The Crowned (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga, Book 6) by Jeremy Laszlo

Silently she wondered which had been the worse.
    * * * * *
    Borrik soared westward as fast as his wings and the air
currents would take him. He watched the world pass below, scanning for anything
moving west. The morning had brought with it a storm that blanketed everything
below in white, covering any hopes of finding tracks. Beyond the newly formed
lake and Seth’s magically created chasm he flew and further still, onward past
the towers and wall called Westgate.
    He knew he already had Seth’s favor, but in the prince’s
absence he also knew it had fallen to him to look out for Sara. Though a deadly
foe, the woman was less experienced in battle and a shining target to any enemy
looking to hurt the dark prince. Borrik had failed to protect her, but now was
offered redemption. He had flown nearly twelve hours straight when he finally
spotted an anomaly below
    Diving low to the ground for a better look, he spotted a
pair of wagon tracks accompanied by horse tracks that seemingly just appeared
out of the snow. Apparently this was its location when the snow had stopped
falling, everything behind that point was covered, yet stretching as far ahead
as Borrik could perceive, the tracks continued. He sniffed the air but could
find no trace of the Princess’s scent.
    There was no way to know if she was on the wagon, but with
no better leads Borrik opted to follow the tracks and see where they led. The
snow had stopped but six hours ago, giving the driver an apparent six hour
lead. Borrik was faster upon the air than a wagon pulled by horses could even
hope to be.
    Flapping like his life depended on it, Borrik climbed to
gain altitude and a suitable stream of air to navigate. Hundreds of feet up, he
found such a stream and sailed through the sky, his eyes never leaving the
tracks.
    It was only an hour later when he reached the edge of the
forest, and circling over it twice concluded that he could no longer follow the
trail from above. Settling to the ground on the very trail where the tracks
entered the trees, Borrik recalled his blessed wings and arms, letting them be
reclaimed by his flesh once more. Then, without hesitation he sprang into the
forest upon all four of his massive limbs. It was an unnatural gait, neither
animal nor human, but it served to lend him more speed and spared his legs all
the work.
    Darkness was coming fast, and within the treed canopy even
his feral vision was limited. Sniffing as he went, he picked up the scent of
blood. It was not Sara’s, but nonetheless, if there was a struggle she could be
in danger if she had been on the wagon he sought.
    On foot, Borrik could maintain pace with a Valdadorian war
horse. His stamina at times felt unending. For an hour he raced through the
woods, following the winding trail that oddly narrowed after each curve. The
scent of blood grew stronger with every step, and in the darkness he reached
the origin of the smell. Here a mix of odors polluted the air, and among them
was what he sought. Not the original blood he had followed, but Sara, and her
blood, had also been here.
    Sniffing around, both up and down the trail, Borrik realized
that all the scents stopped at this point upon the trail. The cart had not
traveled any further, which meant that somehow it had left the trail. In the
darkness he began navigating the forest in an ever widening circle from the spot
where the cart and all of its scents vanished.
    The light had faded altogether, and now he relied only upon
his nose. Breathing deeply he searched the air for a clue, always moving,
always sniffing. An hour passed, and then another, as Borrik began to lose hope
of finding a trail. He wondered if perhaps somehow the horses, cart, and Sara
had vanished magically. Such things were known to happen with people that were
familiar with Seth. Knowing the magically vanishing scenario unlikely, he
widened his search again and got his first break. Upon a slight breeze he
caught the scent of the horses and began sprinting