Daybreak (37 page)

Kael glanced over his shoulder and saw Rua watching them intently. His great eyes never so much as twitched from Kyleigh’s back. “Do you know him?”

“No, but we spoke a bit last night.”

His memories of the last few hours were far from clear, but Kael still thought he would’ve remembered meeting Rua. “Where was I?”

“Asleep. Look …”

Kyleigh dragged him behind a tree, out of the line of Rua’s gaze. She wound her fingers through his curls and brought him close. Her touch soothed him. Whatever he’d been about to say died upon his lips …

Wait a moment — what
had
he been about to say? He couldn’t remember.

Kyleigh’s voice made him forget.

“Rua needs my help with something. But it’s a task only I can do, all right? I promise I’ll work quickly.” She kissed him on the chin. “It’ll do you no good to worry over it.”

All Kael could think to do was nod. His head was so light that he wasn’t sure if he could’ve found anything to worry about. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He wanted to see Kyleigh smile back. There was something in her eyes that didn’t seem quite right, and he thought a smile might make them brighter.

But her smile never quite seemed to reach them.

*******

Kyleigh carried him a little ways from the shore and into one of the valleys.

Strange creatures grazed in a herd along the shadows of the hills. Their fur was every bit as thick and stringy as the grass. They looked like mountain goats: the herd’s leader had massive horns that curled down his back and wide, gasping nostrils. But the creatures’ legs were stocky, and their gaits seemed to carry them more in a series of tiny hops than a walk.

Kael followed Kyleigh into the shelter of a nearby clump of trees. They snuck to the edge of the shadows and watched the creatures graze.

“I wonder how they’ll taste?” Kyleigh murmured from beside him. Though most of her attention was focused on the goat creatures, she kept an arm draped absently across his shoulder. Her hold tightened when he grinned. “What are you smiling about?”

“I’ve never seen you on a hunt before. I suppose I’m a little excited.”

She brightened considerably at this, and her eyes looked a bit more familiar. “Which one should I go after?”

There was an old bull near the back of the herd. His horns were short and cracked, and his shoulders stuck out in two sharp hills — crowning either side of his spine. While the rest of the herd moved briskly from tuft to tuft, the old bull spent so long chewing one mouthful that Kael had to wonder if he’d forgotten how to swallow.

“I think we ought to put that one out of his misery.”

Kyleigh pursed her lips. “Blazes, look at him shuffle around. I can practically hear the creaking. But the old ones
are
softer on the teeth … all right, then,” she said after a moment. “I suppose it’ll be ancient goat for breakfast.”

She ruffled his curls before darting off into the woods.

Kael couldn’t sit still. He paced back and forth beneath the trees, keeping his eyes on the old bull — waiting for the moment when Kyleigh would come plummeting from the clouds.

And he wasn’t disappointed.

Her shadow started small but swelled across the herd like an inkblot until it’d grown into a monster. The creatures’ ears shot up and their stocky legs bunched beneath them. Their leader nagged his herd to move with a throaty bellow, but it was too late.

Kyleigh’s shadow swelled over the old bull and before he even had a chance to raise his head, she’d struck.

Kael heard the snap of his neck and watched as the old bull went still. The rest of the herd panicked and bounded away. Their stubby legs launched them surprisingly high — well over the roof of a Tinnarkian home. He could feel the
thud
of their bounds as the goat creatures followed their leader in a panicked mass over the hills, into the leafy crags of a nearby mountain. 

Kael watched until they were little more than dots in the distance, amazed at how high they’d leapt. It wasn’t until Kyleigh roared at him that he looked away and began climbing down the hill.

Everything about the Motherlands land seemed a bit … off. He supposed it must’ve been the way the hills rolled and the mountains leaned that made it difficult to measure the distance, and the goat creatures wound up being far larger than he’d thought.

Though the bull Kyleigh had trounced was certainly ancient, he was also a monster — thicker than Kael was tall and easily large enough to sate a dragon’s hunger.

Kyleigh stripped off a chunk of the bull’s hide, and Kael could hardly believe how solid it was. He went to inspect it the moment she tossed it away and saw that it was nearly as thick as the width of his hand. He imagined the hide would make some rather sturdy leather.

And his fingers itched to try it.

“Which bit do you want?” Kyleigh called.

Kael had been so busy making plans for the hide that he’d forgotten about breakfast. “I’m not particular. Whatever you … oh, for mercy’s sake,” he grumbled, when he saw just how much blood was matted into her hair. “You’d better find yourself a river to jump in.”

“Surely it isn’t that bad.”

“You know very well how bad it is,” he said when she grinned. “And I’m not sleeping next to you if you smell like death.”

She breathed in deeply. “There’s water nearby … though I’ll probably need help with the washing,” she added with a wink.

Her look wasn’t lost on him. And after the way she’d just fallen from the sky, he would’ve liked nothing better than to
help her wash
. But there was a problem. “I can’t — not with him staring at us.”

Kael thrust a thumb behind him, where he could feel Rua’s eyes on the back of his head. The dragon had followed them out and now lay sprawled across the top of a hill, watching. He didn’t know exactly how far a dragon’s eyes could reach, but he knew from what Kyleigh had been able to see that they were well within his range.

“Privacy is a human thing. He won’t be bothered by it.”

Kyleigh sauntered up to him and pressed her lips against his. Kael hardly noticed. He couldn’t even think to be mad about Kyleigh’s very bloody kiss with Rua’s eyes boring into his face — let only focus long enough to kiss her back.
 

He finally had no choice but to push her away. “I can’t. I can’t go on with him gaping at me.”

He expected her to laugh at him, or do something to make him deeply regret it. Instead, her face twisted sharply. Her brows fell low and her eyes blazed as she hissed: “Then you’re the only creature on this blasted island who cares a whit. Now which part do you want?”

“Any of it is fine,” Kael said carefully, stepping back.

She marched to the carcass and wrenched a full, stocky leg away with her bare hands.

While most of the Kingdom was just beginning to shed its frost, the Endless Plains was already warm with spring. New blades had begun to sprout beneath the deadened waves of grass. The soil had been churned back and seeded. For the next few days, the giants would be hard at work on their roofs and windows — readying their stout homes for the fierce spring rain.

Declan’s roof was nearly finished. There were a few thin bits in need of patching, but they’d still be there in the evening. For now, there were far more important matters at hand.

He stood barefooted inside the horses’ pen, his trousers rolled up to the knee. A small army of redheaded children gathered on his either side. They held bits of apple in their hands and giggled when the horses tried to steal them with their grasping lips.

Only one child seemed anything but pleased.

“No!” she squealed when Declan hoisted her off the ground. “No, they bite!”

“They aren’t going to bite you, Marion. Horses don’t eat wee mountain mice — they’re far too gamey. You’re not getting down without at least
trying
to feed one,” he added when she began to squirm. “So you might as well sit still.”
 

She stopped with a huff. He put a wedge of apple in her hands, and Marion gripped it like it was the last hold in a crumbling wall. “Only a small one,” she pleaded.

“I can’t promise you it’ll be small. The horses choose who they come to.”

She craned her head back, and the glare she gave him made the freckles across her nose bunch together.

Declan had to fight hard not to smile. “Keep snarling like that, and you’re likely to draw a lion out of the grass. Would you rather feed a lion?”

Marion shook her head in terror, slinging her red curls about.

“Well then, you’d better put on a grin. Here comes one,” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper.

A young gelding had been standing nearby, watching in interest. He snuck forward a hoof at a time, his shining black eyes fixed upon the apple. His thick neck stretched out as far as it could reach; his lips grasped.

But the moment Marion felt his hot breath upon her hands, she let out with a scream that rang Declan’s ears and sent the horse bolting back.

“What in all clods was that? The poor wee thing only wants a bite of apple. He’s
not
going to nip you,” Declan insisted at her worried blubbers. “Here, let me prove it.”

He’d been trying since the day they came home to get Marion near the horses. None of the other children seemed frightened of them — and it was a good thing, too. Declan was going to need help getting the foals trained to the saddle, and it might be nice to have helpers who could actually
ride
them, for once.

But Marion had been nothing but terrified of the horses from the first moment she saw them. There wasn’t a child in clan Horseman who’d ever feared his trade. And it wasn’t going to start with Declan’s lot. He’d make friends of them, yet.

Declan took a wedge of apple from his pocket and held it between his teeth. The gelding crept up and grasped it away, ears perking as he chomped.

“See? He may not have much in the way of manners, but he isn’t going to hurt you. Give it a try.”

Marion thrust her apple out and shut her eyes tightly, wrinkling the freckles on her nose once more. She squirmed when the gelding took his first bite. But it wasn’t long before her worry faded into an open-mouthed grin. “His nose is soft!”

“Of course it’s soft. The rest of him is soft, so why wouldn’t his clodded nose be?” Declan set her down among the other children and stepped back slowly, careful not to spook either gelding or girl. “You stay close to your brothers, now. Be sure not to get under foot.”

Once she’d promised to mind, Declan set out.

He climbed over the fence and headed into the open land that stretched beyond his home. The Prince’s castle was there before him, as it’d always been. Its rounded walls and towers seemed to dance along the ripples of the afternoon sun. But as grandly as the castle stood, it wasn’t anything compared to the view behind him.

When Titus marched through the plains, his mages flattened the house Callan had built. But Declan drew it up from its roots.

Oh, he’d certainly had help: the house was barely started when he left for the mountains. But by the time he’d returned, the Prince and his men had finished it up nicely.
 

Brend had spent the better part of the week marching through the holds near the castle, helping with the fences and roofs. He was bound to come home at any day. Declan didn’t think there was another ruler across the six regions that would’ve dirtied his shirtsleeves like Brend did. He doubted if any Lord or King had ever stooped to lay a brick.

That was the grand thing about their Prince: even at a stoop, he’d stand head and shoulders above the rest.

Declan walked backwards for a few steps, grinning at the house. The walls and windows were just as he remembered them; a garland of wildflowers hung across the front door. Little wisps of smoke still trailed from the chimney — the gasps of the fire he’d set for breakfast.

It was a grand thing, to have it all built again. He’d thought he would spend the rest of his days in the quiet and the calm, tending to his lands. Never in all the moon’s passings could he have guessed that he’d have so many little creatures to share it with.

The walls nearly groaned when they were all packed in together, and there was never such a thing as quiet or calm. But he wouldn’t have had it any other way. A home could always be stretched out a bit further, after all.

Declan tore his eyes from the house and back to fields. Jake was sitting hunched upon a rock before the Prince’s castle, that book of his sprawled open across his knees. He scratched a lump of charcoal against the parchment in such a string that Declan thought he must be writing something brilliant.

But when he glanced over for a look, he didn’t see any of the shapes he recognized. Instead of sitting in neat little lines, the scribbles flew all across the page. He wasn’t certain what Jake was at, but he supposed there must’ve been a reason behind it.

Jake was one of those men who always seemed to have a reason.

“Is that the tongue of the mages I’ve been hearing about?”

Declan tried to ask it quietly, but Jake still jumped — and the line he’d been weaving shot across the page. “Ah, no. I was just … sketching.”

“Sketching what?” Declan turned his head to the side, trying to figure it out. “The wind?”

“It was supposed to be the Prince’s castle,” Jake said, frowning as he pushed his spectacles up his nose. “But it doesn’t looks as if I got there, does it?”

Declan plopped down beside the rock. “Eh, I’m sure you were getting around to it.”

“You’re just being nice.”

“I’m happy, is all. The fields are mostly planted, the horses mostly foaled — and I’ve got plenty of wee hands to help. There’s no grander thing for a giant, than to have his lands cared for. Things are good. They’re finally good.” Declan glanced over at the scribbles again. “Yeh, that doesn’t look a thing like a castle.”
 

Jake clapped his book shut. “Well, the clouds keep … shifting. I can’t get a good view.”

Declan frowned up at the sky. “What are you talking about? There’s not a wisp of white up there — not even the shifty sort.