Chapter 31 #2
“Hey! Calm down, you little shits!” someone yelled.
I peered up from the cover of my arms. The dogs were damn near losing their minds, overcome with aggression, but not toward me. Rather, they faced the man who’d shoved me, malnourished bodies jumping with each bark.
“Attack her, you stupid dogs!”
But they didn’t listen, and it didn’t take a genius to know why. These men were clearly starving them. I was feeding them. They were protecting their food source.
Cautious hope slithered around that ball in my chest.
The man and those around him backed away, unsheathing swords as the dogs’ aggression ratcheted higher. He swore, a string of cusses that were lost to the animals’ agitation. One of the horses whinnied, front legs kicking high as its rider fought for his seat.
Above me, that low-hanging branch beckoned.
It was sturdy, solid-looking. The rare kind that belonged to an older tree that’d had time to grow strong and resilient before the Domus sucked the life from it.
I followed that branch to a thick trunk, which gave way to more branches that extended toward—
The river, which was just beyond the men around me.
I released the rest of the bread from my pocket.
Breathed once.
Then, riding pure desperation, I surged to my feet, in one fluid motion leaping up to that branch with every ounce of strength I possessed. My forearms landed over the top of it, and I used momentum to swing my legs up and to the side, wrapping my ankles around the wood.
“Hey!”
One of the dogs spun and advanced toward the remaining soldiers, creating a wide berth beneath the branch and the pile of food I’d left behind.
With the sheer panic-driven speed of a trapped mouse, I whirled myself around until the thick branch was beneath me, jumped to my feet, and ran to the trunk, falling into it as my body tipped, balance lost. Fingernails tore as I clawed the bark to right myself.
Someone made it past the dogs and jumped up, grasping the branch, just as the two horsemen sprang into action. My body was within easy reach of their hands.
Higher. Go higher.
The branch above me was thinner than the last, my hands able to part enough to wrap most of the way around it.
Please hold.
I kicked my legs up again, locking them around the branch and flipping myself around.
It wobbled and swayed beneath my weight, threatening to fall and hurl me back to captivity.
Out of reach of the horsemen, I crawled forward on my belly toward the trunk, just as the climber stood on the branch below me.
He grabbed at my legs and I kicked wildly. My toes broke through his hands and made contact with his head. With a cry, he tilted and fell. The unmistakable sound of weapons being unsheathed pushed me forward toward the trunk.
“Come down, or we’ll smash you to pieces, purple eyes or not!”
The threat was lost on me as I crawled to my feet and eyed two branches, one above the other, partway around the trunk. Just beyond the end of them, far below, lay that river.
I curled my body around the tree as far as I could without losing my balance. Something zinged past my ear, slicing the outer shell. A thrown dagger. Shoving pain aside, I extended my hands toward that upper branch and jumped.
My fingers made contact, and my legs swung wildly, the movement threatening to peel my grip away. With a cry, I held it. My feet found purchase. Another weapon soared past me, and then a soul-churning scream pierced my ears.
“Kill them! Kill them!” someone shouted in panic as horses screeched.
The dogs.
Capitalizing on that distraction, I took precious seconds to lower to my belly. With as much speed as I could manage, I began to slink forward, eyes on the end of that branch that jutted toward the churning water.
Water that could kill me.
But if I stayed, I would be caught. Dragged back to Koerlyn. Tortured with others’ pain and my own. More bodies left in my room to rot and flood me with guilt and despair.
My choice was easy.
Two blades flew up from below, one nicking my shin. The dogs were no longer barking, but screeching.
I was out of time.
A strange calm overcame me as I set the soles of my feet on the branch, taking a second to ensure my balance before straightening, my typical discomfort with heights a distant thought.
That calm remained as I ran full-bore to the end of the branch, counting on momentum to maintain my balance.
Panic found no hold as I glimpsed the fast-moving current and the jagged rocks that lined the edges, as I gauged the yards of ground I’d have to jump across to meet the water.
And still, that calm was with me when I leapt, catapulting my body forward.
I just cleared those toothy rocks.
When the water stole my breath and tossed me like a puppet, I was prepared for it.
I released the cloak almost immediately, then pushed off the river’s bottom.
My face found air. I filled my lungs, foam and spray making it impossible to see where I was and if I was being followed.
The water’s roar filled my ears as I careened toward a boulder.
I threw my legs out and ricocheted off its surface, propelling myself downstream.
Jagged edges beneath the water scraped my legs, but the current didn’t pull me down.
In fact, it wasn’t all that difficult to keep my head above the water, even with my hands restrained. The rush was strong, driving me into boulders that left bruises and tested the abilities of my bound hands. I couldn’t exit the water’s grip if I wanted to. The cold would soon turn my limbs numb.
But it wasn’t drowning me.
Either I’d gotten stronger, or this river was kinder than the first.
A thick, bleached log ran toward me in the rapids, and I grabbed at it, wrapping my arms up and over the smooth, buoyant wood.
It held my weight like a boat, of sorts.
The next boulder removed skin from my shoulder, but I found myself grinning.
I was on a boat, zipping away from the enemy and toward Harthon far faster than I ever could have on foot.
No one followed along the riverbank, my speed too great for horses or dogs. They couldn’t catch me.
There, in the middle of a raging river, my legs aching and bones turning stiff, I laughed. Tears sprang to my eyes, hot against the cool water that soaked my face.
This river—this beautiful, life-giving river—had just made me free. Not just me, but everyone beneath Koerlyn’s sadistic thumb. The whole damned world, even.
So easily, so naturally, it was delivering me to Harthon. The man I would show into the Domus, the one who would destroy Koerlyn and everyone like him and make life worth…worth living. For everyone. For Marsik and Merelda. For the villagers like me and the victims who came into his justice hearing.
He was the only one to do it. The only leader to make that change.
And I wouldn’t wait any longer. It needed to be done now.
The longer we waited, the more people suffered.
The greater the chance that Koerlyn, the monster that he was, could steal me and find Merelda and kill and maim just because he could.
The more bodies that would pile in his wake.
The more that Ellan would waste food gardens on flowers, starving his people.
I would bring Harthon into Centralis tomorrow. This river had just made it so. It had done its part. I would do mine.
There was a tugging in my chest that had nothing to do with the currents. It was that familiar feeling, urging me south.
You’re worthy of that knowledge and able to own it. Now try it. Harthon’s deep, assured voice rolled through my mind.
Before, when I’d tried on that hilltop, I’d simply sought out the mysterious, shapeless feeling, hoping to make it stronger. That wasn’t owning it—that wasn’t wanting it enough. Owning it was grasping the tangible thing by the horns and wrangling it until it was mine to use.
Own it. Own it. Own it.
A small whirlpool spun me in a circle before spitting me forward, the rapids intensifying, moving me faster.
Faster toward Harthon. Toward something like duty.
Own it.
Grasp it. Yank.
The tug in my chest was a rope. I gripped the end, gritted my teeth, and wrenched. It gave, and the rest of the rope came with it, coiling before me, pooling in my chest which was beginning to fill with warmth, pulling me closer and closer to whatever was at the end of it—
Bright light, a pleasant heat, burst before my eyes and infused my frigid body.
Just like when the woman changed my eyes.
The shapes that looked like fingers but were roots took form before me.
Roots. Thick ones, the kind that anchored massive trees.
A landmark, where the path into the Domus began.
It had to be. I braced for pain, for that burning that would follow, but it didn’t come.
My eyes flew open on a gasp.
The first thing I became aware of was the lightness in my mind and the warmth in my chest.
The second was that I was in calm water.
The riverbank was close on either side of me, the river far narrower now than before.
Naked trees filed by at a slow pace, not a man in sight.
I let go of the driftwood and twisted. I squinted my eyes, not quite believing them.
Far behind me was a waterfall, mist lifting from the pool beneath it in white plumes.
Although the drop seemed only as tall as a tree, it was still a terrifying force of nature.
I…I had to have gone over it. I stared at the drop in a daze.
The vision had only lasted for five seconds, at most. At least, it’d felt that way. How long had I been out? How could I have survived that drop with no awareness?
A shiver wracked my frame, pulling my attention to more immediate needs.
The gentle heat in my chest apparently did nothing to warm my stiffening limbs.
Paddling to the bank, I dragged myself from the water.
And then I began to walk, steps quickly turning into stumbles as my trembling worsened and exhaustion pressed in.
I spotted them far in the distance at the same time they saw me. Men on horses, dressed in tan and brown leathers. Harthon’s men. Relief sent me to my knees as they quickly reached me. I didn’t recognize a single one of them, but from their wide eyes, they clearly knew who I was.
One of them dropped from his saddle, hurrying over. “Lady magvis, are you injured?” He sliced the bindings away with a flick of a blade.
I shook my head, the ground spinning. Only a single need was keeping me upright. “Where’s Harthon?”
“He’s close by, at our camp, preparing to retrieve you. Are you injured?”
He’s close.
I lurched to my feet, swaying. “Give me a horse and lead me to him. Now.”
“We’ll take you to him. But you’ll only be colder on a horse. We need to warm you first.”
There was no time to waste. I needed to get to Harthon, to use that rope in my chest to deliver him into Centralis. Gritting my teeth, I dragged my feet toward the soldier’s horse. “Take. Me. Now.”
Concerned looks came from every man, but no one argued.
A deep breath, and I hoisted myself onto the saddle, muscles cramping as I threw my weight over the seat. My arms shook dangerously as I righted myself and gripped the reins, but I managed. I was too tired to celebrate the success. “Fast. We need to go fast,” I panted.
We took off in a trot. Time became a blur of pain and exhaustion. I poured every ounce of strength, of focus, into staying on the horse and keeping pace.
Get to him. Get to him. Get to him.
Soaked from the river, beaten from the rocks, and exhausted from my flight, my body was hardly working.
I was cold—the kind of cold that settled deep into the bones and could kill a person.
Everything but that small spot beneath my ribs was frozen.
My teeth couldn’t even chatter. Aches and bruises were smothered by numbness.
Black spots were dancing before my eyes by the time we broke from the trees.
People, huts, and tents were a rainbow of indistinct color ahead.
Shouts.
Some of them sounded like magvis. Someone called for Harthon. At some point, a familiar voice drifted through the commotion.
It said my name. That was strange, because it only ever called me Fish Eyes.
I kept moving. I would keep moving until I was with Harthon and showed him the way. But then my horse stopped. I didn’t tell it to stop. Someone else was making it stand still.
“Etarla,” that voice said again. I found green eyes filled with concern and worry. Callen.
“Harthon,” I whispered, torso wobbling.
“He’s coming.” He reached for me.
I shook my head, and the ground blended with the sky for a moment. I could get to Harthon faster on the horse. “Harthon,” I repeated. But those hands kept coming.
“I’ll bring you to him. Just lean into—”
“Carella.” At the low, concerned rumble, the warmth in my chest pulsed, as if it had a heart of its own.
Carella. Had he ever used the name for Ana?
Familiar hands, not Callen’s, touched my waist. They were big and strong, so blessedly warm against my frigid skin. Safe. Secure. It felt like coming home.
All at once, the need that had kept me going vanished.
Through unfocused eyes, I caught a glimpse of long brown hair and a square jaw, dusted with whiskers.
Such a lovely jaw, though I probably shouldn’t think that anymore, considering what had happened just before I left and what I’d learned about him and Ana.
My vision fuzzed over, leaving me with shades of gray and black.
“I know the path,” I mumbled on a shuddering exhale.
And then I collapsed.