Kelfor (The Orthomancers)

Chapter 17

I fix a picture of Torch in my mind. The wonderful pattern of flames across his skin, the strange distance in his eyes when he looks at you. I'm looking forward to seeing him again. I have missed him.

Nothing happens. This isn't working. A flare of worry spreads through me. I redouble my efforts, making myself concentrate on his slim figure.

There is no reaction. Perhaps the firehorns press more closely to me, but they are not picking up what I want. It is time to try something different. I change tactics, concentrating on the pillars around the area where we found the entrance to the Rift of the Timeworn. Their thin shafts, capped with wider stones, most of them flat. I have it filed in my mind, fixed like a photograph. It is easy to recall.

Straight away I sense the firehorns stretching to take me there. They know this landscape.

We blink out of the chasm and into full sunshine, which makes all of us cry out at the difference in the light. My eyes are slow to react to the change. I have to shade them with my hands.

As soon as I drop out of the link, the firehorns covering the other two vanish. This gives them a denuded look, a bit like newborn calves. I begin to giggle.

Vannis has already dropped to his knees and is scouting around carefully. "Be quiet, Remeny! You will bring any Scoriats in the area straight down on us!"

"So what?" Ammeline is turning her face up to the suns, clearly enjoying their rays. "I want to find the Scoriats ... at least, I want to find my Scoriat."

"Get down, both of you!"

I do as he suggests. He has gone into protector mode, which is probably something he needs to do after his failure to jump. If it makes him feel better ...

Ammeline is thinking the same. She meets my glance and then looks up to the sky. "Whatever!"

It doesn't take long to find traces of the rest of the team. Vannis is soon beckoning us forward. "Come on! This way!"

We scuttle after him, careful to keep our heads down below the level of the rocks.

Vannis is full of confidence again. He is keen to prove that he is still a man. He wants us to forget what happened, and he is actually working to be part of the group. That is something new. Something good, I think. Perhaps he needed to fail to realize that his hero ... himself ... might have feet of clay. He thought he was perfect. Now he knows he isn't.

"Don't dawdle, Remeny. These tracks are stale. They are a long way ahead of us."

Easy for him. I am still walking with a mantle of firehorns covering me. Furian worked out earlier that there must be around forty thousand of the small animals attached to each person. They are nearly weightless. I'm not any heavier, but they do impede my progress. I feel clumsy and more liable to stumble. Bending down is tiring; it pulls at my back and stomach muscles.

If I could send them away knowing they would come back, I would. But this is my first day as an orthomancer. I daren't risk it. So I mind my steps and follow silently. I just hope that Torch and Jethran haven't moved too far from the entrance to the Rift of the Timeworn. The idea of traveling miles like this doesn't appeal. A small sigh escapes me.

Ammeline raises one questioning eyebrow. I shake my head. Nothing I say is going to make any difference.

We travel on like this for perhaps ten minutes before Vannis signals. He has found them.

We creep up alongside him.

Everything looks perfectly fine. Jethran and Torch are resting some distance away from Rannyl. Rannyl is staring in our direction. He is the first to have heard us.