Chapter 17
Alora
It’s pandemonium, the whole scene unraveling before me.
Lees’ horse successfully unmounts her rider, sending Leeson flying off backwards towards the bramble that eats into the trail.
Watching her fall, time shifts in my brain and I’m witnessing her slowly land and bounce into the thorny briar.
Rough hands grab mine which are still gripping the reins, and with a hard flicking motion cause the leather straps to slap into Dahla’s hide.
“We have to move!” Kassiel shouts above the bedlam and screams.
His response is quicker than mine even though we’re still not close enough to witness what exactly is happening.
He slaps the reins again, my fingers trapped within his punishing grip. Dahla bolts past trees and slides to a stop next to Caym’s fallen horse.
He’s swift to dismount and runs to the frantic horse. I slide off Dahla and begin to make my way to Leeson where she lies amongst the wilted blooms and thorns.
I scramble across the ground until my feet trip on a raised root and faceplant into the earth. Kneeling down to her prone form, I reach her to move branches that cover her and toss them aside with a grunt.
Her head lays awkwardly, lulling off to one side as her blonde hair tinged with crimson drapes across her face.
Oh gods.
I begin to scream Caym’s name. Her chest slowly rises and falls, a stark difference from my own that sucks the metallic air in and out too quickly. My ribcage starts to burn and tighten.
“Caym!” My throat feels as though it’s shredding as I screech his name.
“Alora!” The Devourer’s commanding voice bellows from the opposite side of the trail, “get Dahla back.”
I can’t think as my gaze is plastered to Leeson’s darkening face and unnatural position. The familiar, sinister itch to weld my blade to my skin when I’m overwhelmed creeps up. The weight of my dagger in my cloak pocket grows heavier.
I chide myself, screaming at myself mentally.
“Damnit Alora, get your fucking horse!” The Devourer screams at me and it forces my eyes from Leeson. Turning my head towards him, it’s then that I notice the bubbly blood oozing from Caym’s screaming horse.
The Devourer focuses on me and asks, “Is she breathing?”
His gaze bounces between her and I.
Weakly, I answer, “It appears so.”
I swallow, but not before my eyes begin to well with unshed tears.
“Alora! Alora, focus on me.” His green eyes are a beacon amidst the storm.
He continues, never breaking his stare, “She has more time than Caym if she’s breathing, but I need your help.”
My tightened chest squeezes harder as I push to my knees and scramble towards him.
I slide on my knees, ripping my skirts on the gravely trail, as I reach Dahla who is shifting her weight between each leg.
“What do you need, Kassiel?” Firmly grasping Dahla’s reins, I flip them over her head and await his command.
He’s grown too still as he stands next to the fallen horse. “Your friend is under his horse, which happens to be in a pool of sinking sand.”
Any air that was left in my lungs deflates.
“What do you mean?” Disbelief threads within my question.
I peer over Dahla’s withers and watch the horse, its body slowly sinking. I scan for Caym and notice his body propped up against a piece of earth that’s sheared off the ledge of the embankment.
His legs are pinned beneath the panting mare.
Stepping around the front of Dahla, I look for any way to get him out without falling into the pit of sinking sand.
The Devourer stands to my left, just in front of the fallen horse's head.
Caym’s looking between me and him, his face pained and wincing.
I clear my throat and whisper, “What do we do?” The question is directed at Caym but he lays there, his eyes sharpening on me as they widen.
He continues to look through me. Confusion warms my belly and I turn to see what he could be watching.
The wall of mist has returned, the dark shadows of the forest looking more haunting against the thick white plumes.
“Fuck.” The obscenity comes from the direction of The Devourer and I glance towards him again.
He’s moving quickly towards me as he begins to speak, “Fuck. We need to hurry before we’re taken by the mist.”
Caym jokes weakly, “Don’t be too optimistic, Devourer.”
The man next to me grunts and merely grabs the leather straps from my hands and begins to lead Dahla up the soft inclined slope.
“What are you doing with her?” I hiss at him.
He continues upwards, turning his back to me. His voice, scolding, floats over his shoulder, “Saving us.”
Caym closes his eyes as he pulls the corner of his lip up in a sneer.
“Gods this hurts,” he says, “but where is Leeson?”
I begin to step closer, but pause when my toe meets the unstable soil just slightly off the path. Looking again at the felled horse, I retrace the hoofprints to where they slide in the rocky trail before scuffling to the sandy edge. So that must be what happened.
Turning my head back towards where Leeson lays in the bramble, I answer Caym, “She must be knocked out, but she’s breathing, so there’s that.”
The pressing fog quickly becomes more dense on either side of the hill.
Caym’s raspy response forms, “Well maybe that’s for the best so she won’t lose her head over this sinking sand.”
Dahla’s body moves to the ledge above Caym, guided by The Devourer. He’s since taken off the heavy overcoat, his black buttoned shirt makes him look like a reaper summoned by the fog against the misty background.
“Quick now Alora,” he says, his glowing eyes only adding to the haunting atmosphere, “you take the reins up here by Dahla so I can grab Caym’s arm.”
His plan is the only one we have so I quickly navigate up the sparse little hill.
The wet leaves slide beneath my feet, adding another layer of danger to our situation.
If Dahla slips and falls, we’ll land directly on Caym and be lost to the sinking sand too.
I remove my heavy cloak and toss it onto the damp earth, not wanting to waste a moment, before looking at The Devourer. I outstretch my hand, waiting for him to place the reins in my grasp.
His brows form a tight line as he purses his lips. The shadowing on his chin has grown in our days of travel and gives him a rugged kind of beauty.
“How will you manage to hold on to him and Dahla at the same time?”
He doesn’t answer me quickly, instead he holds his hand out expectantly.
“I need your dagger.” That’s his answer, the only one he offers.
“Why?” I draw the word out.
“I need to cut a fabric strip from my coat, and it would be easier and quicker, I might add, if you’d let me use your dagger.”
Deciding it’s not worth the time to argue, I oblige.
I retrieve the opaline dagger from my cloak where I laid it down and return standing next to Dahla.
“Don’t make me regret this, Devourer.”
His brow quirks and his voice is low as he answers, “Such an untrusting creature.”
He moves to grab the dagger from my grasp as I turn the handle towards him, the blade held in my palm.
His hand closes over mine, heat warming against my chilled skin.
“I’m accustomed to holding sharp things Alora, you need not protect me.”
I snicker at him, “Perhaps. But this blade is wicked.”
“Not more so than you, I can assure it.” His words are flat.
I release the blade into his hand, feeling the slight slice in my own that formed with his light pressure.
He makes quick work on the coat, slicing the fabric into thick strips and then knots them into one continuous cord and then fastens it around one of Dahla’s stirrups.
“Alright,” he begins, “I’m going to scale down to him. When I tell you to pull, gently ease her back.”
He looks up and locks eyes with me.
“Don’t let her bolt or you’ll rip my arms out of socket or clean off, and I’m rather fond of them.”
I simply nod.
My heart thunders in my throat and the unsettling fog begins to gobble up the nearby flora and trees, easing slowly over the bush that Lees currently lays in.
The spine—chilling dense mass behind me presses inward until I can almost feel the sinister grasp of the pale shroud.
I let my weight shift between my feet and rub Dahla as the feline form of The Devourer scales down towards Caym.
Their murmurs float up to me until I hear a shout signaling they’re ready.
“Now Alora!” The Devourer yells and I begin to walk Dahla back slowly, allowing the curtain of fog to envelop me.
The crunching of fallen leaves and needles from branches is the only sound within the white barrier.
Everything else is muffled, jumbled within the ancient mist. The wall of plume surges forward quickly, swallowing the hole below me, including the men within it.
It’s too quiet, as if a predator watches and the prey falls into silence.
I concentrate and close my eyes, waiting for something from The Devourer to signal me to halt or pause.
It’s hard to not imagine that this could very well be the depths of Haldir, where all those forsaken are doomed to roam.
“Alora,” a whisper has my heart leaping out of my chest, “my Lykyng…”
It’s like I’ve been splashed with ice cold water as my blood freezes in my veins. I can’t help it when I trip on my own foot and fall backwards, landing squarely on my ass.
The too—close whisper comes again, “Alora… my dearest.”
I squeeze my eyes closed as if that could save me from the reality of this voice.
I haven’t heard that nickname since before everything, since…
“Hanin?”
His name rushes from my lips as a plea.
The ground beneath me shudders, or maybe it’s me shaking, but the temperature continues to cool until I can feel my breath fall back onto my face.
Opening my lids until only a slit of sight can be seen, Dahla’s dark form stands above me.
I take a deep breath, grounding myself, and roll to my side. I have to do this, I need to push through because Caym and Leeson are depending on me, and damnit The Devourer is too.
I push away any uncertainty and unsettling feelings and push up to my feet.
Dahla shifts her weight as her ears are pinned back. The makeshift cord is still pulled taut and I begin to walk Dahla back again.