He achieved his smoothest shift yet, but he scarcely noticed. To shift was a release and Ode gave himself over to it wholeheartedly. “I will wait here, but do not get yourself killed, little man. “I might have dreamed wrong!” Ode cried, tears of fear welling in his eyes. “No!” said Cala, as Ode started to climb the boulders. Great dusty rocks of red and russet brown rose before them in a tall wall, while the battle raged on the other side. The trees disappeared and the ground became craggy. Ode nodded, and they set off at a jog, following the cries of war. “We will tie them here and approach on foot,” said Cala. The packhorses could hear the sounds of the battle and they were trembling. “The horses will go no farther,” he said.

Ode stopped and stumbled against a tree trunk, his legs shaking. “We cannot walk into the battle unarmed! You have no weapons-they will kill you!” They were at the edge of the forest now and the trees were beginning to thin. Ode hastily dismounted and threw the reins in Cala’s direction. Sensing his distress, his horse began to shy and buck. He saw his people brutally killed, and he heard the echoes of their cries of pain. Suddenly, Ode remembered the blood and the violence of his dream and it became very real. “They have not been fighting long,” said Cala. The packhorses pricked their ears and Arrow growled. It was afternoon by the time Ode heard the screams. After a while, they were forced to stop once more to rest before pressing on. Ode pointed his packhorse in a forward direction and hoped for the best. The tribesmen of the Taone had left a trail of hoofprints in the dusty sand of the flatlands, but their tracks were not so clear in the forest. It could all be wrong.”īefore long, they mounted again and began trotting through the forest. “You once told me that Magic is never certain,” he said. Ode realized that she looked just as nervous as he felt. “Then I suggest you stop learning Magic.” Cala wiped the sweat from her brow and swallowed.

“I’m sick of riddles,” he snapped and kicked at a pebble on the forest floor. “It depends on what you want to be in time for.” “Do you think we will catch up in time?” he asked.

Feathers by Rose Mannering