Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
WHEN THE FIRE HAD DIMMED, EACH WATCH FULFILLED, THEY SET out again.
Thia’s muscles had stiffened with the hours of little movement, and each step was a battle.
Oskaren shouldered her pack once more, and Dess acted as a crutch, practically dragging her up the hill with an arm around her waist. It was an awkward angle with their height difference.
Her shoulder ached, but she didn’t think she could manage on her own.
When they finally reached the peak, it was without celebration.
Oskaren’s typical aloof amusement was replaced by a haggard grimace, and Thran was shaking from exertion.
Dess set Thia down, only to stumble when taking a seat of his own.
The barest hint of dawn was visible on the horizon, the first whisper of gray in an otherwise still-midnight sky.
With no moonlight, it was difficult to see what lay at the base of the mountain, or in the valley before them.
Dess said he believed it to be fields and farmland, with Cyning and the Lightning Tower a few days’ journey beyond.
Thran set about collecting wood for another fire, the others following suit.
Alone, Thia put her head in her hands. She felt heavy, like she had lost her parents all over again. Maybe she had.
A brown hand appeared in front of her, holding out what appeared to be dried berries. “You should eat.” Oskaren dropped into a squat so they were at eye level.
“I don’t think I could.” She was probably hungry, but her stomach was an angry knot.
Oskaren inspected her—almost clinically. Then the girl said, “I should have taken the full watch.”
Confused, Thia raised her head. “What?”
“You saw your mother.”
“You were listening.” Maybe she’d heard the whole conversation with Thran.
Oskaren, of course, didn’t have it in her to be ashamed. She only shrugged. “You were hardly whispering. The two of you woke me.” She paused. “You wanted to follow her.”
Her tone wasn’t accusatory, but this was Oskaren. How could it be anything but a barb? Thia tugged the ends of her hair. “Yeah, well. Thran stopped me. You were spared the consequences of my uselessness.”
“Then I was also spared the chance for a daring rescue. How tragic.” Her eyes glittered. The humor was a sharp knife in Thia’s fragile emotional state, and she shifted away.
“Just don’t, okay? I’m not in the mood.”
Long fingers touched her knee, brief and fleeting. “Thia.”
Oskaren was still crouching, and their faces were close. Thia could see the little smattering of hairs that grew just outside the sculpt of the girl’s brows, the tiny, imperfect edges of her scar. Her heart thundered; she had to force herself not to move away. “What?”
Oskaren dropped the berries into Thia’s palm and straightened.
“I only meant—the ghosts wouldn’t have affected me.
I should have taken the full watch,” she repeated.
If it were anyone else, Thia might have thought it was an apology.
Her tone lacked its usual cutting humor, but it was also absent of remorse.
Thia peered up at her. “You’ve never lost anyone?”
“I’ve lost everyone.” The tiniest hint of a smile returned, bitter and sharp. “Nothing can hurt me.” It was the first time Thia had heard the other girl speak of her own curse. But before she could ask more, Oskaren marched away to help with the wood.
They spent an hour or so huddled around a fire, replenishing their strength and making new torches.
The sky had lightened by the time they packed up again, dispersing some of the clouds with it, and Thia couldn’t help her long breath of relief that dawn would soon send the mist back into the shadows.
Descent made the trek less strenuous, and Thia found she could walk on her own.
Her feet ached like never before, each step sending painful vibrations up into her knees, but Dess looked just as weary.
She didn’t want to force her extra weight on him.
Maybe it was a little bit her pride as well, when Oskaren scooped up her pack again.
Then, finally, daylight broke onto the path. Mist hissed, retreating for the edge of the cavern. Dess paused, attention skyward as gold lit his pale features. “We survived.”
“We’re not out yet,” Oskaren said cheerfully.
Thia could have cried. As a group, they discarded their torches, pleased to have free hands again. Voices remained at the edge of Thia’s mind, but they were quieter now, and she ignored them with a spiteful glare to the shadows.
The rest of the journey went quicker than their ascent and, after a few more hours, the slope began to flatten. Thia guessed it was around midmorning when Thran, who was in the lead, halted, though the sky remained cloudy so she couldn’t say for sure.
“What is it?”
“Open fields,” he said, pointing to the exit, where the rocks gave way to flat plains.
The touch of grass felt rather welcome to Thia, so she didn’t understand the concern until Oskaren said, “If Lord Sagan is right, and Xercae has indeed decided to hunt you, this would be the ideal place for her to attack.”
Thia swallowed. “So what do we do? Wait for dark?”
“Witches see well in the dark,” Oskaren answered. “I suggest we move as quickly as we can and find a barn to hide in at nightfall.”
When no one protested, they continued on.
It was only after they had fully put the mountain behind them that Thia realized just how badly the haunted Dwimors had set her on edge.
She peeled her nails from her palms, knuckles stiff from clutching them too tightly for too long.
Miraculously, Xercae was nowhere to be seen.
Mavrel soared high above them, and Thia was comforted by the fact that he might spot the witch first and give them fair warning.
Despite the agonizingly slow pace their fatigued bodies mustered, they found a barn just before sunset. When they stretched out in a loft above slumbering cows, pausing only for the flash of lightning that would confirm their direction, they were all asleep immediately.