Free The Staff of the Winds (The Wizard of South Corner Book 1) by William Meighan

she were captured or hurt riding back on her own was far worse, and just one person trailing the enemy without help to identify potential ambush seemed dangerous in the extreme.  Owen didn’t like the danger that Marian had put herself in by coming after them, but could see no good solution at this point.
    It may be that Owen’s fatigue this morning also worked in her favor. Sleep had not restored him the way that it normally did, and he wasn’t up to a prolonged argument with his stubborn sister.  Normally, Owen was a morning person; a fact that drove his brother Evan to distraction, but for some reason, perhaps the stress of the previous day, he had to force himself to get started this day.
    The discussion was finally decided when Marian announced that she would not be left behind. “Those are my friends that they dragged off, and I am going to do whatever I can to get them back. If you try to send me back big brother, I won’t go. If you tie me to my horse and take me home, as soon as you let me free I’ll just get back on a horse, either this one or I’ll steal another, and get back on their trail. I am not going to sit quietly back at home like some dainty little girl while Aaron and the rest of our friends from town are marched off to who knows what fate. No, Owen, I’m coming, and that’s the end of it.”
    Owen looked to Jack for support in the face of this obstinacy, but Jack just turned and began to saddle his horse.
    As on the previous day, they managed their mounts so as to make the best pace over the long run, trotting for a period, then walking, and finally dismounting and leading before repeating the cycle.  The land became more broken and irregular as they advanced into this southern reach of the Grey Hills, so they were slowed somewhat by their need to avoid riding into a gorn ambush, but with three working together to scout and flank potential hiding places their progress was more efficient than it had been the day before.
    Owen had not told his sister or his friend about the dream of flight that he had had the night before. When Jack had come to rouse him for his watch, he was a little groggy but still awake, softly rubbing the bruise on his right thigh and thinking about his dream.  It had seemed so real, and after the initial disorientation upon waking, it had not faded from memory as most dreams do.
    Owen had taken a watch position a little higher and to the north of the spot that Jack had used. After an initial examination of their surroundings, he mapped in his mind the possible approaches and any available cover that might be used to sneak up on their camp. Then he settled in for the long slow hours of the watch, remaining motionless so that he would not catch the attention of any possible observer. The air was cold and crisp, with a bright ceiling of stars overhead. There was no sign of movement other than the occasional swish of a tail by one of the horses resting in their hollow.
    Owen had not really examined their campsite closely when they had settled in, other than to see that the overhang provided them some minimal concealment and protection from the night breezes. Now, partly to fight off his fatigue, he examined everything in view in careful detail.  He was almost hoping to find some obvious differences between what he could see now by close inspection versus what he clearly remembered seeing as part of his dream.  Although he could not remember the position of every bush and boulder, nothing seemed obviously out of place.  The old oak from which he had gazed down at Jack standing his watch was precisely where it should have been; the branch upon which he must have perched was right where it needed to be, and as near as he could tell from the ground the folds of the land around the hill that they were on was just as he had seen them from the air.  The perspective was different, but every detail that he could remember was now laid out in reality before his waking eyes.
    If he