If you enjoyed this chapter, drop Power Stones and let the story march forward.
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The horns grew louder.
They echoed off the red rock walls like the baying of hounds that had caught the scent. Kael clung to the saddle with white knuckles, his body still weak from the breaking fever. Every jolt of the horse sent fresh pain through his infected ribs, but he bit down hard and stayed upright. Falling now would mean death — or worse, being taken alive.
Sylva rode beside him, throwing worried glances every few seconds. "You're swaying again."
"I'm fine," he lied.
"You're a terrible liar."
Ahead of them, Ysira pushed the horses harder, the litter carrying the dragon egg bouncing dangerously over the rocky ground. Mira brought up the rear, bow half-drawn, eyes scanning the cliffs above for ambush.
They had abandoned the main trail an hour ago and taken a narrow goat path that hugged the cliff face. One wrong step and horse, rider, and egg would tumble hundreds of feet to the rocks below.
"We can't outrun them forever," Mira called out. "They know this pass better than we do."
"Then we stop running and start thinking," Ysira snapped. Her voice carried the sharp edge of someone who was used to giving orders and hated being forced to improvise.
Kael wiped sweat from his eyes. "There's an old watchtower ruin about two miles ahead. I heard smugglers talk about it once. Collapsed upper levels, but the cellar might still be intact. We could hide the egg and split up—"
"Split up?" Sylva cut him off. "So you can run and leave us with the burden?"
Kael turned to look at her. "I'm the one they want most. If I draw them away…"
"No." Ysira's answer was immediate and cold. "You're not leaving with that egg's attention still on you. You stay."
The possessiveness in her voice surprised even her. She looked away quickly, jaw tight.
They reached the ruined watchtower just as the first enemy riders appeared in the distance behind them — at least sixty, maybe more. Mixed banners: Martell sun-and-spear alongside Baratheon black-and-gold. Prince Qoren had made a temporary alliance. That was never a good sign.
They forced the horses into the collapsed cellar. The egg was dragged inside and covered with broken stones and dust. The four of them crouched in the darkness, breathing hard, weapons ready.
Minutes stretched into an eternity.
Hooves thundered past overhead. Voices shouted orders. Someone yelled, "The tracks lead this way!"
Kael pressed his back against the cold wall, trying to steady his breathing. Sylva was pressed against his left side. Ysira on his right. Mira crouched opposite them, knife in hand.
In the cramped darkness, their bodies were too close. Kael could smell the sweat, blood, and fear on all of them. When Sylva shifted, her hand brushed his. She didn't pull away immediately. Neither did he.
Ysira noticed. Her green eyes flashed with something sharp — jealousy? Annoyance? She said nothing, but her hand rested on the hilt of her dagger a little tighter.
Mira's whisper broke the silence. "If they find us, we cannot win a fight. We should decide now who carries what."
"Meaning?" Ysira asked dangerously.
"Meaning the bastard is the weakest link right now. If it comes to it, we may need to leave him as bait."
Kael let out a low, bitter laugh. "There it is. I was waiting for someone to say it out loud."
Sylva glared at Mira. "We're not leaving him."
"You're too attached," Mira replied coldly. "That makes you dangerous."
The tension in the dark cellar became suffocating. Four people who had fought together, bled together, and still didn't trust each other for a single second.
Above them, the sounds of the search party grew closer. Boots on stone. Someone kicking through rubble.
Kael felt the dragon egg's presence again. It was close. Too close. Its faint pulse brushed against his mind — not strong, not magical fireworks, just… interest. As if it was curious to see which one of them would betray the others first.
He hated it.
A voice from above shouted, "I found fresh blood! They're here somewhere!"
Kael made a decision.
He stood up suddenly, ignoring the pain. "I'll draw them off. Take the egg and go deeper into the pass. I'll meet you at the old well three miles east if I can."
Ysira grabbed his wrist. Hard. "Don't be a martyr. It doesn't suit you."
"I'm not being a martyr," he whispered. "I'm being practical. They want me more than they want you right now."
For a long second, Ysira didn't let go. Her grip was strong, almost desperate. Then she released him.
"Go," she said quietly. "But if you die, bastard… I'll never forgive you."
Sylva looked like she wanted to argue, but the sound of approaching footsteps forced her silence.
Kael slipped out of the cellar through a collapsed side wall, sword in hand, heart hammering. He deliberately made noise — kicking stones, running clumsily — drawing the hunters away from the tower.
Behind him, in the darkness, he heard Mira whisper to the others:
"We should keep moving without him."
And Ysira's cold reply:
"Not yet."
Kael ran into the narrow pass, fever still burning in his blood, wound leaking, knowing full well he might never see them again.
The dragon egg's pulse followed him faintly in his mind.
Curious.
Almost amused.