Shadowlands (23 page)

“It is the High Prince herself we seek.”

At this point, I had to stop paying attention to what they were saying and concentrate on my breathing. Slow breaths, not
too
deep, in and out, in and out. Keeping my body as still and level as I could, to prevent the squirmy feeling in my insides from spiking into full-blown nausea.

“My dear one, we must Move.” Alejandro’s voice sounded far away.

“Okay.” That was the best I could manage, and with that I almost lost it. I tried again. “Let
me
hold
you
,” I said. I couldn’t bear to be touched, but I knew that I needed his help to stand, and I had to be touching him to Move.

I was barely upright when the SNAP! came and we were standing on a hilltop under a display of stars I would have found amazing if I hadn’t been vomiting. Another CRACK! and we seemed to be standing within a circle of stones that made even my nausea-tossed brain think of Stonehenge. Then I got lucky and fainted again.

Now there was a beautiful, warm voice, like chocolate, and soothing
hands touching me, spreading comforting warmth through me, and I relaxed into the soothing heat, feeling all the Lands spread around me, seeing all the pockets of territories like a patchwork quilt version of the world tossed onto a field of darkness, all of them the same, all different, and the movement of the
dra’aj
, feel it pulling through my psyche like ribbons of color, the ebb, the flow, the shifting, the swell—HOLD STILL…

Scales under my hands, and heat as the ribbons untwisted and became calmer.

And then darkness.

A bitter taste in my mouth. And the darkness again.

“She sleeps.” Cassandra joined the Rider Graycloud at Moonrise in the dining area of her pavilion. “I must be honest and say, however, that her sleeping is thanks in great part to the pills you obtained for her.”

There were platters of fresh fruits, and others of pastries filled with meat or cheese laid out on the table, along with wine and sparkling water. This last was something Cassandra particularly liked, but which hadn’t been available in the Lands until now. It turned out that Water Naturals, giggling, were happy to induce carbonation in their springs for the High Prince. Several were already vying to produce a variety of flavors. Smiling, Cassandra saw that Graycloud had also poured himself a glass, though he seemed uninterested in the food. Outside, the day was a warm one, but here in the pavilion it was as cool and fresh as if the walls had been made of stone.

Cassandra sat down, resisting the urge to rub at her temples. She had found and Healed three more damaged places just this morning, and would have been happy to have left this girl to someone else if that had been possible, and if it had not been Graycloud with her.

“From what Nighthawk had told us, we did not expect to see you here in the Lands, Graycloud, but we welcome you, and your
fara’ip
. I am only sorry that it was an injury that brought you to us.”

The Sunward Rider inclined his head to her. “I meant no disrespect, my Prince, and I thank you for your Healing. But it has been long since I was accustomed to hearing my Rider name. Will you call me Alejandro?”

Cassandra smiled when she heard the familiar accents of Spain in
his voice. “Then I am Cassandra. I’m sorry Nighthawk is no longer here, but both he and the Prince Guardian are attending to some business of mine elsewhere.”

Alejandro inclined his head again. “And Valory? Will she now be well?”

Cassandra leaned forward, resting her elbows on the edge of the darkwood table. “I can make her comfortable,” she said. “But I cannot stop the vertigo.”

“I have never heard of such a thing.” The outer corners of the man’s brows were drawn down. “But then, it is long since I have been through a Portal, and never did I bring a human with me.”

“I admit my own experience is limited,” Cassandra said. “I’ve asked the Singers who are with us at the moment to consult among themselves, to see if they can Tell us anything from their store of knowledge. But you say she’s psychic.” Cassandra was glad no one else was here who needed that word explained. She’d found that Max was better at explaining certain human phenomena than she was. She had lived among humans, and that had given her an insight into the world of the Shadowlands, but Max had lived
as
a human, and that gave him an advantage, an understanding, she could never have. “Could that have anything to do with her reaction to the Lands?”

“She became much worse when you touched her.” Alejandro’s tone was steely, and it made Cassandra smile and raise her hands in conciliation. Alejandro relaxed again, shrugging one shoulder.

“You’re absolutely right,” she continued. “The girl did become worse when I touched her, skin to skin. Is her ability enhanced with contact?”

“It is.” The older Rider was grudging. “But she has touched me frequently, and without difficulties.”

“Well, now.” Cassandra tilted her head back, unfocused her eyes. “I wonder what would happen if Max touched her.” She sat forward again, her elbows on the table. “I’m not an ordinary Rider, I am the High Prince. If Valory is really psychic—and I believe you, Alejandro, that was just a figure of speech—then what she perceives when she touches me might serve to make her reaction to the Lands worse.”

“I am afraid I do not follow you, High Prince.”

“I’m bound to the Talismans, and through them to the Lands themselves, and the vast network of
dra’aj
that informs everything within them. If the poor girl perceived even a part of that through me, it’s a wonder her head didn’t explode.”

“I must take her back,” Alejandro said, standing up.

“You shall, when I am satisfied that the journey itself will not kill her.” Cassandra motioned him back to his seat. “In the meantime, we must discuss the impact of the news you bring me. There are two matters of urgency as I see them,” she began. “First, this phenomenon of the ‘stable’ Hounds, as you call them. Second, the existence of the humans who call themselves Outsiders.” She paused, continuing only when it was clear that Alejandro had no comment. “I have lived in the Shadowlands myself, and, like you, I had heard something of these people before, though I do not think I have ever met one, nor did I know what caused their condition.”

“The stories and rumors of something that feeds on humans, taking their life force from them…” Alejandro shrugged. “It is true, we have all heard these stories, and like many of us, I dismissed it as a human phenomenon. It now appears that the Basilisk’s Warriors have been bringing the Hunt to the Shadowlands, though infrequently, since shortly after the Exile began. From time to time, the Hunt fed on humans, and it is this which created the Outsiders. According to the one who spoke with us, their numbers have been steadily increasing, exploding in the last few months.”

“Of course.” Cassandra frowned. “The Hunt couldn’t feed on the Riders who brought them. And the rest of you have never been easy to locate.” Cassandra leaned back in her chair, lacing her fingers together. “In fact, it’s likely they didn’t even know that you existed to be fed upon.”

“And it seems that since the Basilisk was defeated, the abandoned Hunt has been feeding freely, and almost exclusively, on humans. I have seen news reports myself, and have been told of others, that describe the toll these feedings take. From what I can gather, the areas most affected are Toronto, Rome, and Beijing, with lesser incidents in Granada, Melbourne, and Seattle.”

“Places where the Exile lived most recently,” Cassandra said. “Or where one of us Wardens was living.”

Alejandro inclined his head. “The Outsider with whom I spoke accused us of bringing the Hunt to prey upon humans, and then abandoning them without aid or rescue.”

“And they are not entirely wrong.” Cassandra clenched her teeth shut, right hand forming a fist. She hadn’t expected that her responsibilities to humans would come so soon, and be so complicated. Rider tourism—for want of a better word—had not even started. “I thought I would have more time.”

“Pardon?”

Startled, Cassandra realized she had spoken aloud. “More time,” she repeated. “Contrary to our expectations, the Cycle does not turn by itself; it is taking all our efforts to restore the Lands and the People to prime condition. The last Cycle did not end in its natural time, but was hastened by the actions and errors of the Basilisk Prince. The damage—” she shook her head, exhaustion sweeping through her in a sudden wave.

“But the Hunt, the Outsiders…” Alejandro’s lips pressed together and twisted to one side. Clearly, he had not planned to be the advocate of the Outsiders.

“Make the issue of the Shadowlands more urgent, I agree. But not, you must understand, from the perspective of the Lands.” Cassandra rubbed at her brows with stiff fingers. She could feel a headache starting behind her eyes.
And who Heals me?
“Here in the Lands, I can find problem areas, even individuals, perhaps even the Hunt, through my bonding with the Talismans. But who will find the Hunt for us in the Shadowlands?”
Stormwolf could
—but she thrust the thought away. How could she ask such a thing?

“They could be anywhere. What we’re contemplating, what you’re asking, would be to engage in what might very well turn into some kind of guerrilla conflict—”

Alejandro sat forward, as if he would speak, and Cassandra raised her hand. “Even if I decided to begin such an action, I haven’t the troops for it, not while I need them here. We
have
taken some steps toward dealing with the Hunt, but you must realize, the Shadowlands are not my first priority. I can’t spare anyone for some long, drawn-out campaign, at least not right now.”

Alejandro sat back, spreading his hands. “Any help at all would be—”

A Wild Rider appeared in the doorway.

“The sleeper awakes, my Prince.”

I could taste something medicinal in the back of my throat, and felt a warm hand on my forehead. I jerked away, wondering what they’d dosed me with
this
time, when I smelt saffron, and opened my eyes to a long oval face, pale as marble, except for storm-gray eyes.

“What did you give me?” And cleared my throat.

“Gravol.” Her voice was as warm, as liquid, and as soothing as chocolate. “For the motion sickness and nausea. Alejandro went back through the Portal for it as soon as I knew what ailed you.”

I struggled to sit up, and the pale woman sitting on the edge of my bed slipped her arm around my shoulders, moving the pillows to prop me up. The room swayed and then settled down. Not with any feeling of permanence, however. “He went without me?” Strange, but I wasn’t getting anything but the minimal buzz from her, as if she wasn’t touching me at all.

“Not at all, foolish child, I am here.” I turned toward his voice and found him sitting in a cushioned chair to my right, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. I turned to my left and found myself once more looking into a pair of storm-gray eyes in a long oval face.

“I’m Cassandra Kennaby. You are welcome to my home.” She smiled, and for the first time I knew what the phrase “unearthly beauty” meant.

“You’re the High Prince,” I said. It didn’t take a psychic to figure it out; I remembered the name. “What’s happened to me? Why can’t I read you?” I would have thought I’d be happy about that, but I actually found it unsettling.

She held up her hands. They were covered by a pair of silver gloves, with full gauntlets almost to her elbows. They appeared to be made out of scales. Very fine scales.

“Gra’if?”

“You know it, then?”

“I bear a sword,” Alejandro said from behind me, and the High Prince glanced at him with a smile. I could see the edge of a
gra’if
mail shirt peeping out from the collar of her red tunic, as well as a
torque around her neck.
Gra’if
was made from a Rider’s own blood, I remembered Alejandro telling me, and it was unusual for one Rider to have much of it. That was why Alejandro always spoke of “bearing” it, rather than “wearing” it.

“It appears that
gra’if
insulates you against the exercise of your talent. This is contrary to common sense and logic, but then,
gra’if
usually is.”

I swallowed three times, quickly. “What happened to me?”

“You appear to have suffered an extreme case of vertigo and motion sickness. Disorientation, dizziness, nausea, and so on, upon passing through the Portal. I was not the nearest Rider with the Healer’s talent, but since you were coming here anyway…” She shrugged, a gesture made oddly more human by her using it.

“I remember. It was so nice and warm, but then—” I swallowed, and clutched at the side of the bed.

“Hush, now. Relax. When I touched you, at first you began to Heal, but almost immediately your symptoms worsened beyond what they had been before. Can you describe to me what passed?”

I outlined what I remembered of what I had seen and felt. The spinning and the dizziness, the lines of color and the patterns. “Could it be a migraine?” I asked. “I’ve heard they can cause nausea and light effects.” But she was already shaking her head.

“She tapped into your Binding, as you suggested,” Alejandro said. “But why should it affect her so? Without doubt, she has Rider blood—it is what accounts for her talent.”

“She is definitely Dragonborn or, rather, her ancestor was. That’s what your psychic ability really is,” Cassandra added, turning to me. “It’s a knowing of and recognition of the truth. All who are guided by the Dragon have it, though it manifests in different ways. It’s why I can Heal, for example, because I see the truth of the body, and can restore it.” A wrinkle formed between her honey-gold brows and disappeared without a trace. “I can also see the truth of the Lands, and, through me, you experienced that truth as well, but unfortunately you are not Rider enough to bear it.”

“But the drugs, they are working?” Typical of Alejandro to worry about me. And I had to admit to a mild curiosity myself.

“Certainly, but for how long? Things of human making don’t work as effectively, here in the Lands. And that is when they work at
all. Valory has been given the whole day’s dose of Gravol already, eight tablets, and she is barely able to sit up.”