Page 14 of The Fire Apprentice (Sylvania #5)
J ane woke alone in the shadowy hammock. Hints of light came through the weave so the sun must be rising. Without Rowan’s heat and even with the blanket wrapped around her, the cold morning air seeped in.
Jane closed her eyes and pulled the blanket tighter. Her body felt leagues different than it had yesterday. Her muscles still ached but the long soak in the steaming water had done wonders. Not to mention all the tension she’d released with what happened after. Skies above, making love with Rowan had been amazing. He’d been so attentive. And so generous. And so... sweet. He’d probably glare at her for calling him that, but he had a streak of kindness and charm hidden beneath his daunting exterior.
Unbidden, Maryanne popped into Jane’s mind. Drat. She had utterly failed in her promise to Maryanne. Or had she? She hadn’t fallen in love with Rowan. They’d tumbled once, for skies’ sake. Or twice—but both times in one night which maybe counted only once? This attraction between them might not last long enough to turn into love. It was like Maryanne had said—they were out in a forest and sleeping side by side under the stars, so their situation seemed romantic and exciting. Although it was hard to imagine that excitement fading.
But Rowan hadn’t wanted her at first. And while he might have changed his mind about wanting her—or at least given in to her begging—his mind could change right back once they returned home. Maybe that would even be for the best. Of all the partners she’d imagined finding, none had ever been a fairy. If she and Rowan became mates, she might have to see Larch again. Rowan might want to live with the fairies, and Jane would never bring Elle back to the place where she’d been trapped for two winters.
She’d have to see what happened today.
Everything was silent. Maybe Rowan was making tea and oats. They had no wood for a fire up here. Would Sunshine heat the water? Jane held herself motionless and listened. Elle must be keeping warm beneath Sunshine’s wing because she wasn’t babbling or poking at Jane to get up, and Sunshine wasn’t moving around in the courtyard, her tail dragging over the stones. Rowan was always silent. But shouldn’t there be some kind of noise?
Jane peeked out through the top of the hammock.
The courtyard was empty.
She twisted, scanning the far side and down to Sunshine’s cave. Dread crept across her chest, sticking to her ribcage, but she ignored it. The others were here somewhere.
She sat up and swung her feet to the ground, shivering as the air found her. Rowan’s pack was against the wall nearby. She inhaled a calming breath and relaxed her shoulders. He was here, and Sunshine must’ve gone for a flight or to get something she needed. And Elle could be with Rowan or—Jane swallowed—with Sunshine. But Elle was safe.
The sun was over the treetops in the east and warming the stone all around her. A soft wind blew and a hawk cried somewhere nearby.
“Rowan?” She said his name quietly, unable to bring herself to shout even though no one was in the courtyard. Nothing happened. “Rowan!” she called more loudly. Nothing moved or changed. The dread ebbed up her throat.
Jane wrapped the blanket around her and stood. She crossed to Sunshine’s cave and peered under the rocks but it had no hidden spaces inside. Quickly she climbed up to check both sides of the pool simply to rule it out. The rocks were cold and the water was placid and clear, without any curls of steam rising off the surface.
She hurried down the steps and over to the narrow entrance on the far side of the courtyard. She called again as she wound through the maze of rocks. Rowan and Elle might be hidden among the boulders, but she kept calling and no one replied. She cleared the pine trees and came toward the edge. The apple boughs swayed in the breeze and a few petals drifted down. Rowan’s rope looped around one trunk and trailed across the rock to the edge of the cliff and off. The neat coil of rope he’d made was gone.
Jane crept to the edge and peered over. The rope hung off the side of the cliff with one end tied to the iron loop fastened below and the other swinging in the air. As if someone had gone down using the rope. Nothing stirred. She couldn’t see any of the other ledges or ropes they’d used on their climb, but with no voices or sounds of movement, she sensed she was all alone on the peak.
It was happening again. Jane closed her eyes and tried not to panic, but the same thing was happening, just like last time. Just like last time she lost Elle.
She’d woken in the cabin in the forest alone. Where was Cedric? And where was Bluebell? She went to the door, listening to the silence among the trees. She called and called, circled the cabin as her fear grew, and ventured in among the trees in case they’d been injured. What if an animal had taken Bluebell? Had Cedric gone after to rescue her? Or had Bluebell gotten sick and he’d taken her to a healer in a nearby village?
Jane had waited and waited and no one returned. She found no hint of what had happened to them. She waited until she grew hungry and the food was all gone. But even after she left the cabin, she kept believing in Cedric. They’d find their way back to each other. She could gather more supplies and return to the cabin to continue waiting. Or he would search for her in the nearest villages.
And then she had learned the truth: that Cedric was a fairy named Larch who had stolen her baby. That he hadn’t ever loved her. He’d put a spell on her. He’d tricked her and used her in the worst way so he could procure a child for his queen. And she’d not once suspected him.
And it was happening again. Rowan had climbed down the peak and Elle was missing. And Jane had not suspected him once, not since he had confessed to her in the hayloft. And now he was gone and Elle was gone with him.
But Rowan had left his pack. He must be coming back. And he wasn’t Larch—he wouldn’t kidnap her child. He had helped Jane find Elle! He wouldn’t have brought Jane all this way to find Elle only to steal her away the next day. Would he? The old story wasn’t happening again.
But she had never once doubted “Cedric” either.
Jane shook her head. Fabricating possibilities was no use. She needed more facts. She needed a plan.
She turned away from the edge of the cliff and startled. The fire mushrooms that had covered the rocky wall behind the apple trees and the nearest boulders were ruined, torn off in great slashes. Piles of them littered the ground. The pool of water beneath the trees was cloudy with dirt.
Jane slowly shook her head, trying to make sense of the mess. Rowan wouldn’t hurt the mushrooms, for skies’ sake. Sunshine needed the supply of them. Who would have done this? Did someone else want Sunshine to leave? Had they climbed up her peak last night, or flown to it? Had the dragon fled with Elle because they’d been in danger?
Frowning, Jane returned to the courtyard, hunting her way through the boulders until she found the correct path. All of the mushrooms on the outermost rocks had been destroyed, but once she was behind a row of boulders they were fine. She emerged in the courtyard, dropped down beside Rowan’s pack, and pulled it open. The climbing belts were on top—both of them. If he’d needed to climb down, why hadn’t he used one? He’d used the belt when he’d dropped down each cliff, but maybe he could do it without the belt, too.
The oats were in his bag, and the packet of travel biscuits, as well as his knife, his fire kit, and the tin dishes and utensils. She pulled out the second hammock, a few kerchiefs, the container of slug glue, a toothbrush, and a few small pouches that smelled pungent like herbs. Down at the bottom were more iron loops, spring-clips, rope, and the heavy hammer. Their two drinking gourds were beside her shoes. He hadn’t taken anything—except his coat. His coat had been draped over the courtyard wall last night and now it was gone.
Jane sat back, staring at the opposite wall as her mind spun. What was going on? Had Sunshine left with Elle for some reason and Rowan had gone after her? But Rowan would have woken Jane to tell her where he was going. He wouldn’t have abandoned her on top of this peak.
Would he?
No. Something must have happened and he’d had to leave quickly.
Wait—Sunshine’s wings had flapped in the nighttime, hadn’t they? Jane had been so tired—warm and listless and unable to function, and Rowan had woken, too, and told her to stay put as he left the hammock. But why would Sunshine be flapping her wings in the middle of the night when she was supposed to be keeping Elle warm beneath them? That must have been when she flew away. Was that when Rowan left as well?
Had Rowan and Sunshine planned something? Had they left together, leaving Jane alone on the mountain? And why? For the fire magic? Elle clearly had magical ability. Nothing Rowan had done had seemed odd but Jane was such a poor judge of character. She’d been tricked before. She’d been just as enamored with Larch—and he’d taken Elle from her.
It couldn’t be happening again. It couldn’t.
Elle would be okay. Sunshine clearly cared for her. Wherever they had taken her, Sunshine would care for her until Jane could find her.
And Rowan stealing Elle made no sense. If he had wanted to, he could have traveled here to find her without Jane stumbling along behind him, twisting her ankle and slowing him down. Why had he agreed to let her come? Why had he come to her house to offer his help in the first place?
Maybe he’d wanted to seduce her—like Maryanne had warned her. Maybe Rowan resented Larch. Maybe seducing her was an act of revenge. But Larch didn’t care what happened to her. Unless he did. What if Larch secretly missed her, and Rowan had made it sound like he didn’t to thwart Larch?
What if...
A sick sensation overwhelmed Jane. What if Larch had sent Rowan? What if he’d found out about Elle’s ability and decided to take her back? Rowan had done Larch’s bidding before. Could he still be working for him?
She would go mad trying to sort through the possibilities. Only one thing was clear: If something was going on between Sunshine, Rowan, and/or Larch, she had completely fallen for it. She was such a fool. She would never learn not to trust the wrong people.
And another certainty: She was alone on top of a pillar of rocks. Maybe Rowan or Sunshine was planning to return, but if they didn’t she needed to get down on her own. She could sit here and wait and see what happened, or she could start climbing down.
Last time she had waited. And waited and waited, and no one had come for her. And she’d had food supplies and a clear spring for water. All she had now was a bag of oats, raw mushrooms, and pools of dirty water.
And she couldn’t manage a night on a ledge halfway down the peak, slug glue or not. The morning sun was low in the sky. If she started now, she might reach the bottom by sunset. She’d be slow but she could use the ropes and the iron pieces already in place. Half the time climbing up the peak had been spent waiting as Rowan installed the safety ropes.
If instead she waited to see if someone returned, and no one did, she’d have to wait a whole day before setting out. She couldn’t handle sitting up here all that time if no one returned. She’d rather start climbing and have to come back up if she were wrong.
She resisted the urge to crawl back into the hammock and do nothing. She had to get down from here. The only way to do it was to climb. She would go have a look over the ledge. Maybe the climb wouldn’t be that bad. She had come up it, after all.
The blanket had slipped off her shoulders. She pushed it aside and crouched by Rowan’s pack. She unloaded the hammer and all the iron loops except one from the pack. She wasn’t strong enough to use them, but she’d keep one just in case it might be useful.
She buckled on the smaller climbing belt and left Rowan’s with the hammer. She packed the extra rope and spring-clips, the knife, the glue, and the travel biscuits but left the cookware and oats to avoid their weight. The heavy drinking gourds felt full. She packed a few kerchiefs, wrapping one around the knife. She left the hammocks so the bag wouldn’t get heavier—she would get to the forest by nightfall and whatever happened then, she could get by without a hammock.
Taking his blanket would weigh her down. But she might end up spending the night out somewhere and who knew if her own blanket was still at the bottom of the peak. She folded Rowan’s and tucked it into the pack. The blanket was cold, the same as the pools and rocks where she’d lain naked with Rowan last night. Best not to think of that.
Standing, she swung Rowan’s pack onto her back. Skies, it weighed a bit, more than her own satchel for sure but less than the weight he had carried. His pack had two straps, one for each arm. When she had it in place, it sagged in back but the straps stayed on her shoulders.
She eyed her shoes, tucked beneath the hammock. She had blisters on the backs of her heels and being barefoot yesterday had been a blessing. Rowan had climbed the rocks barefoot and it seemed easier to find the cracks and avoid slipping with her toes instead of shoes. But would she want the shoes when she was back on the forest floor? She picked them up, bounced them in her hand to assess the weight, and returned them to the ground. She could berate herself later if she missed them.
With a final scan of the courtyard, Jane walked to the gap in the rocks. She was cold but Rowan’s coat was gone and she wouldn’t have worn it to climb anyway. Soon enough she’d be warm. She strode through the boulders and trees and slowed only as she neared the edge. She peeked over.
It was a vertical drop. The wall was sheer rock—what in the skies had she held on to when she’d climbed up that?
Black skies, she did not want to climb down that rock on her own. But every moment she delayed was a moment lost. She didn’t want to be halfway down when darkness came. If she made it to the forest, she could shelter in the trees overnight and climb down the trail tomorrow.
At least she’d have the safety rope tied on. She grasped the loose side of the rope and pulled it up. The metal spring-clip dangled off the end. She clipped it to her belt. If she fell, it would stop her from dashing her head on the ledge below or plunging over the edge to her death. And she’d be able to pull the rope down after her if the lower ones were missing. But Rowan had left the ropes in place as they climbed up, instead of removing them as he had done at Axe’s, so they should still be there.
Rowan had descended the cliff faces by lowering himself down and slowly letting out the rope—he’d done it with only one arm on the rope so he must not have been holding his full weight. Descending that way would be faster. But he’d used a special knot and she had no idea how to tie it, and it would be foolish to assume she could invent such a thing and use it without practicing. So, she’d be climbing.
She scanned over the top of the peak one last time. She should eat some mushrooms while they were available. She bypassed the ones on the ground, found a clump, and peeled a few off. They were spongy and cold but she’d need the energy. She drank from her gourd and braided her hair tightly.
She returned to the ledge and got down on her hands and knees, ignoring the wind chilling her through her clothes. She checked the rope one last time, reasoning through the process of climbing down and how the rope would catch to stop a fall, and how she’d unclip and move on at the bottom.
She crawled backward off the top. She wedged her toes into a crack a few hands’ lengths down, clinging to the top with her fingers. This was trickier than going up had been. But at least if she fell, she’d end up closer to her target.
She couldn’t see anything below her. She eased herself out until she could see below her feet. Some of the bumps she vaguely remembered, but she had climbed so much in the past few days, the cliff faces had become a blur. She found a lower toehold, moved off the top, and hung flat against the wall. She found another handhold and lowered herself down.
Moving down the wall went slowly but her mind focused on finding the next handhold or crack for her toes. A few times she got stuck and hung on the rock, searching with her toes or a palm the way she’d seen Rowan do the first time he’d scaled each wall. She avoided looking down as much as she could. One move after another, on and on, until her toes bumped the ledge. She was down. She’d made it to the first ledge.
One climb done.
Her scraped hands ached. She shook them out and flexed her toes as she scanned the trees below and the wide valley. The sun was behind the peak but the peak’s shadow to the west was shrinking, showing that the sun was considerably higher than when she’d left the top.
Jane undid the spring-clip from her belt and let it hang as she turned to check the next rope. It dangled loose through the loop in the rock, but when she pulled it up the end was empty. She opened the pack and got out a new spring-clip and held the two rope ends side by side. She had to tie the new clip to the empty rope, which meant she had to copy the knot Rowan had used.
The hanging rope ended at her midsection. She found a crack wide enough to wedge the clip into so she could work with both her hands while referring to it. She fumbled with the new rope and clip, threading them in and out, tying knots that twisted in on themselves or fell apart when she pulled on them. She had to stop or she’d scream in frustration.
She sat and had a drink from her gourd and tried not to notice the ever-shrinking shadow on the forest far below. She took a few deep inhales of cool air.
She stood again and traced the line of the knotted rope up and over the metal and around. She took the bare rope and followed the same path with it and this time she ended with a knot. She held the two clips side by side, turning them up and around. The knots appeared the same from every angle. She clipped the rope to her belt and tugged on it a few times and the knot stayed solid.
One by one she descended from one ledge to the next. Each time, the rope they’d used when climbing up waited for her and she tied on a new spring-clip. The shadow of the peak shrank to nothing and the sun appeared overhead. Now she could watch directly as it marked out the time she had left before darkness.
She reached the ledge where she and Rowan had sheltered two nights before but no sign of their presence remained. She ran her fingers over the wall but the dried slug glue must have peeled off and blown away. The sun was firmly in the west.
She didn’t have any clips left but she’d tied the knot so many times she could do it without a model to compare. She untied the clip from the previous rope and retied it on the next one as the sun crept closer to the horizon. Her stomach gurgled with hunger as she departed but she kept on. She had only a few cliffs left, from what she remembered. If she hurried, she—
Her foot slipped and she clung on with her hands, panicked. She was too heavy. Her fingers were slipping. Her toes scrabbled against the cliff and one toe hooked into a crevice and held her up. Her other foot searched for the crack she’d been standing in and found it.
She hung stationary a moment as she calmed. She wedged her toes in farther and regained her balance. She couldn’t become sloppy or she’d fall.
She resumed the climb, careful all the way down to the next resting point. This time she paused for water and a travel biscuit. She shouldn’t dawdle—if she stopped too long, she might think about how her muscles ached even worse than the first time she had done this. She might think about how she was on a narrow ledge on the side of a cliff and only luck was getting her down it. But she needed to rest and eat.
The next descent brought her to the ledge that would take her around to the north side of the peak. Only one climb to go. This was the first face they had climbed, where Rowan had removed the rope. She could pull the previous rope loose from the top loop and take it with her... but if she needed to go back up she’d have to do it with no safety rope. And she had an extra coil of rope in the pack. She left the rope hanging and proceeded around to the north.
Down below her was the narrow trail around the edge of the mountain and the place where they’d stopped and climbed out on the rocks. The afternoon sun slanted in from the west, illuminating rhododendron leaves higher up on the slope. Her satchel lay under the bush where she’d left it... but her blanket, coat, and scarf were strewn on the ground beside it. Had Rowan searched it? He knew it had only her clothes and a little food. Maybe an animal had gone after the apple rings? A few broken branches lay beside it.
She located the loop in the rock ledge and startled. A rope hung from the loop—and it wasn’t a fairy rope. It was dull and fraying, and the knot was huge and bulging with knobs of bristling fiber as if whoever had tied it didn’t know how to tie a proper knot so they kept adding new knots on top of each other, hoping it would hold. Rowan never would have tied a knot that messy.
Someone else had definitely been here.
Jane scanned the forest below but nothing stirred except the leaves in the breeze. She swallowed and knelt by the iron loop. She wanted to untie the ugly knot and use the fairy rope, but untying that mess could take her an extra hour and the sun was already low.
Down below, the rope trailed across the ledge. It was too long. She pulled it up and threaded it through her clip, guessing how much she needed to pass it through so she’d stop short of the ledge if she fell. Once it was tied, she lowered the clip to check the length. She clipped herself on and began the final descent. As she climbed down, she moved into shade and a brisk wind nipped at her right side.
Finally, finally her toes touched down on the first ledge. She wobbled there a moment, hardly believing she had done it. The sky was deepening and the wind picking up. She unclipped the rope from her belt one last time and lowered the clip to hang against the cliff.
She followed the ledge around to the western side of the peak and caught the last orange glow on the rocks. As she picked her way down the field of boulders, using her arms and legs, the rocks were warm from the afternoon in the sun. Moving downward was harder than upward. Half the time she was sitting and hoisting herself from one seat to the next. She tried turning herself around and moving down backward but the light was fading faster and she couldn’t see well enough to find places to step. Loose scree slid beneath her toes. Go carefully, she reminded herself. She didn’t want another twisted ankle this close to the bottom. Rowan wasn’t here to carry her.
Rowan. Her insides clenched at his absence—at how she missed him and how he might have betrayed her the same way Larch had all those seasons ago. She might never find Elle again. But she’d never have found Elle the first time without Rowan’s help. She couldn’t let her exhaustion dictate her thoughts. She didn’t yet know what had happened or why the others had left her.
She stepped onto a wide, flat rock, almost at the bottom of the boulder field, and glanced up to see the last bit of the orange sun dip beneath the horizon, the light catching in the cloud that hovered around one of the volcanoes. Just a few hops and she—
Her foot slid on loose stones at the base of the boulder. The momentum of her final hop down carried her skidding across the space, angled slightly downhill. She crashed to the ground, banging her hip as she scrabbled for anything to hang on to, but she was sliding too fast with more stones rolling under her, bearing her like an offering to the ravine below the peak. Her foot kicked open air and she went over the side.
She was going to die. And no one would ever know what happened to her.
She fell. Her arm smacked against a sapling, wrenching her shoulder as her hip knocked into rock. She spread her arms, flailing for a hold. The next sapling snapped against her wrist but slipped out of her fingers before she could grab it. Her knee buckled into a twisted tree and she reached for the tree and caught it as her body flew past. Her weight yanked on the branches but the tree bent and held.
Jane hung from the tree, panting. The cliff face pressed against her shoulder, a steep slide into dark treetops, but a few paces below her dangling feet the face ended and she couldn’t see what the rocks did next, before the bottom of the ravine. Above her head, the surface was sheer with only a few protrusions of rock and a handful of stunted bushes and trees. She’d never get up that, and at this point, the ground was closer.
She clung to the tree branches and carefully slid her toes along the rock. It was smooth and warm, and she found nothing she could edge her toes into to take some of her weight off the little tree. After a moment she gave up and struggled to pull herself higher. Her wrist panged but she ignored it. Rowan’s pack still hung off her shoulders. She let go of the branches with her right hand and slipped the pack off her shoulder before hefting herself into the branches until her right shoulder was over the tree’s main trunk. A loose bit of rock fell from the roots and bounced away.
Clinging to the pack, she moved it around to the front of her body. She caught the top flap with her teeth and lifted it, flipping it open. Thanks the stars, the rope was on the top.
Very slowly, she lifted the end of the rope in her mouth, pulling it from the pack and leaning until she could grasp it in her fingers. She worked it through the branches to her other hand and wove it down and back up around the tree trunk. She had to let go of the branches to tie it, leaning on her shoulder over the tree. She tied a simple knot but when she tugged on it, it began to pull free, so she tied a second loop. She pulled on the rope and the two knots slid up against the tree trunk and held.
She didn’t know how long the rope was, or how far down she had to go. Should she find the other end and tie it to her belt? That way if she fell it would catch her... but the rope might snarl or she might end up dangling at the end of it, unable to let go. And the longer she took, the more chance the little tree’s roots would give out.
Hooking her shoulder firmly over the tree, she pulled the pack out of the branches. The rope spooled out as the pack moved. She shook the pack sideways and the bundle of rope fell and tumbled away down the rock and out of sight. Thank the skies Rowan knew how to bundle a rope and she wasn’t stuck working out knots.
She hugged the pack between her chest and the tree and felt inside for the kerchiefs. She clinked the knife handle against the iron piece and pushed aside a gourd before her fingers grazed the soft woven material. Tugging at it, she pulled out a kerchief and wound it around her right hand. She wrapped her left hand next.
Could she hold her own weight? She carried Elle and she kneaded bread dough and pounded stakes for the tomato plants in the garden, but she weighed considerably more than Elle. But she didn’t have a choice. She had to try or she’d hang on to the tree until she weakened and fell. No one was coming to save her.
And if she fell... maybe no one would ever know what had happened to her. But at least Elle would have Sunshine to care for her.
Jane swung the pack back to her shoulder and it caught on a branch and slid down her arm. She reached for it and her grip on the tree slipped. Hissing, she focused on the tree limbs and caught herself as the pack slipped off her hand and fell, banging once on the sheer rock as a gourd rolled out and both objects disappeared past the edge.
Drat. Well, nothing left in the pack would have helped her get down. Maybe she was better without it.
She had to start moving. She gripped the rope with her left hand, tensing her arm muscles and pulling it taut as she wrapped it once around the kerchief covering her hand and eased her right shoulder off the tree. The rope tightened and held, squeezing her fingers painfully, and the tree shook but stayed firmly rooted in the crack in the cliff.
With one last glance at the knot holding her up, Jane let go of the tree. She worked the rope off her hand until she could slide down it, flexing her hands to grip again as she fell faster. The rope cut into her palms even with the kerchiefs wrapped around them. She caught herself and the rope dug in, stopping her momentum with a jerk to her left shoulder. She started again, letting herself slide farther, jolting and slipping her way down. Her knee banged the rock and her arms ached but she had to keep going. Her sleeve caught and with a r-i-i-i-p the fabric tore as she fell past.
Her toes worked against the rock to slow her descent until they cleared the edge and dangled into space. As she left the cliff face, she risked a glance down in the fading light of sunset. The rope dangled below her and caught in the top branch of a tree.
She held fast with her right hand, unlooped her left hand, and grasped the rope lower, then repeated the motion on the right, hand over hand as she spun in the air, free of the cliff face. She could do this motion, over and over, and—
Her body dropped a hand’s length and caught. The whole rope had dropped. The knot or the tree must be giving out. Jane unwrapped both her hands and loosened her grip, sliding down the rope even as it tore through a kerchief and bit into her hand. Down down down, gripping and letting go to slow herself in jerks, and all at once she was falling with the rope still in her hands. Twigs scraped her legs and she crashed against a branch, was knocked sideways, and fell into another branch before she caught herself and cried out at the pain in her wrist.
She hung in the branches of a tree, panting, as her heart thundered in her ears. The fragrant scent of pine filled her nostrils and a soft brush of pine needles tickled her cheek. A mess of rope was tangled in the greenery all around her. She moved her neck and her braid caught, and now her wrist throbbed in dull pain. Only dim light came through the branches above.
The ground was twenty paces below and the pine branches spiraled out ready to catch her. She ached so badly and her arms were so wobbly that she was tempted to let go and hope for the best. But she was so close now. She grabbed the rope nearest her face and pulled downward and it caught and held. She used it to lower herself until her toes brushed a bough and she stood, let go of the rope, and squatted past the smaller limbs to hold the bough at her feet. She lowered herself again, her body swinging down as sap stuck to her fingers and her feet rested on a larger branch. After a few more branches, her toes touched the earth.
Jane collapsed onto the ground. She lay back and breathed in the moss and pine needles and peered upward at the snatches of twilit sky beyond the tree. She had made it down from Sunshine’s peak—down farther than planned but down nonetheless. Her wrist began to ache, not with the dull throb she’d felt earlier but with a sharp, relentless pain. She wiggled it and the pain shot up her arm.
The kerchief from her left hand was gone and the one on her right was in tatters. She slowly sat up and unwound the remnants before scanning the forest around her. The forest floor beneath the tall pines was clear of underbrush and ten paces away lay Rowan’s pack. She scanned again and spotted a gourd.
Holding up her injured wrist like Mouser might, she crawled across the ground to the pack. It was almost empty—the other gourd was gone and the blanket too, maybe caught up in the tree branches over her head. Down at the bottom of the pack she found the flat iron piece with the looped end and the walnut shell that held the slug glue.
She pressed the flat body of the iron piece against her wrist to hold it straight and tried to tie it on with the tattered kerchief but the worn fabric snapped in two the moment she pulled it tight. She could tear a strip from her shirt—it had already ripped—but the knife had fallen out of the pack and she didn’t have the strength left to tear fabric. She’d have to move and simply be careful of her wrist, before it got any darker.
Wait. The darkness—the sun was down. That meant...
Jane scooped up the walnut shell and pried it open. She poked a finger in and it squished into the slug glue, strange and slimy. It didn’t seem sticky at all but what did she have to lose? The rest of her was covered with dirt and sap and probably bruises. What was a little slug slime?
She scooped a fingerful out and smeared it along the inside of her wrist, wincing at the contact. When she had a coating, she again pressed the flat of the iron piece against her skin. It slid a smidge in the glue and then it stuck.
Jane slowly let go, expecting the iron to slide off her wrist but it didn’t budge. Did the glue have to dry? Rowan had smeared it on to hang the hammock that time and she’d tried to tug it off just moments later. She counted to ten and another ten to be sure and pulled at the loop in the iron. It was stuck fast to her skin, holding her wrist straight—at least until sunrise.
She closed the walnut and returned it to the pack before reaching for the one gourd that remained. After a long drink, she donned the lightened pack and wobbled to her feet.
By now the sky was barely lighter than the dark forest but the beige rock of Sunshine’s peak gleamed brighter through the treetops. The forest floor sloped away but if she followed it uphill and kept the peak on her right side, she should end up back where she and Rowan had started.
She hefted herself up a few steps and clung to a tree as dizziness seized her. The way was almost as steep as the rock she had slid down but soft with moss and roots. She leaned forward and curled her fingers over a root, and began to climb on all fours.
As she worked her way up, she rose past the branches of one tree only to pass the base of the next. Her muscles ached like she’d spent a quarter-moon digging up potatoes and hauling them to market without a wagon but she stood on solid ground with saplings and roots and branches to cling to, and that was a comfort. She climbed and climbed and tried not to think about how everything hurt, and finally the branches cleared and she crawled out of the trees.
Stars filled the sky with only the barest smudge of twilight at the western horizon. The moon wasn’t up yet but her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. In the starlight, she located Sunshine’s peak a short way off, and the treacherous slope of boulders where she had tumbled off the edge. She climbed toward the shadowy base of the peak and her feet landed on the hard-packed dirt as she made her way behind the peak toward the place where she and Rowan had first emerged from the forest. She could find a place to sleep under the trees... but her mind wasn’t the least bit tired. Her pulse pounded from the exertion. Her thoughts spun with what to do next.
She stepped onto the ledge they had followed around the edge of the mountain and located her bag and the blanket that had tumbled out. Her crackers and pecans were gone but the napkin of dried apples was wedged into a corner in the bottom. She donned her coat and scarf and ate a handful of the apples. She packed the rest but left her bag since she had Rowan’s to carry.
She climbed back along the lip of the mountain, back along the chasm where the birds had guided them, and stepped away from the edge and into the dark forest. The wind had faded as darkness came and here it only rustled softly in the branches, and the deep earthy scent of the ground permeated the air. She peered into the trees. All was still, the birds and daytime critters tucked into their branches and hollows for the night. She could make out only the vague shapes of rocks and bushes, but this part of the walk had been easy. She and Rowan had been talking as they walked side by side over flat, even ground. He’d been easy to talk to even then, before they’d... She swallowed. Before they’d been naked together and kissed and touched for hours, and he’d been so lovely to do it with.
She crept into the silent forest. Her steps landed on solid ground, and she moved more confidently. She couldn’t see the sky but she sensed the uphill slope to her left and stayed on level ground, hoping she walked north. She walked quickly over the flat terrain and passed the large rhododendron grove. Her wrist ached but the stiff piece of iron held it straight and avoided sharp pains. The darkness grew so complete she slowed to a careful pace until the way lightened a smidge. She hurried on.
Jane stepped out of the trees at the top of the trail and stared out at the wide sky. Even without a breeze the air was cold here. The bushes around her glowed faint in the starlight, as did the treetops spreading below. The woodlands and mountains to the west were so vast. What if they’d taken Elle out there? Even Rose and an army of fairies wouldn’t be able to find them.
She turned from the view and trudged down the trail and into the tunnel of rhododendron bushes. Without trees above, the starlight filtered down to her. Her steps grew heavier as tiredness caught up with her. Maybe she’d have to stop but as long as she could see enough to walk she would keep going. She watched for the fairy markers and soon found one on a thin sapling. She’d have to stop soon, but she’d lie awake the whole night as Elle was carried farther and farther away.
She continued to the next marker, this one daubed on a rough tree trunk. She could barely see it this time, now that a tree towered overhead. Should she stop? The moon should be up now but it must be behind a slope of the mountain and the starlight was faint here under the leafy canopy. As she neared, she reached out to touch the marker, pausing to run her fingers over the hard bumps of sap. They rolled down in beads as if the sap had slowly dripped after whatever fairy painted it on the bark, until it hardened in place. She leaned on the tree and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to stop moving. She needed to get home, to find Elle. If only she could see the markers in the dark.
The hardened sap warmed under her fingertips. Jane yanked her fingers back with a sharp inhale. The marker had begun to glow with an eerie light, like the last of the orange sunlight but the light emanated from within the sap. It grew brighter until it was so bright she couldn’t make out the bark around it. Carefully she touched it and it pulsed a little brighter.
She stepped back, staring in wonder at the beacon. A second orange glow appeared ahead and to the left. And a third glowed far down the trail. The markers were lighting the trail. Maybe they came on at night. Rowan hadn’t mentioned that.
Jane started toward the next orange marker. She had to watch every step in the darkness but she could see her feet as she headed for the glowing light. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she avoided looking directly at the beacons to keep the glare out of her eyes. Eventually she could pick her way along at a steady pace. The glowing markers continued to appear, but when she glanced back, they faded behind her as if they lit only when she was near. How could they tell? She’d never heard of the fairies making anything so complicated—at least not until Rowan had told her about the magic hummingbird orgasm wand. Maybe he’d been making that up. He had said he could lie about things if they were stupid enough no one would believe them. No one, except someone as gullible as her, apparently.
Time passed but she had no sense of how long except she’d passed dozens of the markers, maybe even a hundred. Moonlight appeared in patches on the ground, so the moon must have cleared the tops of the trees. The markers swung to the right and led across a flat, hard section of trail before dropping in among a series of boulders. An owl hooted and night creatures cheeped, occasionally rustling in the leaves.
The rhododendron bushes gave way to more saplings and the trail grew rockier. The moon had risen just in time—without its light she’d have twisted another ankle for sure. On and on she went.
The trail turned to packed dirt. Pale moonlight shone down on a post in the ground ahead. It couldn’t be the mine already. But it was! She’d reached the iron mine, which meant the trail would be wider. And also... Jane shuddered. That flat place she’d crossed—that had been the sheer rock with the drop off the edge. And she’d walked right past it without holding on to the bushes or anything. Thank the skies she hadn’t slipped or stumbled.
She approached the signpost and stopped. Could the miners help her? If she kept walking, she’d have to get past the two campsites before reaching the crossroads at the bottom. She’d have to rest eventually. That could take her two days. One of the miners could surely get down the mountain faster if they were willing to help. Or they might let her take one of the mules used to climb down the steep path, if they had a mule at the mine. And they’d have food and water. She didn’t know if she could find the springs under the trees where Rowan had refilled their gourds.
However many days ago, Rowan hadn’t wanted to go near the mine. He’d said it was too quiet and that he worried for the dragons’ safety. Were humans truly a danger to dragons, though? Now that she’d seen Sunshine spewing fire, Jane couldn’t imagine how a human could touch her. But a chill went down her spine as she peered down the dark trail. Without the comforting lights of the trail markers, the trail to the mine seemed menacing.
But the miners might help her. Maybe they’d even seen Sunshine flying away and knew what direction she’d taken Elle.
She would go carefully. In the middle of the night everyone should be asleep. She could poke around and see how the place looked and if anything seemed off, she’d leave and sleep in the woods.
She stepped onto the side trail. If only it had comforting glowing markers to encourage her along. She walked slowly into the darker forest, and when she looked back, the markers had all gone out.