Search for the Extinct [Last of Elves book 2]

Forty-Six: Ailill

Ailill

The journey back to Highstone was uneventful. They weren't harassed by humans, or surrounded by temple warriors as they had been the last time they'd trodden the road. All was quiet.

In part, Åska was the cause of it.

His size kept others away, fearful of him, and what he would do. The dragon clans, on the other hand, had become suddenly much more active, seeming to prefer hiding in Kuraĝon's saddle bags rather than their homes. And after the first few shocks of finding them, Ailill could see her growing to adore the little reptiles.

He himself had his hands full. The child wanted to learn. She had enough questions to fill all the scrolls he'd seen in the temple, and his answers would have taken much more room than that. They grew ever closer, the three of them, tied by more than blood.

They had found the Soul together, and cherished each other. All that was left was to appease the priestess, let her know that her daughter was safe and well, and then ... then, Ailill and Kuraĝon could disappear once again. Vanish into the dark shadows of Mutestep Wood, where they had lived and learned the past ten years. Where they could settle once again, and not worry any longer.

The younger beastkins soon learned what they could and couldn't do around the old one, and all the travellers were regularly amused by their antics, trying to get Åska to play. He never did though, preferring instead to stay close to Ailill's side, his golden eyes watchful.

He'd always been a loyal companion.

As the walls of Highstone became visible over the tops of Mutestep Wood before them, Kuraĝon spoke, voicing the worries that Ailill knew she'd been keeping to herself.

"What happens if she won't let us leave?"

For a long moment, Ailill was silent, but Aura didn't keep her thoughts to herself. Her hands flew, only just slow enough for his sister to read them.

If she chains you again, I'll let you leave. I know a way out that the warriors don't guard.

He snorted faintly with laughter. "There's your answer, little sister. Stjärna has our backs covered."

Kuraĝon scowled a little, but nodded. "If that's the only way out," she muttered. "I don't want the beastkins hurt, Ali. And Åska's with you now! The humans are going to be beyond panic."

Now he laughed, letting his stallion amble on at his own pace, the beastkin as ever, beside him. "I don't think so. They'll be too scared of him to go near him."

"Ali, that doesn't always work! If they're scared of him, they'll try to hurt him! It's what they've always done."

He sighed, closing his eyes briefly. On his shoulder, Kú let out a soft squawk, as if she was trying to comfort him.

"There's nothing we can do about it," he finally said. "The priestess should know that her girl is safe, and I cannot leave Åska behind. There's no other way."

His sister sighed, glancing at Aura quickly. "Just promise me you'll be careful, alright?" she demanded. "I can't bear losing you now, after everything you took us through!"

He grinned, reaching over to tug her long plait. "Only if you're careful," he bargained. "You're the one with the bad temper."

She grumbled under her breath, proving him right, and sent her horse on ahead.

Is she angry at me?

"No," he said quietly, looking back at his sister. "She's just grumpy that we're not going home. She's not angry."

But she seems like it.

"I know. She has a temper, Stjärna. And she goes off alone so that she won't yell at you when she's not angry at you. She will be fine when she returns."

At last, the child seemed to understand, for she nodded, and kept her small face watching where Kuraĝon had gone. He too stayed silent, watching the beastkins.

He could only hope that he was right in knowing that the priestess wouldn't allow them to be hurt.