I nodded, silent. The Northlands were like the Himalayas—the tallest mountains in Otherworld and they led to the Dragon Reaches. The Tygerian Mountains led into the Northlands to the far distant north.
“The canaberry grove is across the stream, to the left.” Bran dismounted and led his horse down to the water. “Water the horses and take a short break. We’ll reach the stand within thirty to forty minutes and the stream runs past it, but I’d rather not force our mounts to wait that long.”
I groaned as I slid off the horse. I was getting used to mounting and dismounting and could manage it myself without help by now, but that didn’t mean my legs appreciated the workout. As I led Annabelle down to the water, I noticed a bush covered with hedgeberries.
“Somebody bring me a container and I’ll gather the berries for dinner.”
Delilah brought over a quart-size plastic tub and we proceeded to fill it within minutes. “I’ll see if we have another. We won’t find a lot of berries once we head into the mountains, if that’s where the scroll tells us to go.”
“True that.” I popped a handful of the fruits in my mouth. The succulent globes burst with rich juice that tasted a lot like elderberries, and the taste lingered on my tongue. Delilah managed to find two more tubs, and she had enlisted Roz to help us. By the time the horses were watered and ready to go, we had managed to pick three quarts. She fastened them securely in the saddlebags on her horse and we mounted our horses again, following Bran over the bridge and out of the Deep.
The trail here was easier going and we made good time without the constant profusion of roots and rocks to watch out for, although the grade began to slope upward and the stream vanished into a deepening ravine to our left.
Within half an hour, the rich green leaves of the canaberry trees appeared. They were distinctive trees, and when I saw them, I realized why I hadn’t recognized the name. They were the same trees I had grown up calling boxwood. Boxwood was known for its hard wood and for the orange fruits that ripened during early spring. The trees were an odd conifer, with leaves instead of needles. Their flowers blossomed out in the winter, the fruit ripening by the spring equinox.
“Too bad it’s so late in the season.” Delilah pulled up beside me. “I love boxwood fruit.” She licked her lips.
I grinned at her. “Me too. It’s been a long time.”
“The boulder, Camille—is that it?” Roz pointed out a tall standing stone near the middle of the thicket. It was huge, as big as a troll, for sure. And there was another fork in the path, to the right, leading through the trees toward the mountains.
“The path directly beyond it turns to the right. We go that way, I assume, and listen for the martingeese.” I didn’t like the nebulousness of the directions, but we had found the way so far. I turned around and asked Venus to ride forward. The path here was wide enough for us to all gather around the gigantic stone.
Venus approached, staring up at the stone. “That’s it, I know it is.”
“What do martingeese sound like?” I had never heard of the birds before.
“They make a whoop-whoop sound—a little like a loon, in a sense,” Bran said. “It’s so distinctive that when you hear it, you’ll notice it. They’re loud, and their calls echo for miles.”
We turned onto the right path, which immediately sloped in an upward grade. This path was narrower, but we could still ride three abreast, and so Bran, Trillian, and I took the front, while Delilah, Chase, Venus took second row. Shade and Smoky and Roz brought up the rear.
Chase, who had been quiet for a long time, suddenly spoke up. “Something about this area speaks to me. I’ve never been here, never been anywhere quite like it, but something about the approaching mountains seems to be calling to me.”
Chase’s psychic abilities had opened up when he was fed the Nectar of Life to save his life, and I had learned to pay attention. His hunches and instincts had played out more often than not, and he never mentioned them unless they were strong enough that he couldn’t ignore them.
“Do you think it could be related to the elf in your blood?” Delilah asked.
“No,” he answered after a moment. “This feels like something else. I don’t know what, though, but I can’t shake the feeling.”
We must have been approaching five o’clock when a sudden swishing sound startled me, and I jerked to my right. The path was overlooking a large pond, with a narrow trail leading down to it. On the surface of the pond were hundreds of white birds, and the whoop whoop whoop that echoed from them filled the air like muffled propellers.