Chapter Thirty
Wyatt
Lilah’s illusions were far too real for my liking. I can still feel the tiny legs crawling up my arms and neck. The rancid troll’s breath still lingers in the air, his rough, wart-riddled hand squeezing around my waist. I shudder at the memory.
Ronan mentioned in passing yesterday that today would be a rest day. I haven’t had a rest day since I was trapped in that pit. The lack of a schedule can only mean one thing: the last trial.
Arel has been surprisingly secretive about it, although not without a little toying.
Pretending to let things slip now and again.
I feign disinterest, which riles him right up; he’s too easy.
In truth, I have never been more ready. Let’s get this thing over and done with, so I can finally prove myself, and that I can help in the hunt for my family.
Despite the trials and the rigorous training, I’ve formed friendships with these guys.
A village full of misfits like me. Everyone has issues, and no one judges you for them.
I’ve spent so long trying to figure out ways out of here that I didn’t realise it started to feel like home.
Dealing with the guilt of it all, the trial went to the back of my mind.
How can I feel at home, safe, fed, and happy while they are trapped? Because of me.
It’s been too long with no word on where they are.
I can feel it in my bones that they’re still alive.
But that doesn’t mean they’re not being beaten or starved.
The thought pierces my heart like an arrow.
The pain becoming unbearable. I push the thoughts from my mind, as I always do, to avoid them.
Tucking them into a little box. If I think too much about them, I won’t be able to do what needs to be done.
Arel practically skips to the mess table this morning, his face brimming with excitement, like a child with a new toy.
“It’s ready,” he announces, slapping me on the back with such force that my body jerks forward. Quickly, I turn to get revenge, but he is already backing away, shouting, “Hurry up.”
Everyone sitting at the table turns to him, rolling their eyes or rubbing the bridge of their nose. I groan, taking another bite of my roll before grudgingly following him. I’m caught by surprise when Ronan gets up and follows me, patting me on the shoulder.
“Good luck, you’ll need it if Arel’s involved.”
The others laugh, following behind us, eager to see my next punishment.
The air is cold, like breathing in ice. Snow won’t be far off now, gazing up at the sky, the clouds are dark and heavy, with the wind rolling in. I hope I’ll be sheltered in this trial, because the sky looks ready to drown us all.
Arel canters through the village, towards the capricious mountain, the one they call ‘the Cap’ for short, possibly because of its peculiar shape.
The tallest point in the range that surrounds this little enclave.
The peak can barely be seen as it pierces the clouds.
Even on a clear day, the tip is almost obscured by the brightness of the glaring sun.
Arel mentioned a little trek. This is anything but little.
Finally, he stops at the base of the Cap, spinning on his heels, watching me with glee as I approach.
There is something seriously wrong with this guy, finding amusement in my misery.
I force my eyes to remain focused on the ground, not wanting to show any fear or dread for what’s coming. Plus, it’ll wind him up more. Something which has become my favourite pastime.
Behind me, multiple footsteps scuffle along the dirt path. Kaleb rushes forward, thumping a heavy arm around my shoulders. “Easy. What’s a little stroll up the Cap, eh?” His fingers grip into my arm, shaking me before pushing me towards Arel, who is grinning so hard all his teeth are on show.
He holds out a dark grey cloak for me. “I think you might need this.”
Looking to the sky, rain starts spitting intermittently, landing on the cloak, but instead of soaking in, like they do my tunic, they roll off. “It’ll be a breeze,” he says with not one ounce of sincerity in his voice. It’s unnerving. I snatch the cloak from his hands.
Caelan stands beside an earthen dug-out set of steps with planks of wood on top, leading up the summit.
Surrounded by dense bushes and small trees, threatening to shroud the path.
The trail looks like it hasn’t been used in a while, and the thicket has overgrown to the point of being unpassable.
I turn, looking for a dagger or anything that will help me clear the shrubbery.
Ronan steps forward, pulling a small machete with a black leather handle, encased in a matching leather scabbard.
“Don’t lose it,” he says sternly.
I cautiously take it from him, tucking it into my belt, thanking him. I spin back around to Caelan and Arel, both waiting patiently at either side of the steps.
Arel smirks at me. “You have until supper is served to make it to the top of the Cap and back down again. Easy, right?”
There’s no way he can be this stupid. What’s stopping me from making it halfway up, cutting the hike short, and heading back down?
As if reading my thoughts, or maybe my face, he crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow and answers, “At the top, there’s a prize.
You need to bring said prize back with you, so we know you made it.
Take this.” He hands me a satchel. “Some water and food to keep you going. Good luck.”
I groan, wrapping the cloak around my shoulders, pulling the hood over my head as the rain starts lashing down, just in time for my torture.
Just a little hike, I tell myself. One step at a time.
You can do this, just don’t look up.
Halfway up this stupid mountain, I’m soaking with sweat with the sun beating down on me.
I’m too exhausted to remove the cloak from my shoulders.
There’s not much point; the higher I go, the thinner and colder the air will become, plus there’s no way it will fit in this tiny satchel.
It was a welcome accessory those first few hours, sheltering me from the pelting rain, slashing me with an icy force.
Now it threatens to boil me from the inside.
Each step burns my legs, sending a shooting sensation up my calves into my thighs, but the need to get to the top is greater than the pain.
Needing to prove myself to everyone here, to Caelan, to prove that I am strong and will be an integral part of the team, that I can be useful. That I can find them.
But also, to prove to myself that I can do it.
Finally putting an end to the niggling voice in my head, telling me I am weak, pathetic, useless.
My uncle’s more pleasant words to me. From a young age, he would let me know how much of a disappointment I was, each word stung like the punches that followed.
No matter how much the Kohan’s treated me as part of the family, with the same respect they gave each other, Nik’s words would ring in my ears, stalking my mind.
I have no memories from before. I wish I did, wish I could see my parents' faces, something to keep for myself. Growing up with Andi and her family kept me from focusing on my own sorry life but seeing how happy they were as a family made me miss mine. I don’t remember much about my parents.
I knew they died, but never how. Nik told me I would end up suffering the same fate.
Although I always thought it would be by his hand, not this damn mountain.
One more step, then I can rest. I know, I’m lying, I’ve been saying that to myself for an hour now.
My legs becoming shakier with each step, my feet stumble, and finally, I allow myself to rest. The terrain has grown scarce of greenery this high up, thankfully.
I spent most of my time slicing through the bushes covering the path than I did actually climbing.
My stomach growls, and I open the satchel to find a canteen of water and a single roll of bread.
How generous.
I gulp down some water and stuff some bread in my mouth. Nothing has ever tasted so good at this moment, even something as simple as a roll of plain bread.
The midway point of the cap is the equivalent to the peak of some of the mountains in the area.
Looking down, I can see over the top of them, out into the world.
Farms, towns, and if I’m right, I can see the edge of Zury.
Vaguely in the distance, but with the size of the buildings, I’m sure it has to be the second largest city in Linorah. With Eilia being the first.
The High Lord, Adrian, is well known throughout the country for being materialistic and shallow.
The buildings in Zury are said to be coated in gold, encrusted in gemstones from all corners of the continent and beyond, that shimmer and sparkle like a rainbow when the sun hits them, lighting up the whole city.
Each building has large stained-glass windows arranged to look like him. Reminding everyone of his ‘greatness.’
Every day that passes, I imagine new ways I would torture Adrian. Slicing his fingertips, yanking off his fingernails, smashing his shins to pieces, flaying him alive.
One day.
From my altitude, I can finally see the peak, adrenaline pumps through my body, giving new life to my legs.
Tossing everything back into the bag, I jump to my feet and push on up the icy, carved-out steps.
My feet are numb, I haven’t felt them in hours, yet, somehow, with this rush of excitement, they move of their own accord.
I keep my eye on the tip of the Cap, willing it to come to me, making my trip shorter. Pulling my cloak tight around my shoulders, each breath stings as I inhale the frozen air, my movements sluggish, tripping over imaginary objects on the steps.
Even with keeping my eye on the peak, it feels like it’s moving further away. My mind must be playing tricks on me. I push on until my legs give way and I stumble to my knees. I need to catch my breath. I’m so close. I can’t give up.