Quinn clicks her tongue, and Trust allows himself be pulled in that direction.
You watch the canyon faces grow nearer, towering to block out an already setting sun. The other riders will reach the forest paths soon. Bravos has a head start on most of them. If he rode well today, he’ll have the advantage as night falls and the second rebirthings begin.
Not too many surprises in that section of the course. And Bravos has the ability to hold his own whenever night comes. The winner will need to race hard and have an iron will. It’s more clear than ever that Bravos possesses both.
“Wait,” you call suddenly. “Go to the right. Quinn! Go right.”
The sudden shift and shouting unnerves the blind phoenix. You slow, cutting across the rising face of the canyon and slipping into the shadows of the second valley. You see now that you were right. Only one other pair of tracks leads this way. A backward glance shows a chaos of footprints heading the other direction.
“Why this way?” Quinn asks. “Why’d you change your mind?”
For the first time all day, you smile.
“The caves are this way.”
“Caves?” Quinn calls back in confusion. “And?”
“And it’s the only way to catch up.”
Quinn glances back. An understanding passes between the two of you.
This isn’t over. Not yet.
As the sun sets, you hold your pace. There’s one unintended advantage to Bravos’s betrayal. Riders can push a phoenix in sunlight, recklessly so. Something about daylight regenerates and renews the physical body of a phoenix. Hearts that should burst don’t. Bones that should break remain whole. Most riders still pace their horses, trading gallops for trots, because even ancient magics have their limitations.
But Trust hasn’t worked up to a gallop all day. So even as the sun sets, you know he’ll be able to ride well into the night. Somewhere on the course, Nelli is doing the same thing. You haven’t seen her name in the standings, and strategists have long refuted any benefit to slow-riding. The pace that resurrection riders can set is impossible for a slower horse to recoup in those brief hours of ashes and stars. Tonight, though, you’ll slow-ride as far as you can. You’re pretty sure you can at least reach the entrance to the caves.
“I like that idea,” Quinn says. “It’s a good plan.”
You blink, a little startled. “Was I saying that out loud?”
The spirit shakes her tangled hair. “No…I…I somehow heard it, though.”
“Good. That’s the plan. I hope you’re not afraid of the dark.”
Quinn grins back. “Afraid of the dark? The dark is all I’ve ever known.”
You return a grim smile. Darkness comes, a hanging black that’s pinpricked by glinting stars, a darkness made soft by the fading glow of day. What waits for you in the caves will be more complete. You measured the route carefully in the Hall of Maps. You know a solid run will have you through the caves and out the other side with plenty of time to spare.
But that’s the danger in cave riding. A phoenix can’t be reborn without sunlight. So if it dies in a cave, it’s up to the rider to carry out the ashes and let it be reborn again. There’s always a risk in going somewhere that’s cut off from the sun’s light. But at this point? Risk is all you have left. You follow the stars for hours until the canyon begins to narrow and the path grows more treacherous. Rather than risk the footing, the two of you dismount.
You set up camp as Quinn removes Trust’s saddle. When the phoenix is stripped bare, you see the spirit hesitate for the first time. It’s easy to read her thoughts.
“I’ll do it if you don’t want to.”
Quinn shakes her head. “It should be me. He followed my lead all day.”
Nodding, you dig into a pouch and hand her a helping of fellfall seeds.
“Feed him those. It will take a clockturn or two.”
She rolls the little seeds in her hand before turning back. Trust snuffs at the offered treat, ignoring them until Quinn whispers quietly, her opposite hand stroking his neck softly.
It doesn’t take long for him to die.
Once the fire’s gone out and the ashes have cooled, you set out the components. This time you carefully explain how it all works to Quinn, just in case.
“I always flatten the ashes. An even spread, and almost always in a circle. People have some ridiculous theories about placing components and how to do it. The only thing that matters is what mixes and how much.” You pinch two components between your fingers and let them trickle into the ashes. “Gasping Mercies and Lingerluck. They’re the main components we used in the last rebirth, although the poison Bravos used negated both of them when he put it in the ashes. I’m just using a few dollops this time, because they’re not the main component.”
Quinn nods. “What is?”
“When you’re going in a cave, only one component helps.” You pour out the pure-white substance, watching as it suffuses the night with a gentle glow. “We call it Sunscape.”
The best way to weather a storm is to become a mountain.
—Dividian proverb
They make camp along a raised ridge.
It’s an almost flawless position. It nestles against a second, higher ridge that looks like it can only be accessed from some other section of the course. The only safe path up to them is narrow and straight, which means they’ll get a good look at anyone who’s trying to join their party. It’s such a defensible location that I actually consider leaving them be, but I know I owe them for the night before. It’s time to eliminate some of my opponents.
Once I’ve got my own ashes settled and safe, I start the climb. In daylight it’d be hard enough, but in moonlight it’s about impossible. Twice I lose my footing and almost go flailing back into the valley below. Once I reach the point of no return, a new focus grips me. I wedge myself up one ridge, then a second, slowly working my way back over to where they’re camped.
There’s a pair of uncomfortably large gaps to leap, but I make the jumps and go quiet as I reach the section of stone that I know borders their camp. Moonlight hangs above everything. I flatten myself to the stones and start crawling. Wind snags at my hair and cloak, but at least it hides the sound of my progress as I work slowly over to the ledge. A glance over the lip shows the two of them are there, eyes on the valley below, hands ready on their switches.
“Bravos made an appearance.”
One nods. “Revel’s up there, too, the traitor.”