Chapter 10
AVEN, ZIG, AND I CAMPED in a small clearing a stone’s throw away from the boiling river that we would need to cross to enter the town of Ashin. I set a watch rotation with Aven, taking the first shift. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway, not with the words of the faery ringing in my head.
I brushed my fingers over the slim silver bracelet I used to summon Dave.
Yet again, he’d come to my rescue, even if he wasn’t aware of it this time.
And yet again, it only served to highlight the fact that I could never have become Ellinore the Brave without his help.
It stung to think about—that even on a quest to save my brother, I had to rely on someone else to step in, and the inability to live up to my own hype swirled in the pit of my stomach.
The sun barely skimmed over the horizon, painting the sky with pinks and purples, the rays beginning to break through the low-lying fog of the mountains in the near distance. I took the countdown scroll from my pack and grimaced. Another mark had disappeared, more wax dripping down the taper.
“You didn’t wake me,” Aven said, sitting up from their bedroll and rubbing their eyes.
I shoved the parchment into my bag, then rested my chin on my hand as nonchalantly as I could.
Aven pinned me with a questioning stare.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I said.
“Unsettled by the faery?”
“No,” I immediately shot back, then sighed. “Maybe.”
Aven’s blue eyes softened into something akin to understanding, and I looked away, unable to take their concern this early in the morning.
“Hey,” they said, voice low, “exhausting yourself won’t help Zig. It won’t make us go quicker or find the witness faster. In fact, it will hinder us.”
I closed my eyes and breathed, somehow more rattled by Aven’s empathy than anything the faery had done. “Thanks for your advice. But I’m good.”
Standing quickly from where I’d been propped against a tree, I bit back a groan as my joints protested from being in the same position too long. I twisted, my spine cracking loudly enough for Aven to frown.
They ran a hand through their hair, the black strands a little less glossy than normal but still relatively flawless. I winced at the tangles at the ends of my own hair and quickly pulled it into a ponytail.
“I’ll wake Zig,” I said, flinching as I caught a snarl with my fingers. “Then we’ll get going.”
I crossed the meadow to where Zig had rolled into his blanket, using his saddlebag as a pillow. I prodded him with my toe. He didn’t stir.
“Zig,” I called. I applied more force to my nudge.
The lump groaned. “What?”
“Time to get up, Brother.”
“It’s scarcely dawn, Sister.”
“Don’t blame me. You wanted an adventure. As adventurers, we get up in the morning.”
Zig yanked the blanket from over his head and glared at me. His hair stood on end like a rooster comb.
“Good morning. You look like a disgruntled chicken,” I said, stifling a giggle.
His glare intensified. “Not my fault you made us relocate in the middle of the night.”
I could have bitten back that it wasn’t my fault we were on this quest to begin with, but I wasn’t cruel, at least, before dawn. “Just get up.”
Zig grumbled but managed to pull himself from his bedroll.
In a few minutes the three of us were ready.
Aven changed their tunic to another nondescript black one, but with a much longer hem, which fell to their knees.
They belted it at their waist, then tied their leather guard over their forearm with practiced ease.
With no sign of whatever was following us, and no faeries in sight, we saddled our mounts and started the day’s journey.
The river was only a short walk away. The bubbling water rushed over a combination of obsidian and sedimentary rocks.
It was beautiful, if you liked frothing water that could boil the flesh right off a living creature.
The heat was almost unbearable the closer we approached, the air shimmering with it, creating mirages in the morning sun.
Steam rose in soft clouds, misting the bank and the ground around it, so that no grass or trees could thrive and offer shade along the river’s edge.
The muddy ground was slick and dangerous.
One wrong step and we’d become boiled meat.
“Are you serious that this is the best way into this town?” Zig asked, still half asleep, his hair a brown, fluffy mess that was quickly becoming damp with humidity and sweat.
“It’s the quickest,” I said. “We didn’t have time to travel a less treacherous way.”
“Well, I won’t have to worry about dying by the hands of magic,” he replied, wiping his brow. “I’ll just die here.”
I shot him a glare. Aven snorted a laugh.
“There’s bridges,” I said. “Somewhere in the steam. They’re not widely traveled.”
Zig tapped his chin. “I wonder why? Maybe it’s the death water.”
Aven scanned the bank. “There,” they said, pointing. “See the trail? That must be one.”
“Good eye,” I said, impressed.
“I use a range weapon,” they responded with a smirk, tugging on the strap that held their quiver to their horse. “It’s kind of my thing.”
“Whatever. Let’s make crossing bridges your thing. Okay?” Zig said, brushing past us, leading Carrot.
I hurried to catch up.
The bridge was made of wood that had been warped by the heat.
It arched over the water, high enough that the Simmer wouldn’t melt the soles off our boots, but not high enough to escape the burning mist, which was so thick that the far end of the bridge was obscured.
The bowed planks were wide enough for a carriage to pass, but one of the side railings was missing, which meant we’d have to go single file for safety.
“How was this even built here?” Zig said, and gestured wearily.
“The bridge was built before the event that created the Simmer,” Aven replied, tilting their head and scanning the crossing.
“There were several that dotted the length of the river, but this may be the only one left. It might be dangerous, but your sister is correct that it is the quickest way into the town.”
Treacherous as the way might be, we couldn’t dally on the bank.
“Okay, let’s get going.” I tugged on Bluebell’s reins, but she dug her hooves into the soft ground and pulled backward, uneasy and afraid.
I rubbed her nose to calm her, but I knew that would do little.
“We should get our horses over first, before they become more skittish,” I said, eyeing the bridge.
“They will follow each other. And then we’ll go. ”
“One of us should go first to receive them,” Aven said. Their own stallion was huffing from his nose, ears pinned down and eyes wide. “Or we might lose them.”
“I’ll go,” Zig said before I could volunteer.
“No, Zig, I’ll go. We don’t know what’s at the end of this thing.”
“Nope,” he answered, rolling his shoulders. “I got this. I’m inherently lucky, remember?”
“This whole quest is to save you. It’s too dangerous for you to—”
“Look, if I die, then you can retire to the coast like you want. If I don’t, we continue and you get more time with Princet Heart Eyes. It’s a win-win for you.”
I glared, but I didn’t want to argue and delay our crossing further, so I stepped aside and gave Zig a grand bow. “Fine. Go ahead.”
“With pleasure.”
He gingerly stepped onto the first plank, and surprisingly the bridge didn’t sway under his weight. Zig released a nervous laugh and stepped again. Then again. He grabbed the remaining railing when one of the boards creaked, but otherwise, he disappeared in the steam without incident.
“Ha!” I could barely discern him on the other bank in the thick, rolling haze, but his triumphant yell told me all I needed to know. Inherently lucky indeed.
“We’re sending the mounts!” Aven shouted.
“Okay! I’ve got them!”
“Bluebell will go first,” I said, grasping her reins tightly in my hand. “Then Carrot and lastly your stallion.”
“Mouse,” Aven mumbled. The stallion’s ears perked up.
“His name is Mouse?” I snickered. “This magnificent creature fit for royalty is named Mouse?”
“I was four. I liked this fairy tale about a mouse and—can we talk about this later?”
“Oh definitely, because I’m not going to let that go.”
“Fine!”
Bluebell was a good horse. She’d been with me for a long time, and she liked Zig well enough because he snuck her treats. So she’d go to him, and Carrot, as a pack mule, would surely follow. It was Mouse I was most worried about.
I led Bluebell to the first plank, tied her reins to the pommel so she wouldn’t trip, and smacked her rump. “Go ahead, girl.”
“Come on, Bluebell!” Zig yelled from the other side. “I have treats!”
Bluebell’s ears pricked forward, and she stepped onto the bridge. After the first few tentative steps, she boldly walked across. Carrot followed easily. Once the mule was over in Zig’s hands, we readied Mouse.
Aven rubbed Mouse’s nose and whispered in his ear, trying to calm him, but it didn’t help. Mouse still danced nervously, picking up his hooves and stomping, neighing in distress.
“You’ll have to lead him,” I said, after Mouse gave no indication that he was going to go quietly.
“Yeah, I know.” Aven grasped the lead, their fingers twitching, their expression pinched. “Come along, Mouse. We can do this.”
Aven guided Mouse to the first step of the bridge. Mouse neighed and huffed, blowing from his nostrils, but after a few gentle words and pets from Aven, they began their crossing. They made it over half the bridge, to the high arc, without incident, but then the bridge creaked.
Mouse reared with a high-pitched whinny, knocking Aven into the railing, then took off, hooves thudding hard against the planks.
Aven righted themself while on the bridge, hands gripping the cracked wood, chest heaving, but otherwise okay. They gave me a wave and a weak smile, but then the ground shook and the bridge buckled.