hooves as she increased her pace. I gave Leif and Marrok
the signal to let the horses have control.
Please find Moon Man. Fast, I said to Kiki.
With a slight hop, she broke into her gust-of-wind gait. Rusalka and Garnet
followed. I felt carried by a river of air. The plains blurred under Kiki’s hooves at a
rate about twice a full-speed gallop.
Only Sandseed horses could achieve this gait, and only when they rode in the
Avibian Plains. It had to be a magical skill, but I couldn’t tell if Kiki pulled power. I
would have to ask Moon Man about it when we found him.
The plains encompassed a massive section of eastern Sitia. Located to the
southeast of the Citadel, it stretched all the way to the base of the Emerald
Mountains in the east, and down to the Daviian Plateau to the south.
On a normal horse, it took about five to seven days to cross the plains. The
Sandseeds were the only clan to live within the borders, and their Story Weavers had
shielded their lands with a powerful protective magic. Any stranger who ventured
into the plains without Sandseed permission became lost. The magic would confuse
the stranger’s mind and he would travel in circles until he either stumbled out of the
plains or ran out of water and died.
Magicians with strong powers could travel without being affected by the magic,
but the Story Weavers always knew when someone crossed into their land. As
distant cousins of the Sandseeds, the Zaltana Clan members could also travel the
plains unharmed. The other clans avoided the area altogether.
Since Marrok rode on a Sandseed horse the protection didn’t attack him and we
were able to ride all night. Kiki finally stopped for a rest at sunrise.
While Leif collected firewood, I rubbed the horses down and fed them. Marrok
helped Leif, but I could see exhaustion etched in his pale face.
The rain and sleet had slowed during the night, but gray clouds sealed the sky.
Our campsite had plenty of grass for the horses. It was on a high spot in the plains
next to a rocky out-cropping with a few scrub trees growing nearby, and was a solid
place for us to stand without sinking ankle-deep into the mud.
Our cloaks were soaked, so I tied my rope between two trees to hang the wet
garments. Leif and Marrok found a few dry branches. Making a tent of the twigs,
Leif stared at the wood and small flames sprang to life.
“Show-off,” I said.
He smiled as he filled a pot with water for tea. “You’re jealous.”
“You’re right. I am.” I growled in frustration. Leif and I were both born to the
same parents, yet we had different magical powers. Our father, Esau, had no overt
magic, just a flair for finding and using the plants and trees of the jungle for food,
medicines and his inventions. Perl, our mother, could only sense if a person had
magical abilities.
So how did Leif get the magical abilities to light fires and sense a person’s life
force while I could affect their souls? With my magic, I could force Leif to light a
fire, but couldn’t do it on my own. I wondered if anyone in Sitian history had
studied the relationship between magic and birth parents. Bain Bloodgood, Second
Magician, would probably know. He owned a copy of almost every book in Sitia.
Marrok fell asleep as soon as we finished eating our breakfast of bread and
cheese. Leif and I remained by the fire.
“Did you put something in his tea?” I asked.
“Some fiddlewood bark to help him heal.”
Wrinkles and scars lined Marrok’s face. Through the yellowed bruises along his
jaw, I spotted some white stubble. His swollen eye oozed blood and tears. Red
streaks painted his right cheek. Healer Hayes hadn’t allowed me to help with
Marrok’s recovery. He had only let me assist with minor injuries. Another who
feared my powers.
I touched Marrok’s forehead. His skin felt hot and dry. The fetid smell of rotten
flesh emanated from him. I reached for the power source and felt the
the signal to let the horses have control.
Please find Moon Man. Fast, I said to Kiki.
With a slight hop, she broke into her gust-of-wind gait. Rusalka and Garnet
followed. I felt carried by a river of air. The plains blurred under Kiki’s hooves at a
rate about twice a full-speed gallop.
Only Sandseed horses could achieve this gait, and only when they rode in the
Avibian Plains. It had to be a magical skill, but I couldn’t tell if Kiki pulled power. I
would have to ask Moon Man about it when we found him.
The plains encompassed a massive section of eastern Sitia. Located to the
southeast of the Citadel, it stretched all the way to the base of the Emerald
Mountains in the east, and down to the Daviian Plateau to the south.
On a normal horse, it took about five to seven days to cross the plains. The
Sandseeds were the only clan to live within the borders, and their Story Weavers had
shielded their lands with a powerful protective magic. Any stranger who ventured
into the plains without Sandseed permission became lost. The magic would confuse
the stranger’s mind and he would travel in circles until he either stumbled out of the
plains or ran out of water and died.
Magicians with strong powers could travel without being affected by the magic,
but the Story Weavers always knew when someone crossed into their land. As
distant cousins of the Sandseeds, the Zaltana Clan members could also travel the
plains unharmed. The other clans avoided the area altogether.
Since Marrok rode on a Sandseed horse the protection didn’t attack him and we
were able to ride all night. Kiki finally stopped for a rest at sunrise.
While Leif collected firewood, I rubbed the horses down and fed them. Marrok
helped Leif, but I could see exhaustion etched in his pale face.
The rain and sleet had slowed during the night, but gray clouds sealed the sky.
Our campsite had plenty of grass for the horses. It was on a high spot in the plains
next to a rocky out-cropping with a few scrub trees growing nearby, and was a solid
place for us to stand without sinking ankle-deep into the mud.
Our cloaks were soaked, so I tied my rope between two trees to hang the wet
garments. Leif and Marrok found a few dry branches. Making a tent of the twigs,
Leif stared at the wood and small flames sprang to life.
“Show-off,” I said.
He smiled as he filled a pot with water for tea. “You’re jealous.”
“You’re right. I am.” I growled in frustration. Leif and I were both born to the
same parents, yet we had different magical powers. Our father, Esau, had no overt
magic, just a flair for finding and using the plants and trees of the jungle for food,
medicines and his inventions. Perl, our mother, could only sense if a person had
magical abilities.
So how did Leif get the magical abilities to light fires and sense a person’s life
force while I could affect their souls? With my magic, I could force Leif to light a
fire, but couldn’t do it on my own. I wondered if anyone in Sitian history had
studied the relationship between magic and birth parents. Bain Bloodgood, Second
Magician, would probably know. He owned a copy of almost every book in Sitia.
Marrok fell asleep as soon as we finished eating our breakfast of bread and
cheese. Leif and I remained by the fire.
“Did you put something in his tea?” I asked.
“Some fiddlewood bark to help him heal.”
Wrinkles and scars lined Marrok’s face. Through the yellowed bruises along his
jaw, I spotted some white stubble. His swollen eye oozed blood and tears. Red
streaks painted his right cheek. Healer Hayes hadn’t allowed me to help with
Marrok’s recovery. He had only let me assist with minor injuries. Another who
feared my powers.
I touched Marrok’s forehead. His skin felt hot and dry. The fetid smell of rotten
flesh emanated from him. I reached for the power source and felt the
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