Riders of the Storm by Julie E. Czerneda Read Free Book Online Page B

would be family, a Chosen, who would feel and react to distress. Only those on Passage lost that protection.
    â€œBitter, are we?” He snorted and started walking.
    It was the way things had always been. His family grieved him as dead, as was natural and proper. His friends might talk of him, tell stories. Hopefully, those fit to be heard. Naryn S’udlaat…
    A mistake, to think of her when he was alone. Enris gritted his teeth and walked faster, driving the shaft of wood deep into the pebbles, his feet slipping with each careless stride.
    Naryn…
    She thought herself powerful. She’d make Adept; of that he had no doubt, if only so others could keep her in the Cloisters and under watch. She thought herself entitled to whatever and whomever she wanted; as a result, her failed attempt to force him into Choice had left him…damaged. Whatever she’d done, the Adepts warned he might never be able to Join.
    He certainly didn’t feel inclined to try.
    No?
    Enris blew out a harsh breath, unable to lie to himself. He was unChosen and eligible for Choice. Seru Parth might not interest him, but the mere thought of Naryn brought the heady remembered lure of her Call to speed his pulse, make his hands clammy despite the cool air. No matter how thoroughly she disgusted him, there was a part of him desperate to go back, to let her do whatever she wanted, turn him into whatever she wanted, if only he could touch her hand….
    The length of wood snapped, stinging his knee. One way to get his sanity back, he thought ruefully.
    Enris picked up the broken pieces and put them in his pack. He walked at a more rational pace, finally paying attention to his surroundings. The freshening wind couldn’t decide between a pleasant mildness—doubtless chill to the Yena—and a truly bitter cold.
    He feared the storm played with them. Fine for those under a roof, with a warm fire, or for those used to such weather. On that thought, he reached to find the Yena. The glow of Haxel and her companions was still too far, farther up the valley. How long did it take to find some kind of shelter? The rest of the exiles were closer than he’d expected, and lower. Coming toward him. Maybe they’d finally grown sensible.
    He lowered his shields and reached for one mind in particular. Aryl.
    Here.
    Strain. Worry. He could sense them despite her control, and couldn’t help looking up the slope beside him. The mountain ridge was every bit as awful as he feared, an impassable conflict of vertical shapes and loose, snow-streaked rock, soaring into ugly cloud.
    Distinct amusement. That was the easy part.
    How had she seen what he saw? An image could be drawn from memory and sent mind-to-mind—this was something new. Enris surreptitiously checked his shields, though he should be used to surprises from Aryl Sarc by now. Be careful, he sent. I don’t trust this storm.
    Good advice. Here’s mine. Walk faster, or we’ll eat supper without you.
    He laughed. You forget who’s carrying the pots.
    A whisper of contrition, quickly silenced. It left a warmth, like a smile. We’re coming down. Truenight’s too close.
    Afraid of the dark? Enris shared his instant regret. The Yena had excellent reason to be. Sorry.
    With the honesty he’d come to expect, I’m afraid of everything until my people are safe. Move those big feet of yours, Tuana.
    His awareness of her faded and he didn’t try to regain it. If this part of the ridge was “easy,” he couldn’t imagine what Yena might consider difficult.
    Enris found himself walking faster, and smiling.
    It wasn’t only the reminder of supper, scant as that would be.

Chapter 3
    T HAT WAS…INTERESTING.
    Aryl tiptoed along an edge to avoid a patch of loose stone. She came last, as usual, but now stayed with the rest of the exiles. If Enris needed help, she’d reach him faster going ahead, as they were. It shouldn’t be