Chapter 12 #2
I shook my head. I wasn’t scared of heights, but I was scared of falling. Ralheim homes weren’t built like this, and I wondered immediately why anyone would even plan on a solution like this. It felt so—
“You think Adis was the only one executing random house checks? Come on.” I could feel Ena’s annoyance as she motioned for me to climb up onto the board. “As kids, we all learned to cross these, often going a few homes down to stay with the childless couple until it was safe enough to return home.”
My chest tightened. I’d repressed the negative memories of my upbringing—having too many other things to focus on—but now they were back with a vengeance. As was the determination to prove that I was better than the men who had repressed me.
I was Runa Wormald, and I could cross a wooden beam placed between two homes.
Of course, my limbs didn’t agree with my verbal resolve as I crossed the roof and climbed up on the board, the vibration of my footfalls making the nearly two-story drop appear more dangerous than it was.
Without a word, Ena moved to hold the board in place.
It didn’t make the other side any more stable, but it at least helped me feel more secure.
Remembering something I’d once heard my mother say, I crouched a bit lower, and though my knees protested at the awkward stance, I immediately felt more secure with my impressive height removed from the equation.
A woman’s center of gravity is in her hips.
The words were a breath on the wind as I squat-walked to the next roof, using my sword to help balance myself as I kept my steps small. The moment I was standing on a firm surface, I turned to return to favor, using my hands to hold the board steady as Ena crossed.
We repeated this process, gaining speed with each crossing. While I tried to count the roofs at first, wanting to orient myself, I eventually gave up, allowing Ena to guide me out of a city she was far more acquainted with than I was.
Something I would be inquiring about later.
Just as I had with everything in my life up until that point, I threw myself into the task, pushing myself to complete it with efficiency without distractions.
That didn’t mean I didn’t glance down from time to time, noticing how with each street we crossed there were fewer soldiers on the street below us.
Sometimes, a child dressed in rags hiding behind a pile of refuge, or a woman peering cautiously out her door, would glance up, but they never said anything at the sight of two women crossing the city by rooftop.
I frowned. There were so few men. Other than those who wore uniforms—their focus on the battle at hand rather than the sounds coming from above—the only other males we passed were in their last years, their beards graying and their shoulders hunched as they carried out various tasks.
When I was finally able to tear my gaze away from the city streets to look up, we were on the edge of town, the beautiful red mountains stretching ahead of us. I tilted my ear to the sky, the sounds of battle too far away to hear with clarity anymore.
Ena walked around the roof, locating the ladder embedded in the clay before climbing down.
Tired of the sword, but knowing we would still need it, I tossed it over the edge several feet from the ladder before climbing down to stand next to her in the dirt.
I brushed my hands together, but the dirt coating my palms refused to budge.
I gave up, putting my hands on my hips to match Ena’s stance.
We stood side by side, gazing at the mountains.
We were almost free.
“I don’t have many supplies,” I admitted suddenly, realizing I didn’t even have a water skin.
Ena nodded. “Me either. I’ve got some jerky in my pouch, but we will have to forage.”
“What about a water skin?” I’d never been to Shianp, but I knew it was a long way—that was one of the reasons the king rarely visited Heimland.
Ena frowned. “I have a few coins—I was headed to the market . . .” She motioned to the house we’d just crawled down from. “Let me see if whoever lives here will sell me one.”
I pulled the dagger from my pants, holding it out to her. “Here, see if they have a cloak for me as well.” A distinct cramping in my gut reminded me what else I would need. “And cloths for my menses,” I added with a grimace. I wouldn’t survive long in just the shirt and breeches.
She nodded, ducking around the corner to knock on the door.
She returned, a water skin slung over her shoulder, and something wrapped in cloth tucked in her arms. She held it out to me. “They insisted on giving me a loaf of bread as well.”
I accepted the bundle, clasping the cloak around my neck and struggling to find a convenient way to carry the bread before finally settling on tucking it under my arm. The menses cloths were easy to fold into my pocket. “What did you tell them?”
Ena was working to wrap the water skin strap around the handle of the sword to make it easier to carry.
“Nothing I didn’t have to. Just said we were headed into the mountains and needed a water skin.
” She held her hand over her eyes, peering at where the sun was setting behind the mountain range directly in front of us.
There was still the occasional sound of fighting drifting on the breeze, but it would end soon, likely as the sun descended and it was too dark to discern friend from foe. “They needed the coin.”
I rubbed my hands together. I’d once been desperate, too. “We need start moving. They will know I’m missing soon.”
“They probably already do.” Ena started walking, her steps appearing small in the expanse of land we had to cross before starting our ascent.
I fell into step next to her, matching her stride with ease.
“We need to travel as far as possible tonight. I doubt they will venture into the mountains unprepared.”
She didn’t mention how unprepared we were, but she didn’t have to. We both knew.
We traveled the first portion in silence, both of us tensing any time there was the sound of grass crunching, or a buzzing of something flying overhead.
But each instance was an animal—nothing nefarious—and soon we were ducking under the protection of trees at the base of the mountain, though they did lessen our ability to monitor our surroundings.
This forest was different from the one that contained Salheim—stretching between Malheim and Ralheim. The vegetation offerings were both familiar and strange, and I winced as the vials clinked together in my brassiere.
“Ena.” I broke the silence in the final hours of twilight. “I have some potions on me.”
She cocked her head to the side, not slowing her pace. “Fun ones?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ve been giving myself a low dose of poison every day.”
“Why?” she asked, surprised, but there wasn’t a hint of fear in her tone.
I stepped around a large boulder. “Did you ever see the book of whispers Hansen had?”
She was pensive, then, “No, I think I would have remembered that.”
“You would have,” I assured her. “I read it to him a while ago, before his death. The power is . . . overwhelming. I had to sever it the first time I read it.”
Ena said nothing, my empathy gift finding no surprise coming from her—a sign her education of Seid magic far exceeded my own. “Then I heard a . . . rumor . . . that it was actually a mind-reading book and that the close proximity of so many voices—”
“Overwhelmed you when you first read,” she finished for me. Her knowledge of Seid magic always surprised me.
“Yes.” We came upon a large log—a massive tree likely felled in the last storm. I looked in either direction, trying to see if there was a way around it.
Ena didn’t even pause. She squatted down, her hands clasped together to form a step. “Here, I’ll boost you.”
My hands shook as I followed her directions, but my nervousness was unnecessary as she boosted me up with ease.
Under different circumstances, I would have enjoyed the breath of weightlessness I experienced when my foot was propelled from her hand before my hands found purchase to guide me to the top of the log, the bread tucked under my arm.
Once on top, I crawled down a few paces, to a flatter portion indented in the wood, before setting down the bread and reaching for Ena. I grimaced as I struggled to pull her up. Although I was able to, I did notice how out of shape I’d become in my months of no activity, living with Leif.
Ena didn’t stay on the log, dusting herself off before grabbing the bread and sliding down the other side. She made it look so easy, but when I tried to do the same, I crashed into a heap on the ground.
Of course, Ena was already there, hand out to help me up, when the breath finally returned to my lungs.
“You’re way too good at this,” I commented with a huff as I attempted to dust myself off.
“I told you; I grew up in these woods. Now, back to the story.”