has little to fear from a single bird. It will chase easier prey. But a pair protecting their young will defend their territory.”
A territory that the road traveled straight through. Yvenne’s heart beat a faster pace. “What do we do?”
“Prepare to ride hard.”
So she would need both hands. Yvenne slung her bow across her back. “Are linen thieves quick?”
Maddek nodded. “Faster than a horse at a sprint. When we reach the edge of their territory, the dogs will draw them away from the road. Then we’ll race through.”
Already her palms were clammy. Yvenne dried them on her robes before grasping her reins. “Where is the edge of their territory?”
“We will know.”
By the stench, apparently. The light breeze stirring the grasses brought the stomach-churning scent of rotting flesh to Yvenne’s nose. More animals entered the linen thieves’ territory than the nesting birds could eat, and their bodies marked the boundary the linen thieves defended. The Parsatheans drew to a halt when the first carcass appeared on the road ahead, covered by a swarm of black flies. In a cloud, the flies lifted and settled again, revealing the grisly remains of a horse. Near to it was what appeared to be a miren, lying upon its armored back with its belly battered open.
But it was not only animals that the linen thieves had killed. Silently Maddek gestured to another fly-swarmed carcass that might have been man or woman. “That is why we have seen no bandits.”
“That one almost made it through,” Kelir added. “No doubt we’ll come across what is left of his friends and their horses on the road ahead. So mind the footing. Being tossed from a saddle after a mount slips in a bandit’s guts is a good tale for around a fire but will be not so merry here.”
Mind the footing? Nervousness crept up Yvenne’s spine. She had planned to simply hold on and let her horse follow the others. Yet she would need to guide her mount?
A loud hiss sent another shiver racing up her spine. The linen thief stepped into the road, neck extended and waving from side to side. It flapped wings that were too small for its huge body, as if trying to make itself seem larger—but it did not need to be larger. Already it looked terrifyingly big. Yvenne’s roan pranced uneasily, and she patted her shoulder, trying to soothe the mare though her own hands were shaking and the hairs lifted at the back of her neck.
But . . . that was not because of the linen thief. That was something else.
Something close.
“Maddek,” she said urgently.
He glanced at her just as Bone and Steel began growling. Neither wolf faced the linen thief but had turned east, facing the direction from which they’d come.
Ahead, Kelir had not taken his eyes from the giant bird. “What is it?”
Nothing on the road behind them. Yet Maddek had taught her how to watch the grasses to see the direction an animal moved and to guess at its size. Even with the breeze disturbing the stalks, she detected movement heading in their direction. Many movements heading in their direction. Some approaching very quickly.
But the warriors were not only looking for dangers in the grass. Danoh pointed into the sky. “Redfoot eagle,” she called out.
That announcement flew through the Dragon like an arrow. As one they spun to face the linen thief, horses snorting and pawing, as if preparing to sprint forward.
“The nesting female?” Kelir asked, voice tense.
“We cannot wait,” Maddek told him, reaching for the bronze shield hanging from the back of his saddle. “As soon as the male chases the wolves from the road, fly.”
“What is coming?” Fear made Yvenne’s voice high and thready, though she was not even certain what she feared. The linen thief, yes. But not nearly as much as the unknown things behind them. “What threat is the eagle?”
“It is Aezil.”
Her second brother? Yvenne tried to make sense of Maddek’s answer, then bit back a surprised cry when he reached over and snagged her waist, lifting her from the saddle. In the next moment she was settled in front of him. He threw a command at Toric to lead her horse.
A word from Fassad sent the wolves racing down the road. The linen thief ruffled its feathers and hissed its warning as they swiftly closed the distance.
“Hold tight,” Maddek said, and she felt his steely tension as they watched Bone and Steel.
As soon as the linen thief gave chase, there would be no talking. “What do you mean, it is Aezil?”
“Redfoot eagles nest only in the Fallen Mountains.” In her brother’s territory of Rugus. “Likely your brother controls the eagle and sees through its eyes—as Stranik’s priests once did. To cast their spells from afar, they needed to see what their magics would touch. So they sent birds as familiars.”
And those priests had sacrificed children to their god for that power. Using sight beyond what was seen, but gained through evil means.
Rage and horror erupted like bile in her throat, nearly choking her. “You think Aezil did the same?”
“To locate our route.” Anger hardened his voice. “Now he uses his foul magic to make revenants.”
Also as Stranik’s priests had done, reanimating dead animals and sending the ravenous creatures to attack the alliance army. With a shudder, Yvenne pictured the multiple trails that signaled movement through the grass. “How many revenants come?”
“Only a dozen.”
The answer filled her with terror. “Only?”
He added grimly, “If your brother continues to use his magics, there will soon be more.”
Because the linen thieves’ territory would be littered with carcasses—likely far more than had fallen along the road and that they could see. And those, the warriors were making certain could not get up again. Toric, Ardyl, and Banek swiftly moved among the fallen animals, sweeping low in their saddles to stab through the rotting skulls and necks, sending up swarms of buzzing flies.
“Dragon at the Ran’s sides!” Kelir said sharply, and the other warriors fell in beside and behind Maddek’s horse.
From farther behind them came a crashing through the grasses, a wet snarling that grew louder. Days upon the road had taught Yvenne that almost nothing made loud noise. Predators crept toward their prey; the prey avoided notice of predators if they could. Ahead, though the wolves feinted toward the linen thief’s legs before darting away, the huge bird seemed not to notice them at all anymore, beaded eyes focused ahead, head lifted high.