I dropped back to Smoky, who rode near the back of the group. He gave me a quizzical look. “Tired of the Raven Master’s company?”
I let out a soft laugh. “Always. But there’s something else. Delilah and I were talking and both she and I sense that we’re being followed.”
“We are, my love.” A tendril of his ankle-length hair rose to extend itself across the distance between our horses. It wrapped around my shoulders, then the tip rose to stroke my face. “I have been aware of that for some time now. But I can’t go off hunting them because whoever it is, they’re crafty. I’ve lagged back a couple times, and once even backed off the road to wait, but the moment I do, they seem to notice. So they’re watching us with a keen eye, and me in particular. Methinks whoever it is can sense that Shade and I are dragons.”
“Lovely, that’s just what we need. Well, if they’re afraid of you, that’s a good sign. Do you think it’s some animal hunting for food? The sensation I had was one of curiosity and wariness. But I couldn’t pinpoint it in the wash of activity that’s running through the Deep.”
He cocked his head for a moment, then he withdrew the strand of hair, his hair lifting to divide itself into three sections, which then plaited themselves into a long braid. Smoky often braided his hair before a battle, so I sat up straighter in the saddle. If we were headed for an altercation, I wanted to be ready.
But rather than shout a warning, Smoky simply said, “Halt. Wait up a moment.”
Everyone stopped and rode back to us. The trail wasn’t wide enough to gather in a group, but Smoky held up his hand and said, “No worries. I smell pixie dust.”
Bran started to growl, but I knew what that meant. Or at least, I knew what I hoped it meant.
“Mistletoe! Are you out there?”
Another moment and the bushes near us parted and out flew Mistletoe, the pixie attendant to Feddrah-Dahns, Prince of the Dahnsburg Unicorns. Mistletoe was about as big as a Barbie doll, with pale, almost translucent skin. He sparkled like a glitter bomb, with little lights twinkling around him. His wings looked like those of a dragonfly.
I clapped. “Well met, old friend.” My gloom lifted and I held out my hand.
Mistletoe flew over and landed on my palm, tickling me as he settled down. He glanced over at Bran and scowled. “Lady Camille, I bid you welcome from my master, Feddrah-Dahns.”
He spoke in Melosealfôr, which meant he didn’t want the others to understand. I knew that Delilah, Roz, Venus, and Chase didn’t understand the high language, although I wasn’t sure about Smoky, Shade, or Bran. Neither dragon let on whether they could understand, but Bran just looked confused.
“Are we speaking in the high tongue for a reason?”
“Yes, because I do not trust the Raven’s son, simply because of his craftiness. Camille, I warned you last winter that someone was looking to steal the horn and hide from you. And then Feddrah-Dahns gave me a name to check out.”
“Yes, a sorceress named Iyonah. Have you found out anything?”
“I have. It took me much research and I had to make a number of trips, but she hearkens from the south—from the Southern Wastes.”
I frowned. That wasn’t good news. The sorcerers who inhabited the Southern Wastes tended to be those who followed Chimaras, the sun god who was intent on destroying the Moon Mother. “I hadn’t heard that Chimaras boasted priestesses. I thought his followers were always male.”
“They are and she’s not. I found several people who have met Iyonah, most of whom were from Rhellah. They say she came out of the desert one day, that she walked out from the empty dunes. She told one traveler that she hearkens from a city that lies beneath the sands down in the Southern Wastes—a city forgotten by time that only appears when conditions are right.” He frowned, shaking his head. “We had not heard of such a city so I did some research on it.”
I hadn’t heard of it either. “What did you find?”
“There is a tale—most think it a child’s bedtime story—of a huge city that existed down in that area before the Scorching Wars. It boasted a beautiful palace and the city was known as Kyradream.”
“Ceredream, you mean?”
“No, not Ceredream. It was named Kyradream, and it was a major stopover on the way to the End of the World, where the Uriami Ocean takes over. During the beginning of the Scorching Wars, the land was laid waste beginning in the south realms, and from what I gather, this city was caught in a magical dust storm and it vanished.”
The End of the World…it had been a long time since I had heard that term. The Uriami Ocean was said to meet up with the Mirami Ocean somewhere in the distant south. Nobody knew what was on the other side of the oceans, as far as I knew. But the End of the World was supposedly an area to where travelers, hoping to navigate the waters, would journey. Few ever returned, and those who did were usually so out of it that they couldn’t—and wouldn’t—talk about their travels.